Wet Dreams

by Emily Bishop

  Nancie pouted and stuck her out bottom lip, even when the corners of her lips were twitching up. “I’m not that much of a fire hazard.”

  “And yet, I’m pretty sure those flames are licking higher than they should be,” I told her, inclining my head to where her pan was about to catch on fire.

  Nancie yelped and started swatting the pan with a dishtowel. A second later, I was by her side, lifting the pan and shutting down the burner. Raising an eyebrow at her, I motioned for her to sit at the kitchen island.

  “You were saying?” I asked.

  She exhaled a deep breath, crossing her arms on the stark white island and staring out the window at the ocean for a second, before snapping her eyes back to mine. “I was just trying to do something nice for you.”

  “Yeah, why’s that?” I asked, deciding to try my hand at pancakes since Katy clearly wasn’t around, and I was starving. “Let it be known that there was a time that I could cook. Somewhat. Apparently, it’s time to see if I still can.”

  “Do I need to have a reason to do something nice for you?” Nancie asked, trying to keep a straight face, but the corners of her mouth were curling up.

  “Since it seems that I’ve raised a brat,” I teased. “There absolutely has to be a reason.”

  Nancie threw her head back and laughed, then stuck her tongue out at me. “Well, at least you’re taking responsibility for the way I turned out.”

  I shrugged, raising my hands in mock surrender. “Couldn’t have done that badly since you’re in one piece and all.”

  “That was your only goal? Keeping me in one piece?” She arched a manicured brow. When the hell did she start plucking or waxing or whatever?

  “Yup, I was aiming for the stars.”

  She rolled her eyes and laughed, giving me a thumbs up. “Well done.”

  “Well, it looks like I can make pancakes,” I told her, sliding a plate in front of her. “So, since I’m feeding you now, out with it.”

  Nancie’s teeth sank into her bottom lip. She hesitated, then squared her shoulders and looked me right in the eye. “I’m going on a date this afternoon. I want you to meet my boyfriend when he picks me up later.”

  My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “Boyfriend? Since when are you dating? You’re too young to date.”

  “I’m seventeen,” she scoffed. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you weren’t dating by that age?”

  “I believe this is a prime example of the old adage, ‘do as I say, not as I do,’” I answered dryly. “Shouldn’t you still believe boys have cooties or something?”

  Another eye roll followed my question. “I’m seventeen here, not seven.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” I told her. “But I’m sticking to my theory.”

  “I bet you were a terror by my age.”

  She wasn’t wrong, but there was no way I was admitting it.

  My eyes widened innocently. “Me? Never. At your age, I was playing computer games and doing my assigned reading every night.”

  Nancie howled with laughter, nearly choking on a bite of her pancake. “I’m sure. Was playing computer games code for getting wasted when you were my age?”

  I tried and failed to bite back my laugh. “No, I’m not that old.”

  “Thought so. In that case, Scott will be here in a couple of hours. Be nice.”

  Damn it. I wasn’t ready for her to start dating, never mind meeting the damn guy who would likely be groping my niece before the day was out, if memory of my own teenage years served me correctly. I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Fine, but I hope he’s ready. I’m going to go oil my shotgun real quick.”

  She laughed but gave me pointed look. “You don’t have a shotgun.”

  “Good point. I’ll just have to go get one real quick then.” I shrugged.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said, hopping from her stool and giving me another look. “I’m going to go get ready. Thanks for breakfast.”

  “I’ll make you pancakes personally every morning for the next month if you stay home with me instead. Deal?”

  She shook her head, flashing me a small smile. “No deal. Your pancakes were good but Scott is great. Just promise me you’ll give him a chance at least?”

  “Sorry, sweetheart, you don’t have a deal, either. I do promise not to shoot at first sight.”

  “That’s only because you don’t own a gun,” she said, sighing. “But I’ll take it.”

  “That’s a situation that can easily remedy itself,” I called to her retreating back as she spun and started walking to her room.

  “Not in the next three hours,” she called back, without another look at me.

  “I know people who can hook me up!”

  Her only answer was tinkling laughter as she ascended the spiral staircase that led to our bedrooms.

  So much for my plan of spending some quality time with my niece that day. She spent the rest of the morning getting ready for her afternoon date, leaving me to get back to work.

  The doorbell rang way too soon for my liking, indicating the arrival of Scott, the boyfriend. I braced myself, put on my most intimidating scowl, and went to get the door.

  “Mr. Hart, it’s nice to meet you, sir,” the gangly boy on my porch said, sticking out his hand.

  I shook it firmly but the boy had zero grip. Narrowing my eyes, I gave him a quick once over. His black-rimmed glasses sat askew on his nose, his shaggy blond hair fell to his shoulders and looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days, and his clothes were several sizes too big for him and beyond thready.

  “Scott,” I greeted him. I didn’t tell him that it was nice to meet him. I was many things but a liar wasn’t one of them. “Come in.”

  He followed me into the tiled entrance hall, seemingly stunned by the cavernous space. Scott shuffled his feet and fidgeted as he glanced at the chandelier hanging overhead. It was clear that the boy didn’t come from money, which didn’t bode well as far as his intentions with my niece were concerned.

  “Wait here,” I told him, leading him to the formal living room off the left of the wide wooden front door.

  “Sure.” He swallowed.

  I took the stairs two at a time to Nancie’s room, knocking once before letting myself in. “Your date’s here.”

  “Oh.” She twirled around, eyes wide and excited. “He’s ten minutes early. That’s a good sign, don’t you think?”

  I eyed her yellow sundress, the hem hitting way too high on her thighs. “You’re not wearing that.”

  Nancie rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “I am.”

  “Nope, he’s ten minutes early,” I said. “You have time to change. If you decide to go out with him after all, that is.”

  Nancie sighed. “Fine, I’ll change, but I am going out with him.”

  “That guy is trouble, Nance. I don’t like him.”

  “You’ve met him for all of what, two seconds? What’s not to like about him?” Nancie pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at me.

  “You know I have a good read on people. He’s only after your money.”

  “You mean your money,” she pointed out. “Why would you even say that?”

  “Because I know people like him, trust me. I’ve seen it a hundred times. They look at us, and all they see are dollar signs.” It was a tough lesson to learn, but it was about time she did.

  “You don’t know him, Barrett. Not everything is about money.” Nancie’s eyes narrowed and pierced into mine before she spun around and headed to her walk-in closet. I heard her rummaging around and leaned against doorframe to her bedroom.

  “Maybe not everything but people in our position get used, Nance. It’s a fact of life.”

  “Scott isn’t like that,” she countered, still out of sight in her closet. “Don’t blame him for being jaded by the gold diggers you meet.”

  “I’m not jaded, just realistic,” I told her, though I probably was a little bit jaded
. All women had wanted from me, for at least the last decade, was a good fuck and my money.

  Nancie burst from her closet, now wearing jeans and a tank top. Much better. She glared at me as she stalked by, pissed as hell. “I call bullshit.”

  “Hey!” I said. “Language, Nance.”

  She scoffed as she headed out of her room, skipping down the stairs. “Have you heard yourself speak recently?”

  I followed her downstairs. “Remember when we talked about doing what I say and not what I do?”

  “You’re a hypocrite, Barrett,” she said, reaching the entrance hall and calling out for Scott to join her. “Let’s go, babe.”

  “Babe?” I repeated. “You’re not going anywhere, young lady.”

  “Watch me.” She stared daggers at me.

  Scott’s eyes flickered between the two of us, then he shoved his hands in his pockets, mumbled goodbye to me, and made himself scarce.

  At least the boy was smart. “I’m just watching out for you, Nance.”

  “Yeah? Maybe you should watch out for yourself instead. Find some real people who can prove to you that not everything is about money.” She shot me one last, piercing look, then turned on her heel and followed Scott out the door, slamming it dramatically behind her.

  I definitely preferred the pool and pony phase to this.

  Jamming my hands into my hair, I fisted it and breathed deeply. I had to focus on something else, otherwise I was liable to go into full-on overprotective mode and trace her phone or spy on them or something.

  Work. That was what I needed. If Nancie wasn’t going to spend time with me anyway, then I may as well get back to it. I grabbed my keys from their hook by the wide double doors that led to my garage from the entrance hall and jogged toward my pitch-black, brand new Maclaren.

  Driving my new toy like I’d stolen it calmed me down some as I headed to my office, then found myself pulling up outside of Roy’s Diner instead. The faded awning obscured my view of the inside, so I couldn’t see if she was there or not, but the diner itself seemed relatively quiet.

  I decided to risk it since there didn’t seem to be any photographers lingering after the sighting the day before. To my dismay, she wasn’t inside when I got there, but I parked my ass in one of the uncomfortable booths anyway.

  I could drink a couple of cups of shitty coffee if that was what it took to see the girl who was going to be the face of my company. Whether she knew it yet or not.

  Chapter 4

  Demi

  “Two black coffees, coming up,” the barista at my local coffee place called out.

  Mandy and I both lived around the corner from the small, family-owned coffee shop. We both preferred this place over the larger chains nearby. It smelled like freshly ground coffee and the cinnamon in the owner’s homemade apple pie. I breathed it in and floated away on a cloud of caffeine happiness.

  “Best tradition ever,” Mandy said, accepting our coffees from the barista and holding one out to me.

  “Agreed.” I blew into the takeout cup and took a long sip of the rich, dark brew inside.

  Mandy and I met there early every Saturday before our shifts at the diner started. It gave us a chance to catch up, spoil ourselves with the best coffee around, and try to get ourselves motivated for the day.

  “Your shift starts at one, right?” Mandy asked.

  “Yup. And yours?”

  “Same,” she said. “That means we have time.” A mischievous glint lit her eyes.

  “Time for what?” I was almost afraid to hear her answer.

  “Shopping!”

  I had to consciously stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Neither one of us can afford to buy anything right now. At least, I can’t.”

  “Oh, blah!” Mandy said, waving me off. “Come on, where is the fun in that? I scored an invite to a new club opening in SoHo tonight. I can’t show up wearing just any old thing. I need something that pops.”

  “You have an entire room full of clothes,” I reminded her, not even needing to exaggerate. It was the tiny second bedroom in her apartment, but it was a room nonetheless.

  “Details, details.” She smiled cheekily. “A girl’s got to spoil herself from time to time.”

  “You spoil yourself way more than that. You’re going to be broke soon if you keep spending so much.”

  “But not if I catch a rich hubby with my new party dress,” she told me, her eyes bright and excited.

  “You mean the one you haven’t bought yet?” I asked.

  “Yes, that one. How am I supposed to catch my husband if I don’t own the dress he met me in?”

  I laughed at her crazy reasoning and followed her to the door. “Gee, I don’t know. Perhaps because he’ll be interested in more than the clothes you’re wearing?”

  She smirked. “Yeah, he will. He’ll be interested in what’s underneath them, too.”

  “You have such high aspirations for this future husband of yours,” I said. “Rich and shallow. That’s really what you want in your fantasy man?”

  “The key word being rich. Now come on. If we’re going to find me something to wear tonight, we’d better get going.” Mandy grabbed my hand and practically dragged me out of the coffee shop.

  “Bye, Paulo, see you next week,” I called to our regular barista over my shoulder as Mandy pulled me onto the crowded sidewalk.

  With the clear blue skies and the sun shining brightly, it was a beautiful day in the city. Everyone seemed to be taking advantage of the gorgeous weather, judging from the mass of bodies crowding the sidewalk as we headed in the direction of Mandy’s favorite stores.

  “Ooh, look at that,” Mandy crowed, stopping dead in her tracks and pointing at a cherry-red shirt, masquerading as a dress. “And that one for you.”

  The second dress she pointed out was gorgeous, but I didn’t even have to look at the price tag to know that it was way out of my price range.

  It was a deep blue dress, hemmed with black lace. It looked like it would fit me just tightly enough to show off the right amount of cleavage to be alluring, without looking skanky.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I agreed. “But no. Neither one of us can afford this place. I can barely afford thrift shop prices right now, much less a designer label like this.”

  The luxury store probably would not even allow us in, considering that we were already decked out in our yellow shirts and navy-blue skirts that were our uniforms at the diner.

  “Let’s just try them on,” she said, her poison green eyes pleading with me. “Pretty please? It’ll make me work harder later.”

  I laughed again, despite myself, at her warped reasoning and nodded. “Fine, but only if you promise not to complain during our shift. Not even once.”

  She held up four fingers. “Scouts’ honor.”

  “You were never a Girl Scout, were you?” I asked, giggling.

  “Nope.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes slightly. “How did you know?”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s the Vulcan salute you’re holding up,” I told her. We both cracked up, drawing the attention of more than a few people on the sidewalk.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, putting on my best impression of being stern. “Let’s go try them on, then, but absolutely no buying them.”

  Mandy just laughed, leading me into the air-conditioned store. My feet were met with plush carpeting. It was the kind of shop where the sales assistants wore outfits more beautiful than anything I owned, and I felt like I had to clasp my hands behind my back to keep from touching anything. So that was exactly what I did.

  The shop assistant, contrary to what I’d believed before we came inside, didn’t throw us out on our asses but she did glance disapprovingly at what we were wearing. “What can I help you with today?”

  “We’d like to try on the dresses in the display,” Mandy said, ignoring the look we were getting from the woman.

  She pursed her lips into a thin line. “Those are starting from a thousand dollars each.�
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  My eyes grew to the size of saucers. Holy crap! Who could, or would for that matter, spend that much money on a dress?

  “Even so, we’d like to try them on please.” Mandy never backed down when she wanted something. Right now, she wanted to try on that dress.

  Five minutes later, she was zipping me into the navy creation. It fit me so well, it was like it had been molded from my body. Mandy squealed when she stepped back, admiring my reflection in the mirror.

  “Oh, my God, that’s perfect for you! You have to get it.”

  As much as it pained me to do it, I shook my head. “There’s no way I can afford it.”

  Even though it did make me look like a million bucks when my makeup and hair weren’t even done. The deep navy color set off my skin tone perfectly and made it look golden and smooth.

  The dress made my eyes pop and seem bigger, brighter. As I had suspected, my cleavage looked awesome. Just the tops of my breasts were visible, while the dress clung tightly enough to suggest what it was hiding. The soft black lace of the hem brushed against my thighs like a caress.

  It was perfect, but it would never be mine, unfortunately.

  Mandy and I stepped out of our adjoined dressing rooms. The red dress she was wearing did for her what the blue one did for me. She was positively glowing.

  “Come on,” she said. “One strut up to the mirror. One selfie. Then we take them off.”

  “You know taking a selfie of us in these doesn’t make them ours, right?” I asked her, chewing my bottom lip.

  “Yup, but my Instagram followers don’t need to know that. Besides, it’ll still be fun.”

  I sighed but smiled softly. Mandy’s unbridled enthusiasm and determination to just have fun were two of the things I loved most about her.

  “Okay then. Let’s go.”

  Besides, she was right. It did sound like fun. My phone started buzzing in my purse on the dressing room floor, but I ignored it and followed Mandy to the main floor. There was no one who could be calling me about anything important.