by Kelly, Erika
“Knock it off. I’m not talking about Emma.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning. You’ll never see me again—well, you might see me, but I’ll have a restraining order, keeping you ten feet from my adventures at all times.”
He didn’t like the sound of that, the not seeing her again part. His hand flexed on her bare leg. She looked down—her red dress rucked up, his big hand covering her thigh.
“Embarrassed by her? Suspicious of her?”
“None of those things, okay? I’m just sick of her. I need a break from her, from everyone. From every-fucking-thing.”
“Because you’re sick of doing what everyone else wants you to do?”
“How would I know what Emma wants for me? We only ever talk about Emma. She doesn’t ask about me.”
“Or do you not talk about you? I mean, is she totally self-involved or are you not the kind of guy who talks about yourself?”
“Both.”
“So, if you open up a little, she’ll have things to ask you about.”
“Are you trying to fix my relationship with her?”
“Do you want it to be fixed?”
Fuck, no. “I want her to leave me alone.”
“See what I’m saying? A second ago you said you have feelings for her since you’ve known her most of your life, and now you’re saying you want her to leave you alone. You need to get it out, Ryan. Let it rip. Just say it. I swear you’ll feel better. I don’t know your friends, your family, I’ll never meet Emma. So just say it.”
He tapped her knee with his fist, anger rising, roiling, until he wanted to punch something. Instead, he looked into Sophie’s hazel eyes and just fell into them. She wanted him to let it rip?
Brace yourself.
“She’s neurotic. Her hair is too flat, she’s too fat, nothing fits her right. She needs to know I love her all the time. She texts me every five minutes to see what I’m doing. She wants me on a leash, just to know I’m there so she can go out and party and have fun and know that I’m standing there waiting for her at home plate. Because the people she hangs out with? Fuck her over again and again. But me? She knows I’ll never hurt her. She wants to keep me in line, and I can’t fucking stand it. It’s not…I don’t want this kind of relationship. I don’t want any relationship. I want to be free. That doesn’t mean I want to fuck anything in a skirt. It means I don’t want to feel obligated to check in with someone, take care of someone, be on my best behavior all the fucking time. I want to eat what I want, go where I want, and do whatever I fucking want. I don’t want people telling me what to do all the fucking time. And I don’t want to worry about someone’s fucking feelings every minute of the fucking day.”
Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes.
She drew a finger over his lip, wiping away the beads of moisture. Then, she leaned in and kissed him. “Now doesn’t that feel better? And, look, you’re still here. Nothing blew up. Your world didn’t implode. And all you did was tell the truth.”
Affection for this girl rolled through him in big, fat waves.
She leaned into him, the top of her dress gaping, revealing plump cleavage. “I’m glad you skipped your baseball games.”
His fingers tightened on her thigh. He chased her mouth, wanting more.
But she pulled away. “We’re here.”
He looked out the window, only then noticing they’d turned into the long driveway that led to the resort. He didn’t care. All he wanted in the world at that moment was her sexy mouth. So, he took it.
He got one hint of her sweetness, as his tongue touched hers and her fingers curled into his shoulder, before she pushed him away. Leaving him desperate, raw, and unfulfilled. She crawled off his lap, gathering the wrap and her little purse.
The cab pulled under the portico, and she pulled cash out of her bag. “I got this one.”
At the same moment, the valet opened her door, and she slid out of the taxi, heading into the lobby. “I’m going to check in with my friends before I go to my room,” she called over her shoulder.
Oh, hell, no. He caught up with her and grabbed her hand. He wasn’t letting her walk away from him. She’d gone distant, all that intimacy they’d shared drifting away like smoke. They headed up the path, the sound of steel drums growing louder. Just as they reached the bar, just when her hand relaxed in his, like maybe she’d stay with him, Carrie stumbled onto the path and into his arms.
Sophie dropped his hand.
“There you are.” Carrie slurred her words, gazing up at him with her hands on his chest. “I wondered where you’d gone. One minute you were hanging out with us, the next.” She tried to snap her fingers, but she was too drunk. “I want you so bad. Let’s go to my room.”
The look on Sophie’s face flayed him. He shook his head at her, letting her know he hadn’t been with this woman. But then Carrie’s knees gave out, and she burst out laughing, collapsing against him. His arms banded around her waist to keep her upright. “Hang on—”
But when he looked up, Sophie had gone.
CHAPTER NINE
Reeling from the sight of that woman in his arms, Sophie skimmed the perimeter of the dance floor looking for her friends. But she wasn’t really seeing anything.
The woman had obviously felt comfortable—familiar—enough with Ryan to throw herself at him. It made her wonder if they’d spent time together.
What does it matter? That’s who he should be hanging out with. Come on, he’d just unleashed a whole tirade about not wanting to take care of someone, check in with them…all the things she wanted. Needed. As attracted to her as he might be, this was just the wrong time for them to be together.
And she needed to stop caring about a guy she couldn’t have.
All this angst and doubt was too reminiscent of her time with King. As close as she’d felt to him when they were alone, she’d always wondered what he did in their time apart. King was charming and charismatic. Their shared history—well, honestly, their shared isolation within their families—had forged a bond between them. But when he was at large in the world, he was everyone’s buddy, a spontaneous, impulsive guy. And, truthfully, when he’d dumped her to go to the Olympic trials, she’d been devastated. For an occasion so momentous, when she’d been with him every step of the way since they’d become friends as kids, it had sucked to be dumped right then. And it had driven home how much she’d lived on the periphery of his world.
So, to be so close to Ryan, so trusting that she’d let him touch her intimately in public, and then to see him with some other woman—well, it just had peripheral written all over it, didn’t it?
Sophie didn’t want to see her friends after all, so she texted to let them know she was back at the resort. Too restless to go to her room just then, she headed for the beach.
She needed to stop obsessing over some guy she met on spring break. She’d come to this resort to deal with her family issues, her future. Last night she’d gotten good information from Barry, and now it was time to figure out the next step. She’d already sent messages to her brothers to see if they were a hundred percent on board with Abby’s plans.
Surely one of them would side with her. It seemed impossible that all four of them wanted to sell Crazy Hearts. They’d grown up in a house filled with framed photos dating back to the eighteen-hundreds. History mattered to the Valentines.
From the framed sepia-toned photos her mom had hung on the walls, Sophie had conjured up images of a kitchen, an iron stove, her grandma pulling a batch of cookies out of the oven.
Originally, they’d been round cookies with a raspberry jam thumbprint. But when the family bakery had hit on hard times, her grandmother had the fabulous idea to take advantage of their last name and turn a staple into a special Valentine’s Day treat.
Her heart seized at the idea that her grandma’s cookies would become a Nestlé product.
But the offer? Honestly, how could her siblings turn down that kind of money? They wouldn’t.
&
nbsp; At least they couldn’t sell it without her consent. Which was great—it gave her a sense of power—but, really, it put her in a terrible position. Withhold her consent and keep her siblings from a payout of a hundred million dollars or go along with it and lose her family legacy?
And she was worried about seeing some guy she’d met yesterday flirting with other women? A guy who, after this week, she’d never see again?
Heading down the walkway, toward the ocean, she ignored the text that had just come in from Ryan. She needed to call her sister, tell her to put a hold on her talks with Nestlé while she did a little more research. Sitting on the edge of a chaise, she smoothed the skirt of her dress, as she waited for the call to connect.
“Hey, Soph.”
The baby screaming in the background and her sister’s exhausted voice made her question the timing of her call. “Not a good time?”
“There’s no good time. Let me hand her off. Just a second.”
Sophie waited. Maybe she should talk to her sister another time. On the other hand, it had to happen now so Abby could deal with Nestlé right away.
She dreaded Abby’s reaction.
One hundred million dollars.
“So what’s up?” Her sister sounded on edge.
But it wasn’t about the money. She had to keep focused on what truly mattered. “Not going well, huh?”
“I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I feed her, change her…I mean, God, what does she want?”
“Is she colicky?”
“It’s not like she’s drawing her legs up. She doesn’t seem to be in actual pain. Nothing I do calms her down. I’m officially the worst mother in history.”
“The worst mother wouldn’t care. She’d leave the baby to cry it out, and you’re not doing that. You’re a good mom. Besides, it’s a phase, right? It’ll pass. She’s not going to be crying like this when she’s twelve.”
“I know. You’re right. So what did you need?”
“Maybe now’s not the best time.” On a good day what she had to say would set her sister off.
“Soph…” She drew the word out like she was at the limit of her patience. “Spit it out.”
“Okay. Well, I don’t want to sell Crazy Hearts.”
“I know that.” She bit each word out.
“I talked to Barry.”
“You what? Why would you talk to our lawyer?” But before she could say anything, her sister blew up. “You’re going to take us to court?”
“Calm down. Of course I’m not taking my family to court.”
Abby swore under her breath. “I do not need this right now.”
No, Sophie suspected she didn’t. That didn’t change the fact that she had to deal with it. “But I am going to see what I can do to make all of us happy.”
“I’ve gone over this with you. Selling processed food is a thing of the past. We’re looking forward. We’re taking this company into the future.”
And Sophie heard the unspoken words. With or without you. And that just hurt. “I get it, Abby. I know where you’re coming from, but I want to look into this a little bit more. I want to talk to everyone, see where everyone stands.”
“I know where we all stand because there’s nowhere else to stand. One hundred million dollars, Sophie. We’d be stupid to turn that away for any reason, let alone a product that no longer fits our brand. We’ll never get another offer like this so, trust me, we’re definitely on the same page.”
“I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to talk to our brothers and hear their perspectives. But I’m letting you know I’m going to do everything in my power to keep Crazy Hearts in the family.”
“What does that mean, exactly? If the four of us want to sell it, then that’s what’s going to happen. We make the majority.”
“Right, but in this case the majority doesn’t matter. As I said, I talked to Barry. We need one hundred percent agreement of the beneficiaries of the trust in order to sell any part of the company.”
“Oh, my God. Why are you doing this? You don’t even work here. And, I’m sorry, what were you before you decided at the last possible second to become a business major? Oh, right. A dance major. And before that, I’m pretty sure it was photography. And then before that? English Lit, if I remember correctly.”
Every word hammered her deeper into the cushion of the chaise, making her feel smaller and flakier and more immature.
But deep in her gut Sophie knew she was right. And she wouldn’t let her sister bully her. “I’m telling you the terms of the trust. I’m not talking about my life choices. But you need to know that I’m going to look into my options.”
“There are no options, Sophie. Crazy Hearts is an old school product with a shrinking market.”
“Well, it can’t be that bad if Nestlé wants to buy it.”
“This is a strategic deal for them. They’re giving us some of the value they expect to create. It’s a stupid offer, one we’ll never get again, and I can promise you every one of us is in perfect agreement.”
“You’re talking about money. I’m talking about preserving the very foundation of the company. The history. I’m sorry, but I’m not giving my consent to sell Crazy Hearts.”
“Do you even hear yourself? You want to hold this company back because of sentimental value. It’s a good thing you’re talking to me right now because I can’t imagine what kind of response you’d get from our brothers.”
“I’m not trying to hold you back. I’m holding onto our family legacy. Of course I get the business side of things. I’m not stupid. But I think I can find growth in Crazy Hearts.”
“You don’t work here, and you don’t know the marketplace at all. And the bottom line is they’re giving us a stupid price, and there’s not a chance in hell we’re turning it down.”
If Sophie blocked the deal, they’d have no choice. But she didn’t need to say that. Not yet. “I’m not stopping you from changing our brand. I’m on board with organic products and environmentally-sustainable production facilities. That’s all great. But I’m not giving my consent to sell Crazy Hearts. That’s why I’m looking into options. And one of them is me buying it from you.”
“You don’t have a hundred million dollars.”
She knew her sister was exhausted, but she hated the condescending tone. “I don’t have to have that much. I can simply block the sale, remember? But I’m not a bitch, and I don’t want to alienate myself from you, so I’ll see what kind of offer I can make that will satisfy everyone. But that’s just one option. When I get home I’ll look into others. It’s possible one of the guys will want to run it with me.”
“No offense, Soph, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay.” She kept her voice pleasant, even though she wanted to tell her sister exactly what she could do with her attitude. Bullying her into going along with their plans might’ve worked when she was a kid, but it didn’t work now.
Or maybe she’d never cared about anything enough to fight for it. But they weren’t selling Crazy Hearts. No matter how much Nestlé offered.
An image of her great grandma, her gray hair in a bun and a white apron wrapped around her belly, smiling into the camera popped into her head. Whether she’d actually met the woman or not, that grandma was real to her. She could feel the heart of that woman. And she wouldn’t destroy the legacy her great grandparents had started.
Sophie could hear the baby wailing, and her sister let out an exasperated growl. “Look, I really can’t deal with this right now.”
“Okay.” Sophie took in shallow breaths, fisting the material of her skirt. “You get back to the baby. We’ll talk more when I get home.”
But thanks, once again, for shoving my nose in the fact that it’s the four of you against me.
Tossing her overnight bag into the backseat of the Jeep, Sophie glanced to the clear blue sky. Another perfect day on Santa Granada. She couldn’t wait to explore more of the island. And, fr
ankly, to get away. She needed a chance to clear her head.
A twenty-four hour reprieve from Ryan O’Donnell.
She waved to the concierge, who’d arranged the car for her overnight trip, then climbed into the driver’s seat. Sliding the key into the ignition, she looked for the gear shift and then startled when she saw the car was manual transmission.
Oh, no. Quickly shutting off the engine, she got out of the car. “Sir? Excuse me?” She caught him right before he entered the lobby. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t drive stick.” She held out the keys.
The older man cocked his head. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a stick shift. I only know how to drive automatic transmission.”
“Ah. I see. Unfortunately, this is the only car left today.”
“But I can’t drive it.”
“I’m so sorry about that, ma’am.”
“No, I mean, I have to have a car.” Frustrated, she glanced around, but the only other cars under the portico were a van and two idling cabs.
“I can check for availability tomorrow, if you like.”
“No, I need it today. My reservation’s for tonight in La Marca. I can’t miss it.”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.”
Dammit. “There must be something we can do. I lucked out and scored a last-minute reservation at Très Palmeras. I have to get there.”
He pulled up the paperwork in his hand, scanning it. “I see no mention of automatic transmission.”
Well, no, she hadn’t specifically asked for it. It would never have occurred to her. “I didn’t know I had to specify.”
“We only have five rental cars. Three of them are manual, ma’am. Again, I can see if an automatic is available for tomorrow.”
“No, thank you. I need to get there tonight. Can I hire a car service?”
“To take you to La Marca? I’ll check, but it will be hard to find anyone who’ll go that far. Not with the festival this week.” He started to go.
“Wait, could you possibly give me a quick lesson?” How hard could it be?
He looked like he was going to tell her no, but then he sighed and said, “Let me see if Jorge can help you.” He strode to the valet station and spoke quietly with the attendants. Three heads turned to her. One of the guys snickered. And, of course, that was the one who jogged over to give her a lesson in manual transmission.
