Page 36 of Hate Mate

WILLOW

Ihave to wonder if the man isn't a real-life Jekyll and Hyde.

When all I've seen, both in the past and present, is the self-centered, egotistical, all important silver spoon rich kid, the sight of a very charming, charismatic Sawyer just about knocks me off my feet. Or out of my chair, rather, while I sit at his right hand and marvel at how easily he turns the charm on and off as he sees fit. If I didn't know better, I’d think he has serious personality issues.

Who am I kidding? He definitely has issues.

But if I didn't know him as well as I do, I might actually be taken with him.

“Bottom line,” grunts Rob Myers. He leans back in his chair to my left, clinking the ice in his glass. “There’re lots of people in town who aren't sold on the idea of expanding this place. Now, your feelings about the townsfolk aside, what do you propose to do about that?”

Sawyer clears his throat, his dark eyes meeting mine for a split second. “With the help of Miss Anderson, we plan to launch a campaign in the town to win them over on the benefits of an expansion. This is more than a matter of a healthy bottom line. Not only would it make it easier for our members to enjoy dining here with their friends and loved ones, but it would give us greater options and flexibility for events. Weddings, showers, parties. We want to play a bigger part in the community. We want as many happy memories tied to the yacht club as possible.”

He even manages to sound sincere.

Maybe I’m being too hard on him. The fact is, I hear the sincerity throbbing in his voice. I believe he believes it, that he wants his family's legacy to involve more than money and exclusivity. He wants to play a part in something bigger.

Maybe I need to believe that, or else why am I here?

Rob snorts. “Happy memories with a bunch of... what did you call us again?”

I can almost hear Sawyer’s teeth grinding. Keep it together. I warned you about this. Obviously, there was going to be at least one outlier who wasn't willing or able to smile politely and enjoy a free meal. A delicious meal, too, with salmon so buttery it practically melts in my mouth. He wasn't kidding about the level of skill in the kitchen.

I have to give it to him. He knows how to hide his irritation when it counts. Rather than lash out, he simply lowers his cutlery to his plate, then dabs the corners of his mouth with a napkin. Taking time to get his thoughts together. These are all good signs. Is this how Doctor Frankenstein felt when he watched his monster?

“I'm glad you brought that up,” he murmurs with something close to a genuine smile. “Let's address the elephant in the room, shall we? The fact that when I've had too much to drink, I tend to make an ass out of myself.”

At least two of the men around the table choke softly before clearing their throats, while the rest merely chuckle. “And I say whichever one of us has never been guilty of that can throw the first stone,” he continues. “It was not my finest moment, and I apologize. I was frustrated. As you know, taking this position means living up to pretty high standards. I'm living under a large, large shadow. I'm eager to prove myself—and at the moment, after finding out it would take more time and effort than I had imagined to expand, I was frustrated and angry. From where I stood, my plans to prove to the board that I was the correct choice for CEO to replace my father were being thwarted. This means much more to me than a mere expansion, gentlemen. I responded accordingly.”

I think that's as honest as I've heard him speak about himself all week.

And damn it, when he puts it that way, I almost feel sorry for him. Okay, so he's a poor little rich boy. I can't have much sympathy for somebody who's had their entire life handed to them on a silver platter.

But he's also a human being. And he wants to prove himself.

Who is this man, really?

One thing is for sure, I don't need to be as active a participant in this meeting as I first imagined. Sure, there have been a few sour looks, but for the most part he's got everything well in hand. It occurs to me that in situations like this, he's got the advantage. That doesn't happen often.

He knows these men because he's one of them. He understands what they respond to because he's grown up around them. The men range in age, but for the most part could be his father's contemporaries. That might also explain why they were the ones who were so deeply offended by the video that they felt it necessary to call and complain, which inspired this dinner meeting in the first place. They don't want some young, cocky little nothing criticizing them.

He can handle them because he can handle his father. He's probably made a career of it, he and his brothers. Now I find myself wanting to meet them, to see if they share his innate ability to placate the egos of older, somewhat cranky men.

I sort of wonder if they're all as good looking as him, too.

Not what I need to be thinking about right now. Not even close.

“I understand that's why you hired this lovely young woman.” Rob turns to me, and I'm sure he thinks his smile is charming. Coming from a seventy-three-year-old man with grandchildren close to my age, it’s damn creepy. “If I knew it would mean working with someone like you, I might run my mouth at the wrong time, too.”

Is it possible to hear a person's hackles rise? If so, that's what I'm hearing from Sawyer. He's practically growling while I offer a calm, polite smile. “I can't guarantee my schedule will be open,” I murmur.

“I'm sure we could work something out.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Sawyer interjects, “but I'm keeping her very busy. I'm incorrigible and she'll be the first one to tell you so.”

“Incorrigible?” I tap my chin like I'm thinking. “I can think of a few words I would use before I would land on that one.” Soft laughter rises up over the table. Even Sawyer joins in, and he almost sounds genuine.

Sawyer Cargill, laughing at himself? I might need to take the weekend off to recover from the shock.

---