Dr. Stud

“Better than fine, Parrish.”

Sam sighs. “Fine, then. If we can move on from this… childishness. Hawk, tomorrow, I’d like you to go with me down to the City Hall to file the planning permits, then we need to go start talking to builders.”

I clear my throat and take another sip of tea. “I hate to be a pest, Sam. But seeing as I’m the ranch manager, and I know more or less what we have to spend on this insane project, do you think maybe you could run those plans by me first? Along with a materials list, a proposed budget, a building schedule, and a spreadsheet of any contractors you plan on contacting so I can get in touch with them first to get estimates.”

Hawk furrows his brow at me, but Sam just smiles. “Hawk, this is why we’re operating like a well-oiled machine these days. The girl may be a burr in my backside, but she knows her stuff and she doesn’t let me spend a penny out of turn. And you know what? Now that I’m thinking about it… Maybe it would be better if Hawk just answers directly to you.”

“Hold on a minute!” Hawk and I both yell at the same time.

“You expect me to answer to her?” Hawk practically shouts.

“I have a ranch to run! I don’t have time for this!” I answer.

“What does she know about building or architecture?” he growls.

“And what about the Canyon Crest farm deal? I have to work on that!” I say in a panic.

Anna is watching us, looking back and forth between Hawk and me like she’s watching a tennis match. But Sam just holds up a finger as he takes a bite of his steak, then swallows a gulp of iced tea.

“No, I think this is a great idea. I can take over the Canyon Crest deal, and you can work with Hawk on the additions. I used to handle acquisitions all the time before you took over, Parrish. I can manage just fine. And it will give you and Hawk a chance to get over whatever it is that’s eating you

.”

“Sam…” I start to protest.

“It’s done, Parrish. Sort it out between the two of you.”

I set my fork down, my appetite suddenly gone.

Son of a bitch.

Chapter 8

Hawk

I pace back and forth outside of the carriage house with my initial blueprints under my arm, my stomach in knots and my head spinning. This is not how this was supposed to go. I was supposed to come home, do the job, and leave. No muss, no fuss. No drama. Nothing. And now, I have stepped in a giant pile of horse shit of my own making. I not only had mindblowing sex with Parrish, but now, I can’t even avoid her in shame. I have to work next to her, side-by-side, for a month, as if nothing ever happened. And I can’t tell dad why I don’t want to do this, because he’ll shoot me. And that’s not exaggeration. He has a giant, vintage shotgun over the fireplace that he’d pull down and use to chase me off the property and back to Los Angeles if I ever tell him what I’ve done. Today, or ten years ago.

I have no one to blame but myself. I should have expected things would end up this way. Even in Los Angeles, I had a penchant for getting myself in stupid situations. Dating two sisters, sleeping with clients, banging the mother of the sisters I dated… I don’t make good decisions, and I never have. But this is above and beyond my usual idiocy. I’ve painted myself into a corner of my own making, and now I’m going to face the consequences.

I walk up to the door of the carriage house and knock. Since Parrish lives over the top of what is technically the garage, I expect it’s going to take her a minute to get down the stairs to answer me. But I stand waiting for what feels like forever to no avail, so I knock again. Then again. Then I start to get annoyed, and pound on the door with a knock that echoes across the ranch. Finally, I yell.

“Parrish! I know you can hear me up there! I’m not going to stand out here all night for my health!”

A window in the middle of the upstairs opens, and Parrish sticks her head out. “Would you knock that off, you stubborn ass? I just put Gracie to sleep! You’re going to wake her up, along with everyone in whole damn city! Go back to the ranch house. I’m not talking to you tonight.” Then she disappears back inside and shuts the window.

I don’t know why, but this just makes me angrier, so I knock harder. I can’t explain why she brings out this instinct to be a jerk in me, but it’s intense and I’m finding it hard to control. Finally, I hear the sound of her stomping down the stairs. The door flies open, and Parrish is standing in front of me in flannel pajama pants and a Pink Floyd tee-shirt that I recognize used to be Matt’s. She fills it out better than he ever did. Her long, honey blonde hair is swept up in a braid, and she isn’t wearing any makeup. She looks beautiful, and I have to remind myself I’m annoyed.

“I told you to go away. I will talk to you tomorrow, Hawk,” she says as she starts to shut the door again. But I put my foot in front of it, blocking it from closing.

“I need you to look at these plans tonight so I can make changes if you have any. We’re supposed to meet with a contractor tomorrow and if I don’t have updated blueprints, we can’t get a proper estimate.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me. “Gracie is going to have me up at five a.m. I have a phone meeting at seven. You’re telling me this can’t wait until tomorrow morning?”

“No,” I say trying to stifle my annoyance. “If you want changes, I’m going to be up all night making them as it is. Can we just get this done? Then I’m out of your hair until tomorrow.”

She scowls at me even harder, then swings the door open, turns on her heel, and stomps back up the stairs. I follow her up, awash in memories of all the times I spent in this place when I was a teenager. The dark wood and forest green walls of the living room are the same, but all of the appliances in the kitchen have been upgraded. One of the bedroom doors is closed, so I assume that must be Gracie’s room. The other door is open, and I can see the huge sleigh bed and vaulted ceilings in Parrish’s room, the room where I took more than a few girls back in the day. I have a feeling she doesn’t know that, and it’s probably for the better.

“So, feeling nostalgic for all of the cheerleaders you screwed in here?” she asks as she plops down on the giant brown sofa and picks up a steaming cup of hot tea.