She stumbled backward. It was barely noticeable, really, could have even been blamed on the wind. But Brock’s hand immediately shot to the small of her back to keep her steady.
His gaze narrowed in on his father. “How do you know?—”
“Maybe I wasn’t as absent from your life as you’d like to believe.” The words were bitter yet eerily calm. He directed his attention back to Juliette. “What can I do for you, young lady?”
“Well, you can start by backing off.” She lifted her chin to an austere angle. “Because the beach house isn’t for sale.”
Aidan pinched the bridge of his nose and loosed an annoyed sigh. “As I’ve said?—”
“It’s currently under a remodel and renovation plan,” she fired back, not giving him the chance to finish what surely would’ve been a speech filled with all the reasons why he was right and they were wrong. “As the interior designer on this project, I’ve wasted no time in planning the proper aesthetic for the beach house, and I will not let a corporate conglomerate come in and destroy it.”
Brock shared a look with Anders. The same concern was reflected in his eyes.
What the hell is she doing?
But neither of them held her back, they just let her steamroll right over Aidan.
His brows lifted in interest. “Is that right?”
“Yes. The sole intent of this renovation is to bring in a long-standing profit to Maureen Gallagher, as well as a steady but not overabundant, and by that I mean tourist-driven, income to Mystic Cove as a whole.” Juliette spoke with her hands, or more so, her fingers, and though Brock wouldn’t dare mention it, the movements were very reminiscent of Gigi.
“Its purpose will be seasonal,” she continued, as though there were a real plan in place. “Thereby giving periodic boosts to the economy while also ensuring our town isn’t inundated with tourists and traffic.” Her silvery eyes cut to slits. “Or overreaching corporations.”
“I see.” Aidan straightened, tucking the leather binder under his arm. A deep line furrowed across his brow. “And what, exactly, is this new purpose?”
“A wedding venue.” She spoke the words with clipped finality and zero hesitation.
Brock swore under his breath. Damn it. He could’ve kicked himself for not thinking of it first. A wedding venue was a brilliant idea.
“We’ll see about that.” Aidan shook his head, a condescending smirk pulling at the side of his mouth. “I have?—”
“There’s nothing to see about, Mr. Gallagher,” Juliette interrupted him smoothly. “The renovations have already been approved by the county, and we’ve got the permits in hand.”
Brock schooled his expression into one of vague indifference. They most certainly did not have permits. Yet.
“So you see, the renovations have already been set into place.” She pulled out her phone, opening the calendar. “As amatter of fact, our first wedding is already on the books for June of next year.”
Brock locked his jaw in place to keep it from falling open. Anders, on the other hand, stood there with a wide, foolish smile on his face. Juliette had definitely impressed him.
Seconds ticked by while Aidan remained quiet. So quiet, only the faint howl of the wind and the distant call of the ocean occupied the space between them.
“Very well,” he said finally and turned to leave. “But this isn’t over.”
Of course not. Brock wouldn’t expect anything less. He watched as Aidan slid into his Mercedes, then slammed the door and drove away.
“Fucking genius, Jules! A wedding venue!” Anders pulled the pencil out from behind his ear, ready to get to work. “You handled that like a boss.”
“Thanks. I suppose I picked up a few things from my mother.” The wind pulled a couple wispy strands of her dark brown hair from her bun, and she absently smoothed them back from her face. “She’s a pro at dealing with difficult people.”
“Seriously, Juliette, you were amazing.” Brock tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep from lifting her in the air and spinning her around. To keep from hugging her. Or touching her. Something he would’ve done easily in the past but was now a privilege lost to him. “There’s only one small problem.”
“We still have to convince Yaya?” Anders suggested, flipping the pencil between his fingers as he headed back inside.
Juliette followed, flushing pink and ducking her head like she was preparing to be scolded. “We need to book a wedding?”
“Shit, I just meant we have to get the permits.” Brock laughed, suddenly more at ease than he had been in a long time. “Okay, maybe we have three small problems.”
CHAPTER 9
