Page 66 of The Playboy

Ugh.

I hated him for owning my thoughts today. For making me question my decision. For the war he’d created in my head.

And I hated myself for even thinking about calling him.

I took out my phone and pulled up my Contacts, giving one final glance toward Macon and his new girl toy, and on the way out to my car, I deleted his number.

NINE

Macon

“Impressive as hell,” Walker Weston said as he stood within the restaurant wing of our hotel, wearing a hard hat, like his three other brothers and sister and me, but with a tablet tucked under his arm.

The Weston family had flown in today to check the progress on the latest build-out of their steak house, Charred, and the club, Musik, they were constructing next to it. They’d come during the very beginning stages when the entire building was still being framed. The progress so far wasn’t just impressive; it was over the fucking top.

This hotel was going to be a damn masterpiece, and this wing would be no different.

Even though Walker and his siblings had become friends with my brothers and me—the result of many business deals and build-outs they’d done with our brand—they were still here for one reason, and it wasn’t to go surfing. This conversation would be full of pressing questions, I suspected.

“Isn’t it?” I replied. “Our nicest property, in my opinion.”

“You wouldn’t be biased at all?” Eden, the youngest and only woman in the family, asked. She was also the shortest, but where she lacked in height by at least a foot, she made up in personality.

She was one fierce chick.

“Nah,” I responded. “Not even a little.”

“Didn’t think so.” She laughed.

“You know, Hawaii has been a long time coming,” Walker continued. “I was pushing your uncle for fucking years to make this happen. When he finally pulled the trigger on the land”—he released a mouthful of air, like a deflating balloon—“I became one happy man.”

There was a haze of gray that ran along the sides of Walker’s high fade. A dude who could rock any color, and the women would still flock to him.

He was as much of a playboy as me.

“That makes two of us,” I told him.

“And because our expectations are so high for this location, we’ve gone all out with the interior design,” Hart said. He glanced at the arch that was being placed above the entrance to the restaurant, his green gaze eventually shifting back to mine. “Wait until you see the custom three-dimensional ceiling we’re having installed next week. It’ll be unlike anything you’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll take photos and send them your way in case you don’t want to fly in again so soon,” I offered.

“As long as it’s before preseason starts, we’ll be back,” Beck said.

He’d been playing in the NHL since he’d graduated from college. Because he was in the off-season, he was able to tag along. This was the time of the year when he was able to be much more active in the family business, but during the season, he was a silent partner and their financial backer.

“And if I can’t make it, I’m sure my siblings wouldn’t mind returning to paradise for a couple of days.”

“I surely wouldn’t,” Colson said, pounding Beck’s fist. He was the most laid-back; he’d rather spend his days on the golf course or the beach than dress in a suit and head into their corporate office.

If Colson was driven by anything, it was pussy.

Eden rolled her eyes. “Let’s stop puttering around and get to the point here.” She glared at her brothers before looking at me. “Realistically, how many weeks is the construction behind schedule?”

She’d never been one to lie back and take it, letting the company run itself or for her brothers to carry a heavier load. Arguably, she worked the hardest; she was the most innovative of them all, certainly the feistiest.

“It’s not behind schedule,” I replied, adjusting my hard hat so I could see her better. “We’re going to make the deadline.”

A part of me—a rather large part—wished that weren’t the case. Although I’d get the wrath from my uncle, it would mean I would get to stay on Kauai a little longer.

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