"You heard me. I'll increase the deal." I crossed my arms.
"I'm listening."
"Oh, just like that?" I asked.
"My mother's home is worth a lot more than you are offering."
"I'd like to remind you that she'll be keeping her home. It's a portion of her land I'm after." My business was growing fast, and I was good at it. There was more room in the budget, and I could certainly offer her more. "How much are you looking at?" I asked.
"Ten-thousand. One date." She grinned at me. This was a game to her. Well, I could easily play along. If there was one thing I was good at it was games with women.
I should’ve had an Olympic gold metal in it, the way I’d trained.
Still, she hesitated. Fine. I’d up the ante.
"Hell, I'll make it 50,000 if you agree to ten dates." Ten dates to show her what she'd left behind. Two for each year she'd been away. Surely that would be enough.
If I couldn’t convince her to at least not hate me after ten dates then I deserved what I got.
I could tell just by looking at her that she wasn't convinced. I wasn't going to do better than that, no. I didn't want to let her know that she had an upper hand in the bargain.
"Ten nights for fifty-thousand dollars. You can't say no to that, can you?" I asked. I dared her to try. Her family needed the money. Her mother needed it. I was counting on it.
And I could be a cold son of a bitch when I put my mind to it.
"Fine. Ten dates. That's nothing. I can get through that." The quiver in her lip told me she wasn't so sure.
Damn, it made me lick my lips. I wanted to be that quiver.
I had her already, she just didn't know it yet.
"I think you agreed to spend so much time with him because you have a thing for him." My mother took my dinner plate from me and slid it into the sink.
She always knew what I thought before I did, and it was part of why I didn’t want to tell her about my date. Because she would spoil my own feelings.
I stood and followed her, joining in our old after-dinner routine. She would wash. I would rinse. It was the perfect little pair. We were such a happy family.
Until I went off to college. I thought I was bigger than Laurel, Montana. I thought I could rule the world.
I thought there would be an entire life waiting for me outside of it.
I was wrong.
"It's not about him, mom. It's about the money. Fifty-thousand dollars is a lot of cash. I want to make sure that you're taken care of. That you have everything you need." It was a lot of money, especially for us. Especially here.
Money could buy a lot of things, but it didn’t buy that tall stack of sexy that wanted to see me. No matter how much I tried to deny it, I couldn’t help but admit that I liked the attention.
Wyatt Graves was every bit the bad boy he ever was, and I was drawn to him. Like the way a moth is drawn to flame, even though it gets burnt every time.
I'd be lying if I didn't admit that who it was had a little bit to do with it. I mean, I wasn't going to sell my time to just any man that came off the street. No, it was Wyatt. I could trust him.
I could trust him not to take advantage of me.
"Well, if that's the case," She said as she looked at me, "At least he's hot."
"Mom!" I said in surprise. I hadn’t expected her to agree with this, let alone encourage it.
"Well, he is." She grinned. "I might be too old for a fella like him, but I can look, can't I?" She snapped the towel at me and I giggled.
She wasn't lying. He was hot as hell. Everyone knew it. That wasn't what was up for debate.
"He must really like you if he's offering fifty-thousand just for some dates. Not even a guarantee of a goodnight kiss!" she giggled.
That's right. Not even a guarantee. At least, I hoped he understood that.
We hadn't actually gone over the ground rules.
Shoot.
What had I gotten myself into?
I need to talk to you.- Text Message
I grinned down at my phone. I knew who it was, but something about her made me want to give her grief. I guess that was just the way I rolled. She was fucking sexy when she was angry, though.
Who is this? I asked.
Rose.
How did you get my number?
I got it from Jess.- Rose Of course she did.
Couldn’t get enough of me, could you? I was being a jerk and I knew it.
I need to talk to you. She repeated.
I see. Isn’t that what we are doing? I wrote back as I chuckled.
I ran my hand through my hair as I imagined what she looked like right at that moment. It was after two pm; she had to have been starting to unravel. At least a little bit. Business casual with her hair up, the stray strands flaring out. I imagined she even had some wrinkles in her blouse and that her makeup had started to fade.