We need each other. For our respective businesses. I may have brought her out here so we could be alone. I may have built that campfire so I could see her face illuminated by firelight again.

But I’m not going to play with fire—not where Jake’s little sister is concerned.

This would be strictly business.

Claire’s body stiffens even more when she sees me approaching. The mood has shifted for both of us, but so has the air. It’s gotten more humid and breezy. We don’teven need to say anything to acknowledge that we need to get back on the boat. I snuff out the fire, and we leave the teenagers to repopulate the island.

I row us back to theHigh & Tightand then set course for the mainland. The sound of the wind and the waves lapping against the side of the boat makes this an inopportune time to broach the subject. You never want tobeginthe negotiations by shouting. So I take this time to consider how to handle this.

Having locked horns with Lynch these past few months, I’m used to projecting strength. To reveal absolutely no weakness. But Claire would feel the mismatch. I’m older, bigger, richer. Apparently I’m a potential murderer when she’s alone with me. I will have all lines prepared and proceed with her as slowly as I approach the dock, assessing every nuance, gently course correcting. And then I will secure everything properly and lock it down.

Once I’ve got my vessel gliding gently up to the side of the dock, slow and steady into its slip, I say to Claire, “I need your help.”

Without hesitation, she hops onto the dock and holds out her hands. “Toss me the spring line,” she calls out.

That was not what I meant, but I toss her the spring line anyway and let her help me moor the boat.

I stow the life jackets, grab both our backpacks, hop onto the dock, and say, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for letting me help you.”

This is actually going better than expected. “You’re welcome.” We nod at the few people we pass by on the dock. The clouds are rolling in fast, so everyone’sprepping for a storm. “Actually,” I continue as we stroll toward the parking lot, “I need your help with something else.”

“Oh, really?” She looks confused and intrigued, which is better than closed-off and annoyed. “With what? A baking problem?”

“Well, not exactly.” I’ve got my serious business face on, and she doesn’t appear to hate it. “I need your help,” I repeat, “and if you’re going to make the changes we’ve discussed to your bakery, you’re going to have to renovate. Again. Which means you’ll need another infusion of cash. Which I have.”

“I’m not taking your money.”

“Hear me out,” I say, raising my hand.

She’s walking alongside me, but it does not go unnoticed that she stares at my hand.

So I keep gesticulating with it. “I’ll help you with your bakery, and while it’s being renovated—by hired professionals, not by you and your family—I need you to come to New York with me.”

She stops in her tracks and folds her arms across her chest. “Why do you need me in New York?”

Here we go.“I need a date to a gala event.”

She scoffs. “You need a date? As in you can’t get a date, so you want to paymethousands of dollars in renovation costs to go on a date with you?” Her words echo across the harbor.

I shush her. “No,” I say, then lower my voice. “Not exactly. This is an important gala event, and I can give you the details later, but I need to attend it with someone that I have a significant connectionwith.”

She blinks. “Go on.”

“I need to make the host, who is a key figure in a very big deal that I’ve been working on for months, believe that I am in a serious relationship. I don’t just need a date. I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Temporarily. Strictly business. Only until all the contracts are signed and the deal is officially closed.”

Claire blinks again. Once. Twice. I watch as ten different emotions dance across her face. I only understand and recognize half of them, but I definitely see hope in there. But it all ends with teary-eyed anger as her jaw sets and she storms away from me.

“Claire. What?” I catch up with her just as we reach the edge of the thankfully empty marina parking lot.

“Thanks so much for the business consultation, Mr. Barber. I will take everything under advisement.” She starts stabbing at the air as she picks up her pace. “I will leverage and synergize and strategize underperforming workflow practices?—”

“Okay, I never used any of those words.”

“But I am not interested in being your pretend girlfriend to close your very important business deal,” she hisses. She stops by her car that really is a shitbox, fiddles with the key, finally gets herself in the driver’s seat, and slams the door.

“Claire.” I stand beside her car, just like I did when I found her parked in the middle of Main Street.