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Chapter Five
Reid
“Well son, how did the meeting go down at Bill and Shelia’s this morning? I know it’s been a while since you’ve worked a claim. Like riding a bike, huh, kid? I bet you had them eating out of the palm of your hand.” I internally rolled my eyes as I walked into my father’s office, just one floor above my own. I’ve been trying to avoid him as much as possible, the less we have to work together for me to get this done, the better.
He leaned back in his chair, comfortable, he doesn’t see me as the threat that I know I am. He trusts me, and that’s unfortunate for the both of us. His large gut pulls dangerously at the buttons of his pressed, white button-down, tempting the seams between the black suspenders he wears every day. I’m not sure if he wears them because he thinks they look good, or if he genuinely cannot keep his pants up at the awkward position over his gut without them. My bet is on the latter. His silver/gray hair is slicked back, curling at the tips just at the base of his neck, and his jowls are clean-shaven, as they always have been. I’ve never seen my father with facial hair, he detests it, swears it looks lazy, which in turn makes you look incompetent.
“Actually, Bill and Shelia weren’t there, they’re out of the country. I spoke with Beth Holt, the manager of the café, and Holly Adkins, the designer on the restoration project.” I watched my father as I said their names, waiting for a reaction. Does he know Holly? Has he worked for her before? Or does he believe that his relationship is strictly with her father?
“Huh,” he grunted. “I guess ole’ Bill is finally getting tired of running that damn coffee shop. That was always Shelia’s thing, and Bill, well, he was pussy whipped. He’s been following that woman around since we were kids.” The way he spoke about a woman that I’ve known as my aunt the majority of my life made my gut roll. Have I been that far removed? Or was I just blind to it as a child?
Ignoring his crass statement, I pushed forward. “They think the project will be complete in four weeks, which seems a little extreme. Sounded like Adkins didn’t mind fronting her own money to get the ball rolling though.”
“These things take time, but it’s possible we can fast-track the claim on our end. We’ve got some accounts set up that make the paperwork a little easier. All things I will teach you in time, boy. I’m just happy you’re finally here to learn the family business.”
Accounts.
Ease the paperwork.
Red flags popped up all over the place. The damn family business.
“Hey, Dad,” it killed me to even call him that. “What do you know about Anderson House? I saw the file on the public network yesterday. Are you handling that account personally or will you assign someone to it?”
“Sylv Wilks is my client, a friend of mine.” He confirmed my suspicions as he rolled his chin between his thumb and forefinger, something I’ve seen him do numerous times before when he’s toying around with an idea.
“I apologize, but I’m not familiar.” I baited to see what information my father might reveal to me.
“Sylvester Wilks, owns Wilks Luxury Auto. Not a guy you want to piss off, but I think this may be a good claim for you to take on. We can work together on the project, and I can show you the ins and outs of the business as my father did before me.” Jesus, at least my grandfather is dead, I would hate to have to lock him away too.
The thought of working with my father on the project didn’t sit well with me, but maybe this will give us the information we need to connect all three of our main players.
Not to mention, I wouldn’t mind seeing Holly Adkins again. I knew exactly which woman she was of the two that stood before me when I walked into the café this morning. She’s tiny, like a compact stick of dynamite. Even in her seductive, black stilettos the top of her head barely hit my chin. I could probably grip both of her hips and my fingers would connect around her center.
Her sleek blonde hair fell straight around her shoulders, and dammit if blondes don’t set my blood on fire. Standing in a solid inch of water in black pants that molded to her slender curves, a matching black blazer, and a hot pink silk top underneath, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her, even as I tried to focus on Elizabeth Holt and her claim. A claim that, if not connected to this case, I honestly don’t give two shits about.
She’s a powerhouse, and her attitude tells me that she very well could be involved with her father. She’s confident and sensual without even trying. I should be more concerned with her connection to this case and less concerned about the slight outline of her nipples that I could just barely make out as they pressed tightly against the silk fabric of her camisole.
I’ve always kept my sex life separate from the cases I work, never willing to risk blowing a case up over one night of pleasure, because they’re all the same. Interchangeable.
But, Holly, she’s got me wondering what lengths I may be willing to go to, to get a taste.
Just one bite.
Would she bite back?
???
Holly
“Hold up! Stop it right there. Anderson House, as in creepy as hell haunted mansion just outside of Carlton? I watched a documentary on that place, and I swear that I didn’t sleep for a week straight.” Olivia’s face looked horrified as she spoke up and I sipped on my mimosa, unaffected, telling the girls about my upcoming project over our semi-regular Sunday brunch.
For nearly a year now, I’ve been getting together with a small group of my closest girlfriends for brunch once or twice a month on Sunday. We always try to pick somewhere new and different, and yet even though the scenery changes, we order the same things – bottomless mimosas, an extra-large charcuterie board, and when we’re feeling extra fancy, the assortment of mini muffins - those are Olivia’s favorite. We love our spontaneity, you know – as long as it’s properly planned.
It’s becoming increasingly more difficult for us to get together as our lives continue to get busier. Megan and Ali, the twins, are both at different stages of their pregnancies. Olivia and her new husband, Jason, recently adopted a teenage boy – yeah, you can only imagine how full their hands are. And Beth, well she’s dealing with the café, and I have sneaking suspicion that she and Asher Cohen, the hottest local chef in the Carlton area, are cooking up something else on the sly. Sometimes it’s just nice to sit around a table together and stuff our faces with miniature calories and fancy alcohol – disguised as a breakfast beverage.
“One and the same. I got a call about the project last week. I know it sounds crazy, but I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. I specialize in historical renovation and design, but honestly – those projects are few and far between. The revitalization efforts here in Carlton have kept me busy, but when do those run out? At some point I’m going to be back to designing closet spaces and nurseries for babies. No offense, I love helping you guys, you’re my family. But my heart, my heart is in the century’s old bones of older properties. The stories they tell, they speak to me.”
“Tell us how you really feel, why don’t you?” Ali teased as she rubbed her almost non-existent belly. She and Megan both are tiny, but Megan is a little further along in her pregnancy.
