Page 5 of Owning His Girl

“Come on, Fiona, that man has had his eyes glued to you since you walked in.” Eliza nudges me, her grin impish. “Admit it, his attention isn’t entirely unwelcome.”

A sigh escapes me before I can help it. I’ve always been transparent with Eliza, unable to keep the truth from her probing gaze. “I don’t know what to make of him,” I confess, twisting a napkin between my fingers. “He’s infuriating, but...”

“But?” Eliza prompts, leaning in like we’re back in high school sharing secrets about crushes.

“But I can’t ignore this... pull. It’s ridiculous. He’s the last person I should feel anything for.” I let the napkin go, watching it slowly unfurl.

“Attraction doesn’t follow the rules of logic, sister dear,” Eliza replies with a laugh.

I rake a hand through my hair, the strands catching on my fingers in a tangle of frustration. “I still can’t believe Dad sold his shares to Wes. And that Wes just took them without even talking to me about it first.”

“Did Wes even know you wanted them?” Eliza’s question is soft but pointed, and it slices through the noise of the bar, cutting straight to the heart of my fears.

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. I have no clue if Wes is aware of how much those shares meant to me—how much taking over the family business has always been my dream. I’ve never said it aloud to him, always too caught up in our battles of wills and one-upmanship.

“Well?” Eliza nudges my arm, her eyes searching mine with concern.

I blink back to the present, shaking my head slightly. “I don’t know, Eliza. I don’t know if he knows.” The admission feels heavy, adding another layer to the already complex tapestry of emotions Wes weaves inside me.

Resentment, attraction, confusion—they all swirl together, making it hard to find solid ground. And now this, the possibility that Wes might be oblivious to my deepest ambition, it leaves me feeling... vulnerable.

Eliza’s playful voice cuts through my thoughts, offering a much-needed change of pace. “So, what were you and Wes chatting about?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I scoff, the sound coming out harsher than I intended. “He’s planning a leadership retreat for the executive team next week,” I reveal, my fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the cool surface of our secluded booth.

“A leadership retreat? That’s his grand plan?” The incredulity in my voice is unmistakable, my frustration barely concealed by my sardonic laughter.

“Maybe it’s not as absurd as you think,” Eliza replies, her tone light but insistent. She leans forward, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, an earnest look in her eyes. “An executive retreat could be a chance to show what you’re capable of.”

“Capable? You mean playing nice with the man who stole my dream right from under me?”

Eliza laughs. “Not playing nice. Outsmarting him. You’ve always been two steps ahead. Don’t let your guard down now because of... whatever is happening with you two.”

I want to argue, to tell her it’s all a mess of tangled wires, too complicated to navigate. But deep down, I know she has a point. Showing weakness isn’t an option, not when so much is at stake.

I take a breath, trying to still the storm inside me. It’s just a retreat. A couple of days of corporate games and trust falls. How bad could it be?

“Fine,” I relent, folding my arms across my chest. “I’ll go. I’ll keep an open mind. But I’m not making any promises.”

Eliza gives me a knowing smile, one that says she’s already won this round. We fall into silence, and I can’t help but letmy gaze drift toward the door Wes disappeared through earlier. My heart does that stupid fluttering thing again, and I scold it silently.

It’s ridiculous, this push and pull inside me. Wes Andrews, the boy who used to pull my pigtails on the playground, is now the man who stands in the way of everything I’ve worked for.

Yet, there’s heat there—a fire I can’t put out, no matter how hard I try.

Chapter Three

WES

I pullup to the curb, the bungalow sitting like a crown jewel amidst the row of quaint houses.

It's Fiona's place, and it looks just as I expected—sharp edges, white paint so bright it could blind you on a sunny day. Every detail screams Fiona Parker, perfect to a fault and as impenetrable as Fort Knox.

I kill the engine and sit back, taking a moment.

The entire weekend, instead of kicking back, I was hustling, working the phones and pulling strings to set up this retreat. A retreat she didn't even want, but one she needed whether she admits it or not.

My buddy Colt Walker's face flashes in my mind as I reach for the door handle. He's always been a lifesaver, but this weekend he pulled off a miracle. Colt is one of the owners of the Fit Mountain Resort. We spent hours on the phone, tossing plans back and forth until the pieces fell into place.

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