Текст книги "ARROGANT PLAYBOY"
Автор книги: Winter Renshaw
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Текущая страница: 42 (всего у книги 43 страниц)
THIRTY-SIX
BELLAMY
“You have tens of thousands of dollars to your name now and a wardrobe easily worth six figures.” Dane’s words come out of nowhere as I climb into his bed Monday night wearing nothing but his favorite velvet lingerie and an untied satin robe in a shade of deep scarlet. His hands drag across my stomach, but he refuses to look at me. “I suppose it’s only a matter of time before you’re done here.”
Is this his way of pushing me away?
“You make it sound like I’ve been using you,” I say, climbing under the covers and slinking up next to him. Last night, I woke up from a bad dream to find his arm wrapped around my side. I stayed paralyzed not wanting to move or wake him just so I could enjoy it a bit longer.
“Isn’t that what we were doing?” he asks. “Using each other?”
“I’d like to think it was deeper than that,” I say.
“You just said was…” He rolls to his back, slipping his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling.
“It wasn’t intentional,” I say. “I don’t want us to be a ‘was’ just yet. Unless you do…”
“I’m not quite ready to be done with you yet. If I’m being honest.”
“I knew you were testing me.”
“Always.”
“Your honesty is noted and appreciated.” I want to lean across the wide bed and kiss every part of him from his deliciously curved jaw to the bow of his upper lip to his perfectly straight nose.
Instead, I refrain from ruining this moment by acting like some cutesy girlfriend, because the next thing I know, he’d be calling Mathilde to pack my things and call me a cab.
“I’m still waiting on that notebook,” he says. “Your deepest, darkest fantasy. I want to bring it to life for you. You’ve done that for me already, but I’d like to return the favor.”
I bite my tongue, unsure of how to tell him this.
“I threw the notebook away.” My hands fly over my face.
“You did what?” The low tone of his voice and the storm brewing in his eyes suggests he’s angry enough to punish me, and that hasn’t happened in a good, long while. He rolls to his side, facing me, and props himself up on his elbow.
I sit up in his bed, peering at him between my fingers. The day after we returned from Nashville I tossed it out after having spent all weekend asking myself what my ultimate fantasy might be and finally getting an answer.
“Why would you do that?” His dark brows meet in the middle.
“Because what I want…what the deepest part of me wants…” I draw in a long breath. “It’s not something you’re capable of giving me.”
“I’m capable of giving you anything you want.”
“Not this.”
“I find that extremely hard to believe.”
“Believe it.”
“Tell me what it is. As your master, I’m ordering you.” His expression darkens, and his hand slides between my inner thighs until it reaches my sex where he rubs me through my lace panties. “Tell me, Bellamy.”
Just thinking about telling him makes me cringe because I know how he’ll react. It won’t be good. And I don’t want him to look at me like some silly schoolgirl.
“Please don’t make me say this.” I clasp my hands together and playfully beg though my face is winced and blushing.
His eyes drag from mine toward the pillow between us, his hand motionless between my thighs now. “You don’t feel like you can open up to me?”
“Not with this.”
Lingering silence consumes the space between us, and Dane’s expression falls somber.
“I was raised FLDS. I grew up at the Zion Ranch about fifty miles north of Claxon, Utah.” He clears his throat, pulling his hand from me, his eyes still glued to the pillow. “My father had eight wives and fifty-six children. I was the twenty-first son. Beckham was the twenty-second. We were born six months apart to two different mothers.”
I’m still as a statue, clinging to his every word.
“When I was sixteen, my father came for Beckham and me and walked us out to one of the compound’s Suburban’s, which was already filled with five other young men, like myself.” He swallows. “We were each given a sack lunch and a twenty-dollar bill and dropped off in the middle of the country. Most of us had never set foot outside the compound border.”
“Dane.” My hand flies to my mouth. I want to hold him, comfort him.
“Some of the lost boys headed straight for Vegas. Drugs. Prostitution. They did whatever they had to do.” He shakes his head, keeping the far-off look in his eyes. “My brother and I got a job bussing tables and mopping floors at some rat’s nest diner we came across on our walk into a nearby town.”
He smirks.
“The owner of the diner, Leo Fickbaum, was a spirited old bastard. I suppose he took pity on us, so he put us up in this old 1955 Airstream he had sitting in his backyard. That’s where we lived for a couple years. Working at the diner, living in a camper.”
Dane’s layers upon layers are momentarily translucent, and my aching heart is replaced with nothing but admiration.
“Uncle Leo, as we came to call him, came into some money after a few years from some inheritance,” Dane continues. “He was a humble man. Didn’t want much. Didn’t need much. He was an old bachelor who never settled or had kids. Leo decided to give the money to Beck and I, but only if we promised to invest it.”
I nod my head side to side. “Makes sense.”
“Beck had all these grand ideas,” he says. “But I suggested that we invest it in ourselves first. We got our G.E.D.s and attended a local community college, studying alternative and renewable energy. Within three years, we bought out a fledgling solar panel company based out of Salt Lake City, expanded it, and renamed it Townsend Energy Holdings.”
“And now here you are.” A smile resides in my tone. I’m sure there’s more to his story, but he’s never opened up to me like this before, so I won’t dare go prying just yet.
“I don’t enjoy discussing my past,” he says. “It’s difficult at times, and I tend to give the condensed version.”
“Understandable.”
“But now that I’ve opened up to you,” he says. “Common courtesy would suggest you should return the favor.”
Wow. All that just so he could get me to tell him my deep, dark secret.
“It’s not dark,” I say. I’m not sure how I can listen to him pour his heart out about his younger years and then deliver some silly fantasy of mine. It’s certainly not an equal exchange.
“Okay.” His fingers slip between my thighs again, massaging me with quick, steady circles as he moves closer to me. “Tell.”
“You’re going to laugh.”
“I promise I will not laugh.”
His hands slide around my hips, grabbing a handful of flesh and rolling me over top of him where the girth of his hardness presses through his satin pajama bottoms. He rocks my hips over his, teasing me the way he does so well.
“What is it, Bellamy? What is the one thing you desire more than anything in the world?”
My hips grind against him, and I gather my hair at the nape of my neck, dragging it over my shoulder as our eyes lock.
“Sex with love.”
He stops, his hands locked on my outer thighs, and his jaw firming.
“See, I knew this would happen. I knew you’d look at me like that.” My face burns. I try to climb off of him, but he refuses to release me. “It’s not something you can give me. I know that. I tried to tell you–”
“Look at me.”
I stop squirming and flick my gaze his way, bracing myself for some speech about how he’s not capable of love and how this was never supposed to be an emotional arrangement.
And he would be correct.
It wasn’t supposed to be an emotional arrangement.
“I told you it’s not something you could give me,” I say. “Because that’s not something you can just do for someone. It has to happen naturally. And you may have given me everything I could possibly ever dream of, but that’s the one thing you can’t.”
We’re locked in a gaze, and I wish he’d say something.
“I’m okay with that,” I lie, wishing this conversation had never happened.
“Are you? Or are you just saying that?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he sits up, keeping me in his lap. “It does matter.”
I wait, straddling him and feeling his bulge between my legs. He should be tying me up now, flipping me over, and plunging inside me until we collapse. That’s what we do. That’s what he likes.
Dane says nothing as his fingers drag beneath the waistband of my panties as he sits up and presses his mouth onto mine. My eyes close, and I focus on the softness of his lips and the slow, gentle exchange. He slides my robe off my shoulders and unfastens my bra, taking his time. With his hands sliding down my bare back, he grabs my hips and slides me underneath him.
Our lips fuse even still. Soft, tender kisses I haven’t got the courage to question.
He reaches to his nightstand and clicks off the lamp before pulling the drawer. I assume he’s reaching for a toy or something, but instead, I heard the rustling of a foil packet in the dark. He pulls his engorged cock out in one fluid movement then sheaths himself before returning to cover me.
And that’s what he’s doing.
He’s covering me.
The cocoon between his arms feels safe, protective, and warm. My legs spread, widening for him as he readies himself at my entrance. He captures my bottom lip in his as he plunges inside me, releasing a soft groan that reverberates through his chest and onto mine. My hands slide up his back.
This is the first time I’ve ever actually touched him during sex. My hands are free, and he’s not scolding me. His skin is soft and smooth, and his muscles ripple beneath my palms as his entire body moves in rhythm with mine. Dane’s hands curl into fists, gripping the sheets behind my head as he pushes himself deeper inside me.
I gasp, digging my fingers into his back.
His lips leave my swollen mouth and travel to my neck, and I brace myself for bites that never come. Instead, he peppers soft kisses over every square inch until I’m covered in goose bumps. When he returns to my open, waiting mouth, his hands slide down my arms until he finds my fingers and interlaces his with mine, lifting them above my head.
I’m still safe in this cocoon, but he has my hands, pinning them as he kisses and makes love to me.
That’s what he’s doing.
He’s making love to me.
This feels like love-sex.
I could stay here forever like this, soaking in the heat of his body as it weighs me down. I’m not even concerned with coming right now. My body craves his closeness, that elusive connection with Dane that always felt as if it were within arm’s reach seconds before he’d yank it away.
For an entire hour, Dane makes love to me, and for an entire hour, nothing else matters.
We finish just as emotionally spent as we are physically, and he lingers inside me for a moment longer than usual before rolling off. He heads to the bathroom, and I turn over, covering with sheets and sinking into a pile of pillows as my body shakily recovers.
Dane returns a few minutes later and climbs under the blankets. I fully expect him to keep to the opposite side and be out like a light within seconds, but the warmth of his hand on my stomach sends me reeling. He pulls me into him, into his arms.
He doesn’t say a word.
I stir the next morning with my face flush against his chest, waking to the sound of his beating heart against my ear.
THIRTY-SEVEN
DANE
Bronson drives us to work Tuesday morning. I typically use this time to reflect, maybe answer a few emails, gather my thoughts, or admire the country landscape before it morphs into a sea of buildings.
But today I’m taking in a different view.
Bellamy glides her hand along her skirt, picking off a stray piece of fuzz. Her long legs are crossed, and she’s staring straight ahead. We haven’t spoken much this morning besides a few pleasantries at breakfast while I read the news on my iPad, and she chatted with her sister about which courses she would be taking come fall.
“I loved a woman once.”
Bellamy’s attention snaps in my direction.
“Only once.”
She angles herself toward me.
“She was my sub,” I say, squinting out the dark window at the cars we pass. “But then she became much more than that.”
Her hands fidget in her lap.
“The woman destroyed me. I played with fire, and I got burned. I promised myself I’d never do that again.” My hand slides into my pocket, covering the red Cartier box I tucked away that morning.
“If this is about last night…you don’t have to say anything…I know you just did that because–”
“Please. Let me continue.”
She buttons her full lips and nods.
“I’m a powerful man, and love is a powerful emotion. I don’t know that I’m quite ready yet to put myself out there or to throw around a word that makes people do crazy stupid things.” I slide the box out and set it across my lap. “The only thing I do know, is you do something to me, Bellamy. Even when I’m dominating you on the outside, I’m submitting to you on the inside. While I’m not quite sure what to make of that, I do know one thing.”
I place the box in her lap.
“I’m not ready to let you go yet. I’m not done with you yet.”
Bellamy cracks the box open and pulls out the golden Cartier bangle. I lift the matching golden screwdriver.
“This bracelet,” I say. “Symbolizes commitment. It sanctifies our inseparability.”
“Is it an item of ownership?” She examines the sparkling, bezel-set diamonds.
“This is different.” I twist the screwdriver in my fingers, the only device that can unlock that bracelet from her wrist as soon as it’s fastened. “This is separate from that.”
“Fine,” she says. “I’m not done with you yet either.”
She slips the bangle over her wrist and holds it out for me to secure. I twist the flat screw and tighten it, leaning over to steal a kiss the second I’m done.
We soar down the interstate in the back of my limo, and I take her hand in mine, eyeing the gold bracelet as the diamonds glint in the early morning light.
“I’ve never been in love before,” she says, breaking our peaceful silence. “And I’m not saying that I love you, Dane. But I think I very easily could fall in love with you...that is, if you let me.”
I squeeze her hand.
“So all I’m asking,” she continues, “is that you’re gentle with me.”
I press the top of her hand against my lips, the corners of my mouth lifting. “You have my word.”
EPILOGUE
BELLAMY
ONE YEAR LATER
Puerto Vallarta at night is vibrant.
Puerto Vallarta in the morning is serene.
Puerto Vallarta in the middle of the afternoon, on a sandy beach with ocean waves crashing behind a makeshift altar is breathtaking.
My gauzy ivory dress whips around my legs as I carry a bouquet of calla lilies down a sandy aisle scattered with pink rose petals.
Dane stands under the canopy, his hair soft and free from product as he dons an untucked white shirt and cuffed linen pants. I smirk imagining Beckham picking out his clothes and helping him get ready. I could easily get used to casual, relaxed Dane, but I’m sure I’d miss his buttoned-up counterpart. All I know is I’m madly in love with every faceted side of that man.
Our gazes hold as a solitary cellist plays Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat Major.
My sister waits up ahead, smiling bright and blinking away tears. Odessa is seated next to Jensen on a folding chair. Beckham grips Dane’s shoulders and gifts him a reassuring pat as he tosses me a wink.
I invited the girls out under the guise of a ladies’ weekend, and I casually mentioned they could bring the guys too, assuring we could all do our own things and meet up in the evenings for couple-y things.
Little did they know, they were going to be attending a wedding.
I sent my parents a letter last month, right after Dane proposed. Perhaps it was my way of closing that chapter of my life, but I assured them that I was happy, Waverly was thriving, and that I hoped someday they would understand that our lives were never supposed to belong to anyone but ourselves.
I simply did what needed to be done.
No one replied. Maybe the letter was intercepted or maybe it was ripped to shreds and burned. I’ll never know. That’s in my past. I’m moving on with Dane, and I’m going to live this amazingly beautiful life to the absolute fullest because it’s all mine and it’s such a gift.
Dane takes my hand after I hand my bouquet to Waverly and gives it a gentle squeeze, and a justice of the peace begins the ceremony.
***
We dance under a starry sky under a blanket of stars. My toes freeze in the ocean water, but none of that matters. I can’t stop staring at my beautiful husband. Our guests have long since retired to their hotel suites, but neither of us is ready to end this magical day yet.
“Thank you for this beautiful day.” I rise on my toes, bringing my mouth to his and stealing a kiss.
I can do that now.
I don’t have to ask for permission.
Of course we still play sometimes.
Behind closed doors, when he says the word, I fall to my knees, submit to him, and cherish every moment. A tiger can’t change his stripes, and I would never expect Dane to suppress his deepest desires.
But our power has balanced. I am his equal. I love him, and he loves me. As Dane would say, it’s deliciously uncomplicated.
“You’re most welcome,” he says, his mouth tasting mine.
The wind whips my hair around. I’ve celebrated hard today. My makeup is melted. My hair is a mess. My eyelids are so heavy I can barely see anymore. But I want to keep going because the moment this day is over, all we’ll have are the memories. I dig my toes in the sand as if that could anchor me to this moment, and I slip my arms around my husband.
“It’s you and me,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “Who’d have thought our broken, twisted paths would’ve led us here?”
Dane twirls me in the moonlight and smiles. For the first several months of knowing him, he rarely offered smiles. Now they’re a mainstay.
My love makes him happy.
“Aren’t you exhausted?” he asks, pulling me back into him.
“Deliriously so.” I grin, breathing in the salty air as it mixes with what remains of his cologne.
He threads his fingers through mine and pulls me away from the lapping shore. “Come. This day isn’t over until I make love to my wife.”
The End.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
AMAZON BESTSELLING AUTHOR Winter Renshaw recently celebrated her third 29th birthday. By day, she wrangles kids and dogs, and by night, she wrangles words. She loves peonies, lipstick, and balmy summer days. Chips and salsa are her jam, and so is cruising down the highway with the windows down and the air blasting while 80s rock blares from the speakers of her Mom-UV.
She would describe her writing style as sexy, conflicted, and laced with heart. Her heroes are always alpha and her heroines are always smart and independent. HEA guaranteed.
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PAGE AHEAD for a BONUS/DELETED scene from Arrogant Master…
BONUS/DELETED SCENE FROM ARROGANT MASTER
UNEDITED
*This was originally chapter 2!
BELLAMY
My father sits at the head of the dining room table, exactly where I predicted he would be.
“I’m so sorry.” I rush to the seat next to him, smiling like a fool who’s just won the lottery, and yank out a chair before plopping down. I’m getting out of here, and it starts now. Tonight. “You’ll never believe what happened tonight!”
A quick read of his expression tells me he’s in a most receptive mood tonight, and the twitch of his lips suggest he’s fighting a pleased smile.
“There’s this guy at Bible study,” I say, twirling my hair around my finger like a teenager in love, but on a twenty-two year old scale. I can’t overdo this or he’ll know. I release my hair and lean forward. “His name is Cortland. I’ve noticed him over the last few months, but I’ve always kept to myself, you know, because you always said it wasn’t appropriate for a lady to approach a man.”
He brings his hand up to his jaw, leaning back and nodding as he clings onto my words like I’m telling some gripping story.
“Anyway, he came up to me tonight as we were leaving, and asked if it would be okay if he could court me.” I lift my eyebrows and force a smile so big it hurts inside and out. “He’s nice, Dad. And his family is like ours.”
“What does he do for a living?” My father asks, though he knows damn well. I’m sure he grilled Cortland over lunch, and I’m sure he’s asked around about his family.
“His father owns a medical equipment company, and he’s a traveling salesman for them. He does travel a lot, but he’s hoping to be promoted someday so he can be more of a family man.”
Dad’s mouth curls, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’d appreciate a phone call next time you’re going to be late, but I’ll make an exception tonight.”
Hard to call when I’m not allowed to have a cell phone…
His words are stern, but he’s practically beaming from every pore. He’s thrilled about Cortland, which is exactly what I predicted.
My father is thrilled about the potential of Cortland and me.
My stomach sinks, and my artificial expression threatens to fade. I can’t let it. All the strength I have goes into putting on a happy face. “Do you want to meet him? I can bring him over sometime.”
The thought of Cortland sitting at our family table, making small talk with my mothers and blowing bullshit fakery up my father’s ass heats my thoughts, and the thought of him ruffling my little brother’s hair with the same hands he uses to touch me makes me want to vomit.
“I’d love to meet him.” My father stands, glancing at the clock. Night has fallen upon the house, and we’re all required to be in bed before ten. “Why don’t you invite him for dinner tomorrow night?”
Shit. This is moving faster than I expected. We’re full steam ahead.
“Sure. Yeah. I can do that.” I pick at my nails, a nervous habit I’d picked up long ago. “Are you sure you’re ready for me to start courting?”
I know the answer, but I have to hear it straight from him. Confirmation that I’m right about the trajectory of impending events is what I seek.
“Bellamy.” He places his large hand over mine. They’re soft and clean, the hands of an educated man who spends long hours running his pharmacy in order to provide for the abnormally large family he was prodded by God to create. “You’re a woman. You’re twenty-two. As much as it pains me to see my firstborn fly the nest, it’s time. And I know in my heart, I’ve raised you to make the right choices. I trust your judgment with this man.”
“But what if I don’t like him? What if we court for a while, and I change my mind?” I bite the inside of my lip. “Or what if he’s not who he says he is?”
His hand slides off mine before he rises from the table. “Those aren’t things you need to worry about. Heavenly Father put him in your life for a reason. Trust and don’t question.”
I’m still as a statue as I wait for my father’s silhouette to disappear up the stairs, the creak of the steps filling our silent home. Sleep won’t be in the cards for me tonight. The still, quiet hours of the night will be better spent plotting and planning.
***
My hands tremble as I set the extra place setting. Dad requested that Cortland take the seat next to him, and that I sit next to Cortland tonight. I glance at the grandfather clock in the hall. Cortland will be here any minute.
My mothers are flitting about in the kitchen, and Summer turns on the hand mixer, whipping up a huge batch of mashed potatoes. The grinding, metallic sound is a nice distraction right now, but it won’t prolong the inevitable.
Waverly skips down the stairs, looking freshly washed up for dinner. She hops up to the table and rests against the back of a chair. “Need help with anything?”
“Nope,” I sigh, my eyes trailing the length of the table that’s already set. “I took care of it all while you were upstairs.”
Her nose wrinkles. I’m tense, and I shouldn’t take it out on her, but I can’t help myself. Right now, I’d almost give anything to go back to those carefree high school days, when my only concern was studying for tests and fighting off advances from the boys I wasn’t allowed to date.
The Fahnlander boy down the street was the only boyfriend I ever knew, and I made damn sure that whole thing was kept hidden from my family. And by boyfriend, I mean we sat together at lunch and passed notes in the hall.
Despite not having a true boyfriend experience growing up, I don’t feel as though I missed out on much. I found ways to get around my father’s stringent rules most of the time. All I crave, all I’ve ever missed out on, is pure autonomy and genuine independence.
Waverly studies me and pulls her chair out carefully. “Are you nervous about this or something?”
I shoot daggers her way and silently scold myself. My face softens, if only for her sake. “Yes. I’m nervous.”
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. Our family is so nice. And everyone’s so excited to have company tonight. This, like, never happens.” Waverly smiles like she hasn’t a care in the world.
I want that.
The mixer in the kitchen goes silent, but our mothers are still flitting around like they’re prepping a meal for the President of the United States. When I lean in, I whisper, “What if I don’t like him? And what if Dad likes him?”
“Dad would never make you marry someone you didn’t like.”
My head cocks hard to the right, as if to say, “Really?!”
She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand how our father operates. She hasn’t seen what I’ve seen or heard what I’ve heard. He’s not who he says he is. I just hope she never learns that the hard way.
“Waverly, Bellamy,” our mother calls. She skips off to the kitchen and I death march.
Outside a car door clicks, sending my heart sinking down to my feet. He’s here.
Summer hands a bowl of tossed salad to my sister and my mom fishes in a drawer for a set of tongs, which she promptly shoves in my hand and nods toward the table.
The doorbell chimes a soft and cozy song, but it may as well be a battle cry.
This is war.
This is where I fight for my freedom.
“Cortland’s here,” Waverly announces.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
My mother wipes her hands on her apron. “What are you waiting for? Go get the door.”
By the time I reach the front door, I can hardly breathe. I’ve never had a panic attack before, but I think this might be what it feels like. The walls close, my head pounds, and my vision blurs. Sucking in deep breaths, I lurch for the handle and open the door.
He’s gorgeous.
And evil.
With a hand in the pocket of his khakis and the other hand holding a bouquet of spring lilies, his lips curl into the widest grin I’ve ever seen. He looks so deceptively benign. Like some deliciously handsome man who stepped right off the pages of a J. Crew catalog. The way he stares at me, like I’m the only girl in the world, used to send butterflies soaring in my center.
Now it makes me sick.
He leans in, owning the courage of a man unafraid to steal a kiss at the most inappropriate of times.
“No,” I whisper. “We’re courting now, remember? You can’t kiss me. You can’t touch me. We don’t know each other like that.”
“Is this the man of the hour?” My father’s voice bellows from behind me, sending a quick shock to my heart. I can only hope he didn’t see Cortland try to kiss me. When I step out of the way, my father brushes by and extends his hand to meet that of my suitor.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Miller.” Cortland flashes a megawatt grin which makes him look too boy-next-door and not nearly enough psychopath-who-should-not-be-marrying-your-daughter. “Thank you so much for having me over tonight.”
“Welcome, welcome.” My mother comes in from around the corner, her lips slicked in red and her apron long gone. She cleans up quick, and she cleans up well. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a low bun, and she’s suddenly wearing a modest pair of cubic zirconia studs. “Come on in. Supper’s on the table. Bellamy can show you to your seat.”
“These are for the women of the house,” Cortland hands her the bouquet, and watches as she brings them to her nose and inhales.
“Thank you so much. You’re so sweet. I’m going to stick these in water real quick.” She disappears, and the three of us amble into the dining room.
We take our spots, Cortland sitting on my father’s left. The little kids are at the furthest end of the table with Kath, my father’s third wife.
“Cortland, would you mind saying grace tonight?” My father wastes no time putting him on the spot, though I think it’s a test of sorts.
We hold hands in prayer, though Cortland squeezes mine. Hard.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he says, his eyes closed tight. “Thank thee for the many blessings you have bestowed upon us. Thank thee for the fellowship we are about to enjoy this evening. And thank thee for the refreshments about to nourish and strengthen our bodies. Bless all those who gather in your name tonight. Amen.”
“Amen.” My father adds. “Thank you, Cortland.”
“Beautiful,” my mother says.
Oh, God. She’s got stars in her eyes. I see them from my side of the table.
“So, my daughter tells me your father owns a medical supply company?” My father takes a crescent roll from a basket and passes it to Cortland.
“He does,” he replies. “Been in our family for generations. Started out selling iron lungs in the forties and fifties. Now we sell just about everything under the sun.”
“You enjoy selling?” My father chews slowly, savoring each slow minute that drips by in the presence of this monster.
“My father wanted me to learn the business from the bottom up, so that I could take over eventually. I’m the oldest son, so the company will be in my hands whenever my father eventually retires,” Cortland injects an air of respect into his words that I know my father appreciates. “I’m learning a lot, and my father thinks I’m a natural-born salesman, but my heart is in management. I like to lead.”
More like he likes to control.
“Did you attend college?” Summer asks.
“BYU,” he boasts. “Graduated with a degree in Business Management a couple years ago.”
“Nice.” My father takes two scoops of mashed potatoes and passes the bowl on. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
Cortland counts on his fingers and laughs. “Oh, gosh. Twelve.”
