Page 43 of Last Resort

“Yes.” Her smile grows. “And ultimately asking myself if what we offer them at Ocean’s Edge is enough. What’s in it for them? What are they getting out of these different attractions and excursions that seal the deal?”

I have to tell myself to look away. To not challenge that stare and those words of hers or Brady and everyone else in here will know exactly what I want to do. Fuck that mouth and those lips that keep up their sassy teasing.

But I stay put and meet her eyes. “What’s in it for them?”

“Yes.” The word is slow and deliberate as she fights a smile.

“A good time. Memories. Stepping outside of their box. Feeling alive.” I lift a brow. “I’d say those are all things that come with the territory that most anyone would be content with.”

“Some people want to be more than content.”

Silence falls for a beat. I want to kiss that smirk off her lips, but thankfully Brady takes the opportunity to break the spell.

“I know I’m not the brightest bulb in the room, but I’m lost. Are we still talking about Isla del Mar and One-Night-Stand Land or did we move on and I missed it?”

I turn on my heel and walk to the window, hands shoved in my pockets. It’s easier to study the couple walking toward the beach than turn and face the two of them.

Fucking Sutton.

“We’re still on the club, Brady. No worries. Sutton has a way of talking in metaphors at times that make no sense to us men.” I turn back to face them and flash a smug smile. “And since you already know this whole scenario in upgrading our club works, then there’s no need for you to go there and subject yourself to cheesy pickup lines and slobbering drunks. I’m more than certain your time would be better spent with you and Brady working over numbers at projections on making this work.”

I look from her to Brady and give a curt nod before retreating back into my office.

The land of one-night stands, my ass.

Like I’m going to let her hang out there by herself where other men can look and want and touch when I can’t.

It takes a few seconds for my . . . what—anger, frustration, disbelief? —to abate before the numbers on my laptop in front of me make sense.

Numbers. This was the part my dad loved, and I hated. We’d butt heads. He liked to work from start to finish. I preferred to take the end result and massage it backwards. It always caused a fight. It always ended up with me storming out while Ledger and Ford sat there and appeased him by doing it his way.

I’d get a call a few hours later. A short lecture about how the wheel doesn’t need to be reinvented all at once and a request to not fight the system next time. Then there would be a non-apology, apology in true Maxton Sharpe fashion, and an offer to meet up at the golf course later.

Leaning back, I smile at the memory. Even after these past months, it still hurts to know those calls aren’t coming, that the dynamic between us that only we had, will never be again. But the smiles come a bit easier now, the memories not so hard to think about.

I know my brothers share in the grief, but they also share in a resentment I understood but could never stop. What our father did wasn’t right—even I know that—but there was no changing Maxton Sharpe’s ways, good, bad, or otherwise. My only hope is that with time, they’ll learn to understand that maybe it’s what he needed.

And I was simply trying to make him happy.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Callahan

Ten Years Ago

“Wait a minute. You’re saying this is our fault?” Ledger says, exasperated and frustrated as all three of us stand before our father.

No one refuses a summons from Maxton Sharpe.

But I sure as hell wanted to.

Especially now.

“I’m saying he’s your little brother and it’s Ford’s and your responsibility to look out for each other,” our father says.

“Little brother by five minutes, Dad,” Ledger says.

“Exactly. We’re all the same age,” Ford says and then looks at me. “I love you, man, but your bullshit is your bullshit and I’m over it. I refuse to let it drag me down too.”