Anders laughed and flashed a wry smile. “Sounds complicated.”
“Yeah,” Brock drew the word out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he tucked his phone into his back pocket. “I may have just made it worse.”
Anders leveled him with a solid look.
“What’d you do?” he asked, his voice carrying the barest hint of concern.
“I offered her a job.”
“You didwhat?”
“She just got out of a bad breakup, and I figured she could use a little help getting back on her feet. Right now I think she’s planning on working with her mom, but that won’t last. Those two would kill each other.” Brock steamrolled the words to make his point seem valid. “Plus, we’ve been talking about how we could use an interior designer so we don’t have to constantly outsource for our projects.”
“Yeah. But Brock, you offered her a job with our company, without even running it by me first?” A slight frown furrowed Anders’s brow. “We’re supposed to make those decisions together, as a team. We’re business partners. We at least should have interviewed her.”
Fuck.
“It was wrong of me, I know.” Brock would be the first to admit fault. He hadn’t even taken Anders’s opinion on thematter into consideration. He’d been too distracted by Juliette, distracted by her seemingly effortless beauty, by her temper, by the glimpse of crushing heartbreak in her eyes.
Brock cleared his throat. “I jumped the gun.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I’m sorry for it, and I won’t do anything like that again. Next time, I’ll make sure we’re both involved in the entire process from the beginning.”
“Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page now.” Anders ran his thumb along his jaw, his dark blue eyes glinting. “So…when does she start?”
“I’m not even sure she will. She said she’d think about it.” Which was a shame. “She’ll probably just stay at the flower shop, working for her mom.”
Which was a mistake.
“Maybe she’ll change her mind. I know I’d start finding another job if Gigi Laurent was my boss.” Anders set his tablet down on the counter and started running the numbers for an overhaul on the beach house. “New lumber for flooring. Some slabs of granite. New appliances and fixtures. New deck and patio, plus stabilizers. The bathrooms. Siding and a remodel of the downstairs fireplace.”
Brock’s jaw clenched. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Since we don’t have a deadline yet, that makes things a bit easier.” Anders glanced up, his face unreadable. “It might be a stretch in terms of crew…”
“Give me numbers, Anders.”
“With current finances, we should be good to start?—”
He was interrupted by the sound of tires crunching over loose gravel.
They shared a glance. Anders shrugged. Brock scowled. No one came out here. He stalked to the front of the house and pulled open the door. No one except his father. He recognizedthe sleek black Mercedes from this morning. Except his father wasn’t the only one in the vehicle. Three others climbed out.
The first was a rotund man with a ruddy complexion and pinched lips, as though he’d recently bitten into a lemon. He tugged continuously on the sleeves of his overcoat, which was entirely too short for his arms. The second man was leaner and pasty white, with a crop of snowy silver hair. He hobbled as he walked, like he’d just finished riding a horse for three days straight. The third was a woman, bundled head to toe in a rich, jewel-toned coat. Her lips were painted a vibrant red-orange, a stunning complement to her deeply bronzed skin. Of the four of them, her smile was the only genuine one.
Brock widened his stance, and Anders came to stand by his side.
Aidan was gesturing to the land, to the house. “There you have it. The future home of Wildwood Properties.”
“It’s quite impressive, Aidan.” The woman looked up and down the length of the coast, shivering against the stiff breeze. “Where does the property line begin and end?”
“It begins where the paved road ends.” Brock kept his voice calm and cool when his father’s gaze cut to him. “It runs south, all the way to the tip of the peninsula.”
The older man ambled forward and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Have you any interest in this property?”
“Yes,” Brock said at the same time his father said, “Of course not.”
