Chapter Six
Zade
Three days have passed since the scene with Juniper, and I still can’t shake her.
It’s annoying as hell. I should be thinking about the resort—timelines, permits, projections—but every time my mind quiets down, she shows up again.
That stare. The way she stood her ground like she was daring me to flinch first. It’s not attraction.
It’s something else. Something sharper. And I hate that it’s stuck with me.
Today, I’m heading out to Cody Riverside Park to look at the site myself.
Brian Ellis is coming, along with two cops.
Apparently, that’s protocol now. Locals are making noise, and the mayor wants me to look like I’m taking it seriously.
Like a couple of small-town complaints could derail a project like this.
I kill the engine and step out. The air hits different out here. Smells like pine and warm dirt. River somewhere nearby. I can hear it. Trees shift in the breeze, and a bird screeches off in the distance like it’s warning me away.
It ’s stupid pretty. I’ll give it that. The kind of pretty that makes your chest feel too big for a second. I can already see it—cabins lined up neatly along the river, some sleek spa tucked into the hill, hikers sipping overpriced lattes on custom decks. People will eat it up.
Brian walks beside me, talking like we’re old friends. He’s got this jittery energy, like he wants credit for every tree we’re standing under.
"Beautiful, isn’t it?" he says. "This place is going to make us a lot of money."
I glance at him. "It’s a good site. Money’s not the question. Speed is."
He nods too quickly, already pulling out his phone like he’s going to show me blueprints I’ve already seen.
The cops trail behind us, keeping a distance, but close enough to look like they’re doing something.
I walk ahead, toward the edge of the river. Water rushes over the rocks like it’s been doing this forever. And for a second, I get it. Why people want to keep it untouched. Why someone like Juniper would get so worked up.
But sentiment doesn’t build resorts.
Money does.
"Let’s get it done," I say, more to myself than anyone else. Brian’s already on the phone anyway.
We’ve got ground to break and no time to waste.
He nods eagerly. “With the right push, we could start breaking ground by spring.”
I pause, letting my g aze sweep over the landscape again. “It’s Autumn! Spring’s too far off. We need to move more quickly. The people opposing the plans will dig in their heels the longer we wait.”
As we walk deeper into the park, the sounds of voices filter through the trees.
A group of people with banners and signs is heading our way.
Their faces are set, determined. Their signs read things like ‘Save Our Park’ and ‘No Resort in Cody’.
I feel a flicker of annoyance. These protests are as predictable as they are irritating.
The cops step forward, ready to intervene if things get out of hand. Brian steps up, trying to calm the situation. “Let’s keep it civil, folks. We’re here to discuss the future of Cody.”
A woman at the front of the group steps forward, her eyes flashing with anger.
She’s older, maybe in her late fifties, with gray streaks in her dark hair.
Her voice is steady and strong. “We don’t want your resort here, Mr. Patterson.
This park is a sanctuary, and we won’t let you destroy it for profit. ”
I suck in air quietly, willing my heartbeat to steady itself. “I get it. You’re attached to this place. But this project isn’t just about the resort. It’s about bringing jobs and infrastructure—giving this town a future.”
Another man steps forward, his face flushed with emotion. “You don’t understand. We don’t want your money. We want our park.”
The crowd murmurs, their voices growing louder. My patience wears thin. “This project is happening. I’ve invested too much to let it fail.”
“Over our dead bodies,” someone s houts from the back.
Brian steps in again, trying to defuse the situation. “Let’s not get carried away. We’re here to talk, not to fight.”
But things start to escalate. The crowd surges forward, and the cops move to push them back.
It’s a chaotic scene—angry voices, hands waving signs, the cops trying to keep order.
It’s all so predictable. I lean in close to Brian, keeping my voice low.
“I paid you to handle this, Brian. Do your job.”
Brian nods, sweat beading on his forehead. “I’ll handle it. Let’s have a meeting in a week to discuss the propositions. We’ll find a way to make this work.”
I shake my head slightly, irritated by his hesitation. “Not just any meeting. Call a town hall meeting. Get everyone who has a problem with this in one room. I’ll convince them myself.”
Brian looks surprised. “You really think that’s a good idea? They’re pretty hostile.”
I give him a hard look. “Hostile? Brian, this is just fear. Fear of change, fear of the unknown. I’ve dealt with this a hundred times before. I know how to turn it around. Call the meeting.”
He nods, reluctantly. “Alright, Mr. Patterson. I’ll arrange it.”
“Good,” I reply, already moving towards the car. “Make sure the word gets out. I want every single person who’s against this project in that hall. I’ll show them why they’re wrong.”
As I walk towards my car, I can’t help but feel that familiar rush of victory. This town, this park—it’s all going to be mine. They’ll see. They’ll all see.