Page 5 of Stick Move

Confusion moves over his face. “They’ve been working fine all day.”

I shake my head. Of course, they were. They’re just not working for me, a reminder that I really don’t belong here anymore because I’m a failure.

“I can call maintenance again.”

“That would be a good idea, thanks.”

I step inside the opulent, air-conditioned front lobby and glance around. Simon, knowing exactly who I’m looking for, leans in and in a low voice whispers, “The sofas, near the back deck overlooking the ocean.”

“Thank you.” I start across the foyer, my steps fast as I make a beeline for the sofas. My realtor Phillip is talking to a man sitting across from him, but I can only see the back of our potential buyer.

Phillip jumps to his feet and buttons his blazer as he smiles at me, and the second the man across from him stands and turns my way, my legs just about give out.

Is this some kind of joke?

Noah smooths his hand over his tie as he widens his stance, in that sexy way guys do, and my purse slips from my fingers. His smile dissolves as his gaze drops, to the big streak of grease across my abdomen. This is our second run in this month, and once again I’m a mess.

“Noah,” is all I manage to get out, and his brows pinch together.

His gaze slides to my hands, and then back up to meet my eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I…I’m okay.” It’s a lie. I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay in quite some time. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” I wave my hand toward the parking lot and give a light laugh, even though there are hurricane force winds swirling around my stomach. “I had a flat tire on the highway, and Triple A…” I pause and take a breath, to stop myself from rambling, and he picks up where I left off.

“They didn’t come.” He angles his head, his brows raised. “You changed your own tire?”

Does he really need to look that surprised? Okay, maybe he does. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and up until a few months ago, had the world in the palm of my hand. Now, however, that spoon has tarnished, and the only thing I have in my palm is overdue bills.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, instead of answering his question.

He opens his mouth to speak when Phillip moves forward and picks up my bag, handing it back to me. “He’s the buyer I was telling you about.”

It would have been nice if Phillip had told me exactly who the buyer was, instead of letting me find out this way. Then again, Phillip went to school with us. He wasn’t in either of our cliques, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t know about the rivalry. Which is probably why he kept a few details to himself.

I shake my head, working to wrap my brain around this unusual turn of events. “You’re interested in White Sands Resort?”

Noah nods and I follow his gaze as he glances around the front lobby, cataloguing the place like he’s seeing it for the first time. He’s not. It’s just that now he’s no longer that teenage boy who worked for my father. He’s looking at the place through eyes of a grown man, with a bank account that now allows him to buy whatever he wants. I follow his gaze and try to see the place through his eyes. It might not be as posh as it was in its heyday, but with an injection of funds, it could be spectacular again. “I’m interested in looking around, and seeing if it’s a good investment.”

Phillip claps his hands. “I’m sure Brighton will be happy to show you around, and we have all the paperwork ready for you to take to your investment banker.”

I stand still for a second longer, my gaze bouncing back and forth between the two men. Any second now, I expect someone to jump out at me and scream, surprise. But the longer I wait, and the longer they stare at me, expecting me to say or do something, I realize this is no joke.

Noah Jones, NHL hockey star and the guy who hates me, is interested in buying my resort.

Damned if my day didn’t just go from bad to worse because what does he know about running this place? No way is he going to keep me on staff. Not that I’d want to work under him, or well, do anything under him. Wait, why am I even thinking about being under Noah? Sure, he looks damn good in his suit, but we have a horrible history and I’m clearly under a tremendous amount of stress.

“Shall we?” Phillip asks, pulling me from my stupor.

I quickly pull myself together, and grip my bag tighter. “Yes, of course.” I turn. Where the hell do I take him first? Just then, Phillip’s phone rings and he pulls it from his pocket.

“I have to take this,” he informs us. “Can you two get started and I’ll catch up to you?”

Great, now I have to be alone with Noah. He’s probably going to toss me in the pool, or drown me in the ocean, for how I treated him back in the day. I clear my throat and try to remain professional. “Of course. Noah, what would you like to see first? The grounds, the rooms, or the amenities?”

He considers it a moment, a frown on his face. “I know the grounds pretty well.”

My throat tightens. Of course, he does. He spent his summers mowing and tending to the gardens, keeping a low profile so as to not bother any of the guests—as per management’s instructions. Dad.

“Why don’t we start with the restaurant, and then the indoor pool, after that I can show you some of the rooms. I believe the penthouse suite is free right now.” That gives me pause as the unthinkable hits. If he buys the place, will he move into our family’s estate out back, with Camryn? I actually have no idea where he lives now, so maybe he won’t be moving into our family home. It’s the only home I’ve ever known. I take a deep breath, barely fill my lungs. I guess deep down I knew the family home would sell with the resort, but it really hadn’t hit me until this moment. I guess I’ve had too much on my mind to really consider it.

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