Chapter 4
The boys send the last crate of lobsters up to the wharf to be weighed before turning toward me.
They know I’ll be here a while, but I can see it on their faces that they are more than ready to go home.
It’s spitting snow. It’s cold. We’ve been out here since three this morning, and now it’s five at night and dark outside again.
The whole day has come and gone, and I can’t blame them for being over it.
“You, uh … fixing the valves tonight, Cap? Or …” Jake says, peeling his oil pants off and throwing them on the hanger.
“Yeah, I’ve got to look it over to see if it’s an easy fix or if it’s going to drive me nuts,” I mutter, looking at both of my guys. “Go on, whiny asses; get out of here. You both look like shit.”
I don’t have to tell them twice; they both take off like their asses are on fire before I get the chance to change my mind. Not like I would because, right now, I need some quiet.
The boat started this weird vibration early in the day, and I was scared as hell that something was going to be seriously wrong with the engine.
Somehow, we limped through. But when an engine like the one on my boat has a problem, it can easily cost tens of thousands of dollars to get it straightened out—not to mention, I have to sail it a solid two hours to the closest diesel mechanic.
I switch the light down forward of my boat and make my way into the engine room to look things over.
Right away, I notice something isn’t quite right when I see the hoses have pissed hydraulic fuel all over the place, instantly ticking me off.
Not only because I have to fix it, but because I have to clean it up too.
“Pile of fucking shit,” I growl to myself because I’m tired, and the last thing I want to do is fuck with this boat right now.
The engine has given me more trouble than any other one I’ve ever had, but the boat itself is perfect for me because I had it built exactly like I wanted it.
“Ridge?” my dad’s deep voice calls, and I’m almost grateful for another distraction before this vessel pisses me off more. “You down there, bud?”
“Yep,” I call back. “Give me a second. I’ll be right up.”
Grabbing a rag, I wipe my hands and head toward the deck. When I walk out, my dad is standing up on the wharf under the lights we had put in a few years ago. I’m not surprised to see him—that fucker is always here. Who I am surprised to see though is … the person standing beside him.
The girl from the grocery store. The one whose card wouldn’t work and she got really fucking mad when I paid for her shit.
I don’t know how it’s even possible, but I swear she’s even prettier in the moonlight.
She may be insanely attractive, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s downright mean. And that’s not my type.
I don’t have a fucking clue why she’s here or why she has an iPad tucked under her arm.
“What’s she doing here?” I ask bluntly.
When my dad, a man who always has the utmost respect for women, looks as irritated as I do, I know one thing for certain.
She’s here for the wrong reasons.
“This is Stella. Stella, this is my son, Ridge.” Mr. Adams sighs. “She came from New York and works for Ironbound Developments.” He pauses. “Apparently … once again … they want to make us an offer for our land.”
“Did you tell her to tell her company to fuck off?” Ridge says sharply. “Or do you need me to do that?”
“Ridge, go easy on her. She’s just the messenger,” his father says, keeping his tone low. “Guess they are stuck on wanting to make it into some sort of a resort with some possible shopping, among lots of other things.”
“Dining too,” I add, chiming in like that’ll be the one thing that sells them on the idea.
I mean, this place could certainly use more food options. I think I counted one coffee shop and one restaurant, and both looked a little debatable.
“Oh, yeah … is that right?” Banana Man drawls slowly and calculatedly, totally ignoring my comment about dining because he obviously doesn’t give a shit about getting a nice meal outside of his home.
The six-feet-three, maybe six-four, man beside me, who has to be in his fifties, is annoyed, and it’s more than obvious. But now, his son, who stands as tall as he does, somehow looks even more pissed than his father.
“It appears so,” Mr. Adams drawls, suddenly seeming relaxed, and I have a feeling it’s because he knows his son’s going to handle this situation for him.
Ridge puts his foot on the side of his boat and looks up at me with nothing but pure animosity in his eyes. “I hate to break it to you, Fireball, but this land ain’t for sale.”
Ain’t isn’t a word, douchebag, and my name isn’t Fireball, either. That’s what I want to say, but I know it’s not an option.
I came here to do one job—get this land. It’s obvious that even though the land is in the father, Mathew’s, name … the guy standing on the boat, smirking up at me, is the alpha when it comes to this property. If I want the land, I’ll need to go through him first.
Not literally or anything … even if he is really, really hot.
I keep my iPad tucked under my arm for a moment before, finally, I haul it out and bring up the image of a mock-up of the completed project.
“As you can see here, you’d really be doing a service to your community, Mr. Adams.” I direct my voice at the younger dude, but every now and then, I flash my eyes to his dad as well.
“And the best part of it is, you could keep the land your wharf sits on because, to be honest, the wharf and all the boats coming and going make it that much more desirable.”
“And what, Fireball, you want us to live on our boats because you want the land our houses are on?” he tosses back, eyes becoming damn near slits.
“Sorry that you brought your fancy self with your expensive, ugly-ass shoes and designer clothing all the way to Eastern Edge, but we’re not interested in anything you’ve got to say. ”
My gaze narrows, and I have to fight to not look down at my feet. My shoes are not ugly. Though they do look designer, they actually aren’t.
“Ridge—” The father opens his mouth, about to tell him he’s being too harsh, but when his son’s angry blue eyes dart to his, he sighs. “He’s right. We aren’t interested in whatever you came here for. So, tell your boss that it was a wasted trip and he ought to buy you a ticket back home.”
As much as I want to keep it together, these men are striking every nerve inside of me, making it damn hard. “And why would I need to call my boss?” I tuck the iPad back under my arm and shrug. “I think I’m plenty capable of booking a flight … thanks.”
“Well, of course you are,” Mr. Adams says quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I was just saying … since I’m guessing it’s a company expense, is all.”
“And who says I don’t own the company, Mr. Adams?” I lift a brow.
“You don’t,” Ridge utters. “We’ve been through this quite a few times, Fireball.
Let me tell you how it goes and see if it tracks.
The big boss man—or woman—is always the last to come out.
” He looks me up and down, playing with me like I’m his prey.
“First, they send the weakest one, and we met that guy this summer. Poor bastard. Couldn’t sell water in a drought.
Next, they send the one who’s trying to climb the ladder.
” There’s a short pause before he points at me. “And look … here you are.”
Just being here and letting them know we’re interested in this land has his boxers in a bunch. A big one at that. I’d like to tell him to fuck off, but that’s not professional, and it’s certainly not going to get me any closer to sealing this deal either.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you gentlemen at least hear me out over dinner?
” I smile—or I attempt to. “You can come to my Airbnb. And you are welcome to bring your wives or the rest of the family.” I say the second part, hoping they’ll say the others are out of town.
I don’t know how many other Ridge Adamses I can handle; I did my research on this family the night before I flew here, so I know that Ridge has three brothers, and I’m pretty sure they all live right around here too.
Hopefully, they’re more delightful.
The men glance at each other, and even though it’s obvious Ridge can hardly stand the sight of me, I get the feeling that his dad feels bad—which I hate, but I also know that I could use it to my advantage.
“I’ll check with my wife, Katherine,” Mr. Adams says, his voice low, like I’ve just put him in the worst spot ever.
“I’ve been out to haul all day, so tonight’s not going to work,” Ridge utters. “Also, we’re not coming to your Airbnb,” he adds, grabbing a tool out of his bag and holding it at his side. “If you want to talk, you can come to us.”
I shouldn’t feel hopeful, given the absolute glare that’s still resting on his face. But he didn’t say no, so that’s got to count for something.
“All right, that sounds fine.” I fake a polite smile, even though I want to punch him in the face.
“I’ll talk to my brothers,” he grumbles before turning his attention to his dad. “A hose blew, so I’ve got to repair it before it gets any later.”
“Go on.” Mr. Adams nods.
As Ridge makes his way back toward where he first appeared from, he spares me one more glance.
His eyes are filled with humor, and a smirk tugs at his lips.
“Hey, Fireball.” He jerks his chin up. “If you think I’m a dick, wait till there’s three more of me sitting at a table with you while you try to make your pitch. ”
“I live in New York City,” I coo. “I work in a building full of men who think they are God’s gift to earth. So, trust me, I’ll be just fine. Thanks though.”
I fight back my eye roll, and after another glare, he disappears back into the wheelhouse of his boat.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a business card and hold it out to Mr. Adams. “My cell is on there. Please, let me know a day and time that works for all of you.”
Reluctantly, he takes it. “Will do,” he mutters, looking down at it. “Oh, and, Stella?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck.” He cringes. “My boys? They love this land. This is their pride—their legacy.” He looks at me. “So, while they may agree to hear you out … us selling? It’s never going to happen.”
Before I can come up with something to say, he walks off, leaving me on the wharf by myself in the cold December night air.
I stand here for a second, looking around at the dimly lit cove with the lobster boats scattered throughout the water before, finally, I turn and leave before Ridge gets a chance to come back and be a dick once more.
Dick should be that guy’s middle name.