by Elyse Riggs
“No, I’m not,” she objects, “I only had like, five drinks or something like that. And lots of chips.”
“I love chips, tell me more about the chips” I jump in, trying to distract her. The smartest thing to do right now is to get her into bed. My bed. I mean, the bed in the other room. It’s not what my body wants to do, but I’m not going to take advantage of her.
I put a hand on her back in an effort to guide her toward the bedroom. “Hey, come see how comfortable this bed is,” I say as I lead her to the bedroom. I lay her gently onto the bed and drape the comforter over her. “That’s right, you just stay put and get some rest.”
“Mmm, this is comfortable.” She sighs. Then she sits up.
“No, no. You enjoy the comfortable bed, okay?”
I know that if I can keep her still for a couple of minutes, she’ll fall asleep. “You rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah, house hunting,” she mumbles.
“That’s right, house hunting,” I answer, “now get some rest.”
I tiptoe out of the room. A few minutes later, Kaylee is fast asleep. I’m on the couch trying to sleep, but I can’t turn my brain off. Did Kaylee mean what she said about falling for me? Or did she only say those things because she was drunk? Either way, now I can’t stop thinking about it.
It’s true, she’s the opposite of all the other girls I’ve ever dated. Maybe I’ve been looking in all the wrong places. What if she’s exactly what I need?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chase
I wake ready to go. There’s a real estate market to conquer. I glance at the countdown timer on my phone. I’m not going to be able to hold off the board much longer, they are going to have to decide soon. It’s a game of high-stakes chicken that I’m not about to lose. I have some time to work with, and now I have a plan.
Then I remember Kaylee and what happened last night with a deep sigh. She’s going to need coffee and lots of it. And breakfast too.
Luckily, the couch was more comfortable last night than I expected. I yawn and stretch and stare out at the early morning beach walkers. The sun is just now starting to peek over the horizon.
I get up and cross the to the kitchen to brew some Nespresso coffee for me and Kaylee.
After I hit the button, there is a knock on the door. Oh yeah, Kaylee’s clothes. I open the door and bring in the three large boxes.
Okay, now, where was I? Oh yeah. Breakfast. We should probably order room service before we go. Hunting for real estate is a big morning, and I need to be fully on top of my game.
After starting the coffee, I peek into my bedroom to see if Kaylee’s awake yet. I push the door open gently and look in on her. She isn’t awake yet.
Damn. She’s even more beautiful when she’s sleeping. And that’s pretty impressive after the night she had. One bare shoulder faces me as she sleeps in her night shirt. One leg is kicked out of the covers, giving me almost a great view. Down boy, I tell myself.
I must have muttered the last part to myself out loud, because she rolls over and stirs. Then she looks up at me, blinks, and rubs her eyes.
“Oh, hi. what time is it?” she asks, rolling over.
This time I do get a good view. I smile. “Time for breakfast,” I answer. “I’m going to order us some room service before we get going. What would you like?”
That gets her attention. She looks up at me and winces. “Ow, my head.”
“Hold on. I’ll grab you some ibuprofen, and I started coffee. I figured you’d need it after last night.”
“Last night,” she said weakly. “Oh no. Last night.” She groans.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “What do you say we forget about last night and try to concentrate on coffee, pain meds, and breakfast.”
“Coffee, breakfast, and ibuprofen. You sure know how to get a girl going in the morning.”
I stare at her, wondering if she’s talking about sex or breakfast.
She notices and her cheeks turn deep red. “I mean you sure know the way to a girl’s heart. With food.” Then she slaps her own forehead with her hand. “Stop talking to me. Nothing I say before I’ve had coffee counts.”
“Good save,” I say sarcastically as I grin at her. Then I spot what I’m looking for and cross to my dresser. “Oh, there it is. I came in here looking for the menu so we could order.”
“Pancakes,” she says without opening her eyes. “I’d love pancakes and bacon.”
“Ah,” I say, opening up the menu and glancing down at the first page. “That’s number eleven. It comes with hashed browns, is that okay?”
“Works for me.” She sits up and then follows me out of the room. “What’s your favorite breakfast food?” She asks as she makes awkward eye contact with me. It’s kind of adorable.
“Me? I’m a waffle man. With eggs and sausage.”
“What’s the number for that?” she asks.
“No number. I’m a rebel, I’ll have to order it off the ala carte menu.” She watches as I call in the room service order.
She crosses to the Nespresso maker where the fresh mugs are. “A rebel. I like it. And how does the rebel take his coffee?”
“Cream, two sugars,” I answer. “What about you? You’re not one of those maniacs who drinks it black, are you?”
She smiles. “Well, I’m not saying I’m not a maniac, but I take my coffee the same as you do. Look at us.”
We both sip our coffee in silence until there’s a faint knock on the door.
I raise an eyebrow and give Kaylee an excited look. I know we’re both hungry. Answering the door, I let the employee in so he can set up our breakfast. I indicate to him that we’ll be dining at the far couch facing the beach.
Kaylee sips her coffee, oblivious even though she gets more than a passing glance from the guy setting up the breakfast. A surge of jealousy washes over me. I stop in my tracks. All of a sudden, I’m jealous? Where is all of this coming from? Maybe a part of me hopes that Kaylee was telling the truth last night.
Then the server finishes setting up with one last glance at Kaylee, who isn’t even paying attention. I tip him with a growl and then a moment later, he’s out the door.
There’s a long beat after he leaves, and then Kaylee and I burst into laughter.
“What was with that growl, Chase?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
I expect her to call me on it. Instead, she shrugs and continues to sip her coffee.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kaylee
Room service breakfast, the first I have ever experienced, is amazing. And not just because the food is delicious. It’s the fact that I didn’t have to buy it, or cook it, or clean up after it.
After I get some food, coffee, and pain meds into me, I feel like I can almost function again.
Once we’ve both had our fill, Chase turns to me. “Oh yeah, those boxes are for you.”
“What?”
“Clothes, remember? You needed clothes. I ordered some. I hope you like them.”
I fail to suppress a cry of glee at the prospect of new clothes. That part of last night’s conversation was something I completely forgot until now.
I cross the room and collect the boxes one by one, bring them into the bedroom and put them on the bed. Then I go back into the kitchen to get a knife to open them.
“Thank you so much, Chase!”
Seriously. Food, coffee, and new clothes all in one morning. I could kiss him. Again. Wait, then another flash hits me from last night. And it’s me. Flashing him. Did that really happen? And maybe telling him I have feelings for him? Oh no. I feel so stupid.
Maybe it didn’t really happen. Maybe it was all just a dream. I decide not to say anything as I avoid eye contact and head back into the bedroom to see my new clothes.
When I open the boxes, I’m overjoyed. Gorgeous Vera Wang, Jimmy Choo, and Louboutin dresses, skirts, and tops. Oh and the shoes are perfect.
I throw on a beautiful yell
ow skirt and a matching flowered top and find some pumps to complete the outfit. I run to the mirror. I love the outfit. And the best part is I look nothing like Kaylee. Maybe that will help with the whole paparazzi thing.
All done, I rejoin Chase in the living area. I find him typing away at his computer. He’s wearing some chino shorts, luckily without a belt or I would have had to make fun of him. The polo shirt with the little whale on it is bad enough, but hey, this isn’t really my life. It’s only pretend.
He hears me coming and looks up. “Wow, you look great.”
“Thanks.”
“You ready?” he asks.
“Let’s do this.” I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be. He grins and hands me a very large, over the top sun hat. The flowers on the hat clash with my dress.
I accept, it but then hold it in my hands away from my body like it’s a dead rat that I intend to go drown in the sink. I raise an eyebrow at him. “What’s this?”
“It’s a hat,” he deadpans. “You don’t like it? It’s an Eric Javits.”
“It’s a little much.”
“The shopper assisting me assured me that it’s all the rage. You’re going to have to wear it a little bit. Unless you want the paparazzi to get a close up, high definition picture of your face. We want them to try to take our picture, but we can’t make it easy on them. They’d figure that shit out in sixty seconds or less, then they’d hit the road. And not follow us.”
“Yeah, I got it,” I say. “We’re going with the please look at me, don’t look at me strategy. Very passive aggressive.”
He nods. “Exactly.”
I put on the hat and grin up at him. “Alright, then. Let’s do this.”
“Okay,” he says, standing up. He extends his arm to me. “Let’s go. Security will hold them off until we actually get outside. But then it’ll be a free for all.”
“Sounds fun,” I say ironically. There’s another knock on the door, but this time it’s just security. Chase opens it and then there’s a brisk walk to the elevator followed by a faster walk through the lobby.
Once I get a look out the lobby windows I freeze. “Holy shit. There are so many of them.” I can see them all gathered, multiple cameras at the ready, chomping at the bit and pushing and shoving each other for a better view.
Chase moves between me and the window, blocking their view. “Okay, hat over your face.” He smirks down at me and the dimple is back. “Now, hold my hand. In a minute, we’ll be in the car, okay?”
I nod. Here goes nothing. The walk to the door is eerily quiet. The moment Chase opens it, though, there’s pushing and shouting. I hear the snapping of cameras. It’s just like in the movies.
Except that right now it’s happening to me, and it feels overwhelming. Chase shouts something at me, but I can’t hear him over the yelling. A hand reaches out from somewhere nearby and brushes against my shirt. I yelp in surprise. My pulse races as I dart toward Chase’s car.
It’s kind of like the feeling of getting hit with a stray wave that knocks you over for a few seconds before your feet find solid ground again. It’s all a rush of confusion and pandemonium.
And then, just as Chase said would happen, we find ourselves safely inside the limo and pulling out into traffic. Everything is quiet again.
I put down my hat and stare at him.
“What? Your first paparazzi run?” he teases.
“Yes. Obviously. You were cool as a cucumber out there, Chase.”
He turns to stare out the window at the vanishing horde of photographers. “You get used to it. That’s why I wasn’t sure going out on the beach the other night just the two of us was a good idea, but it worked out.”
“Well, hey, being ordinary is what I’m good at.”
“There’s nothing ordinary about you,” he says quickly as he turns back to face me. His expression is intense, and I wonder where all this is coming from.
“Sorry,” he says, visibly relaxing now that we’re clear of the resort. “It’s just that sometimes I feel like you sell yourself short.” He hands me a folder with a stack of pictures in it. “What about now? Would you like to look over the morning itinerary?”
I accept the folder and scoot closer to him. I flip through the posh beach front real estate. “Wow, Chase. It all looks amazing.” I check to make sure my phone is fully charged so that I’m ready to take a bunch of pics for Fi and Angie.
I pause my inspection of the pics so I can casually glance down at the price list that Chase is holding. Out of curiosity.
Holy shit. I know he’s a billionaire and all, but the properties we are looking at today cost tens of millions of dollars. Pinkies up, Kaylee, it’s going to be a hell of a ride.
Then there is another voice in my head telling me I have to resist. Have fun, yes. Enjoy the hell out of it, but do not get sucked into his world or the eyes of the gorgeous guy next to you.
The limo slows down at the entrance to a gated community. The driver must have the code because a moment later we’re skimming past the ocean front estates of Villa Boca Tropic at a whopping fifteen miles per hour.
The limo comes to a stop in front of a beautifully manicured lawn in front of a happy yellow mansion. The front yard is dotted with tall palm trees and a waterfall falling into a formation of rocks.
Chase and I get out of the limo and make our way to the front door where a man stands and waits. He looks attentive and expectant. The man is dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt with a collar. Judging by the overly excited look on his face, I’m guessing that’s Chase’s real estate agent.
As Chase and I make our way to the front door, I can see that the waterfall gushes into a pool with Koi in it. Neat. We enter the house and suddenly we’re in a vaulted ceiling palace of marble with a spiral staircase, colorful artwork, and stainless steel as far as the eye can see. It’s an interesting combination to say the least.
There is a total of four fountains sprinkled throughout the main floor. By the looks of it, someone had feng shui-ed the crap out of the place. It’s nice, but it has more of a busy, jangled vibe than a peaceful one.
I consider what it might look like without all the water features. I can almost see a comfy couch and a big TV. I imagine Chase sitting on it watching soccer and shouting at it. In my daydream, I’m sitting there next to him, trying to figure out the game. And we’re both happy.
What is wrong with me? I’m not actually moving in with Chase. Why did my head go there? I do my best to shrug it off and take a few pics.
“Great idea,” Chase says when he sees me taking pictures. “Otherwise it’ll be harder to remember which property is which. After a while they all start to blend together.”
“Um, sure,” I decide not to tell him that isn’t really what I’m doing. He’s like a kid in a candy store. Already, he’s talking about walking the property line and checking the bones of the structure, whatever the hell that means. I’m just going to go with it.
I figure if I’m taking pictures to remember them for later, I should probably go outside and take a pic of the number on the front of the house. If I do that first, we’ll know which ones are which.
I wander back the way we came and then back outside into the heat. I back up and hold my phone in the general direction of the house number. Then I take the pic. Click. And just like that I have fully joined into the day’s activity. It feels good to help.
Then I head back into the house, weaving past furniture toward the glass doors so I can get a look at the back yard.
Sliding the doors open, I walk out onto a beautiful patio with three-hundred-sixty-degree views of the ocean. The breeze hits me and it feels like home.
I marvel as I look over the pristine, unspoiled, uncrowded beach. If the inside of the house makes me feel unnerved, and it does, the outside takes my breath away.
I find Chase inspecting some fencing out by the beach.
I take a pic of him bending over from behind. Because I’m a smartass. And because his as
s, believe it or not, is ridiculously photogenic. “Wow,” I say as I sneak up on him, “this place is amazing.”
He sighs and stands up. “You’re right, it’s pretty great. It has some issues, though. But they all do. And the markup with the ocean,” he whistles and shakes his head like he’s about to negotiate with me.
“Don’t look at me. I’m clueless at evaluating real estate.” I get a funny feeling about Chase’s way-too-loud voice and turn around. Sure enough, there’s the real estate agent, lurking. He’s probably listening to every word. So Chase is negotiating with him without even talking to him. I have to admit, that’s pretty clever.
Chase crosses to the back gate that leads to the beach and opens it for me. I take my shoes off and leave them by the front gate. Then we are strolling down the nearly deserted private beach while surveying the house. I watch Chase as the wind plays with his hair. He looks happy. I reach out and take his hand and he smiles at me.
After a few minutes, he stops walking and turns to me. “It’s only a matter of time before the paparazzi catch up with us. Then we’ll act surprised and whoosh off to the next house. Speaking of, hold on.”
He winks at me and then turns to the pretending not to lurk but totally is real estate agent. “Hey, Fred. Would you grab Kaylee’s hat for us? It’s in the car.”
Fred runs off to grab the hat. “Oh my gosh,” I say having spotted him a minute ago and then lost him again. “How’d you even know he was there? The man is like human camouflage.”
“You know how real estate agents are, you can feel them lurking, can’t you? Or is it just me?” he asks.
“I didn’t before today, but I see what you mean.”
Fred comes back a few minutes later with my hat and a panicked look on his face. Uh-oh, the quiet moment Chase and I are currently having is over.
“Um,” Fred says sheepishly. “A bunch of cars just showed up. I think they’re photographers.”
“Okay,” Chase says to me, whispering so Fred is out of earshot, “we probably won’t lose them again for the rest of the morning. But it’s just the kind of publicity we need.”
