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Hannah offered an exaggerated, “Yes.”

“I didn’t know if you’d kill each other or kiss,” Devlin joked. “But, wow, the Ferrari?”

Killing, kissing, and cars. None were topics he wanted to discuss. “I have to get to work.”

“You can’t leave us hanging,” Hannah said.

Brock ambled in from the kitchen, a whisky in hand. “This should be good.”

Devlin eyed Brock. “Ashley handled that well, huh?”

Phillip glared. Despite the warning on Boatworks, the casual way they mentioned her name made his envy curl. “Everybody’s chummy.”

Brock laughed, cluing Devlin in. “He didn’t realize we’ve worked with her.”

Devlin shrugged. “She’s great.”

“Matter of opinion,” Phillip muttered.

Hannah laughed. “Wow.”

“To be honest,” Brock added, “I’ve enjoyed watching her company grow.”

Phillip waved his brother’s admission away. Resentment built in his chest. “I’ve heard enough.” Then he added under his breath, “Traitors.”

“I didn’t keep it from you.” Devlin chuckled and draped his arm behind Hannah. “You were in DC, and it was business as normal.”

Brock eased onto the couch closest to the double-sided fireplace and sipped the whisky. “Given your reaction, I don’t know if I would’ve told you anyways.”

Phillip rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. They didn’t know how he’d been hurt, only how stupid the goat incident had been. “Just because I wasn’t her type didn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

Hannah leaned into Devlin. Brock’s amusement dampened. But Phillip didn’t want their pity.

“Look, I never said you weren’t her type.” Brock’s bemusement was now a sympathetic smile. “I simply said that it could never last.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ashley walked into the beach house that she and her best friend, Mary Beth, called home. The familiar white shiplap walls always offered what felt like a hug after she pushed through the heavy wood door. She’d come to think of it as her grandmother welcoming her home.

Her home.She’d inherited the beach house and taken special steps to painstakingly modernize it while ensuring she didn’t lose that connection to her grandmother. From the bright-white painted beams overhead to the coastal-blue accent pieces, Ashley had poured herself into her home like she had her company.

The only downside to her home was that Mother treated it as though she had an open invitation to show up at thefamilybeach house.

Ashley corrected her until she’d given up. There was a reason her grandmother hadn’t left the house to Mother, and Ashley mused that her mother had once been more like a person than a corporate machine. But after that persona had taken hold, she couldn’t appreciate the family beach house anymore. That was why it had simply become Ashley’s treasured home.

She crossed the open space that made up the dining and living room, searching for Mary Beth. “Anyone home?”

A neon-pink note hung on the door with one word written in all caps. OUTSIDE.

Ashley groaned. If Mary Beth had taken off work to wait for her outside, the day’s situation might’ve been worse than Ashley realized. She pulled the heavy glass sliding door open. “Are you out here?”

“You know it.”

She stepped out from the cool air-conditioning. “Don’t make me go back into the heat.” The deck faced the water, and pausing, Ashley drank in the view. The ocean was enough to soothe any bad day away.

“Over here.” The top of Mary Beth’s large-brimmed straw hat was visible from behind an Adirondack chair.

Ashley took off her heels and dropped her shoulder bag to the deck. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to hear your voice.”

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