I switch the light down forward of my boat and make my way into the engine room to look things over. Right away, I notice something isn’t quite right when I see the hoses have pissed hydraulic fuel all over the place, instantly ticking me off. Not only because I have to fix it, but because I have to clean it up too.
“Pile of fucking shit,” I growl to myself because I’m tired, and the last thing I want to do is fuck with this boat right now.
The engine has given me more trouble than any other one I’ve ever had, but the boat itself is perfect for me because I had it built exactly like I wanted it.
“Ridge?” my dad’s deep voice calls, and I’m almost grateful for another distraction before this vessel pisses me off more. “You down there, bud?”
“Yep,” I call back. “Give me a second. I’ll be right up.”
Grabbing a rag, I wipe my hands and head toward the deck. When I walk out, my dad is standing up on the wharf under the lights we had put in a few years ago. I’m not surprised to see him—that fucker is always here. Who I am surprised to see though is … the person standing beside him.
The girl from the grocery store. The one whose card wouldn’t work and she got really fucking mad when I paid for her shit.
I don’t know how it’s even possible, but I swear she’s even prettier in the moonlight.
She may be insanely attractive, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s downright mean. And that’s not my type.
I don’t have a fucking clue why she’s here or why she has an iPad tucked under her arm.
“What’s she doing here?” I ask bluntly.
When my dad, a man who always has the utmost respect for women, looks as irritated as I do, I know one thing for certain.
She’s here for the wrong reasons.
“This is Stella. Stella, this is my son, Ridge.” Mr. Adams sighs. “She came from New York and works for Ironbound Developments.” He pauses. “Apparently … once again … they want to make us an offer for our land.”
“Did you tell her to tell her company to fuck off?” Ridge says sharply. “Or do you need me to do that?”
“Ridge, go easy on her. She’s just the messenger,” his father says, keeping his tone low. “Guess they are stuck on wanting to make it into some sort of a resort with some possible shopping, among lots of other things.”
“Dining too,” I add, chiming in like that’ll be the one thing that sells them on the idea.
I mean, this place could certainly use more food options. I think I counted one coffee shop and one restaurant, and both looked a little debatable.
“Oh, yeah … is that right?” Banana Man drawls slowly and calculatedly, totally ignoring my comment about dining because he obviously doesn’t give a shit about getting a nice meal outside of his home.
The six-feet-three, maybe six-four, man beside me, who has to be in his fifties, is annoyed, and it’s more than obvious. Butnow, his son, who stands as tall as he does, somehow looks even more pissed than his father.
“It appears so,” Mr. Adams drawls, suddenly seeming relaxed, and I have a feeling it’s because he knows his son’s going to handle this situation for him.
Ridge puts his foot on the side of his boat and looks up at me with nothing but pure animosity in his eyes. “I hate to break it to you, Fireball, but this land ain’t for sale.”
Ain’tisn’t a word, douchebag, and my name isn’t Fireball, either.That’s what I want to say, but I know it’s not an option.
I came here to do one job—get this land. It’s obvious that even though the land is in the father, Mathew’s, name … the guy standing on the boat, smirking up at me, is the alpha when it comes to this property. If I want the land, I’ll need to go through him first.
Not literally or anything … even if he is really, really hot.
I keep my iPad tucked under my arm for a moment before, finally, I haul it out and bring up the image of a mock-up of the completed project. “As you can see here, you’d really be doing a service to your community, Mr. Adams.” I direct my voice at the younger dude, but every now and then, I flash my eyes to his dad as well. “And the best part of it is, you could keep the land your wharf sits on because, to be honest, the wharf and all the boats coming and going make it that much more desirable.”
“And what, Fireball, you want us to live on our boats because you want the land our houses are on?” he tosses back, eyes becoming damn near slits. “Sorry that you brought your fancy self with your expensive, ugly-ass shoes and designer clothing all the way to Eastern Edge, but we’re not interested in anything you’ve got to say.”
My gaze narrows, and I have to fight to not look down at my feet. My shoes are not ugly. Though they do look designer, they actually aren’t.
“Ridge—” The father opens his mouth, about to tell him he’s being too harsh, but when his son’s angry blue eyes dart to his, he sighs. “He’s right. We aren’t interested in whatever you came here for. So, tell your boss that it was a wasted trip and he ought to buy you a ticket back home.”
As much as I want to keep it together, these men are striking every nerve inside of me, making it damn hard. “And why would I need to call my boss?” I tuck the iPad back under my arm and shrug. “I think I’m plenty capable of booking a flight … thanks.”
