Page 7 of Rebel Hawke

Images of the tattooed Hawke, muscles bunching and flexing as he swings at his opponent flash through my head. Even though I’ve only ever seen his matches on television, my body heats as if I had been ringside, witnessing the action live.

All that focus.

All that passion.

All that power.

I swallow thickly and set my purse, notebook, and pen down on the floor to examine the Cadillac machine and ensure that it’s been assembled properly. Giving me something—anything—else to focus on but those mental pictures.

Running my hands over the gleaming polished metal, ropes, and smooth straps, my fingers already itch to get into it, to stretch out after so many long days driving here and moving boxes into my new place.

“I’m sure I’ll see them plenty, Gramps. Doesn’t need to be today.”

Because though I’m feeling better about the future of this business endeavor, I amdefinitelynot ready for Atlas or the rest of the Hawkes.

Gramps hobbles over and grips one of the support beams, resting his weight against it, and I frown. Of course, I knew his health was getting worse, but this is by far the frailest I’ve ever seen him. At eighty-five, he looks as though he might be a hundred.

“Are you okay, Gramps?”

He averts his gaze for a moment, focusing on a spot he rubs away from the metal. “I’m fine, Birdie. Happy you’re here. I’ve missed having you around.”

The nickname he’s used with me since I was a child helps ease some of the anxiety that’s been constricting my ribcage since I parked outside. Just being here with him makes me believe it might be possible to make this work and not lose my peace in the process.

“I’ve missed you, too, Gramps.”

His lips twist into a grin. “And once you have this place up and running, it’ll be great. I’ll get to see you every day.”

I smile at him. “That’s the plan.”

The entire reason I moved back to New Orleans after all this time was for Gramps, and now that I’ve seen him, I know it was the right decision. The only man who has ever shown me unconditional love and support needs mine now, so no matter how difficult it is to be back, I need to be here for him.

I have to give him what he gave me when no one else would or could.

Before I can lose myself in tears again, movement in the front windows draws both of our attention, and an immaculately dressed blonde with a cell phone to her ear walks to a Mercedes parked at the curb, pops open the door, and slides in.

Gramps motions with his thumb. “Kennedy, likely off to work on more wedding plans.”

“Wedding?”

He grins at me. “You’ve missed a lot. I need to catch you up on all the Hawke gossip.”

“Clearly.”

Though news of my former childhood friends has trickled into our conversations over the years, as of late, Gramps has been awfully quiet about what’s been going on with the Hawke clan.

“Things have definitely been busy around here, Wren. You won’t want for any sort of entertainment with the Hawkes around all the time.”

I trail my fingers along the polished wood of the Cadillac as I move closer to him. “I hear they’re opening a hotel.”

One of the tidbits I’ve picked up in the news while Googling for the information he hasn’t been giving me. It would have been hard to miss that announcement or the updates. When it comes to that family, they do everythingbig, and that hotel is no exception.

Boutique.

Opulent.

Exclusive.

Picture perfect.

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