A bubble of excitement wells up inside me, but it bursts when I see Nate’s truck and a vehicle I don’t recognize. What the heck is going on? I ease into the driveway and glance around, but Nate is nowhere to be found. How does he even know about this place?
I open my door and slide from my car, hugging myself against the breeze coming in off the ocean. Voices reach my ears as I approach the front of the house, and my footsteps still.
“For fuck sake, Nate. I never should have trusted that you knew what you were doing.”
“I do know what I’m doing.”
“Just because you got some fancy fucking degree doesn’t mean you know this business better than me or your brothers, and if you want something done, you need to play hardball, not throw more money at the problem.”
“I’ve got this under control,” Nate says, his voice deep and angry.
“Give me the name of the owner, and I’ll show you how to get this property purchased. Jesus Christ, sometimes I wonder how you’re my son. I never wanted any of this, never even gave you my final okay, but you didn’t let that stop you. It’s too late to pull the plug now. We spent enough on securing all the other cottages. You’d better be right about all this new technology, otherwise…”
“Otherwise, what?”
With my blood draining to my toes, I walk around the corner, and both men go still when they see me.
“Kira,” Nate says and glances around. “What are you doing here?”
“I guess I don’t have to ask what you’re doing here. I just heard.”
“Who are you?” the elderly gentleman asks rudely, like he has no time for the interruption.
“I’m Kira Palmer,” I say. “Who are you?”
“Bill Lancaster,” he says and turns from me, a quick dismissal.
Bill Lancaster. Why does that name sound so familiar?
“Oh my God, no,” I whisper under my breath as the tumblers click into place. William Lancaster, the guy who broke my mother’s heart, and Nate… Nate is his son? Has he been using me all this time, softening me up so he can buy Gram’s studio? What the hell would a fisherman want with the place anyway? Unless…
My heart crashes so hard against my chest that it’s difficult to breathe, let alone think. “Who are you?”
Nate gives me a quizzical look. “You know who I am.”
“No, I don’t think I do,” I say.
“He’s the goddamn CEO of Hooked, that’s who he is,” William says, impatiently. “Now, if you will leave us to discuss business.”
CEO of Hooked?
What the—? Wait. Boss man. How many times have I heard that and just thought it was because he was bossy, or perhaps the boss on one of the boats?
My legs go weak, and I back up, lean against the side of the house. My God, all the signs were there. I just missed them, and now that the pieces are falling into place, I can only assume the talk he wanted to have with me later had everything to do with me selling.
“What do you want with this place?” I ask through labored breaths. Nate takes a step toward me, but I hold my hand out to stop him. “Answer the question.”
Nate looks from me to his father, who has a scowl on his face, back to me. “We need to buy it, so we can tear it down and put up a state-of-the-art fish processing plant. Right now, we’re working under the radar.”
Bile punches into my throat, and I heave, sure I’m going to vomit all over Gram’s boots. Oh God, Gram would be rolling over in her grave to think Nate played me to get his hands on her studio, and I fell right into those hands.
“You’re the CEO of Hooked, boss man, and all this time I thought you were a fisherman.” Shock turns to anger and prowls through my blood, and I shoot back with, “I said you weren’t a good liar. Wow, was I ever wrong. Here you told me your last name was Montgomery, and I believed every lie out of your mouth.” A hysterical laugh that holds no humor crawls out of my throat.
“What is going on here?” Bill asks.
“Kira, my last name is Montgomery. It’s Montgomery-Lancaster, and I dropped the Lancaster. I kept Montgomery, because of some weird, fucked-up reason that has to do with my mother. And you never wanted to know what I did. I tried to explain a few times, and then it no longer seemed to matter. Why does it matter now?”
“Because it matters,” I say. I glance at William. “Ask Linda Andrews.” I use my mother’s maiden name and glare at William, waiting for recognition to flicker in his eyes. His gaze narrows in on me. “Believe me, it matters,” I huff out.
“Who are you?” William demands.
I stand a little straighter and square my shoulders as I work to portray calm and collected, despite the storm going on inside of me. “I’m Linda’s daughter.”
Nate rakes his hands through his hair. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is your dad dated my mother,” I say. “She worked part-time at the plant, and he used her to get insider information, so he could streamline, cut jobs, and increase his profit.” Just like the new processing plant will do. Incredulous, I take a quick breath, unable to believe that all this time Nate has been using me to get Gram’s studio. I thought he was different. I thought he was one of the good guys.
“Then, when he got what he wanted, he moved on without so much as a backward glance.” I give a very unladylike snort. “I guess you really are a chip off the old block, Nate, and that you thought you had me under control. I was stupid to think what was between us was special, not that you were getting close to get your hands on the studio, and to think I almost told you I lo—” The word sits on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it down. He doesn’t deserve to hear how I feel.
“Ah, I get it,” William says. “You’ve been fucking her to get what you want. Maybe you are a Lancaster after all.”
“Kira, wait. Is that what you think? After everything we’ve done and shared, you think this is something I would do. You think that little of me?” Anger flares in his eyes as he rakes a restless hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were different from the other women in my life, too. I thought you believed in me, in us. I guess I was wrong about you.”
“What’s it going to take for you to sign this crumbling piece of shit over to us?” William asks.
I shake my head. “Don’t come near me. Ever again. And tell your lawyers to stop messaging me. I will never, ever sell Gram’s studio for any price. Especially not to you.” Nate’s eyes go wide, and he falters backward like I’d punched him in the face. Good. “Don’t come back to the B&B. I’ll have your stuff boxed and shipped to your office.”