Page 3 of The Rebel

“No one told you to have that many shots on an empty stomach, asshole,” Brady said.

“Listen, I was missing my girl, all right?” He paused while we remembered the ordeal—when Brooklyn had gone back to Hawaii to visit her family, leaving Macon like a puppy chained to a fucking stake. All sad eyes and mopey. “Besides, I can hold my liquor, and I guarantee I can outdrink all you fools.”

Jenner smiled at him. “I don’t know about that, but what youcanguarantee is that you are an expert at getting Sharpie off your skin.”

Macon flipped him off. “Fucker.”

Jenner chuckled as he stood. “I need to get back to the office.” He looked at me. “Have a safe trip to Canada tomorrow. Call me the second you’re ready to submit that offer.”

“I will,” I replied.

ONE

Cooper

“Talk to me,” Walter said as he answered my call.

I climbed into the backseat of the SUV, wiping the snowy wetness off my hair. “It’s exceptional. Everything we’re looking for in a property. We need to make an offer immediately.”

Even with the heat blasting through the vents, my cheeks feeling the warmth, my hands starting to thaw, I shivered.

Winter was a temperature I couldn’t handle.

“Were you the only one there? Or were others viewing the property too?”

As the driver pulled out of the gravel lot, the tires crunching over the accumulated snow, I glanced behind me. Just as I’d expected, the realtor’s car was still the only one in the lot.

“It was just me, and now, the conditions outside are fucking brutal. The snow is coming in thick and heavy, and it’s not supposed to let up. The pilot even delayed my return flight by three hours, hoping the runway will be cleared by then.” Now that we were on the road, I looked through the windshield,where the visibility was diminishing and not a single car was on either side. “No one is going to view the property until it stops snowing. I don’t know if that’ll be today or tomorrow.”

“Get in touch with Jenner. I want the ball rolling. Now.”

“Sure thing.”

Walter disconnected the call, and I pulled up the last text I’d sent to my best friend when I flew out this morning—a TikTok that reminded me of Macon and the masterpiece Everly had created on his face.

Me

Make the offer. That property needs to be ours.

Jenner

It will be. I’m on it.

I’d caught up on emails while the driver carefully maneuvered the icy roads, slowly making his way toward Lake Louise’s highest-rated hotel, where I’d be killing time until my flight. There was no sense in waiting at the private airport. I’d rather check out the competition and get myself a drink in their bar.

It turned out that the competition was less than a mile down the road with an entrance that lacked appeal, trees that needed trimming, a driveway that should have already been plowed, and bellhops whose uniforms were mismatched. The hotel’s ranking, which varied depending on the website, fluctuated between four and five stars.

From the exterior alone, I could tell this was no five-star resort.

Once our hotel was complete, we’d show the visitors of this town what luxury, ambiance and class really looked like.

The SUV came to a stop by the front door, under a canopy that was just long enough to cover the length of the car—far tooshort for a Spade entrance—and I said to the driver, “Are you planning on coming in and joining me?”

“No, sir.” He looked at me through the rearview mirror. “I’m going to wait for you in the car.”

“Are you sure?” We were supposed to be on the way to the airport, where he’d drop me off and then probably go on to his next gig. He hadn’t anticipated these three extra hours, so I added, “Lunch is on me.”

“I appreciate that, but I brought a cooler full of food, and my granddaughter is on Christmas break. I plan on FaceTiming with her.”

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