Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
FRANKIE
I rub my eyes as if that will clear away the cobwebs and stop the tornado of confusion swirling in my brain.
After the most amazing night of my life, I was looking forward to easing into the day next to Miller’s warm, naked body.
But I was awakened by a knock on the door and then a bit of a commotion.
So I threw on some clothes and came downstairs to find that my morning plans are being ruined by that fucking awful developer.
And Miller is standing on the step in just his boxers obviously trying to help me out and get rid of him.
“He’s leaving.” There’s a hint of anger in Miller’s voice that I haven’t heard before. “I’ve told him to go. And he’s going.”
Seeing Wade Skinner is different this time. When he showed up before, I immediately turned into a panicked ball of stress. Now, while my heart is racing with fury that he dare show his face again, there’s no panic or stress this time—all thanks to Miller’s in-charge energy by my side.
Skinner ignores him and looks at me. “How do you know this guy?” He jerks a thumb at Miller.
“Good God, none of your business. And I warned you last time. I’m calling the cops.” I’m about to turn to head inside to get my phone, but Miller’s words stop me.
“No need,” he says with more dominance and self-assuredness than I’d expect from someone wearing only underwear covered in pictures of tiny chain saws. “I can handle this guy.”
“I’m interested, Miss Channing,” Skinner says. “How did you two meet?”
Christ, this asshole is truly something else.
“What the hell does it matter? Like he said, get the hell off my property.” While my confidence is bolstered by Miller’s presence, my hands still shake in anger at this man’s sheer audacity.
“She said go.” Miller takes a step forward, not even wincing when his foot leaves the doormat and hits the concrete that must be freezing cold. “And I’m saying get the fuck off her property.”
Skinner dodges Miller’s outstretched arm and maintains his focus on me. “It’s just curious. You say you have no desire to sell, yet you’re entertaining Miller Malone in a state of”—he pauses to look him up and down—“undress.”
What?
So he knows Miller? But has his last name wrong? What the hell is going on?
“Malone?” I look from Skinner to Miller while rubbing my forehead. Part of my brain is still warm and cozy in bed and struggling to catch up. “Is he confusing you with someone?”
Skinner laughs the laugh of a cartoon villain. “Did he give you a false name?”
Miller closes his eyes and groans like he’s just been hit in the stomach by a tree trunk.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I snap at our unwanted visitor.
I’m about to actually go get my phone and call the cops, when Miller raises his voice.
“Look, Skinner, just fuck off.” His hands ball into fists at his sides. “Nothing here is any of your business.”
His voice is filled with pure, unadulterated rage and, while I’d like to never see Wade Skinner again in my life, I’m a bit nervous that Miller might be about to slug him in the face and then it might be Skinner who’s calling the cops and that’s really not something I want to have to deal with.
I try to catch Miller’s bare arm to pull him back. But before I make contact, he strides out of my reach and up to Skinner, not missing a beat as his bare feet move from the concrete step to the gravel path, making me wince on his behalf.
“She’s not selling to you. Not now. Not ever. She’s been clear. And I’m being clearer. Just go crawl back under whatever rock it is you and the other cockroaches live under.”
“You think I’m the piece of shit here, Malone?” Skinner leans his face right into Miller’s.
Miller reaches for Skinner’s lapels.
“Enough.” The sharpness in my voice shocks Miller into dropping his hands, and I stride forward, fully prepared to step between the two men if I have to.
“But,” Skinner jabs his finger toward Miller’s nose, “I’d never stoop so low as to sleep with her to get her to sell to me.”
His words are like a brick to my head. The tornado of what-the-fuck-is-going-on? inside my brain freezes mid-swirl like it’s a movie on pause. A ghostly chill washes over me. The only part of my body that’s functioning is my heart, and it’s in serious overdrive.
“What?” I’m not sure if I actually yell that loud enough for everyone in the next county to hear, but it sure as hell feels like it.
“Let me guess.” Skinner gives me his slimiest smile yet, and that is truly saying something. “That second offer you got. Is it, by any chance, from Maverick Developments?”
“Wha…” I start again but can’t get out the whole word. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
“That’s his company.” Skinner finishes my thought.
His smile turns from slimy to smug as he removes any doubt as to who he’s talking about by jerking his thumb toward Miller.
“Search ‘Boston Condo King.’” His voice oozes with unpleasant self-satisfaction. “You’ll find everything you need to know.”
Every drop of my freezing blood sinks to my feet, along with my heart and my stomach.
I step back, my eyes flitting between the two men, everything a blur.
I’m suddenly aware that the back of my hand is on my forehead as if to try to contain the thought that Miller could possibly be the owner of the company that made the second offer.
That he’s been lying to me all along. That all of this, everything that’s happened between us, everything we did last night, was just about him trying to get me to sell the land to him, not Skinner.
It’s like a giant ice-cream scoop has swung down out of the sky and gouged out my insides.
“What I actually came here for—”
“Fuck me,” Miller snarls at Skinner. “Are you really still talking?”
Their words slide over me, my mind still fumbling with this new information. Skinner must be making this up. It would certainly track with his previous behavior.
But Miller isn’t denying it.
My legs wobble and threaten to buckle, so I reach back to grip the edge of the door. Before I know what’s happening, Miller’s dashed to my side. He grabs my arm with one hand and places the other on the small of my back to catch me.
I snatch myself out of his grip. There’s no way in hell I am allowing either of these men to see me crumble. Never.
And there’s no way I’m allowing Miller to hold me up if he’s a scheming, manipulative asshole.
I blink hard to refocus my eyes and cling to the door, which feels like the only thing I can trust right now. My breath shakes as I inhale, and my chest is so tight I can only fill a corner of my lungs.
“Miss Channing,” Skinner says in a tone usually heard from someone stirring a cauldron full of evil potions. “The actual reason I’m here is to let you know that it turns out your grandparents never applied for the correct certification to run an animal rescue.”
“What?” This seems to be the only word remaining in my vocabulary. The rest have been washed away in a tsunami of confusion and shock and whatever the hell that vomit-threatening sensation is where my stomach used to be.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, this new accusation is a verbal kick to the backs of my knees.
“Don’t believe him,” Miller says. “That has to be a lie.”
“All true. And a terrible shame,” Skinner says as if it’s anything but a shame.
“Oh, and another piece of bad news. I have a friend in the halls of government who I’ve spoken with and, coincidentally, it turns out that even if you apply now, you’ll never get it.
The moment I officially report you, they will shut you down in an instant.
So you’re going to have to sell anyway. Whether it’s to me or lover boy here. ”
This is all too much to process.
Ten minutes ago, I was naked in bed, sliding over to warm sheets that smelled of Miller and thinking maybe we could figure out a way to make it work.
Now, I’ve had to absorb so much awful information in such a short time that it’s finally too much for me to prevent tears filling my eyes—tears of hurt, of anger, of frustration, of disbelief.
Miller’s attention darts from me to Skinner. “You fucking bastard.”
Miller lunges for Skinner, spins him around and, with a firm grip on his upper arms, frog-marches him toward his shiny black SUV.
“Looks like you’re one of those too,” Skinner says into Miller’s face.
“Do you just get off on ruining people’s lives? Frankie doesn’t deserve this. Her grandfather does not deserve this.”
So Miller’s lied to me about who he is and what he’s doing? Yet he’s standing up for me and Grandpa?
What a fucking hypocrite. He wants to do exactly the same thing to us as Skinner does.
So he can fuck off too.
Fuck right off.
I open my mouth to tell him exactly that, but Skinner, who’s still under Miller’s control, strains to look back at me over his shoulder.
“I’m not trying to steal from you, Miss Channing.” He raises his voice as Miller manhandles him farther away. “My offer is above market value. I’m being generous.”
“Generous, my ass,” Miller barks.
“Which I can almost see.” Skinner peers down over Miller’s shoulder.
Miller stops in his tracks and swivels Skinner to face him.
“If you bully this family into selling to you with threats about certificates, I will fucking ruin you.” His tone is deadly serious and surprisingly calm.
“For my parents, I would have snatched just this one project from you. But if you don’t leave the Channings alone, immediately, I will dismantle your entire company and guaran-fucking-tee you never work in the Northeast again. ”
Shit. It’s all clear now. Skinner is the one who ripped off Miller’s parents. It’s because of him that Miller had to drop out of trade school and take on the responsibility of keeping a roof over his family’s head at way too young an age.
So Miller must have made an offer for the sanctuary just to try to stop Skinner from buying it—to get back at him.