Chapter 3 #2
Cinnamon rolls, on the other hand… No. Carbs. Processed sugars. I avoided those militantly.
If I didn’t indulge in actual cinnamon buns made by my sister-in-law—the best in the country according to everyone who had eaten them—then I certainly wouldn’t be tasting the male equivalent, even if my mouth was watering just a little.
“I’m not here to make your day, or your life, by letting you think you can land me… Pun intended,” I said, my voice sharp and biting. “I’m here to ruin it. Your day.” I handed him the envelope in my hand.
He looked at it without the sufficient fear I wanted him to be feeling. For a moment, I forgot that I wasn’t in New York, and small-town fishermen didn’t know that an envelope—especially one I handed over—had the power to ruin lives, companies, GDPs.
His eyes continued to twinkle. “I’m not getting sued, then, pray tell, why hand me a thick and ominous envelope?”
I gritted my teeth. He was amused by my envelope. “Why not open it and find out yourself? I assume you can read. The words aren’t too big, I promise.”
Again, my tone was ice cold, my words condescending, yet no glower darkened this man’s cheerful face.
Actually, he just smiled bigger. His teeth were white—not perfectly straight, though the crookedness of his incisor furthered his small-town hottie vibe.
Veneers on men looked like they had a mouth full of Chiclets.
“I can read. Big words and all.” He scratched his neck. “But I’d rather you tell me. Grant me the boon of your company a little longer.”
A boon? Were we in The fucking Notebook ?
Terrible movie.
Okay, not terrible .
Passable.
If you were into that kind of thing. Lifetime love that transcended every obstacle in its path. And Ryan Gosling's abs.
I was into Ryan Gosling's abs, but that was about it.
I preferred Lord of the Rings— real fantasies since I was more apt to believe in elves and wizards than I was in lifetime love.
Aragorn and Arwen notwithstanding. And I was well aware that Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was truly fictional, since no man with that much power in the real world would be as honorable as him.
Not even this seemingly nice guy fisherman.
Give a man enough money or power, and he’d seek to conquer what he could and destroy what he couldn’t.
I should’ve turned and walked my ass away from this man and his dangerously warm energy. Instead, I stayed, if only to bask in the light of a man I’d never ever end up with.
Whereas some people toyed with darkness, I flirted with sunlight, knowing I’d never be able to live in it.
“You owe me money.” I forced myself not to growl, still gripping the envelope.
“I owe you money?” He raised his brow in playful surprise. “I’d definitely remember accruing that debt.”
My mouth went dry, and my body tightened with arousal.
Smiling slowly, sensually, I stepped forward on the dock, knowing that it was a dangerous move in heels.
I leaned over so I could put my forearms on the smooth hull—?
—of the boat, inches from his face. I smelled the ocean and a musk that was so deep and unique, it could’ve only had to belong to him, the bitterness of his coffee accenting it all perfectly.
“You’d remember every second of my presence, trust me,” I informed him in a sultry voice. “This is for services rendered, which I don’t charge for, and if I did, you most certainly wouldn’t be able to afford me.”
The insult slid off my tongue like honey, and I waited for him to realize that I’d said it, changing his smile to a sneer.
But it didn’t happen. That casual, playful smile tinged with masculine arousal, remained on his face.
“You have teeth. I like it.” He leaned forward, unafraid of the intimate distance between us.
Seeing that I didn’t bring out the worst in him, the way he smelled, the way he hinted like he could handle me… It had me on unsteady footing.
But I was used to that. I recovered quickly.
“And claws.” I tapped the side of the boat with my nails. “But I need my money. Or more accurately, my brother and Kip need your money. I’ve given you an additional thirty days on your invoice. Consider that the last courtesy you’ll be getting from me.”
I pressed the envelope to his chest, not missing the brush of our fingers as he reached up to clasp it.
His eyes slowly traversed my body, fire shooting through my blood at his visible swallow.
I also didn’t miss the slight furrow of his brow at the mention of the money. It almost made me feel bad. Almost. The furrow didn’t last for long before it gave way to a wrinkle of determination. “I’m going to make it my business to ensure that this won’t be the last I see of you.”
I pursed my lips against that promise, the strong tug in my chest telling me that something was beginning there.
It couldn’t. It wouldn’t. This man had disaster written all over him.
Or, more correctly, this man had peace written all over him.
At least he did until Calliope Derrick fucked it all up.
“You’re a fisherman, right?” I asked him.
An easy grin curved his lips. “Process of deduction works well with you, I see.”
I appreciated the dry joke but didn’t make that obvious, my scowl remaining no matter how much the man made me want to smile.
“Well, understand the metaphor that I’m far too big of a catch for you or your boat to handle.” I eyed him in a way that pretended I found him lacking before turning on my heel and walking away.
I thought I’d gotten the last word, given I was well practiced at dressing men down.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at just what me and this boat can handle,” he called to my back.
I didn’t miss the innuendo.
Not exactly eloquent or original, yet my step stuttered on the dock, nonetheless.
I wouldn’t be seeing him again. Most certainly fucking not.
Not even if my life depended on it.
At that time, there were enough things my life depended on; I didn’t need to add an attractive, smiling, cinnamon bun fisherman to the mix.
ELLIOT
“Well, that was Calliope Derrick.”
I heard the thump of my father’s well-worn boots as I watched the most striking woman I’d ever seen get into what was likely a $100K Porsche.
It roared to life, then she sped from the lot, not even slowing down at the stop sign at the exit to the dock before hurtling down the main road.
It didn’t surprise me … the fancy car, the disregard for laws.
It landed with what little I’d learned of Calliope Derrick with her sharp tongue, a gaze that could tear a man to shreds, and a mouth that invited destruction.
Not even to mention the body encased in expensive fabric, likely costing more than everything in my entire closet.
Heels—wildly impractical and what I thought were an insane thing for a woman to torture herself with…
Calliope strode in them like slippers. A goddess in black who could cut through me like butter with nothing but a look.
Trouble.
Calliope Derrick was trouble, her debt collecting role notwithstanding.
Someone I should stay far away from. I knew better than anyone the damage the wrong woman could wrought.
Except my gut told me that Calliope Derrick was not the wrong woman.
“You were hiding from her?” I finally ripped my gaze from the space her car had disappeared from to face my father, looking at me with a knowing grin.
He took off his worn Shaw Shack cap, rubbing his silvery hair.
It might’ve been all silver, but he still had a lot of it.
No balding for the Shaw men. “Of course, I was hiding from her, like any self-respecting man would do,” he joked.
“You had it well in hand. I’d have attempted to come to your aid if I thought you needed it, even though she’d chew me up and spit me out in a second. ”
This was a small town. I’d lived in it all my life, as had my father. We knew the locals, knew Rowan Derrick and Kip Goodman, their respective wives. And no one in town had escaped the news of Calliope Derrick’s arrival.
I’d overheard more than one local man speaking about her, either saying how hot she was or how stuck up of a bitch she was, depending on whether they’d tried to hit on her and had been shot down. From what I understood, she shot down every man brave enough to try.
I didn’t have much of a life outside of work, busy trying to keep our business afloat and being there for Clara’s treatment. Therefore, I hadn’t had the occasion to stumble upon Calliope Derrick.
Yet she’d found me.
I had sworn off women who even hinted at being complicated.
Not because I didn’t respect complicated women.
I respected them like I respected the ocean, understood that they could be calm, warm, welcoming.
And that they could lay fucking ruin to your life in the right conditions.
Been there, done that. I actually liked the unpredictability of the ocean.
And one day I’d find a woman. But not one like Calliope Derrick.
My mind ventured beyond the woman herself to the news she’d brought.
My guts began churning with unease, all warmth and desire gone from my blood as reality came hurtling back. Weight settled on my shoulders like a thousand-ton dumbbell.
My father’s smile disappeared. The man knew me well and had likely read the change in my own expression.
“I’ll go talk to Rowan,” he declared, rubbing the back of his neck.
I knew he felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders too, blaming himself for decisions that led us to this point.
Even though he wasn’t in charge anymore, and I’d made my share of mistakes when it came to the business.
Not that I’d call the mortgages I’d taken out as a mistake.
It was the fucking wrong decisions I made with suppliers, employees, accounting shit.
All of that was my brother’s area, but he hadn’t been able to handle it, and no way would I add to his load.
“No, we’ll pay.” I took a tone I didn’t like with my father, but my pride was somewhat wounded, and this outstanding debt had kept me up at night.
I didn’t mind owing people a favor, but money, a large sum of it for good work done…
Yeah, that didn’t sit right with me. Especially when Kip and Rowan were respectable men with families to think about.
They’d issued the invoice before the news of Clara’s illness went public, then they’d come in person to the restaurant to inform me that they didn’t expect payment. I’d argued heavily at that, but then I’d watched bill after bill come in for treatment, and I’d taken them up on their offer.
I’d swallow my pride, bones and all, for Clara. I’d do anything for her.
An instinct told me that neither Rowan nor Kip knew Calliope had come to see me.
I’d heard through the grapevine that she’d taken over the financial side of their construction business, so it stood to reason she didn’t operate under the same agreements as they did.
Whether or not she knew about Clara’s condition remained to be seen.
I doubted someone in Rowan’s family would be so callous, but Calliope Derrick seemed to wear callous like a badge of honor.
“Elliot…” my father ventured, not knowing the true nature of our finances since I’d taken over but knowing enough to understand we were drowning.
“I’ve got it, Dad.” I made sure my voice was softer this time. Forcing a smile, I clapped him on the shoulder, looking him in the eye. “We’ve got nothing to worry about. Let’s head out.”
It was the first time I’d lied to my father.
Not the first time I’d lied to myself.