Page 2 of Final Proposal

It has potential.

But it seems that whoever owns this place doesn’t choose to invest the money in it to allow it to reach it.

Not that I fucking care.

There might not be any vacancies for the night, but it’s dry, and for now, seems secure against the raging storm outside. Oh, and it has alcohol. That’s a definite plus.

Something thumps rather loudly on the floor to the right of me, followed by a woman’s frustrated sigh. “They closed the roads. Fucking closed ’em. Can you believe that?”

If I can’t be at the Sag Harbor house—where I was heading—I should be able to drink in peace.

And a Chatty Cathy choosing to sit next to me is not exactly peaceful.

Nor what I’m in the mood for.

“Nice mouth,” the man on the other side of me mutters.

“Hello? Did you hear me?” she repeats, drawing a heavy sigh from me. “Closed. We’re stuck.”

She didn’t get the hint from my silence—or his comment—that I really don’t fucking care.

“Brilliant observation,” I say into my drink. “There’s a reason we’re all sitting in here, and it’s not because of the ambiance.”

“I don’t believe I was speaking to you.”

“Good. Great.” Thrilled to not have to speak with anyone, I lift my finger for another drink to the bartender when something she said soundly hits my ears. “Wait. They closed the roads?”

Ford

I turn to look at the stranger standing beside me with the raspy voice and intriguing perfume. A pair of large, sapphire eyes meet mine, narrowed but full of curiosity. Her lips are full and currently pursed, her cheeks pink from what I can assume is the cold outside. Her dirty-blonde hair is swept up in some kind of messy bun but currently is more damp than dry, as is her jacket.

To say she’s pretty is an understatement. In fact, she’s really quite gorgeous in her own way.

But it’s the kind of gorgeous that is equal parts cute and beautiful all rolled into one. She’s more girl next door than sophisticated sexy, and the quirk of one of her eyebrows tells me she knows I’m looking and assessing.

And she’s not exactly thrilled about it.

Tough shit.

“Chandler?” she says into the cell phone I didn’t notice she’s holding to her ear. “Yeah. I have to go. Don’t ask. I’ll figure it out. I always do.” She drops her cell with a clatter onto the counter and turns to me with a sigh even heavier than mine. “Yes. That’s what I said. As in the roads.” She emphasizes the S. “As in more than one. You’ve got a stretch of about a mile going either way and that’s about as far as you’re going to get tonight.”

“Christ.”

“Sorry to be the one to break the bad news to you.” She shrugs unapologetically.

I wave my hand in indifference. “What happened?”

“Um . . . the torrential downpour outside? Storm Watch 2022? The same reason I’m assuming you’re sitting here in this less-than-appealing bar like I am?”

“What the actual fuck?” I mutter.

“Oh. So it’s okay when you say fuck, but when I say it, you mutter under your breath like that’s not how a lady should talk?”

I chuckle to ignore the she’s crazy alarm bells going off in my head. I’ve learned from experience to heed them. “I didn’t say a word or give a look or anything over your fucks.” I shake my head and scrub a hand over my jaw. “I just . . . I thought the road closure was temporary until they cleared the tree from the road.”

“Well apparently, another one fell past that one and then the other way.” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “The ocean water is breaching the sea wall and flooding the road, so it’s been deemed too dangerous to pass.”

“I would laugh, but it’s par for the course tonight.” I scrub a hand through my hair. “Thanks for being the bearer of bad news.”