“You see the way her eyes are locked on that man’s throat? Brutal.” My dad chuckles, then turns his attention to the waiter dropping off our beers.
I lean back, thoroughly amused, waiting for Summerhill to call for security or storm out of the building, tail between his legs.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he takes it. Winnie continues to rain fire and brimstone down on his head, and his initial look of annoyance morphs into one of amusement. The louder my aunt gets, the farther his unbothered smirk spreads across his face. As they continue to trade barbs—Winnie spitting venom and Summerhill coming back with calm replies—I notice something that makes me halt mid-bite.
Fuck. They’re attracted to one another.
It’s in the way his eyes trace her jaw. And it’s countered in the way my aunt’s chest heaves with anger, her head tilting back as she matches his arrogant gaze inch for inch. The sheer, combative chemistry between them is loud enough to hear across the room. It’s the same energy I felt the first time I spoke to Campbell.
Winnie finally delivers one last, vicious parting shot, turns on her heels, and storms back toward the kitchen.Summerhill watches her go, what looks like a chuckle shaking his shoulders as he grabs his beer. He spins on the stool, taking a slow sip, and his gaze cuts directly across the crowded bar until it lands squarely on our booth.
He locks eyes with me. He knows.
I slowly lift my bottle, tipping it toward him in a silent, deadpan toast. It’s a totalgotcha, you motherfuckermoment, and he instantly recognizes the play. I set him up for the slaughter, but instead of glaring, his smirk just deepens. He holds his beer up in return, acknowledging the hit, before turning back to his drink.
“Well,” my dad murmurs, watching the exchange with dimmed eyes. “That’s bound to be a complete disaster for everyone involved.”
“Yep,” I say, perking up at the inbound delivery of our burgers and fries. “Can’t wait to watch it.”
The atmosphere inside our apartment is completely different when I unlock the door an hour later. The kitchen light is off, but the rest of the room is bathed in the localized white glow of Campbell’s laptop screen.
She’s sitting cross-legged on the center of our unmade bed, folders scattered around her like a fortress. She’s wearing her own clothes this time, still unbelievably cute.
“Did he go to the bar?” she asks without looking up, her voice vibrating with adrenaline as her fingers continue to tap the keyboard.
“Hook, line, and sinker,” I say, tossing my keys and wallet into the bowl and walking to the edge of the bed. “Winnie nearly took his head off. It was beautiful.”
“Good. Let him be distracted,” Campbell mutters, her teeth catching her bottom lip as she hits a sequence of commands on her screen. “Because I’m about to ruin his entire fiscal quarter.”
I sit down on the mattress near her feet and drop the to-go order of fries she requested on the bed between us.
“Ahh, I’m so hungry. Thank you!” She dives into the bag, pulling out a fistful of fries and shoving them in her mouth like popcorn.
I laugh softly, then pull her feet into my lap and begin rubbing them.
“What are you working on?” I nod toward the computer screen.
“Executing the masterstroke,” she says, turning the laptop more toward me. The screen displays an array of blueprint renderings, including 3D images of a sprawling, multimillion-dollar mega-resort, complete with a massive waterpark, neon-lit hotels, and commercial strip malls.
“These are the undisclosed development files Kevin gave me. The ones my father hid in the annex of the contract. They can beat us in a courtroom, Jake. My father’s ironclad paperwork ensures that. But they cannot beat us in the court of public opinion.”
She points a finger at a drafted press release on the left side of the screen.
“I’m leaking the entire blueprint file to every major regional news outlet, sports blog, and social media channel in Oklahoma and Texas within the next two minutes,” she says, her eyes flashing with a ruthless but brilliant light. I should have known by her use of the wordmasterstroke.She’s an evil genius.
“I have totally reframed the narrative. It’s no longer an urban development project. It’s an arrogant, out-of-townbillionaire developer and a predatory, corporate Nashville legal firm using eminent domain to bulldoze a historic, multi-generational Oklahoma community. I explicitly highlighted the displacement of a recovering stroke victim—Coach Dale—and our local ranchers.”
She taps on the screen, likely pointing out the paragraph she’s talking about. I lean forward and read through the text a bit, a chill running down my spine. It’s a brutal execution. She has stripped away the jargon and exposed the ugly truth of their plans, likely turning it into a public relations nightmare before they can even file for county permits.
“If I hit this button, Jake,” she whispers, her voice suddenly dropping, her eyes searching mine for permission. For solidarity, perhaps. She has definitely been staring at the screen for too long. “There’s no going back. I am officially declaring war on my dad’s firm. I am blowing up his biggest deal.”
I reach out with my left hand, wrapping my fingers around hers where they rest on the trackpad. I look her dead in the eye.
“Hit it.”
Campbell lets out a long, shaky breath, and together, we press down.
