Page 11 of Creeping Beautiful

What the other men will do with their girls when they leave, I have no idea. I don’t want an idea. I only know what I’ll do with mine.

“Adam Boucher?”

I turn at the sound of my full name and find Gerald Couture already heading towards me with two outstretched hands. He’s a tall, thin man wearing a perfectly tailored light gray suit and a broad smile that shows off straight, white teeth. His hair is silver, styled, and even though he’s got to be almost eighty years old, he doesn’t look a day over fifty.

I extend a hand, almost on autopilot, and he takes it in both of his, giving it a squeeze. “I thought that was you.” He nods, then says it again. “I thought that was you. Well.” He pauses again to smile at me and take a breath. “I wasn’t expecting you this year. Also, I never had the chance to say… I’m just very sorry about your father.” He frowns to prove his sympathy.

“And your son,” I say back. “It was… a terrible tragedy.”

Gerald presses his lips into a forced smile. Nods. Probably pictures the estate in Santa Barbara where everything went wrong. Where my father and his—what to call that guy? His friend? Co-worker? Employee? Protégé? Let’s just call him Gerald’s son for now—walked into a mansion for a wedding and never walked back out.

I wonder if Gerald knows the truth?

Probably not. He wouldn’t be smiling at me if he did.

“I wasn’t going to come, but…” I shrug. “Trust fund matured a couple years ago. I have a lot of money at the moment and not much purpose in life. So…” I wave my free hand at the room like this explains everything. “I’m gonna do this for a while, I guess.”

“Excellent.” Gerald is still smiling. “Excellent.” He pumps my captive hand up and down in both of his. “Your father would be proud. He always saw this as your future.”

Did he? Did he really? Because… why then? Why did he buy Core McKay for me when I was eleven if he always saw this as my future?

That’s what I want to say, but don’t. Even though I’m fairly certain Gerald would probably have an answer for me, and that answer might even be the truth.

But I can’t think about the past right now. I need to keep my eyes set firmly on the future.

“Yeah.” I pull my hand out of Gerald’s grip and swipe two flat fingers across my brow. It’s fucking hot tonight. Still almost ninety degrees and even though I’m only wearing dark slacks and a white button-down—not entirely buttoned—and even with the ocean breeze, all I can think about is getting back on the boat and taking off these clothes. Maybe going for a swim before I head back to Nassau and catch the jet back to Louisiana. “Sure,” I blatantly add. “I’m sure he did.”

“Well.” Gerald takes in a deep breath. “What is the budget tonight? And what are your plans with her? Perhaps I can give you some tips?”

I exhale, having second thoughts about this now that it’s all becoming very real. “There’s no budget. Just… whatever it takes. And I’m looking for a partner.”

Gerald raises one eyebrow. “Which kind?”

“You know. Military shit.”

He nods. Then frowns. “I see. Hmm. Well, I’m not sure that was your father’s plan.”

“No. It wasn’t. But he’s gone now so all the fucks I gave about his plans went with him.”

Gerald purses his lips. Doesn’t smile. He and my father were tight. A team once, much like the one I’m putting together now. He trusted my father enough to let his son join my father’s team after Gerald retired. And in this business, that’s no small thing. “It’s not as easy as you think, Adam. I know that the idea of taking one home as a breeder doesn’t sit well with a lot of men your age. But trust me. It’s easier.”

I wonder how that word ‘breeder’ can just roll off his tongue like that. And also, what in the name God gave Gerald the impression that I ever thought anything was easy in this life? But I nod. “Maybe. But I’m twenty-three years old, I have more money than God, and I’m fuckin’ bored. So… the hell with it. I’m not ready to settle down.”

“It’s not what you think. The jobs. They’re not what you think. Trust me on this. I’ve been there and I was a lot like you when I came here and bought my first girl. It was exciting and we were good at it. But six months later the only people still alive were your father and me. I was devastated.”

He frowns and looks somber about his devastation.

“I’m sure you were. But you did it again, and again, and again. You bought more girls, you got more teams, and life went on, didn’t it?”

“We paid a price.”

I shrug. “That’s what money’s for.”

“It wasn’t the money, son. It was…” But he stops. “Your father wasn’t happy until he settled. Until he bought the last girl—”

“My mother, you mean?”

“—and had you. That’s when his life really began.”