Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“Honey? Where are we, exactly?”
“Medina,” he answers.
“Right, I see that. But is this where you grew up?”
“Not the whole time,” he hedges. “When I was a kid, we lived in Lake Forest Park. My parents had this home built while I was in high school. I only lived here for about a year before graduation.”
I glance over at the giant house before I turn my attention back to him. “Is it safe to say that you forgot to tell me something about your parents?”
Putting the truck in park, he turns and looks at me. “I didn’t want to freak you out,” he admits.
“And now I’m freaking out anyway,” I mutter. “I should’ve dressed nicer.”
“You look beautiful,” he says gruffly.
“My dress is from Target,” I say, my voice making it clear that I’m a bit panicked.
“Babe,” he says as he tucks his fingers beneath my chin. “It’s a beautiful dress. You look gorgeous, and I’m proud as fuck to take you in there to meet my family. Don’t be thrown off by the house. I promise you that my parents are down to earth and totally normal. Not for nothing, my mom can spend hours in Target.”
“You told me that your mom watched Oprah and does vision boards,” I say like it’s an accusation.
Throwing back his head, he laughs. “She did, and she does,” he assures me. “If you mention it to her, she’ll tell you visualization is a big part of why their stores are so successful.”
“Stores plural?” I ask. “You said that they own a furniture store. As in one.”
“Well, they still keep offices at the flagship store, so to me that one specifically comes to mind.”
I nod, taking it all in. And then, a light bulb goes on over my head. “Oh my God, Tyler! I thought you were talking about a normal furniture store, but you weren’t. Your family owns Jameson’s Interiors, don’t they?”
He shrugs like it’s no big thing. He’s wrong. It’s a very big deal.
Jameson’s Interiors isn’t a mom and pop store in Seattle, or even just in Washington. There are several in Southern California as well. I know this because Rob and Karen bought their sectional sofa there.
“The big ass dock you built on your property should’ve been a clue,” I mumble. “I don’t pay attention to stuff like that, though.”
“Didn’t build the dock with their money,” he says. “My grandfather made a lot of investments. One of the first things he invested in back in the ‘50s was a little company that went on to make a shitload of money. There were other, smaller stocks too, but this was the big one. Anyway, pops loved to watch the original stock grow so much that he never cashed out since he didn’t need the money. When he passed, he divided eighty percent of his estate between Eve and me and left the last twenty to my parents. I’m a cop and Eve’s obsessed with animals, which is to say we know fuck all about money management. Therefore, we sold the stock, and that’s what I used to buy the Perry place as well as the land for the next place and the dock. And soon, the forever house.”
Something about the way he says it puts my antenna up.
“So that’s it, then? Just the dock, the land, and the houses?
“Mm.”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Tyler, it’s that he’s a master at understatement.
“What little company did he buy stock in?”
By the expression on his face, I can tell he was hoping I wouldn’t ask.
“Don’t freak out,” he says.
“Okay,” I answer, my voice soft.
After a beat, he says, “IBM.”
I suck in a breath. “Tyler,” I whisper. “Are you… a millionaire?”
I can tell he is before he answers because the expression on his face says it all.
“It’s just money, baby.”
“And the Pope’s robes are just fabric,” I squeak.
“Until he puts them on, that’s true. I was raised not to flaunt, and I don’t. I was also raised not to sit on my ass doing nothing, so I don’t do that, either. I’m not going to fill a pool with cash or spend my life sipping champagne and taking month or even yearlong vacations. Bottom line, the money’s mine but I didn’t earn it and I don’t look for ways to blow it. It is what it is. Not about to give it all away but I’m not going to wipe my ass with it either. I’m still me, regardless of how many zeros make up my net worth.”
“I know that. I just… you should’ve warned me,” I grumble.
The corners of his eyes crinkle up as he tries not to laugh. “Babe, only a douchebag fuck would drop ‘hey, I’m loaded’ into a conversation,” he answers. “I want you to meet my parents because they’re good people. That they happen to be rich shouldn’t even factor in.”