“You. Any more questions?”
“Yes. What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, walking past him and back into the house.
“I wanted to tell you that I found your mom.”
“And you couldn’t tell me that over the phone?” I asked, walking into the kitchen to stir my sauce.
“I could have done that. I didn’t want to,” he smirked, dipping his finger into my sauce.
“You hate spaghetti,” I said, turning to him right in front of me.
“I do,” he admitted, holding his finger out for me to lick the sauce. Damnit if I didn’t do it. I sucked the sauce from his finger and of course the sensation went right to my groin. I swear if I could have traded this vagina for another one, I would have.
“You’re eating spaghetti or you’re starving,” I assured him, stepping away from him. I had to. I was ready to forget the spaghetti, and have him for supper.
I put the roses in a vase, and he watched me finish supper. “So, where is my mom?” I asked, placing the uncooked spaghetti into the boiling water.
“Rodanthe, North Carolina. She’s doing well. She runs a bed and breakfast out of her beach house. She’s remarried and,” he stopped.
“What, Drew?” I asked, sensing that he didn’t want to tell me something.
“She has a seven year old daughter.”
My eyes widened as my mouth dropped. What the hell? She just dumps her two kids that she had already brought into a bad situation, and goes off and replaces us with a new life and family? It pissed me off, and I wasn’t so sure that I wanted to find her anymore. I didn’t reply to that. I didn’t know what to say.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I stated. My mother needed to be placed on the pile of things that I needed time to process.
“Um, I’m interviewing for Derik’s position. Do you want to be involved?”
I looked at him puzzled. “Why would I want to be involved with that?”
“You do own the company,” he reminded me.
“I do not. Stop saying that.”
“You do, Morgan, whether you want to accept it or not. Your name, not mine is in that will.”
“How is he?” I asked, needing to put that in my processing pile, as well.
“I went by yesterday. He didn’t look good. His nurse told me that his kidneys were starting to shut down.”
“He’s dying?” I asked. I’m not sure why I asked that. He looked like he was half dead the last time that I had seen him.
“Yes. He’s been dying for quite some time, but I don’t think it will be much longer. I don’t think he will make it to the end of summer.”
I couldn’t process that either. I had just found out that he was my grandfather. I hadn’t even had the chance to get to know him.
“This is a nice little place you have here,” Drew said, sensing my uneasiness.
I snorted. “Thanks. I almost said that I bought it with your money, but I guess it was mine, uh?”
“Yeah,” he now snorted, “It is. I’m still not quite sure how you pulled that off. I could hear every word you said in that house anytime I wanted, and I could see you.
How the hell did you get into my office without me finding out?”
“You probably shouldn’t underestimate me. I’m not as dumb as you think I am.”
“Oh, I have learned not to underestimate you, and I don’t think you are dumb at all. How did you get in there?”
he asked again.
“Rebecca shut the power off a couple of times, and I learned a lot from all those times that I spent bent over your desk. I knew all of your passwords, how to freeze the cameras, and how to move money so that you wouldn’t notice.”
“I did underestimate you. I’m glad I have you on my side.”
“I’m not on your side.”
“We’ll see,” he smirked.
We walked out to the back deck and Drew again commented on the view. My heart skipped a few beats when he walked behind me and trapped me between the railing and his dangerous body. I think I may have even stopped breathing when he kissed my ear and whispered.
“You do know that I plan on fucking you, don’t you?”
Fuck…!
“And you know that I should throw you out of my house, don’t you,” I said with my eyes closed, trying not to think about what he had just said.
“Maybe, but you won’t. Do you know why you won’t, Morgan,” he whispered with that same low whisper. I knew what he was insinuating, but I asked anyway.
“Why?”
“Because, you want me to fuck you.”
“I do?” I asked the ridiculous question. Of course I wanted him to do just that, and the sooner the better.
“You do. I would bet that if I slipped my fingers inside of these nice fitting jeans right now that you’re already wet, thinking about it,” he said, grinding into my backside.
“Jesus Christ, Drew. Stop it,” I demanded, turning to him. I was human after all, and being that my vagina seemed to have a mind all of its own, I was ready to spread my legs right there on the deck.