Page 38 of Made For You
I cocked my head to the side and glared at him, my fists clenching in my lap.
“Hasn’t the past shown us that sleeping with someoneto get them out of your systemneverworks?”
Dean tried that with a girl in college who cheered for his football team. He was only interested in sex… only to end up falling for her. They dated all four years until she moved back home to Wisconsin after graduation. “True, but this time, you knowwithout a doubtyou can’t catch feelings for her. One and done, man. Isn’t that your motto?”
Usually, except when Allison was involved, and it was clear as day how awful that turned out.
“Maybe you’re right. Or I could just stay in Miami and only see her when it’s required.”
“Fuck that. You’re an angry asshole on a good day. Now, you’re a miserable one who leaves employees crying any timeyou open that mug of yours. Do us all a favor and go visit your wife.”
I had to bite back my smile at hearing him refer to Aurora as my wife. The sound of it was growing on me every day.
“There’s one problem though. How the fuck am I going to explain my sudden absence here to my grandfather and Gigi?”
The room fell quiet for a beat, then Dean smiled in that slimy kind of way that usually landed one of us in jail. It happened more than once. The corners of his mouth continued to curl upward. He looked like a modern-day Grinch.
“Well, that’s where I come into play.”
My friend and I stared at each other like a lazy game of chicken, only for me to break first, because—let’s face it—I was damn curious about what he meant.
“Explain,” I rumbled.
Dean indicated the door of my office with a quick jerk of his head, and I knew that meant I needed to make sure there was no one in earshot.
“Olive,” I said through the intercom on my desk phone. “Please go retrieve a sugared-up coffee for Dean.”
“Yes, sir.” Through the glass, I watched her scamper off, then I flipped the switch that turned the windows opaque.
“You have about five minutes. So, shoot.”
“You know how I like to dabble in various business ventures? Biotech, security, agriculture, clubs. So, why not hotels?”
“I’m not selling you shares of Wilder Hotels.”
“Will you shut your trap and listen?” Dean barked, his tone serious. And I knew immediately that what he was going to suggest wasn’t just some one-off. It was something he’d been thinking about for some time.
“Apologies. Continue.”
Dean began asking about our first hotel in Knoxville, Tennessee. A little retreat-type hotel that brought the outdoors in. It was rustic and homey, and it felt like you were walking into a massive lodge. The lobby itself was three stories high. I always hated that we stopped taking reservations on the property decades ago. The only expense was the minimal utilities and round-the-clock security. We did send management onsite randomly to make sure the place hadn’t been ransacked. I only stepped foot in there once in my lifetime.
“That was your mom’s favorite place, wasn’t it?
He wasn’t seeking an answer, but I nodded anyway.
“I want to invest in it. This gives me another asset in my portfolio and gives you an excuse to travel to Tennessee.”
“My grandfather isn’t going to buy that.”
“You don’t give him a choice. Tell him you have a vested interest in the property—i.e. me—and that you’ve been provided the financials of similar ventures and their successes. Even if there wasn’t an ulterior motive, it would still be a good gamble. Mountainside retreats that cater to families and the outdoors are sought after right now.”
“Okay. When can you provide all that to me?”
“You already have it. I scheduled the email to hit your inbox around five minutes ago.”
Quickly, I flipped open my laptop and brought up my email. Lo and behold, there was an email from Dean outlining all the details. The investment, the proposed budget for renovations, the comparisons. Everything my team would have spent weeks compiling, Dean provided.
“You’ve been thinking about this for a while,” I said.
