Chapter 8
Angela
I want to be excited for this meeting. I want to feel hopeful and confident and know everything I’m doing means success for the hotel. Only, I felt all those things when I met with the last guy and look where that got me. Staring at the end of an era, knowing I’m the one who knocked the tower down.
Nope.
That’s wallowing.
That’s swimming in rocket fuel instead of harnessing the energy…
…though maybe the energy would be easier to harness if I wasn’t so hungover.
What was I thinking last night? Maybe I could answer that question if I didn’t have giant holes in my memory.
I stare into the mirror, smoothing my red hair into a sleek low ponytail.
After a rough start this morning, courtesy of my not-so-good friends gin and tonic, I finally managed to pull myself together, with an assist from coffee, water, and ibuprofen.
My makeup is on point. My outfit says I’m capable, while showing off just enough leg to feel beautiful.
I twist to check my ass, which is too round for my liking, but whatever.
All in all, I’m pleased with what I see.
And with the throbbing in my temples turned down to a manageable level, I’m optimistic about today’s meeting.
“You can do this,” I say to my reflection. “You have the education. You know what you’re doing. You’ve spent your entire life preparing for this and you’re good at what you do. Rocket fuel, Angela. Rocket fuel.” Mirror me smiles back and my phone buzzes in my hand.
My mind instantly goes to the incredibly hot but utterly awful man named Bear, which annoys the crap out of me. I’ve had other conversations since getting my phone back. Why can’t I stop thinking about him?
Probably because I’ve never had someone be that rude to me for no reason before.
How dare he have the audacity to show up late, then look at me like I was the crazy one for calling him on it. He did try to make an excuse, but it wasn’t good enough for me to commit to memory.
Probably because it was a line of bull. (Though maybe because I had too much to drink.)
Either way, he’s a pompous asshole.
He’s probably used to women falling all over him because he’s tall and rugged, while his hair is just long enough to suggest he’s sensitive.
And those eyes. Like staring into the ocean on a sunny day, deep and endless and warm.
Yeah. Well. The ocean is also home to sharks, killer whales, and other murderous creatures, which makes it beautiful on the outside and dangerous on the inside.
Just like that jerk.
With a toss of my head and a mental “So there!” that makes my temples throb, I check my phone and tap on a waiting message.
Nick the Wonderful
Thinking of you. You’ve got this. You’re smart and strong and good and kind. Square your shoulders. Hold your head high. And remember that we love and trust you.
His words bring a smile and I close my eyes against a tightening throat.
When we were kids, he went on and on about wanting to be a superhero when he grew up.
Trying to be funny, I dubbed him Nick the Wonderful when we were sixteen and the name just stuck, mostly because he keeps proving it true.
As I’m composing a thank you, another text comes in.
Nick the Wonderful
But just in case you forgot where you came from…
An image of the two of us as kids fills the screen.
Me with my red hair frizzed and crazed after a day at the beach, chocolate ice cream smeared across my face as I give the biggest, gappiest-toothed grin known to man.
Him with his arm around my shoulder, equally gap-toothed…
scrawny, but towering over me. Our heads are touching, and we look so happy, we obviously had no idea we were smack in the middle of our ugly duckling phase. I save the image and finish my reply.
Look at you, a pain in the ass from the beginning. Heading out now, but boy do I have a story for you. And I want to hear about wherever you are and whatever you’re doing. I’m sure it’s classified so you can’t tell me much, but I’ll take whatever you can give me. Maybe a video chat later?
I wait for a response that doesn’t come—typical Nick—so I grab my purse, slip my phone inside, and make the drive to The Hut.
The office my father shares with my uncle is warm and welcoming.
Light streams in through the windows, with pops of color from Aunt Harlow’s paintings on the wall.
Houseplants cascade off bookshelves and a potted palm warms the corner.
When I was a kid, I loved coming in to hang out while the men worked.
I’d stretch out on the floor with my coloring books, happy as a clam because the energy in the room made me feel like I belonged.
It’s why I wanted to grow up and take over the business, to spend every day sitting at one of those desks.
When I arrive, the men are waiting, Dad’s presence imposing and Uncle Wyatt’s less so.
Dad glances up as I enter. “There’s my Angel.”
I cross the room and hug first him, then Uncle Wyatt.
Their blond hair is graying at the temples, and crow’s feet crinkle to life when they smile.
While some men bear their age like a burden, the Hutton men don it like a crown, growing more distinguished with each year.
Their posture is strong and straight, and looking at them, it’s clear where my cousins got their broad shoulders.
“You ready for this?” I ask, smoothing my skirt, worrying that maybe my ass is too round for it after all. My giant smile hides the undercurrent of doubt humming through me.
The last time I had a meeting with an investor, Dad and Wyatt didn’t feel the need to sit in. They had as much confidence in my plan as I did. The fact that they’re here today speaks volumes.
Not like I blame them.
I just hate that it’s necessary.
Uncle Wyatt leans a hip on his desk. “We’re only here to listen, Angel. You’re still running the show.”
“We should have done it like this the first time.” Dad leans back in his chair. “We all played a part in what happened, and we’ll all be part of the solution.”
We’ve had this conversation time and again and I love Dad for trying to take the weight of my mistake, but it’s mine and mine alone.
“We’re here because of my actions and I appreciate you both for trusting me enough to keep moving forward.
I will solve this problem. I promise you that.
This guy is not a friend, he’s the enemy.
I’ll assume everything he says or does is designed to make me think he’s on our side even though he isn’t, and I’ll verify the hell out of everything until he proves himself trustworthy.
” I put a hand to my heart. “Rocket fuel, Dad.”
“There’s my girl.” He dips his head. “Rocket fuel.”
Wyatt crosses his arms and gives us a quizzical look. “You two wanna fill me in? Feeling a little left out of this rocket fuel discussion.”
A knock on the door silences our laughter. “Excuse me,” says Therese, our receptionist, “but there’s a Mr. Garrett Cooper here to see you.”
Cooper.
As in The Future Mrs. Cooper.
As in Garrett Cooper, the guy I’ve been emailing for weeks about this meeting.
How the hell did I never make the connection?
Nerves catapult through my system then crash to the floor as none other than an emotionally distant robot named Bear steps into the office.
Our eyes lock. The quirk to his lips tells me he knew.
My jaw drops.
That asshole let me go on and on last night and he knew who I was the whole time.
A hazy memory surfaces of me introducing myself, then calling him shady…slimy…
Oh God. Kill me now.
Why didn’t he say anything?
I don’t know if I want to facepalm or strangle the guy. If it wasn’t so important to look professional, I’d probably do both.
Dad gives me a funny look as I glare at the new arrival. “Please come in, Mr. Cooper,” he finally says. “I’m Lucas Hutton, this is my brother Wyatt, and my daughter Angela. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
The men shake hands and somehow, I regain control of my body enough to extend one of my own.
Garrett’s blues zero in on mine. His grip is strong, but brief, though the electricity that shoots through me lasts long after he lets go.
I chalk the feeling up to embarrassment mixed with loathing and refresh my smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cooper.”
“But we’ve already met.” Garrett quirks his head. “I’m surprised you don’t remember, considering the circumstances were so unusual.”
Oh, hell yes, this guy’s the enemy.
I could kill him for the oh-so-innocent look dancing through his evil eyes.
“Of course I remember. I was just…” I glance at Dad and Uncle Wyatt and clear my throat. How in the world am I supposed to recover this?
“Unusual circumstances?” Wyatt gestures for Garrett to have a seat. “That sounds intriguing.”
“It’s a crazy coincidence,” I say with an easy laugh. Look at me, being so light and casual no one would believe I’m imagining a swift kick to Mr. Cooper’s balls. “We needed to replace our phones on the same day and the store mixed everything up. I went home with his and he had mine.”
“And when I showed up for the exchange, she was completely drunk.” Garrett’s smile is a challenge and I return it without flinching.
“Only because he was an hour late.”
While my dad and uncle exchange glances, Garrett puts two fingers in front of his eyes, then turns them to point at me, mimicking my gesture from last night. If I never understood Nick’s need for such a murdery job, I do now. The smile I shoot back at Mr. Cooper is filled with homicidal intent.
I queue up a vitriolic insult, then swallow it back.
Just because he’s the enemy doesn’t mean I have to sink to his level.
This is a business meeting, after all. At least one of us should remember where we are and what we’re doing.
He can lob insults all he wants, but I’m done taking the bait.