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Before I could answer, the door to the Tavern burst open, and a new gaggle of people flowed in… led by the very assholes who’d gotten Reagan in his mood earlier.
“Omigosh! ReaBae and Jonny!” Dysen hurried over, holding out her phone triumphantly, with Brantleigh slinking behind her. “Check it! Rea, you left before the boat went over, but I caught it on video and put it on my TikTok. Youneedto see it. It’s sick.”
Reagan and I exchanged a horrified glance.
“The boat? As in, my father’s 1938 Crosby catboat?” My palms began to sweat.
Brantleigh squinted his eyes. “I-D-K… the green one.”
“The Beetle Cat,” Reagan said quickly, shooting me a look meant to reassure me. He glanced at Dysen. “Tell me you righted it and baled the water out of it.”
“Dude.” Dysen threw up her hands. “I don’t know what that means. But some asshole came buzzing over on a Jet Ski and made us swim to shore. I think he had people to fix the boat. It was lame, so we bounced.”
I gritted my teeth, prepared to let loose on these disrespectful assholes, but before I could give them a piece of my mind and also kick Reagan’s ass for leaving them unattended on our father’s boat, Flynn came up beside me and laid a hand on my forearm.
“Take a breath,” he said softly. “Not your circus, not your monkeys.”
He was right. I didn’t need to defend my parents’ property. If they’d allowed Reagan’s asshole friends on the boat, then the consequences were on them, not me.
“Thanks, baby,” I said gratefully. “Hey, do you have time for a quick break? I wanted to talk to you about some crazy ideas I’ve been having.”
Ideas that had me feeling truly hopeful we would find a way forward that worked for us both.
Ideas that blinded me to the reckoning that was approaching with all the speed and silent danger of a great white shark on the hunt.
Brantleigh came up behind Dysen and eyed Flynn’s hand, then my face, which was probably stuck in some lovesick expression.
His cheeks flushed, and his expression immediately soured with jealous anger. “So, Flynn…” he said without preamble, in a fake-casual way that set my teeth on edge. “You must be really excited about Fortress’s big investment in Honeybridge Mead, huh? Sounds like it could take you from—let’s face it—practicalobscurityto possibly being a recognizable name. Who’d you have to sleep with to get that sweet deal?”
What?No. No, no, no. This wasnothappening. Not now, when happiness felt like it was finally in reach.
My stomach dropped, and my ears began to ring. Everything slowed down around me. Brantleigh didn’t—couldn’t—know anything, I reminded myself, unless my mother had broken her promise…
Or he’d overheard us talking in the garden.
Fuck.
Flynn’s face lost its smile, and his eyes lost their sparkle. “I declined their offer,” he said with a forced grin. “Your information is out of date.”
I opened my mouth to say something, to cut Brantleigh off before he could ruin everything, but he got there before I could.
“Hmm. That’s not what JT said. He specifically said he wasn’t gonna give up until he got you to sign, and Patricia agreed.” Brantleigh gave a fake little gasp and covered his mouth with his fingertips. “Oh, noes! Did you notrealize? Was JT keeping asecret? Tsk tsk tsk. JT claimed hehatedsecrets.” He smirked. “Congrats on that promotion, by the way, JT. Patricia will be over the moon.”
“I don’t…” I looked from Flynn to Brantleigh to Reagan. “I haven’t been promoted,” I said hurriedly. I gave Brantleigh a look that should have singed the hair from his tiny Botoxed head. “What thefuck?”
Brantleigh shrugged. “Told you I don’t handle rejection well,” the asshole said with a wink.
I clenched my fingers into fists and glanced at Flynn in alarm. “Baby. It’s not how he’s making it sound. I can explain.”
Flynn’s eyes widened for one brief second before his expression turned to stone, telling me he hadn’t necessarily believed Brantleigh’s bullshit but that my own actions had given credence to them.Fuck.
“Flynn, let’s talk in your office,” I said. I could hear the thread of panic in my own voice.
Flynn’s lips tightened. “Is it true? Are you still trying to get me to sign a contract with Fortress?”
My heart thundered in my throat. This wasn’t what he thought. I was trying to help him. I was juggling a million balls in the air, trying to make this the deal of his dreams. But I needed a chance to explain that to him. “Can we—”
“Just answer the question, JT!” Flynn snapped, so loudly that all other conversations in the bar ceased. “You eitherareorare notstill hoping I’ll sign with Fortress. Yes or no?”
