Page 2 of Love so Hot

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he says, though his voice holds none of the enthusiasm his words imply. Classic Jason—always playing it cool, even when the game is heating up.

"Good. Because if we can get Hargraves on board..." I trail off, letting the implications hang in the air like the promise of untold profits.

"Legitimacy," Jason finishes for me. "Greene Energy's backing could be the tipping point for public support." Jason nods, his expression carefully neutral. "It could certainly change the tide of public opinion. Hargraves has considerable influence."

I lean forward, my mind racing with possibilities. Billy Hargraves, the boisterous majority shareholder of Greene Energy, could be the key to unlocking this whole mess. He only ever invests in projects that he considers fiscally viable. His support would lend our pipeline project the public approval it desperately needs.

"You're damn right he does," I agree, already imagining the headlines. "With his backing, we could silence these protesters and get this pipeline moving. Literally."

I stand up, stretching my legs and feeling the confines of the satellite office shrink away with the expanding horizon ofpossibilities. "You know, I've been trying to meet with the man for months, and now he practically lands in our backyard. What are the odds?"

"Statistically insignificant," Jason deadpans, "but fortuitous nonetheless."

"Fortuitous. I like that word. Sounds like something you'd toast with expensive champagne." I round the desk and clasp him on the shoulder, a gesture meant to bridge the gap between CEO bravado and CFO caution. "Let's go make some magic happen, Jay."

Jason shifts uncomfortably, his usual stoic demeanor cracking slightly. "Lawrence, there's something else you should know."

I raise an eyebrow. "Hit me with it, Jay. What's the catch?"

He clears his throat. "The local environmentalists have been infiltrating the country club. They're paying the entrance fee just to cause trouble with potential investors."

I raise an eyebrow, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "And here I thought country clubs were exclusive. Next thing you know, they'll be offering composting workshops alongside golf lessons." I wave my hand dismissively. "No matter. We'll have security toss them out."

"It's not that simple," Jason insists, his voice lowering. "If they get wind you'll be there tonight, it could get ugly. They'll likely be recording, and your temper is... well, notorious."

I lean back in my chair, a smirk playing on my lips. "Oh, come on. If my temper is already so well-known, why bother reeling it in now?"

He doesn't seem convinced, but then again, Jason rarely does. He straightens his glasses—a telltale sign that he is about to counsel me. "Because every outburst becomes ammunition for their cause. We need to be smart about this."

I roll my eyes. "Fine, fine. Give me the rundown on these tree-hugging troublemakers. Who should I be watching out for?"

Jason pulls out a folder, all business now. "As you know, the main group is called Earth Defenders. Their leader goes by 'River'—"

"River?" I interrupt, snorting. "What is he, a lost member of a boy band?"

"—and his second-in-command is a woman who calls herself 'Willow.'"

I can't help but chuckle. "Willow? As in weeping willow trees?"

Jason shrugs. "I suppose so."

He slides over a photograph, and I lean in to take a look. The man, River, has this wild look about him that screams "professional protester." He is the whole crunchy granola package. But the woman...

My breath catches for a moment. Willow is striking, with blonde hair dyed aqua green framing a face that exudes a serene kind of beauty, the sort that shouldn't belong to someone sleeping in tents or chaining themselves to bulldozers. Tattoos of flowers bursting with color wrap around her arms and legs. She's beautiful in a wild, untamed way that I find unexpectedly captivating.

I clear my throat, handing the photo back to Jason. "Well, they certainly look the part of radical environmentalists. But I'm not worried. We've dealt with their type before."

"Of course," Jason deadpans. "But remember, charm is the weapon tonight. Not brute force."

"Charm," I repeat, standing up and smoothing down my suit jacket. "I have that in spades. Besides, how can I resist the chance to meet Greenwood Hollow's own Mother Nature?"

"Let's just hope she doesn't turn the event into a funeral for your pipeline dreams," he quips, gathering his papers.

"Death by Willow," I muse, a grin spreading across my face. "There are worse ways to go."

Chapter Two

Lawrence

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