Demise of a Self-Centered Playboy Read online

  Bridget slides her arm through mine. “He’s kind of hot.”

  “He’s the enemy,” I remind her for the fourth time. “And now he owns half the company.”

  Bridget rips the paperwork out of my hands and reads it as though she understands the legal jargon. I’m not saying anything bad about her. It’s just that people in her circle pay others to read the legalese to them.

  We were sixteen when my mom married Phil. By that time, we’d each been through so many stepsiblings and stepparents, we decided to embrace one another rather than fight. It helped that she had a closet five times the size of mine. People in Dallas still comment about how surprising it is we turned out to be the best of friends.

  When our friend Miguel is lost in half a bottle of Patron and has failed yet again to get either of us into his bed for the night, he always says that we should wait until the will is read. We’ll hate one another then. But I don’t really care if she inherits all of Phil’s money. At least my mother wouldn’t get what she married him for. A lesson she’s yet to learn from her previous five husbands. I could dissect each marriage and why it didn’t work out, but it’s the same story for each of them—they weren’t built on a foundation of love. Someone was always in it for the advantage.

  My father was the first rung on Mom’s ladder of marrying for money. Phil is by far her most successful catch, which is why it makes sense that she’s still married to him all these years later.

  “What do you mean he gets half?” My mom holds out her hand.

  Bridget shrugs as though she doesn’t understand any of the words written on the papers and hands them over to my mom.

  “We own the company fifty-fifty.”

  Mom reads the papers, and I tuck the letter into my purse before she notices it.

  “You’re going to work side-by-side with that man every day?” Bridget obviously doesn’t share my opinion that nothing could be worse. Her eyes soak him in across the parking lot. “I’ve always thought there was something about a man in a truck.”

  I look down the hall and see him nearing the stairwell and blow out a breath, ignoring the way his jeans hang off him. He makes fun of my heels while he wears those Vans. Idiot.

  “He has that look like ‘who gives a shit what life throws at you, I’ll catch it with my bare hands.’”

  “You mean the one that says, ‘I dodge responsibility’?” I deadpan.

  “No, the laid-back look.”

  Bridget’s only accompanied me once to Lake Starlight for a week during my last summer with Chip, before I turned eighteen. But I’ve heard the rumors and seen Denver in action. A man who still behaves like a boy can only run my dad’s company one way—into the ground.

  “Do I have to blindfold you?” I say to Bridget.

  She laughs as we descend the stairs. When we reach the bottom of the stairway, Denver pulls his truck to a stop in front of us. The sidewalk is wide so we’re about ten feet apart at least but I glare at him, hoping he can feel the animosity rolling off me. Rolling down his window, his face appears from behind the tinted glass. He really is a beautiful man. Not that I’d admit that to him or anyone else.

  “I’ll be at Lifetime Adventures if you care to discuss anything, sweetheart.” His smile is huge and his ego even bigger.

  Anger spurs through me like a kickstart only he can ignite, and I straighten my back to walk over and give him a piece of my mind. He must see something on my face because he puts the truck into park to wait for me. Bridget’s arm slides out from mine, and my mom and Phil stay behind, discussing the paperwork. Mostly, it’s Phil explaining it to my mom. I guess she can only read a divorce decree like a pro.

  I want to buy his half, but that entails asking Phil for money, which spurs an entirely different feeling in my stomach. “We need to set up a meeting.”

  “Watch out.”

  He points at the ground and I look down, losing my footing on a patch of ice. My purse flies in the air and the cold, hard, wet ground welcomes my ass.

  Denver opens his door and climbs out like the gentleman I’m sure he is not. “If you’re going to stay in Lake Starlight, you should go shopping for some new footwear.”

  Once he helps me up, I yank my arm out of his hand. As I straighten my jacket, Bridget hands me my purse.

  “I’m Bridget,” she says to Denver in her flirty bar voice—the one that earns her free drinks all night.

  Denver looks over, shakes her hand, then turns his attention back to me. “You okay?”

  “What do you care?”

  Bridget is looking at Denver like what the hell? Do you not see me standing here? She might be a millisecond away from unbuttoning her coat to show off her figure. I love the girl, but she can be a tad self-involved.

  “Hey, I know we don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot, but I’m not a dick,” he says.

  “You aren’t?” I ask.

  I transfix on his lips. I can’t help it. They’re pink from a fresh swipe of Chapstick, and he runs his tongue over them. It’s the way he moves one side up in amusement that does me in. It’s sexy and tempting and I should not be having these thoughts.

  Bad Cleo. I mentally slap my wrist.

  “No. You wanna ask my sisters?” He steps forward to the side of me and leans around behind me.

  I shift my ass away from his prying eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I don’t understand,” Bridget says to herself, probably still trying to figure out why Denver’s tongue isn’t hanging out of his mouth for her.

  “I was making sure you weren’t too wet. I have a blanket in the—”

  I put my hand in his face. “Nope. I don’t need anything from you.”

  He holds his hands in the air and backs away one step. “Have it your way.”

  Opening his truck door, he looks at the rented SUV with a driver that’s pulling around from the parking lot out back. “I assume that’s your ride?”

  “Yes.” I make my back ramrod-straight, so he doesn’t think my ass hurts like a bitch right now.

  “Like I said, I’ll be at Lifetime for a few hours. If you wanna talk.”

  “Bye,” Bridget says.

  Denver lazily raises his hand to her, but his eyes remain on me. He’s so doing it on purpose. No one ignores Bridget. She’s like a shiny object. You can’t look away.

  “Put some ice on your ass.” He winks and shuts the door before driving away.

  As our car pulls up, my mom and Phil huddle inside.

  Bridget stops me, placing her hand on my arm. “Am I too beautiful for this place? Do they like their women more outdoorsy or something?”

  I should tell her ignoring her is probably Denver’s plan. He seems like the type of man who always has an agenda. I just need to figure out what it is.

  Then again, maybe he’s already achieved it—he does own half of my dad’s company.

  * * *

  Two hours later, after a long lunch where I was too chicken-shit to ask Phil for money, we sit at the airport, waiting for his private jet to be ready for takeoff. Mom is grabbing magazines and trying to find some fresh fruit and vegetables. Bridget is at the desk, flirting with the guy who works there, still trying to prove that her attractiveness didn’t vanish on the flight from Dallas to Alaska. Which leaves Phil and me alone.

  “I can send the plane back whenever you’re ready to come home,” he mindlessly says, his eyes on his phone.

  I cross and uncross my legs. “I have to clear out his house and stuff.”

  “Good thing you have time now.” He smiles at me before burying his head back into what I assume are emails.

  I could respond with a dig, because the reason I have free time is that he recently fired me from the ranch. Not that he didn’t have a good reason. I accidentally gave our organic feed animals the feed with growth hormones. Yeah, not my brightest moment. But in my defense, they should mark the containers better. So Phil lost money since he can no longer say the meat he butchers from the poo
r animals is organic. He was nice about it but let me know in a kind way that maybe ranch life wasn’t for me.

  I’m a business graduate from the University of Indiana. After graduation, I interviewed at so many places, but nothing panned out. Finally, I hung my head and asked Phil if he knew of anyone looking. I told myself I was networking and using my connections like any smart person would do, but I hated having to do it.

  My first job was in the mailroom of a large television studio. Two weeks in, I wheeled my mail cart into the studio. Delivering to the offices behind the set, I stopped my cart and got to chatting with a co-worker about the episode of Roswell on the night before. I guess I forgot to put the brake on the cart because a guy rushing around bumped it and it went rolling, so I ran after it. Luckily it stopped right before getting into a camera shot. After receiving scathing looks from the producer and cameramen, I tiptoed to retrieve it, but a cord wrapped around the wheel. When I yanked harder to free it, the mic attached to the camera fell, then the camera guy moved to see what all the action was about—putting me on live TV. My mom calls it my ten seconds of fame. It made the news that night in a funny blooper reel. Technically it was the guy who bumped the cart’s fault, not mine, but I was fired.

  My second attempt at employment came in the form of an assistant position. My boss always got the same thing every morning—a poppyseed lemon muffin and a large coffee. We were becoming friends, chatting about our morning commute and the weather as I set them on her desk. Except that morning I didn’t double-check the order and she didn’t bother to look away from her computer while grabbing a bite. Turns out it was a banana nut muffin. I know what you’re thinking. So what? Who can’t handle a different type of muffin? As I was calling 9-1-1 and stabbing her thigh with an EpiPen, I was thinking the same thing.

  Add on the froyo place where I forgot to put the refrigerated items away at night or the bookstore where I was caught too many times in the corner of the romance section reading during working hours… things just haven’t worked out for me. I’m determined to make my next job work, come hell or high water.

  But I can’t do that with Denver Bailey breathing down my neck, so I swallow past the big lump in my throat. “Hey, Phil?”

  He peeks up and smiles. “I think this is good for you. You can figure out some things up here. Away from your regular life.”

  “Well, I can’t do it with Denver Bailey.” I lay down hint number one. I’ve seen Bridget coerce him into giving her money a million times. I’m a quick learner.

  “Running a business isn’t easy. You have to surround yourself with people smarter than you.”

  “Meaning?”

  His smile grows. “Right now, that boy is smarter than you. He knows how to run that company. Knows everything involved. You have to find a way for it to work. Think about it.” He taps his finger to his forehead. “You can’t take people up to the mountains. You’d get lost or eaten by a bear.” He laughs.

  A tight smile strains my face. “Yeah, of course.”

  “Don’t be all sour about it. Truth is truth. Facts are facts, darlin’. You’ll find what you’re meant to do one of these days but take your time up here. Go through your dad’s things. Take some time to mourn.”

  “But don’t run the company?” I should hide the bitterness in my tone, but I can’t be bothered to mask it right now.

  “If it was a coffee shop or a bakery, I could see it maybe. But an outdoor excursion company in Alaska?” His too-tanned face looks as though it might crack with how big his smile is. “I just don’t think that’s you.”

  So I guess that’s a no to the loan then.

  “Why do you look like you’re sick?” My mom sits down next to Phil with nothing but a magazine in hand.

  “I’m fine.”

  “We’re talking about her future. I told her to take her time up here to figure things out.”

  My mom smiles at Phil as though he’s as smart as Einstein. “Not too long. I’d hate for my daughter to turn into one of these people.”

  I slide back in my chair and pull out my phone to distract myself until they leave. Don’t say I never bite my tongue.

  Three

  Denver

  Two hours after the meeting, I’m still sitting outside the small shack of an office building for Lifetime Adventures, reflecting on what happened in Luther’s office. I haven’t been able to bring myself to read the letter Chip wrote to me.

  The office is located on a hill, the view spectacular. I don’t know if Chip picked this location for that reason, but if you were considering touring the outdoors here, there’s no better advertisement than the backdrop I’m looking at now. There are three drive sheds full of planes, snowmobiles, and other gear behind the small office. Now half of it is mine.

  But I’m not sure I want it. Of course I told Cleo I did just to piss her off, but I’m not made to run a company. I don’t even like to work for other people, let alone have people work for me. I like being my own boss of a solo operation. It’s a big part of the reason I went into bush piloting. I dictate my hours, my trips, and my time.

  I decide that now is as good a time as any to read Chip’s final words to me, so I grab the envelope off the passenger’s seat and tear it open.

  Denver,

  I’m going to be cliché in saying if you’re reading this, I’ve lost the battle. Also, if you’re reading this, Luther just informed you that half of Lifetime Adventures is yours and the other half is Cleo’s.

  You and I have had a lot of talks around campfires and plane rides over Alaska. I know where you stand and where you see your life going. And I realize that this sends you in a direction you never wanted to go. You’re probably cursing my name right now. Hear me out before you sign your half over to Cleo or the two of you decide to sell.

  You came to me wanting to learn to fly. I told you that you were too reckless, because we both know your reputation in Lake Starlight throughout your teen years. But you came back again and again, agreeing to pay off the lessons by working at Lifetime. You had the drive to keep going, and through all the skills I’ve taught you, I’ve seen something inside you I’m not sure you know is there. You deserve this opportunity, and you should take it.

  Plus—and I’m going to be an overprotective father here—I’m going to ask you a favor. Cleo is lost, much like you were when you came to me. She has no idea where she fits in this world, and I have an inkling she could fit right here in Lake Starlight. The warmth of the people in this town will do her good. But there’s no way she can do it on her own. She doesn’t have the skill set. So please take a chance on her like I did you?

  I could never repay you for these last few months. Thank you, Denver. You truly are an amazing person, and I hope you find the happiness you deserve. Fly high, my friend.

  Love,

  Chip

  P.S. I want you to fly Cleo up north and let her choose where to spread my ashes. Have her pick somewhere that speaks to her heart, somewhere beautiful she’ll never forget. No rush, whenever she’s ready. I’m not going anywhere. ;)

  I blink a few times to keep the tears at bay. How the hell am I supposed to say no now, old man?

  My phone rings over the Bluetooth, and Savannah’s name runs along my dashboard screen. She’s the only person who probably remembers today was the will reading. I bet she uses nine different colors in her planner for each of our siblings’ schedules. These days she must be using ten to account for Liam—my best friend turned her boyfriend.

  “Hey, Sav,” I answer.

  “I’m glad I caught you. I didn’t know if you had an excursion or something for Lifetime Adventures.”

  I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. Does she really not remember what was going on today? “No. It’s winter and Chip hasn’t—didn’t do a great job of booking trips, what with him dying.”

  Savannah is quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are.”

  There’s another long beat of silence th
at I don’t fill.

  “I wanted to check a date with you for another eighties movie night, but you’ve got a lot going on. It can wait.”

  “You’re being nice,” I say with suspicion in my tone.

  “I’m always nice these days.”

  One good thing about my best friend shacking up with my sister is that he dug so deep inside her, he brought back the Savannah who doesn’t take everything so seriously—the one from before my parents died.

  I say nothing, waiting for her to ask about the will reading.

  “Actually, time to be not so nice. When do you think you’ll be getting me the rent?” she asks.

  I guarantee Phoenix hasn’t paid her either. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to pilot because of the excursions, but you remember his will reading was today, right?”

  My question is met with silence.

  “Shit, I forgot. I should’ve been there with you.”

  Before Liam, she would have. Not that she needed to though. I can handle myself fine with Luther Lloyd. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I should—”

  “Stop it, Sav. You have a life, and besides, I’m twenty-seven. But there is something I wanted to talk to you and Austin about.” My two oldest siblings are like my pseudo parents. One of them will tell me what to do.

  “Okay,” she says warily. “How about dinner? We can meet wherever. I’ll call Austin.”

  “Sure. How about six o’clock at Terra and Mare? I want Rome in on this too.”

  “Okay.”

  “See you then.”

  “Denver?” Her voice holds that soothing tone she uses when she fears something is wrong.

  “It’s all good. Just need some advice.”

  Another few seconds of silence. “I’ll see you tonight.”