Chapter 2
Garrett
“I think Melinda’s cheating on me.” I pinch my phone between my ear and my shoulder while adjusting the strap on my carry-on bag. Despite an uneventful trip to the Keys, I’m ready to collect my luggage and get the hell out of the airport.
Too many people.
Too much recycled air.
Not enough decency to go around.
The world’s going to hell in a handbasket. Don’t believe me? Fly commercial.
My sister Charlie snorts in my ear. “I hate to say I saw it coming…”
“But you’ll find a way, because you love being right?”
She scoffs. “Not as much as you, Bear. Not as much as you.”
Shaking my head at the name I will never live down—a shortening of Gare Bear, a nickname I hate even more than Bear itself—I step onto an escalator on my way to baggage claim.
“Rubbing my constant rightness in your face wouldn’t be very sisterly of me,” Charlie continues, “especially when I’m right about something as despicable as infidelity. But I definitely saw this coming.” She pauses, then whispers, “I hate it for you, though. I really do. You know. After Elizabeth…”
Anticipating Charlie’s train of thought, I shift my phone to the other ear. Anything to avoid hearing that name and the onslaught of pain it brings. “It’s not a big deal. The Melinda thing.”
“Why do you keep choosing these awful women? You have to know they’re only in it for your money.”
Of course they’re only in it for the money. Everyone’s only in it for the money, I think but don’t say. Charlie already believes I’m a jaded fuck. No need to fuel that fire.
I step off the escalator and pause until I find a sign directing me to baggage claim. “Work’s my priority, Charlie. It’s what I’m good at.”
Sarcasm drips from Charlie’s deep, sad, slow sigh. “And to think, I actually thought this one would last forever.”
When I first told my sister I was seeing someone, she confiscated my phone and changed Melinda’s contact name to “The Future Mrs. Cooper.” It was a joke, because of how quickly I cycle through women after…
well…after Elizabeth. Charlie thought it was hilarious, and honestly, I did too.
Our brother Connor never understood what was so funny about the whole thing, but he’s a serial monogamist. In his opinion, my dating style is “something to address,” not joke about.
“I have found my forever.” This one’s going to piss Charlie off, but that’s what she gets for using that fucking nickname even though I’m a grown ass man.
“I swear to God, Bear. If you say work’s your forever, I’ll fly to the Keys and beat you up for being a moron.”
My jaw clenches. I’ve built myself from nothing. Amassed a fortune after growing up in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Morons don’t end up where I am. I’d eviscerate anyone else for calling me one, but Charlie’s “little sister pass” means I’ll keep my mouth shut.
For now.
I arrive at baggage claim alongside a frazzled mother cradling an infant while clutching the hand of a travel-crazed toddler. The little guy looks me straight in the eye and shoves a finger into his nose. Nice.
Charlie clears her throat. “You’re in Florida for what? A week?”
“Give or take. The initial meeting with the Huttons is tomorrow. If things go well, I might be here a little longer. If not…” I shrug as the cranky toddler yanks free of his mother’s grasp. “I’ll be back in Wildrose Landing before you know it.”
God help me. I promised my family I’d take some time off after I’m done with this deal.
They swear it’ll be good for me, and my therapist agrees, but I don’t see how.
Not working makes me antsy. Restless. Somehow, they talked me into it anyway.
I agreed to not only come home to my house in WRL before I head back to my apartment in the city, but that I’d “relax” while I’m there.
Whatever that means. I haven’t told my boss yet.
Branson Masters already hates that I split my time between Wildrose and the city, but he deals with it because I’m the guy who put Vision Enterprise on the map.
“I can’t believe the Hutton Hotel is in financial trouble.” Charlie sounds so deflated you’d think it was our business about to go down the shitter.
Clenching my jaw, I glance at the time. When I called her to check in, I wasn’t looking for a full-blown conversation.
Not only am I in the middle of a crowded airport, but there are emails to check, messages to reply to.
This little chat is costing me money. I clear my throat, prepared to end the call.
“I have such great memories of that place,” Charlie continues, “and if your boss has his way, everything good about it will die as he squeezes the last dollar out of the name.”
“Which is why I’m here. I won’t let that happen.
I have great memories too and will do everything in my power to make the deal fair for everyone.
If Branson had given the job to Jordan Clement—” His name clamps my jaw shut as a ball of rage chases it up my throat.
Fucking Clement. Fucking Elizabeth. I swallow hard and try again.
“If that asshole got the job, the Hutton Hotel would be a soulless franchise faster than you can say I told you so.”
“And we all know how fast I can say that.”
I shake my head, chuckling at my little sister. “Exactly. Look. I gotta go. I just wanted you to know I landed. I’m here. I’m safe.”
I pull the phone away to check how many messages are waiting for me as Charlie huffs in exasperation.
“But we didn’t even talk about the Melinda thing! You’re gonna drop a bomb like that and hang up?”
“Calling it a bomb makes it a bigger deal than it is. The relationship had come to its natural conclusion.”
“Natural conclusion?” Charlie sighs dramatically. “I don’t know how you grew up in the same household as me and Connor and came out so…so cold.”
“Wow. Thanks for that.” I recoil, shaking my head like she landed a right hook. “That feels really fucking good, coming from my little sister.”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. And you know I love you anyway.”
We say our goodbyes and I end the call in time to catch the toddler climbing onto his mother’s luggage.
She’s distracted, strapping her baby into a stroller, and the glint in her little boy’s eyes says he’s about to get into some trouble and knows it.
Holding on to the extended handle for support, he pulls himself to stand on top of the suitcase.
The thing wobbles precariously.
“Hey now.” I take an involuntary step forward and the little shit rocks back and forth, whooping in excitement. All he needs is some ketchup and mustard warpaint and he would look like Connor when he was little, playing his favorite game—and that never ended well. For anyone.
The suitcase hitches onto the wheels, then clatters onto the opposite edge and the kid tumbles backwards with a shriek.
I lurch for him, my phone catapulting from my hands while I catch the little guy seconds before his head slams into the tile floor.
His mother whirls when the suitcase topples over, clobbering the thousand-dollar extension of my brain.
“Jesse!” She rushes to me, swooping him out of my arms. “Oh my God! Are you okay?” She peers into his face, swiping his hair back from his forehead before crushing him to her chest. “Thank you so much for catching him,” she says, breathless, her chest heaving and her eyes watering.
“Anyone would have done it.” Though no one would have needed to if she was paying better attention. I rake a hand through my hair then stand the suitcase up and retrieve my phone.
Shit.
The screen isn’t just cracked, it’s fucking obliterated.
“Oh, no.” The mother swallows hard as she follows my frowning gaze to the carnage. “Is it ruined?”
Ruined? It’s decimated.
The screen won’t recognize my touch and rewards the effort by sinking glass into my finger. I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. So much for checking in on work before I head for the hotel.
“It’s fine,” I growl.
“It doesn’t look fine.” She releases her little boy and stands.
The woman’s baby is starting to wail, and her kid is staring at the suitcase like he wants to go for another ride.
I’m done with this conversation. Time to disengage.
Over her shoulder, I spy my luggage coming down the belt. Perfect.
“Gonna wanna keep an eye on that one,” I say, pointing to her son as he toddles off, then claim my bag and make my way to pick up my rental car.
After I sign the paperwork, the clerk—a twenty-something who hasn’t once met my eyes—hands me the keys. “There you go, Mr. Hooper.”
“Cooper. My last name’s Cooper.” I dangle the fob for inspection. “You sure this is supposed to go to me?”
“Sorry. Yeah. Cooper.” The jerk dismisses me with a wave of his hand.
I stare, daring him to acknowledge me. To look at me.
To offer a hint of customer service. I guaran-fucking-tee the second he thinks he might weasel a tip out of me, his entire personality will change.
It’s the way it always goes. You’re not even supposed to tip guys like this, but you better believe they expect it anyway.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” The sarcastic lilt to his question solidifies my opinion of the man. He’s part of the entitled, self-important, “I’m more important than anyone else” problem that’s ruining the world.
“I need directions to somewhere that can take care of this.” I place my phone on the counter and the man sneers.
“That’s seen better days.” He folds his arms over his chest and stares at the cracks spider webbing across the screen. “I don’t think it’s fixable.”
“I’ll buy a new one.”
“Just like that, huh.” He waves his hand. “Plonk down a grand like it’s no big thing.”
“It’s not a big thing.” I watch my statement land.
He’s gauging who I am now. Asking himself if I’m lying. Wondering what he can get out of me if he treats me differently.
“Must be nice.”
“It is. Directions?” I arch an eyebrow.
The asshole finally looks at me like I exist. “Of course, Mr. Cooper. I’m happy to be of assistance.” He quickly prints out directions to several stores nearby and hands them over.
And that right there is why I put all my energy into my job. Two things are broken in my life: my phone and my relationship with Melinda.
I can use money to buy a new phone.
But I can’t fix other people, not with all the money in the world.
I reach into my pocket, pull out my wallet and rifle through the bills like I’m deciding which one to hand over, then put the thing away with a smirk. The man gapes after me, but I refuse to feed the greed. I’m tired of being decent to assholes only for them to hold out their hand and expect more.
I scan the list of stores and pick the one at the top: Seaside Mobile. Time to replace my phone and get this shitshow back on track. Anything to ensure my meeting with the Huttons goes better than my arrival in the Keys.