So he'd noticed me watching. Noticed my anger. But he didn't know why.
"Maybe I just don't like developers," I said lightly.
"Fair enough," he said, that hint of a smile still playing at his lips. "Then I'll make it my personal goal to change your mind by Sunday."
The quiet confidence in his voice made it sound less like a challenge and more like a promise.
"Here?" He gestured at my building.
I nodded. He pulled up to the curb, put the Range Rover in park.
"I'll just be a few minutes," I said, already reaching for the door handle.
"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
I hurried inside, my mind racing as I climbed the stairs. This was real. This was happening.
Because Gil Pruitt had noticed me. Had wanted me to bid on him. Had been hoping for this.
Which meant he had no idea what was coming.
I grabbed my overnight bag and threw in clothes, toiletries, anything I might need for a weekend of making him regret the day he'd bought Flynn's Lodge. When I found proof of his shady business practices—and I would find it—I'd make sure the whole town knew exactly who Gil Pruitt was.
I zipped the bag and headed back downstairs.
Gil was waiting in the driver's seat, engine running, looking completely at ease. When I climbed in, he smiled—that devastating, confident smile that probably worked on every woman he met.
Not me. Not after Sunday.
"Ready?" he asked.
I buckled my seatbelt and met his eyes. "Ready."
He pulled away from the curb, and we headed toward The Pinnacle.
Toward the place that used to be mine.
Chapter Two
Gil
I HADN'T EXPECTED HERto bid.
The gorgeous redhead from the food truck—the one who'd been glaring at my resort for months—had just spent eight hundred and forty-seven dollars to win me at a charity auction. Now she was sitting in my Range Rover as we pulled away from Heartstone Square, and I couldn't stop glancing at her.
