Page 8 of Stick Move

He touches my bedpost again, deep in thought. “I’ll be mostly absent during the NHL season.”

“Then why are you interested in buying it?”

Something dark passes before his eyes, but he quickly blinks it away. Unease seeps through my veins, as I try to figure out his motives.

He rolls one broad shoulder as he glances toward my window. “Right location, right schools for Camryn.”

He’s right. The school system here in Sparrow Springs is top notch, but it does surprise me that he’d want his daughter going to the school where he’d been bullied. There has to be something else going on here.

“Also, it’s an investment,” he adds. “My investment manager thinks I should diversify.”

“You really want me to stay on?”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely need your help.”

A little bubble of excitement goes through me. It looks like someone has faith in me after all. The resort brings in great money, and if Dad hadn’t been gambling it away, we wouldn’t be in this mess. That and if I had the savvy and connections to get us out of this mess, we wouldn’t have had to sell it. But nope, not going to think about that, because Noah has faith in me, and I swear to God that that’s maybe all I needed—one person on my side, believing in me.

“I’ll have to look for a place close to the resort once the sale is final.”

“You can stay right here. In this wing. You can stay at the house with Camryn and me.”

I frown. Why would he want that? I walk to the window, and from the corner of my eye I spot a man sauntering toward the ocean. For the briefest of seconds, I think it’s my father, and this is nothing but a bad nightmare. My heart squeezes tight, as reality seeps back in. “My dad ran this place. He did all the recruiting, training and supervising, and he managed the budgets, and maintained statistical and financial records. I’m the event coordinator, but I know this business inside and out…I just didn’t know my father….”

Ran the place into the ground with his gambling.

I don’t bother saying that. I don’t need to. Everyone knows what he did, and the fact that I didn’t see it happening right under my nose, and couldn’t fix it after he died…that’s my failing.

I try not to fidget. “I’m just saying I can step in wherever you need me.”

His eyes gleam as they meet mine. “Excellent.”

I square my shoulders, striving to look confident. “The resort is still very popular. We just need the right person overseeing it. After Dad passed, I’ve had someone filling my position as event coordinator while I sat at his desk.”

“They’re good?”

“Excellent, actually.”

“Good, and you’ve been doing your father’s job?”

I nod. “Yes, and while I realize things haven’t been perfect, I can continue in the role.” I square my shoulders, letting him know I can do better.

Can you, though, Brighton?

God, I’ve been second guessing myself ever since I’ve been unable to get us back in the black.

He goes quiet, and I hold my breath as I stare at him. “You’ll be too busy to take on management duties.”

“Too busy?” I ask, completely confused.

He angles his head, taking in my bed again before he slowly looks back at me. “My lawyer has connections for the managerial role, and I’ll put him on that, because I need you for another position, Brighton.”

Something in the way he says position, has heat running to my face. Or maybe it’s because I’m imagining all kinds of positions with this man, simply because he’s standing next to a big king-sized bed. A bed that hasn’t had a warm body other than mine in it for a long time. This is ridiculous. Honestly, if this man thinks sex is part of the deal, he’s out of his mind. I lift my chin an inch, thoroughly offended. Okay maybe not thoroughly. Partially could be a better choice of words.

God, what am I even saying?

“I’m not interested in…” I glance at the bed as my words fall off.

The corners of his mouth turn up, and I instantly feel foolish. He’s not interested in taking me to his bed, and while he’s not saying it with words, his eyes are telegraphing the message—don’t flatter yourself, Brighton.

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