Unbreak My Heart (6 page)

“Why not?”

“What if I fell for him again, knowing he’ll leave again? Been there, done that.” I had the scars to prove it—even if they were only visible to me.

“So just hanging out and rekindling your friendship…?”

I shook my head. “He wasn’t looking at me like he wanted to kick back and watch reruns of
Two Angry Beavers
.” The memory hit me with a wave of happy nostalgia I hadn’t allowed for a long time. We’d both laughed our asses off at that stupid cartoon. I’d never met anyone who got the offbeat humor the way he did. I’d never met any man who got me the way he did either.

“Maybe we should deal with
your
angry beaver.”

I faced her. “Omigod. I cannot believe you said that!”

Lu aimed her straw at me. “Yes, you can. Your dilemma is easy to solve.”

“Let me guess…your suggestion is that I fuck him.”

“Yes.” She held up her hand to stop my automatic protest. “Just hear me out.”

Tempting to plug my ears and start singing “Never Gonna Get It” at the top of my lungs. Not that Lu would understand the reference; my eclectic taste in music baffled her as much as my penchant for watching weird cartoons.

“You’ve always wondered what sex would be like with him.”

“And that is exactly why I
shouldn’t
do it.”

“You are a ‘one and done’ chick anyway. Why would it be different with him?”

“It just would be,” I said stubbornly.

“Because you’re afraid he’d be rubbish in bed?”

“Been watching reruns of
Absolutely Fabulous
again, have you, dahling?” I said in my best British accent.

“Eh, sod off, ye bloody wanker.” She stirred her drink. “I’m serious, S.”

“So am I. What if he’s like…unbelievable in bed? Then I’d be left wanting more”—again—“and I’d worry he just fucked me because
he
always wondered what sex would be like with me.” I shook my head and didn’t voice my other concern; what if Boone was disappointed in my skills between the sheets? That’d be another blow I might not recover from. “It’s better to wonder and leave it at that. Can we please drop it now?”

She sighed dramatically. “You are such a ballbuster when you’ve got a financial spreadsheet in front of you. But with personal stuff? I never would’ve pegged you as such a chickenshit, McKay.”

I slurped my drink. “Sure you have.”

“When?” Lu demanded.

“Spring break when I refused to get a Pussy Galore tattoo with you.”

“Which makes zero sense since that summer you got that”—she gestured wildly—“brand thingy on your hip. Pussy Galore? Way more meaningful.”

I’d succumbed to my cousin Keely’s badgering and gotten inked with the official McKay cattle brand. “I told you. It’s a family thing.”

“Nice try at changing the subject, but back to you throwing Boone a bone.”

“Awesome alliteration, Baby Spice. I thought we were dropping this.”

“Not until I get my point across.” She tapped her finger on the rim of her cup. “He wants the V, you want the D, so you need to do this. Fuck him one time and get him out of your system. Then you can move on. That way it’ll never get to the stage that his dick isn’t doing it for you anymore and there’s no risk for the burn-out factor.”

I stared at her, thankful for the bizarre turn in the conversation. “Burn-out factor for his…dick?”

“Yep.”

“Is that even a thing?”

Lu nodded. “It’s why I’m not in a relationship.” She drained her margarita. “I’m a dick connoisseur. I like ’em all—fat, thin, long, short, wide, thick, cut, uncut, ruddy, smooth. There are so many colors and sizes, how can I limit myself to just one? And when I think about all the dick I’ve sampled, I feel a little slutty. I begin to think maybe I
should
try and settle down with the one dick that fits me above all others.”

“You’re comparing your va-jay-jay to a glass slipper? Find the ideal fit and you’ve got a dick you can commit to?”

“Exactly! But how will I find the prince of all penises if I’m not actively looking?”

I couldn’t fault her logic. And if she wanted a different dick every night, who was I to judge? “Your plan to prowl for the perfect pecker is plausible.”

“Now who’s the alliteration queen?”

I stood, putting an end to the discussion. “I’m hitting the pool for a quick swim before I decide whether to make another pitcher of margaritas or whip up a batch of white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies.”

“Count me out for the booze. I have a quiz tomorrow and I have to study.”

“I don’t miss doing homework.”

“I won’t miss it either, but not everyone can get a bachelor’s degree in three years.” Lu hip-checked me as she passed by.

My reflex to correct her dried on my tongue. I’d finished my degree in three and a half years, partially from taking the basic classes at the University of Wyoming during my senior year of high school, partially because I’d grown up Gavin Daniels’ daughter. I CLEPed out of a shit ton of general business classes. And Dad accused me of not paying attention to him.

Right before I submerged myself in the pool, Lu said, “We’re not done dissecting this dealio with Boone, S. Because it’s not going away.”

Seemed to be a theme in my life today.

D
éjà vu day
two.

Cooling my heels in the reception area, waiting for Sierra to grant me an audience.

Restless as fuck but pretending to be chill.

The magazines stacked on the glass coffee table didn’t interest me.

I hadn’t bothered to try and charm the snippy receptionist after she played the “do you have an appointment?” game that I couldn’t win.

Yesterday I’d dressed to impress—not in a suit, but in casual clothes that broadcast my laid-back, yet professional vibe. I’d skipped that shit today. The trick to breaking down the wall Sierra had built between us was to show her that I hadn’t changed. Remind her of the worn-jeans-and-T-shirt-wearing guy she used to know.

Finally, Sierra’s office door opened and she sauntered toward me.

I immediately stood. Sweet Jesus. She fucking rocked business casual. The black dress sculpted the curve of her breasts and her torso, hugging her hips. The bottom flared out above her knees, drawing attention to those long, shapely legs. She hadn’t worn heels and I loomed over her by a good three inches.

“You didn’t used to be this much taller than me.”

I shrugged. “I grew a few inches after high school.”

“You showing up again today is part of your ‘I’m a burr’ plan to waste my valuable time?”

“You dismissed me yesterday before you let me get to the reason I’m here.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “So this isn’t a social call?”

“No, ma’am. I am here on business. And I’d rather discuss this in private.”

Her suspicion remained when she tersely said, “Follow me.” Wheeling around, she headed back to her office.

That ass. Man. I followed her swaying hips and managed not to be focused on her backside when she faced forward to rest her butt against the front edge of the desk. She didn’t even invite me to sit. “So you’re here on business?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of business are you in the market for?”

Dirty business, funny business, monkey business, me giving you the business.
I told the twelve-year-old boy inside me to shut the hell up. “I’d like you to show me apartments, condos and house rentals for an army friend who’s moving here.”

She studied me. “You don’t have the first fucking clue about what my job entails at Daniels Property Management, do you?”

One minute in and I’d already screwed up. “Kyler said you were in real estate.”

“So naturally you thought I was a…real estate agent?”

Do not answer, dumbass. Do not even nod your fucking head.

“Was that why you were impressed with my corner office?”

“Clearly I screwed up in that assumption. So please enlighten me about what you do.”

Without breaking eye contact, Sierra reached behind her for a business card and flicked it at me.

I flipped it around, hoping the text didn’t swim. Big, bold black letters on a cream background read:

Sierra McKay

Executive Vice President

Commercial and Industrial Property Expansion Specialist

Daniels Property Management

I looked at her. “Impressive. What does the title mean?”

She flashed her teeth. “That I don’t drive clients around showing them residential properties.”

Ouch.

“But feel free to keep my business card in case…your
friend
needs to hire a company to oversee a full remodel or restoration of his commercial property. I specialize in coordinating all aspects of revitalizing retail spaces—any size from six hundred square feet to sixty thousand square feet.”

I tucked the business card in my front pocket after making sure it listed her contact number. “To be honest, I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

“A very real, very complicated thing which doesn’t leave me time to act as a real estate guide for you or anyone else.” She pushed up from the desk. “My assistant, Nikki, will give you a list of reputable Realtors we deal with.”

“So that’s it?” I said tightly.

“No BS, Boone. What do you really want from me?”

“Professionally? I want a Phoenix native to help me navigate all the suburbs and figure out the best, safest and most affordable place for my friend to live. You are obviously an expert in the real estate field—which, yes, I mistakenly took to mean you could show me specific apartments, condos and houses for rent. But your skill set being way above that pay grade doesn’t change the fact I still would like your help.”

“Why are you pressing me on this?”

Think fast, man.
“Because I trust you. If there’s no commission on the line then you can be completely honest about my options.”

“You mean your friend’s options,” she said sharply.

Fuck. I almost blew that. “Yeah. You can help me narrow down my buddy Raj’s choices.”

“Why does Raj trust you so much?”

“Because I’m trustworthy.”
Except you’re lying like a motherfucker right now, aren’t you? And what is going to happen when she finds out?
I’d worry about that later; right now I had her on the hook.

Then something Kyler had mentioned clicked and I played my only trump card. “Besides, you helped Mase find the McMansion he bought last summer. Kyler wouldn’t shut up about how everything went seamlessly with you involved. Even when residential rentals and sales aren’t in your wheelhouse.”

“That big-mouthed asshat,” she muttered.

I moved in closer. “Would it really be horrible spending a few hours with me this morning?”

Sierra got that squinty-eyed stare as if she was envisioning her daily schedule.

So I quickly added, “Or I can come back this afternoon. Or even tomorrow sometime if that works better for your schedule.”

“Actually, today is the only day this week that my morning schedule is flexible.”

Do
not
punch your fist in the air and shout
Boo-yah! “So you’ll do it with me?”

Those tawny-colored eyes of hers snapped to mine. “Excuse me?”

“You’ll give me an overview of Phoenix?”

She sighed. “You are such a pushy bastard, West. But yes.” She eyed the file folders on her desk. “I didn’t really want to deal with all of this quarterly stuff anyway.”

“I’m happy to be your excuse for ditching office work for a few hours.”

Sierra smiled at me and my heart damn near burst. “You tried to get me to ditch school with you once.”

“I remember. Feeling flush with cash for a change, I offered to buy you a DQ chili dog. I promised to have you back in time for fifth period. You turned me down.” My eyes searched hers. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t want you spending your money on me,” she said softly. “I knew how hard you worked for it.”

Being this close to her, smelling her perfume and watching the pulse pounding in her throat…I’d wanted this, but I had no idea how to act on it because I had zero experience with starting a relationship.

My conscience snapped,
I’m pretty sure luring her in with a lie is the worst possible option.

Sierra sidestepped me and returned to her brusque demeanor. “I’ll need to speak with my assistant before we go. I’ll pick you up at the main entrance in ten minutes.”

“I have a call to make”—total lie and wasn’t I just turning into fucking Pinocchio?—“so that’ll work.”

I assumed she’d loosen up once we left Stepford Central. During my twenty-three-minute stint in the reception area, I’d watched Sierra’s colleagues, whose icy demeanors were identical to the one she’d perfected. I couldn’t blame her for following the crowd, especially if she was trying to blend in.

But she’d never blend. She never had.

After taking the stairs to the first floor, I cut across the blacktop to a small grassy area with a stone bench. What rocket scientist decided it’d be a great idea to plant grass in the damn desert? With time to kill, I checked my cell phone and saw that my dad had called again. With only a seven-minute window before Sierra pulled up, the callback couldn’t go long and I’d be done with it. I dialed and immediately began to pace.