Page 19 of Tempting-
Fuck.
Every bit of joy falls from Dean's expression.
Even Walker looks surprised.
"He's giving us the option to buy him out. Any of us. Or all four of us. It's not cheap, but it's doable." Ryan stares back at his brother. "You listening now?"
Dean nods.
Ryan takes a minute to go into the numbers. I'm the only person with enough to buy out the place. But that would mean adding more time to the mortgage.
There's no way I'm doing that.
But there's no way I'm letting this shop slip through my fingers either. This place is the best thing in my life.
"We have two weeks," Ryan says. "Think about it. Check your shit. We'll talk."
He nods goodbye to his brother.
Ryan shakes his head as he watches Dean and Walker return to their suites. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair. Shakes his head. "They're such kids."
"They are kids," I say.
His expression gets sincere. Caring. It's a rarity for him. He's been sulking over his broken heart, avoiding anything that even resembles earnest emotion, for ages now. "They're fucking immature, but they're right."
"I ask for your opinion?"
"I ask you to invite your crush to hang out here so you can stare at her ass?"
"She was here for two minutes."
"Yeah, she never hangs out here."
"She helps out for free."
"That's why she's here, love of our bottom line?"
"You have a point?"
"My idiotic brother is right. She's not gonna wait around for you forever. And you shouldn't either." He motions to the business card in my hand. "She was cute."
"Not interested."
"You don't need to marry her. Just go out. Have fun. Realize there are more fish in the sea."
"Really?"
"Fuck off. I can be a hypocrite if I want." He is. He's been scorched Earth about romance since his ex left. There are no other fish in the sea. Not for Ryan.
"She's almost as young as Kaylee."
"She invited you to a bar." Ryan shrugs. "Your life. Do what you want." He motions to Anna's number. "You keep saying you don't want to be with Kay. If you mean it, then prove it. At least to yourself."
Chapter Six
KAYLEE
There are a dozen boxes in the living room. The space is empty. Sparse. Soulless.
