“Show me a picture of him again,” Angel asks. I snag my phone off the table to pull up my Instagram. The server comes by and gets us another round and clears out the appetizers we’ve been snacking on.
Peter is a fourth-grade teacher at my school. He’s super nice and has asked me out a few times. He’s good-looking too. He’s this adorable mix of an all-American boy with a touch of dorkiness to him with his glasses. We get along well. We’re both into the same movies and jokes. We have a ton in common, and I should be really into him, but I’m not.
Well, not in the way I’m looking for. There’s no spark between us, and while he has the whole boy next door look going on, he is not manly enough for me. He’s also not my boy next door. And that’s probably the root of the problem.
Now Beau is all man. There I go again thinking about him. I’m starting to wonder if that’s my problem. I have to stop comparing everyone who asks me out to Beau. This is also why I agreed to this as well.
Peter sent me a text while we were cringing over the dating app. A few pushes later and oddly some encouragement from Angel’s fiancé and I’d agreed to give Peter a chance. Even though deep down inside I know my heart belongs to someone else, I need to start moving forward with my life.
Angel looks down at my phone and then back over my shoulder. Her nose scrunches as she does this a few more times. “I guess he cleans up well.”
“What?” I take the phone back from her, not understanding what she means.
“He’s coming in hot,” she mumbles under her breath. “From Clark Kent to Superman.” I turn my head, following her line of sight. I have to do a double take as Peter moves closer to the table.
Well, damn.
3
Beau
I pull my shirt on, my hair still damp from my shower. I pause when I think I hear a creak. Slowly I grab the gun on the top shelf in my closet before I make my way toward the sound.
“Don’t kill me. Hate for one of my men to have to kill you after,” Logan says as he pockets his cell phone. He’s sitting at the table in my kitchen. His legs are stretched out, making himself right at home. I let out a breath, lowering my gun.
“How the fuck did you get in here?” I open a kitchen drawer, dropping the gun inside after putting the safety back on.
“I only hire the best.” He smirks. I know he has a team of security.
“Fucking rich people think they can do whatever the fuck they want.”
“Rich.” His hand reaches up to grab his chest, pretending I hurt his feelings. “I’m wealthy. Now you, on the other hand, are skirting rich. I give you another year or two and you’ll have the title for sure. You and your dad have made impressive progress. Do you favor commercial or residential contracting?”
“I prefer when assholes don’t almost land my ass in jail for murder.” I walk over to the fridge and grab a bottle of water. I hold one up, offering it to him. Logan shakes his head no.
“My Angel is gonna be pissed about your face. I think it might make you look better.”
“I’m starting to understand why you and your brother hate each other,” I lie. I’d question the fuck out of Logan if he was chummy with his piece of crap brother. I’d gotten into a few fights with the little shit when I was younger. From the way Logan speaks of him, it doesn't sound as though he’s changed over the years.
“You know I was pissed you got this lot. It was never on the market. I didn't hear about the sale until after,” Logan says, ignoring my jab about his brother. He never does talk much about his family. But he’s assimilated into ours pretty well. And as much I hate to admit it, he’s growing on me.
“Austin was a former Navy SEAL. I made an offer, and he took it.” I’d met the old man when I was on leave one week at the VA. I made him an offer when he told me about selling the warehouses. He should have said no. I offered him every penny I had to my name at the time, knowing it was nowhere close to what he could really get but hoping he'd at least consider it. To my surprise, he accepted my offer without a blink of an eye.
“So I heard.”
I have no doubt Logan heard about it. It was years ago. Logan is known for importing and exporting. This would have been a prime spot for him. Not that I give a shit. The warehouses that had been in business here didn't need to be on the oceanfront. They’d been built long ago. They could move, but you can't get land like this anymore.