Page 49 of Imperfect Arrangement

My heart pounds like a drum,and my palms are clammy as I pull into the parking lot of Elixir Estates. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves twisting my stomach into knots.

You’ve got this, Wills. You’re more than ready.

And I really am. I’ve worked with Raymond’s PR team to polish this presentation so thoroughly that it barely resembles the one I showed him at La Bella Vita. Today isn’t about sentiment or nostalgia for Gramps’s land. Today, I’m all business, channeling my inner Raymond Teager—ice cold, no emotions.

My fingers absently touch the willow tattoo over my heart, and I almost jump when my phone pings.

Not-so-much-of-a-jackass-anymore Raymond Teager: I hope you’re not sitting in your car plotting revenge for all the times I made your life difficult. Today, it’ll hurt us both.

A smile tugs at my lips, and a breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes. Suddenly, the nerves feel less suffocating.

Me: Thanks for the vote of confidence. And where exactly would I run to, your guest room?

Me: And since you trust me so little, how do you plan on convincing these shareholders that I can run a profitable business?

Not-so-much-of-a-jackass-anymore Raymond Teager: Don’t worry. I can act when I need to.

Me: Of course you can.

With only a few texts from him, I already feel more like myself. Something about Raymond, his bluntness, his teasing, grounds me. It’s like he knows exactly what I need right now.

How ridiculous is that? The man who’s turned my life upside down for months now somehow has this strange ability to make me feel…capable.

Not-so-much-of-a-jackass-anymore Raymond Teager: Before you come up, I suggest keeping the hate in check.

Me: Whatever you say, partner.

Not-so-much-of-a-jackass-anymore Raymond Teager: Perfect. Now come up, Firefly.

Me: Firefly? That’s possibly the worst nickname I’ve been given.

Not really. “Dadless daughter” still tops that chart.

Not-so-much-of-a-jackass-anymore Raymond Teager: What can I say? When you get all riled up…

And he stops there! That infuriating man stopsthere. I want to throw my hands up or maybe throw my phone at his head.

Me: You going to finish that sentence, or do I have to come upstairs and physically extract it from you?

Not-so-much-of-a-jackass-anymore Raymond Teager: Sorry, someone walked into my office, and I hit send too early.

I blink at the text, rereading it because…it feels so…human.

When did this man, who always seems like he has everything under control, including the air around him, turn into someone who makes mistakes and admits to them? But staying in his house these past few days has been like peeling back the layers from a human I thought I knew, but apparently didn’t know at all.

Not-so-much-of-a-jackass-anymore Raymond Teager: I was going to say that when you get all riled up, you look like a tiny bomb. But now I’m curious about what physical ways you have in mind.

And just like that, I can practically see him in my head—arms crossed, one eyebrow cocked, that infuriating smirk on his face. My smile stretches wide despite myself.

Me: Don’t turn my words dirty, Teager.

Not-so-much-of-a-jackass-anymore Raymond Teager: How could I ever do such a thing? Now get up here, Firefly.

Me: How did you even know I was sitting in the parking lot?

Not-so-much-of-a-jackass-anymore Raymond Teager: I’ve got my eyes on you, baby.

My pulse stutters. Damn him. That comment should feel creepy—stalkerish, even—but my traitorous brain twists it into something…almost intimate.