There’s only one answer …
The wine. It had to be poisoned to make me weak. That’s definitely it.
It certainly wasn’t his large, rough hands. Or his ocean-blue eyes. Or his deep, gravelly voice, with an accent I don’t really get because it almost sounds Southern. And it’s certainly not his muscled forearms because who cares about those? Pfft. Not me. Not this girl.
It’s none of those things. I live in the city. I see hot, rugged men all the damn time, and I manage not to make a fool of myself. So, it must have been the wine, or maybe it’s just Maine in general. Whatever it is, I need to get a handle on it. Now.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling me, and reluctantly, I pull it out of my pocket and walk out of the bathroom. When I see Victor’s name on the screen, I debate ignoring his call. He knows I was going to dinner with our potential clients tonight, and I’m sure that he wants to know if I’ve gotten any closer to sealing the deal.
Further away actually.
Sighing, I slide my thumb across the screen and press the Speaker icon.
“Hey, Victor,” I say as friendly as I can, not wanting him to fire me if he suspects I’ve been drinking with the clients. I mean, drinking isn’t prohibited, but drinking so many glasses of wine that you decide you kind of want to bone one of the men you’re supposed to be convincing to sell? Yeah … that’s too far.
“Hey, big gun,” he says charmingly. “How’d dinner go? Is the ink still wet or what?”
I cringe, chewing my bottom lip as I try to come up with something to say back—and fast. I know what he’ll do if I don’t seal this deal.This seemingly impossible deal.He’ll refrain from letting me in on another big opportunity, and he’ll send one of his pompous friends next time, even though they won’t be able to do it either.
Taking a deep, silent breath, I let it out and roll my shoulders back. I’ll be damned if I lead on to him that I’m in over my head. I need to sell it that I’m confident in being here.
“It went well,” I say because, frankly, I had a nice time, and the food was to die for. “Though I’ll be up front with you; this family isn’t going to be an easy nut to crack. They are very stubborn when it comes to this land.”
“I’d be a little concerned if they weren’t.” He barks out an obnoxious laugh. “Find your in and then go from there.”
“My in …” I murmur, even though I know what he means.
“Yeah, your in,” he chimes. “The weakest link. The brick that’ll be the first to fall.”
“Yeah, no … I knew what you meant,” I say softly, pinching the bridge of my nose because I know exactly who the weakest link is.
“Well, I gotta run,” he tosses back. “Get a good night’s rest because, tomorrow, you need to be back at it.” He pauses. “Why don’t you take them some baked goods?”
“I don’t bake,” I say sharply. “At all.”
“So, go to the bakery.” He pauses. “Gotta go.”
He ends the call, and the words replay in my mind over and over again.
“The weakest link. The brick that’ll be the first to fall.”
It’s Tucker. The guy who blushed whenever I looked his way. Some might think it was Riley, but they’d be wrong. Riley is a playboy. He’s a good time, and I’d be willing to bet he’s damn good in the sack too. But he’d be using me as much as I’d be using him, and that’s not the way to get what I want. Sweet, innocent Tucker … he’s the one. And yet something about admitting that to myself makes me feel awful.
So, to take my mind off sweet Tucker and the fact that I am considering flirting with the poor man to get what I need, I take my phone out and search for bakeries. Because if I’m going towin any of the Adams family over, it’s certainly not going to be with my own baked goods.
Iput the last piece of blocking under my old man’s boat to keep it secured while it sits on land and stand up. What was supposed to be a day out to haul ended up being too rough to get out, so I offered to help him haul his boat out for the winter. While my brothers and I stay out mostly year-round, he stopped winter fishing a while back, and I’m thankful for that because I wouldn’t want to worry about him out there on the really rough days. It’s not even like he’s too old for it, but his boat isn’t as big as ours is, and it doesn’t have an enclosed wheelhouse to keep him out of the wind.
He calls me and my brothers pussies for having heated wheelhouses and nice, plush captain’s chairs to sit in when we sail in after a long day. But deep down, the fucker is jealous but is too damn proud to copy us.
My mom snaps a picture of it on land—just like she does every single year when it goes in and every single year when it comes out. She’s bundled up in her coat, hat, and mittens, and unfortunately, when she starts toward me, I know she’s got a bone to pick, just by the way she walks like she’s on a mission. I have three brothers, so between all four of us, someone is always in trouble. Typically though, it’s not even my fault.
“Ridge,” she calls out.
My dad gives me a look that tells me,Good luck.
“Yeah?”
“I stopped at your house earlier to let Marlin out to pee, and I noticed you don’t have a Christmas tree up.” She sighs. “You know how I feel about that. I like my boys to at least have a tree in their damn house, and out of all of you, Riley is the only one I don’t have to hunt down.”
