Page 25 of The Mistakes I've Made
His nostrils flared almost instantly, but he refused to acknowledge my words, pushing off the column to rise to his full height.
Damn, he was tall.
But, this time, I wasn’t intimidated.
“I’ll ask one more time, and then I’m going to ask you to get off my property. Who owns this hotel?”
“I’m not going to let you get away with—”
“Taylor!”
We both turned to see a man standing on the docks of the marina, outside the Sutherland office. He mirrored Taylor in almost every way, and the way he was eyeing him, I was guessing there was a family relation there.
“Fuck,” he grumbled.
“Oh no, is someone in trouble?” I feigned concern as he gave me a look of disdain.
“This isn’t over,” he promised.
Oh, I hope it isn’t, I replied silently to myself, hating myself for even thinking it.
But, as much as I hated to admit it, I liked warring with Taylor Sutherland.
I liked it a little too much.
It took a bit of effort, but I finally managed to get through the door and into The Cozy Hotel for the first time.
Holy shit, what a dump.
That was my first thought as I took my grand tour.
What had my dad been thinking?
What was I thinking?
It was small, much smaller than any of our other properties, only serving about twenty rooms, tops. And, with a barely functioning kitchen, the most we could offer in its current state would be a light breakfast.
But, as I stood in one of the rooms, trying to avoid the horribly thin, wacky-patterned bedspreads or the Formica countertops in the bathrooms, I couldn’t help but be awestruck by the view. Each room was like this, equipped with its own balcony and water view of the bay.
And what a view it was, going on for miles in every direction.
This was the reason my father had bought it.
Probably the only reason really.
I could already picture guests sitting out here, drinking a glass of wine while the day drifted by.
So serene and peaceful.
It was exactly the theme I was going for. The ultimate hideaway.
I mean, wasn’t that kind of what Ocracoke was? A little hidden gem off the coast of North Carolina. Now, it would be a hidden oasis where people could come to relax and unwind.
I was so filled with ideas, with images of crisp white linens and chic spa decor filling my brain, that I was nearly giddy.
Until my phone began buzzing, and my father’s name appeared on the screen.
“Shit. Reckoning day is upon me,” I grumbled, deciding I needed to be seated for this particular conversation. Not trusting the scary looking bedspread or the stained oversized chair in the corner, I decided the only relatively safe and clean spot in the room was outside on the balcony.
