Page 24 of The Irresistible One
“Sounds like you have quite the little helper on your hands.” He cleared his throat. “Do you have a yacht broker?”
With my legs crossed, my foot tapped the air. “I haven’t gotten that far.”
“If you need one, I’ve got you.” He stretched his arm across the top of the seat. “You know I’m from the yachting capital of the world, don’t you? My buddies back home—that’s what they do.”
“You’re saying if I use one of your friends to buy a boat, they’ll be able to get the yacht all the way over to this coast even if I buy it on the East Coast?”
“For sure.” He nodded. “They can move a boat anywhere. That’s what they specialize in.”
My plan had been to use a local broker; I just hadn’t putmuch effort into the process. Not when the Gordons and their fucking nonsense were occupying so much of my goddamn time.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to connect us,” I said.
“I have to warn you, one of those brokers—probably the one I’d send you to—is Hayden, Sophie’s brother. I doubt it would be an issue, but I want to be transparent with you.”
I let out a long breath, my free hand holding the back of my neck. “My life won’t stop intertwining with hers.”
“She mentioned your kid and Abbi are in the same gymnastics class.”
“Did she?” I reached forward and held the side of Paul’s seat. “Is that all she mentioned?”
He chuckled. “I’m not getting in the middle of anything.”
“That’s safe and extremely smart of you.” My brain flickered with thoughts. “I believe you said the two of you grew up together?”
“That’s right. Hayden is one of my very best friends. We never left each other’s side. Well, that’s true for all the guys we grew up with. We’re an extremely tight-knit group. We all have different last names, but those dudes are family, through thick and thin. Same goes for Sophie. She’s two years older, and she was the first to leave Florida. Undergraduate and law school at University of Southern California, and she stayed in Cali once she graduated and passed the bar. She’s had one hell of a career. With all the guys back east, she doesn’t have any family out here, and neither do I, so when I ended up in LA, it was a good thing for the both of us.”
“I’ve got to ask …”
He laughed. “I know what you’re going to ask, and the answer is fuck no. Like I said, she’s family. So is Abbi. I love that kid like she’s my own. We all do—all the guys, I mean.” I felt his gaze on me. “Is there a reason you’re asking?”
Of course there was. I couldn’t help but be intrigued by the woman who made me so fucking wild that if I were in a chair, I’d find myself rocking uncontrollably. Or if there was something near my neck, like this tie, I’d want to pull it away.
But I replied, “No.”
The headlights of the oncoming car showed his brows rising. “No?”
“I was just curious—that’s all.”
“All right. As long as that’s the only reason you’re asking.”
I couldn’t tell if Troy was being protective of his friend or if he was worried that I had a thing for the opposing attorney. The latter would make for a sticky situation, considering we weren’t even close to being done with the Gordons.
Sophie had denied our offer of ten percent, unwilling to even present it to her clients. We had come back with fifteen percent, and she’d refused that too. In the morning, Troy was going to submit a rolling scale that would start at twenty, increasing by one percent per day if we exceeded the three-week timeline. The constant rejections were wearing on our family, and Sophie’s relentlessness was making us want to gouge our goddamn eyes out.
The truth was, I’d never met anyone like her.
Which made me want her and equally resent her at the same time.
Paul pulled up in front of the entrance of the Beverly Hills Cole and Spade Hotel, where the gala was being held. The owners of the brand were friends and colleagues. There was even a Charred in the lobby, and our restaurant was doing the catering for tonight’s event.
Troy and I got out of the back seat and walked into the hotel, giving our names to security before we were allowed into the ballroom. I’d been to many charity events over the years, and they all were quite similar. Music played in thebackground, flowers decorated the center of each table, and the waitstaff passed around plates of expensive hors d’oeuvres. I’d already seen the entire menu for tonight; they were serving some of the highest-quality food to justify their fifteen-hundred-per-plate price.
“Drink?”
“Fuck yes.” I walked with Troy to the nearest bar. “Scotch, please,” I ordered from the bartender.
“I’ll take the same,” Troy told him.
