“I hate you,” Lottie whispers into my ear as she stands from the table, her hand lovingly caressing my shoulder as she walks by.
“Thank you, babe,” I say. I keep my eyes on her as she takes my glass and heads into the kitchen for a refill. Not a fan of “serving her man,” as Ellie said. Got it.
Lottie doesn’t seem to be a fan of much.
If it weren’t for her brilliant ability to slap on a smile and act interested in Ellie and Dave’s love story, I know I’d find an unwavering scowl, a gauntlet of sarcastic comments, and maybe a toss of her angry hands here and there.
She’s a spitfire. For a little package, she packs a powerful punch.
It was hard to keep a straight face in the car when she kept getting irritated with me. But I assumed finding humor in her annoyance wasn’t going to win me any points.
“She’s great,” Dave says. “I can see why your grandma introduced you. And Ellie seems to like her a lot.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky,” I say, meaning that. I am a lucky motherfucker, that in such a short amount of time—four days, to be exact—I was able to find someone who had no problem stepping into the role of pregnant fiancée and helping me out.
Such a lucky motherfucker.
Lottie walks back into the room with a glass of water in her hand and a smile on her face as she sashays toward me. That dress, yeah, it’s fucking perfect on her. I knew she had great tits from the first time I met her, but seeing them in this dress? They’re really fucking nice. Not big at all, but the perfect size, less than a handful. And with her hair floating around her shoulders in loose waves, a beautiful chestnut color, she really is gorgeous. Like I said, a lucky motherfucker.
She hands me the glass and then takes a seat. I lean into her ear and ask, “Did you spit in this?”
She leans in close and whispers back, “If Ellie wasn’t helping me, I would’ve licked the rim, spit in the water, and then added vinegar as a delicious touch.”
I pull away and say a little louder so Dave can hear me, “You’re perfect.”
Her hand reaches up to my cheek and she rubs my thick scruff. “I know.”
Dave laughs loudly, while Ellie giggles. “Perfect response for such a powerful man,” Dave says. “I’ve known Huxley for a few years now and he thinks highly of himself, as he should because of the empire he’s put together, but to not reply with he’s perfect . . . that makes my day.”
I’m sure it does, Dave.
Lottie smiles at me, and I can see a wicked gleam in her eye as she turns toward Dave and Ellie. “I know he’d kill me if I said this . . .”
So don’t fucking say it.
“But, he’s far from perfect.” Leaning forward, she says, “The man doesn’t know how to pick up his socks and put them in the hamper.”
Ellie gasps and then points at Dave. “Dave too.”
Dave raises his hand with a coy look. “Guilty. But I’ve gotten better. The nagging has worked.”
“Hmm, maybe I should nag more,” Lottie says. Her hand falls to my thigh, her fingernails applying more pressure than I care for, especially as she drags her hand farther north. Hey, there, watch it. “What do you think, Hux? Care to deal with a nagging fiancée?”
“I thought I already was,” I answer with a wink, letting Dave and Ellie know I’m only teasing her.
“Isn’t he charming?” Lottie asks. “It’s what won me over, his inherent charm that just keeps coming. That, and my grandma said he was a sad and lonely man who needed some fun in his life.”
Don’t care for that. I can see we’re letting loose. Getting comfortable.
That slightly terrifies me, because Lottie is no doubt a loose cannon.
“Aren’t we all sad and lonely?” Dave asks, shaking his head. “This business can be incredibly cutthroat. Brutal, at times. Having someone to come home to at night, someone loving, someone who doesn’t want to talk business but wants to talk about us, about our relationship . . .” He lifts Ellie’s hand and kisses the back of it. “That’s what I want. It’s what I needed. I’m sure you’re the same way,” Dave says to me.
Uh-huh, yup, totally.
I nod. “Long nights at the office have broken me down. I didn’t know how much I needed Lottie until she magically appeared in my life.”
Ellie sighs. “Aren’t they the best?” she asks Lottie.
“Totally,” Lottie answers with a nauseating smile.
“So, when are you two tying the knot?” Ellie asks. “Finding a venue recently has been tough. Have you had a hard time?”
I set down my glass of untouched water and place my hand on Lottie’s leg. “We were thinking about having something small, maybe in my backyard.”
“Ugh, that would be the dream,” Ellie says. “But Dave, over here, has a mother who demands the fanfare of a ceremony and reception. She wants the bells and whistles for her son. From the live band, to the sparklers at the end of the night, to the dessert bar that offers more cookies than anyone has ever seen.” She leans in and says, “Granted, I’m thrilled about the cookies, but the other stuff, all the people, it makes me nervous.”
“Yes, but I’ll be there with you, sweetheart,” Dave says calmly. “I promise, it’ll be just you and me.”
Seeing this side of Dave is . . . enlightening. No wonder we weren’t connecting on a business level. He’s sensitive. Not something I was expecting going into meetings with him. Not an approach I took. Instead, I spoke business, I talked numbers, but just from spending this time with him tonight, I’m seeing he’s more than just numbers. He has a heart, and clearly my straight-talk approach doesn’t work for him. He wants to see the heart of the deal.
Rolls eyes.
Fucking hate that shit.
This is business. Take the emotion out of it. It’s either a good financial deal or a bad deal. It either benefits you financially or it doesn’t. If it’s not a viable business decision, move on.
Believe me, what we’re offering Dave benefits him greatly.
“What would your dream wedding be?” Lottie asks as she crosses her leg and leans in toward me. It’s the little touches of hers that I appreciate. The body language, the glances in my direction, the constant hand somewhere on my person. She’s good at what she’s doing, and I don’t know if I should be pleased or terrified.
Ellie meets Dave’s gaze and smiles charmingly at him. “I would love to get married out on a boat. Dave proposed to me in Malibu, at sunset, on the water, and that moment has been engrained in my mind as utter perfection. I’d love to rent a yacht and just have our parents attend the ceremony. Kiss as husband and wife just as the sun sets.”
“Then why not do that?” Lottie asks. I shift in my seat and grip her leg tighter, not wanting her to start any sort of fight between the couple. Ellie already stated Dave’s family was the one pressuring them to have a big wedding. Dragging up what seems to be an uncomfortable topic can’t be good for anyone. But Lottie doesn’t seem to get the hint, or rather, she doesn’t seem to care, because she removes my hand from her leg and slips her hand inside mine while keeping a smile on her face.
“What do you mean?” Ellie asks.
“Is the food almost here?” I ask, cutting in to try to change the subject. “Can’t be letting my girl get hangry.” I point toward Lottie. “Happens with this one.”
Dave chuckles and points at Ellie. “This one too.”
Ellie playfully knocks away Dave’s hand and then turns to Lottie again. “Are you saying we should have two weddings?”
Back to this? Hell.
“Why not?” Lottie asks. “I mean, it seems as though this is a very special moment for Dave’s parents, and I completely respect that.” Lottie places her hand on her stomach and says, “When this little one gets married, trust me, I’ll be ordering a skywriter and a billboard to let everyone know that my baby is tying the knot. But I wonder if you guys could do a small, intimate ceremony, just you, and then maybe even the next day, you have the ceremony that’s being planned.” Lottie shrugs. “I guess something to just think about. That way everyone is happy.”
Dave turns to Ellie and asks, “Would that make you happy, sweetheart?”
Ellie smiles and nods. “It would, actually. I’d really, really love that.”
When Lottie turns to me, she has the biggest fuck you look on her face. And here I thought I was the cocky one.
“Then I’ll speak with my mom and tell her our plans. She’ll have to be okay with that.”
Ellie excitedly kisses Dave just as the doorbell rings. “Food is here. Will you get that, Dave? Lottie and I can head into the dining room.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll help you,” I say to Dave as I rise from my chair and then offer assistance to Lottie, who thankfully takes it.
Ellie links her arm with Lottie’s and says, “I’m so glad I met you.”
Together they head toward the dining room, while Dave grips me by the shoulder and guides me toward the front door. “I have to tell you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ellie this excited. Lottie, man, she’s something else. Your grandma was smart, setting you up with her. She smooths out your rough edges, and she brings light into the room. She’s quite the catch.”
If only he knew.
But, hell, I have to give credit where credit is due—Lottie is absolutely killing it tonight.
She’s more than a catch, she’s absolute perfection.
“SO, HOW FAR ALONG ARE YOU?” Ellie asks. “I’m assuming not very far, since you don’t seem to be showing at all.”
“Eight weeks,” Lottie says and then nudges me with her shoulder. “This guy shouldn’t be telling anyone, but he seems to let it slip more than he should.”
We devoured our Chipotle, the girls actually finishing their meals first. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Lottie was pregnant from the way she unapologetically matched Ellie’s ravenous appetite. Now we’re sitting out back, a fire pit burning between us, Lottie and me in one loveseat, Dave and Ellie in another. Lottie is curled against my side with her hair tickling my cheek and her hand resting on my chest. She really is such a little thing; she fits perfectly plastered against me. Not that I’d ever admit this to her—because talk about the world of fucking pain it would be to hear her boast—but she feels good curled against me.
Apparently, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a female companion, not that I’ve really ever had one, but I’ve dated here and there, and having that feminine touch, the attention, yeah . . . it’s nice.
“I had a hard time keeping the news quiet too,” Dave says. “When you find out your girl is pregnant, it’s hard not to shout it from the rooftops.”
“Same,” I say. “I just can’t seem to keep my mouth shut.”
“Have you bought anything for the baby?” Ellie asks.
“Not yet. But I’ve looked at a few cribs from Pottery Barn that caught my attention. My sister is all about sustainability, and Pottery Barn makes a lot of their furniture from repurposed wood.”
“Oh, wow, I love that. Dave, we should look at Pottery Barn.”
“Anything you want, sweetheart.”
Dave is such a yes-man when it comes to Ellie. Wish he was a yes-man with business too. Maybe I should butter him up with some of Ellie’s tactics.
What my brothers would fucking do if they saw me curled up against Dave’s armpit, slowly stroking his thigh while nuzzling my head into him.
Also . . . was Lottie really looking at cribs? I doubt she’d say anything that isn’t true out of fear of being called out. So, how the hell does she know about repurposed-wood cribs?
“Did you hear that?” Lottie asks me. “Dave is going to give Ellie anything she wants. Is it the same with us?” Lottie pats my chest with her hand and looks up at me. She’s inches away, and I know if I were an outsider looking in, we would 100% look like a couple. All because of Lottie.
“You know you can have whatever you want,” I respond. “When do I ever say no?”
Her finger plays with the buttons on my shirt. “Just last night, when I asked for—”
“Not around company,” I say, not sure what she was going to say, but wanting to cut it off before it becomes something it shouldn’t. Lottie is a wild card and she’s been on her best behavior all night; I could see the potential of her slipping soon.
Dave chuckles. “Best we go grab dessert while Lottie convinces Huxley to perform . . . whatever it is she wants.”
“Might be best,” Lottie says with a wink.
Dave and Ellie retreat inside the house. When the door clicks shut, Lottie stays in place, but the sweetness in her tone dissipates as she says, “I don’t appreciate you squeezing my leg when you think I’m about to say something wrong. I’m going to have bruises.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
Her finger plays with the side of my cheek, her nail scraping against my scruff. “I’m really carrying the team over here. No wonder Dave doesn’t want to do business with you. You’re like a dead fish in a button-up shirt.”
My brows narrow. “I’m not a dead fish.”
“Uh, it’s like pulling teeth to get you to show some personality. Seriously, where’s Chipotle guy? He was way more fun than the one I’ve been petting all night.”
“You haven’t been petting me.”
“Feels like it.” Her finger tugs on my lower lip. “Are we going to have to kiss at some point? Because I’m really not interested in that. Kissing a dead fish is really not an activity I’d care to partake in.”
“I’m not a goddamn dead fish,” I seethe.
“Could’ve fooled me,” she says. “You barely even laugh. That helps, you know—laughing, interacting. Making a joke on occasion. I know he’s a business associate, but lighten up, man. Sheesh.”
“How about we leave the business interactions to me, and you just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing?”
“Oh, making you look more likeable because you had enough sense in that pea-sized brain of yours to ask me to fake marry you?”
“You’re foul to be around,” I say.
Her eyebrows shoot up and then her eyes grow round with anger. “I’m foul to be around? Uh, hello pot, it’s kettle . . . you’re black. Also, I’m not sure how I could be foul to be around when clearly I’m the life of this borderline Hallmark movie we’ve been living in the past two hours.” Still whispering, she says, “I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’m having to talk about marriage, babies, and what kind of linens I like to use on my bed. Shoot. Me. Now.”
“Then talk about something you like,” I say.
“Oh, you want me to do that? Shall I discuss the latest dildo I purchased from an exotic website? Because it has a suction cup and I love using it in the shower.”
Jesus.
Christ.
I shift in my seat and turn more toward her. “Do not bring that up.”
She smirks. “But I thought you wanted me to talk about what I wanted to talk about.”
“This is why you’re foul to be around.”
“Coming from the one with the stick up their ass.” Her eyes travel to my lips and then back up. “You’re unpleasant.”
“You’re unhinged.”
“You open your mouth and put people to sleep,” she snaps back.
“You’re obnoxious.”
“You’re an ass.”
“You’re bawdy.”
“You’re imperious.”
“Aww, look at them,” Ellie says, coming back outside. “They’re so cute, aren’t they, Dave?”
“They do look quite perfect for each other.”
If only they knew.
I smile at Lottie and stroke the side of her face lovingly before turning toward Ellie and Dave and the tray of mini trifle cups they’re carrying.
“I meant to make peach cobbler, but just yesterday peaches started to make me sick to my stomach, so I hope everyone likes strawberry shortcake.” Ellie turns to Lottie. “Lottie, I’ll have to share the recipe with you. It’s to die for.”
Lottie lifts off me, but still keeps her hand touching my leg. “I’d absolutely love that, Ellie.” Lottie squeezes my leg tightly as she sits up, and I know exactly what that squeeze means.
She’d rather be caught dead than trade recipes with Ellie.
DO you know what’s been the worst part of this evening?
Not having to dodge couples’ questions from Ellie left and right.
Not having to pretend to touch Lottie’s flat stomach on occasion, like Dave does to Ellie’s slightly rounded one.
And not having to see a man I respected in the boardroom shrink to a shell of a man who falls in line with everything Ellie has to say.
Nor is it the idea that Lottie has a goddamn suction-cup dildo that she uses in the shower floating around in my head.
I can handle all of that.
What I can’t handle is not being able to cash in on one minute of alone time with Dave. I haven’t been able to talk about the deal once. I haven’t even been able to mention it, because it’s not something I’d do around Ellie and Lottie. Business should be kept separate from “family time,” but I thought I would’ve been able to sneak away with Dave at some point. But everywhere I look, Ellie has her claws dug into Dave, and he’s the happiest motherfucker about it.
Ellie yawns. “Oh, what a night. I’ve had such a wonderful time.”
“Me too.” Lottie yawns as well and then pats my chest. “But we should probably get going. We don’t want to keep you from getting that important beauty rest . . . right, Dave?”
Dave laughs and nods. “Oh yes, Lottie, you know I need that beauty rest or I’ll be a nightmare to look at in the morning.”
“I’d say intimidation is never a bad thing for a man in your position,” Lottie says, “but after spending the evening with you, I’m going to assume that’s not your MO.”
“You’d be correct. Very perceptive, Lottie.”
She pretends to bow. “Thank you.” And then she turns to me. “Are you ready, sweet cheeks?”
Don’t care for that nickname, either.
“I’m ready.” I stand from my chair and hold out my hand, and she takes it so I can help her up as well. I then turn to Dave and offer my hand for a shake, realizing this is the end of the night and we haven’t discussed a goddamn thing. “Dave, thank you for having us over tonight. It was a pleasure getting to know Ellie.”
“So glad you two could make it.”
They lead us through the house, and when we reach the door, Ellie gives Lottie a hug and Dave offers me another handshake. It’s all so domestic, so . . . suburban. And it makes me feel claustrophobic. My throat closes up on me, and while Lottie gives them another goodbye, I just nod and walk to my car to open the door for her. My hand falls to her back as she gets in, and then I shut the door once she’s settled.
I round the hood and then get in. Dave and Ellie stand at the door, connected at the hip as they smile at us. If that is what having a fiancée involves—that domesticity, docility—I’m so glad there will never be anything like that between me and Lottie. Never be anything like that, period.
I start the car and offer one more wave before I round the circular driveway and head down the gravel path, finally able to let out a deep breath.
So does Lottie, but she slouches in her seat and says, “I feel as if I can finally unclench.” A smirk pulls at my lips. “That was . . . unreal, that entire experience. I felt as though I transported into another body and that body controlled my every word and action. Because if I would’ve been in my own body, I would’ve snatched Ellie’s shortcake right out of her hand after giving her a knee to the head to make sure she doesn’t take it back. That shit was good. Really good. I felt feral eating it. And the fact that Ellie said she’d share the recipe with me? No, I don’t want the recipe, I want someone to make it for me.”
“I’m glad you didn’t knee her in the face for more.”
“She was eating it so slow. I swear they were doing some sort of sexual game in front of us.”
“They were not performing a sexual game in front of us,” I say, debunking that thought quickly.
“Are you sure about that? Were you paying attention? Because you really felt like a robot back there. She was totally licking the spoon sexually and then glancing at him. I saw him shift in his seat a few times. Bet you anything they’ve already stripped out of their clothes and are fucking against the entryway door right now. Although, Dave doesn’t seem like the type that fucks against the door.” She considers this and then adds, “But it’s actually usually the silent ones who are total freaks in bed.” She turns toward me. “You’re silent—are you a freak in bed?”
“Not something you need to worry about,” I answer.
“God,” she groans in frustration. “Thanks for the evasive answer. I’ll draw my own conclusions then, and I’m guessing you have a teeny weenie and don’t know how to use it.”
I grip the steering wheel more tightly. “How about we don’t talk?”
I need to sulk, stew silently on the drive. Because here I was, going to a business meeting, thinking I’m about to score a deal, and not once did we speak about business; instead, we spoke about the different variations of the color cream, the impact a simple rug in a dining room can have, and the different ways to serve avocado toast. Christ.
“Oh, I struck a chord. You do have a teeny weenie. That’s probably why you’re single and spend so much time in the office, why you didn’t have a catalogue of girls to ask to help you out, but had to find a random girl on the streets. This is all making so much sense.”
“Lottie, enough.”
But she doesn’t stop.
“You realize you can catch more flies with honey, right? You can adjust your attitude. We’re partners in this endeavor, after all. How would you like it if I took you along to a function of mine and spoke to you the way you speak to me?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I think back to the way Dave seemed so comfortable. So . . . in his place. Not that he’s awkward at meetings, but he doesn’t seem comfortable, ever. Almost uneasy, untrusting. But sitting in his backyard, with Ellie right next to him, he let down his guard.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t take kindly to such an attitude. You should really speak to others the way you want to be spoken to. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for. And while you’re at it, treat others the way you want to be—”
“Can you just shup up for a goddamn second?” I ask, my mind racing, trying to put together the pieces.
“Excuse me?” she asks, folding her arms. “Would you care to rephrase that? Because unless you want me to march back to their house and flash them a negative pregnancy test, I’d change your attitude.”
“You’re in contract.”
“And guess what? I think my family would rather us lose everything, than for me to be verbally attacked by an asshole. I’m a human, Huxley, treat me like one,” she snaps at me and then turns in her seat so she’s not looking at me at all, but rather out the window.
Fuck.
Guilt swarms me, because she’s right.
She is a human and she did a fucking great job today. I’m not generally an asshole. I know how to be civil, so why have I thrown out all decorum when it comes to Lottie?
I glance over at her. She’s closed off; there’s nothing I can say right now that will penetrate the wall she’s erected, so instead of trying to deliver some half-hearted apology, I stay silent for the rest of the car ride, stewing in my own thoughts and reliving the night.
Dave seems to be his most receptive when at home, when with Ellie, but he also clearly won’t talk business then either. So how can I combine the two?
Normally I wouldn’t chase a deal like this. I never have, really. In fact, I’ve never had to lie nor be a complete asshole to anyone to achieve my goals. But with my eyes set on the ten-million-dollar profit this deal will procure, there’s no stopping, as far as I’m concerned. Cane Enterprises needs those properties. That is the priority.
They will be mine by the end of this, I guarantee it.
