Because of Sydney (2 page)

I felt the sweat run down my neck and the burn in my calves. Beach running wasn’t easy, but every time I was on the island I had to get it in. People told me I ran into challenges on purpose. I didn’t look at it that way. What was the point of doing something if I couldn’t prove I do it better than anyone else? Tackling challenges was my way of showing I could outmaneuver anyone in a boardroom, outrun anyone on the beach, and out play anyone at life.

My phone beeped as a call interrupted the music.

“Yeah? What is it Mark?”

“Good morning, sir. The financials are in for the Cove project. I sent them to you five minutes ago.”

“All right. Thanks for letting me know.” I stopped next to one of the hotel boardwalks so I could hear him better.

Mark was the newest member of my staff. I hired him straight out of college. He was working on his MBA at night. I thought it showed he had goals. I didn’t want someone complacent on my team.

“Do you want me to tell them you’re going to make an offer?”

“I’d like to look over the report first.” Mark was green. I had hoped he would pick up on the way I ran my business a little quicker. Maybe the grad studies would help.

“Right. That makes sense. Ok, well I’m in the office. Let me know what you want me to do next.”

“Mark—” I started to launch into a rundown on business concepts, but I was wasting my breath. “I’ll call you when I review the file.”

“Sounds good, sir. When do you think you’ll be back in the office?”

That was something else about him. He always wanted to know where I was. “I’m in Padre for a few days. I hope to have my hands full here. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just—we just were wondering if you would be back in the office soon.”

“You’ll know when I’m back. Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Thanks, Mark.” I clicked the call back to my music. I looked up at the sun. It was high enough to start making the beach unbearable. I pivoted in the sand and started running toward the Palm.

I jogged up the Palm’s new boardwalk and along the sidewalk into the office. It was no longer a one-room shack. It was an actual office for the condos. There was a display room and a clubroom where the residents could gather for social events. I insisted the only way they could draw in high-priced buyers was to offer something the rest of the island didn’t have.

I was pleased with the design they came up with. It was professional and elegant, a far cry from the tacky neon sign that used to blink in the window. It was a bonus the air conditioning worked. The old one rattled every time someone opened the door.

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” Eden walked out from her office.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” I never tired of bugging her. I knew I was a dripping, sweaty mess. “Promise I won’t sit on your new furniture.”

She rolled her eyes. “How thoughtful. I didn’t know you were in town.” She walked to the coffee machine and inserted a gourmet packet. There must have been fifty different flavors.

“Got in last night kind of late. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Thanks. I tell Grey all the time you’re capable of being considerate.” She retrieved her cup. “Coffee?”

I shook my head. “Nah. I’m going to grab some water.” I filled a plastic cup by the water cooler.

She settled on one of the couches in the clubroom. Her blond hair fell on either side of her neck. “What deal has you in town this time?” she asked.

“Actually that’s why I stopped by. Could you print a file for me? I need to look it over.”

“Sure. Send it to my email.”

I wouldn’t lie and say I wasn’t attracted to Eden. But she was marrying Grey and from the start she only had feelings for him. He was a lucky guy. She was beautiful and smart. Somehow, she had become part of my family unit. She was like a sister—make that more like a hot stepsister.

I sent the email from my phone and waited while she downloaded it to the printer. She returned from her office a few minutes later with a stack of papers in her hand.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Thanks.” I flipped through the sheets of numbers. “This is my next land acquisition.”

She threw a hand on her hip. “Tell me. What are you tearing up this time?”

“You know that trailer park at the other end of the island?”

Her eyes widened. “Yes. Beach Combers Cove?”

“That’s the one. I’m trying to get a bid in for the land today. It’s a private auction.”

She sighed. “Why do you insist on building a high-rise here?”

“First of all, I never said it was a high-rise.” She could read me like a book. “But more importantly, you keep forgetting I’m a developer. This is what I do. I buy. I build. I sell. I make a ton of money.”

“Sometimes I think you’re missing all the important things in life, Mason. There is more to Padre than money.”

“Just because you drank the Kool-Aid and decided to move here doesn’t mean it’s for everyone, girl.”

“You’ve never given this place a chance. All you see when you drive over the bridge is dollar signs.”

I smiled wickedly. “And a lot of them.”

“You’re completely impossible, Mason.”

I clutched the pages in my hand and walked toward the door. “Tell Grey I’ll grab a beer with him before I leave.”

She sighed. “Pete’s tonight for drinks?”

“Sounds good. Meet you two there.”

I shoved the glass door open. Today was going to be a good day. I had a new multi-million dollar project within reach again. That always made me happy.

I punched in Mark’s number on my way up the stairs.

“Yes, sir?”

“Go ahead and get the proposal started for the Cove bid. I’ll call back in a few minutes with hard numbers. Also, put in a call with our broker and tell them I want Barbara Haskins at the table. She’s the best.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“Wait for me to call.”

I hung up. I needed to take a shower and get dressed. I had a lunch meeting at noon with one of the commissioners to talk about my high-rise. It was critical to make sure the political climate in Padre was warm enough for the idea. I wasn’t about to spend millions if I couldn’t produce what I wanted.

I pulled a crisp white shirt from the closet. I had started leaving more clothes here each time I breezed into town. I was waiting for Eden to tell me this condo had sold and I needed to pack my closet full of stuff, but so far the priciest one in the mix hadn’t sold. It would happen. There were only five units still on the market.

I rinsed off and grabbed a towel from the rack. I wrapped it around my waist and walked to the kitchen. The Cove numbers were spread across the bar. If I was right about this, it could be my most lucrative beach project to date.

I jotted down a few figures and did some quick math. There was no way I wasn’t going to throw my name in the ring for this one. I had been watching the island real estate for months. The timing was right. I pulled out my phone.

“Mark, I’m sending over my instructions. Put the numbers in exactly as I have them. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. I can do that. I’ll call you when I get the bid together.”

“Did you get in touch with the broker?”

“Yes. Barbara is on her way to South Padre now.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be waiting.”

I typed out my email to Mark and hit send.

A few minutes later I closed the condominium door behind me, spun the combination on the lock, and jogged down the stairs. If it wasn’t so damn hot I would pull the top back on my car, but this was an AC day—a scorcher even by Texas standards. I cranked the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. I wanted to run by the trailer park before lunch.

I slammed the car door behind me and stepped onto the gravel. This was one rundown trailer park, but I smiled knowing I was standing on a goldmine.

Half the campers were rusted from years of salty winds. Weeds struggled to grow through the sand. The picnic tables under the pavilion had more splinters than smooth spots. It looked like there used to be a swing set next to the charcoal grills, but all that was left was a cracked yellow slide. It was a dump.

This little tract of land was at the opposite end of the island from where the Palm stood. It was littered with trailers, campers, and dissembled Jeeps. Beach towels blew on a clothesline rigged between two boats. I walked toward the dunes.

I could see it. This was going to be the Texas beach resort destination. It wouldn’t be like the others on the island, shuttling college kids in and out through a revolving door. It would have year-round high occupancy numbers. A spa. A five-star restaurant. I would develop it and after a year of being the premiere vacation spot I would sell it at the top of the market. Yes, this was going to be the deal of a lifetime.

I heard a throat clear behind me.

“Ehhem.”

I turned to see a girl trying to tie brunette locks back into place. The wind was fierce at this end of the island. She stopped fidgeting with her hair clip and sunglasses.

“I’m looking for Arnie Cratchett. Do you know where he lives?” She pulled on the shoulder strap of her bag as if it gave her extra support. “I’ve knocked on at least ten doors.”

She was wearing heels that were slowly starting to sink into the sand. She wobbled slightly and I offered to help her before she lost her balance, but she waved me off.

“Do you know him?” she asked.

“Can’t say that I do.” I smiled.

She didn’t fit in here. There was an airiness about her that contradicted the worn out buildings surrounding us. Her smile was bright, and I couldn’t help but notice her full lips.

“Do you live here? Maybe I could ask you a few questions instead.”

I shook my head. “No. Not me.”

She looked disappointed. “Are you visiting someone maybe?”

“No, I don’t know anyone here.”

“Well, I guess I need to find Mr. Cratchett then. All these trailers look the same.”

I surveyed the trailer park. She was right. There wasn’t much to distinguish one from the other. “I’m headed back to my car over there. Why don’t I walk with you until you find Mr. Cratchett?”

“That’s all right. I can find him.” She adjusted her shoes in the sand again.

I shrugged. “Good luck, then.” I walked past her, descending from the dunes. I had seen enough to know I had to make this deal work. I didn’t know who else was bidding today, but I wanted this tract.

Opportunities like this seldom landed in my lap. The land had fallen out of probate after the owner died. He left it to his niece and nephew, but they had no interest in managing a trailer park. Lucky for me, they were ready to cash in their inheritance.

“Wait,” she called. “Do you know anything about the development of this land?”

I turned to face her. She was struggling with her hair again. “Are you a reporter or are you with the group out of Houston?” I asked.

“I don’t know the group from Houston. I’m Sydney Paige. I write for the
News & Record
. The online edition.”

“Ahh. That explains a lot.” I was slightly relieved she wasn’t part of the competition. I’d rather keep my interest under the radar.

“Such as?”

“Such as why a pretty girl like you would be hanging out in a place like this.”

Her lips flattened into a line of disapproval. “You have something against trailer parks?”

I stepped forward. “Did I say that?”

“It was implied.”

I chuckled. “Sounds like you practice interpretative journalism, Miss Paige.”

“Interpretative? Wow. Sounds like you just like to label people.”

I laughed. She was surprisingly quick with the retort.

“Good luck finding your story.” I continued toward my car.

She trailed behind a few paces, trying to keep up in her heels. “And you aren’t going to tell me who you are? Which company do you work for? You must be a part of the development deal.”

“There you go again interpreting.” I used the remote to unlock the door.