“Good, they should be shamed in society. Everyone should know what kind of heart they have.”
He smiled. “I’d like to tell you that yesterday is most likely going to be the last day I experience something like that.”
“But it wouldn’t be true.” She nodded. “I get it. It just sucks. You were minding your own business. You hadn’t even said anything to the guy until he hit you with the anchor. And from the video, it appears as if he was aiming for you.”
“He was. I could see it in his eyes. It’s the only reason he didn’t kill me with it. I was paying attention.”
“It burns me that they’re free,” she admitted.
“No doubt already headed home,” he said with a shrug. “Enough about all that.” He took a deep breath and then smiled. “Let’s talk about our trip this weekend.”
Her smile doubled as he took her hand and started walking again. “Okay, what about our trip this weekend?”
He laughed, then went on to tell her all the fun things he had planned. For the rest of the day, she dreamed about being with him. And not just because of all the fun things he had planned.
CHAPTERNINE
Why was it that when you wanted time to slow down, it seemed to rush past you? But the moment you wanted a day to get there, time seemed to stop altogether.
Damion watched Jules head back inside the main building, then he headed off to the boathouse to grab a paddleboard and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.
His mind was consumed with the kiss she’d given him before she’d darted inside. It had been quick, he understood, so that no one they knew or worked with would see it. Still, the kiss had been more potent than any he’d had before.
He grabbed a paddleboard, life vest, and a paddle and stripped off his shirt and flip-flops. He left his clothes and his phone and keys in his locker in the boathouse.
He launched from the docks and headed out across the dark fresh waters of the inlet. Most guests liked to launch the paddleboards from the beach area, since the waters of the Gulf were a lot clearer than that of the inlet. He, however, liked the quiet of the inlet, the nature of the smaller streams that weaved through the swampy areas. There were sporadically placed homes along the banks, most with their own boat docks. Some were mansions with swimming pools, but there were also a few run-down trailers.
One property in particular he’d watched for years. Not for the run-down trailer, but for the land. It was perfect. There was an old dock, one that could be rebuilt to hold his own sailboat and also had enough room for two more boats.
The long grassy yard was fully overgrown now, but with some minor work, it could be just as beautiful as the yard of the mansion that sat next to it.
The dilapidated trailer would be hauled away. He’d dreamed of having Aiden design and build his dream home on the land.
But every time he’d looked into the lot, the owner refused to sell it. He didn’t know if it was because he was the one asking or if he was really not interested in selling.
However, today, he almost fell off his paddleboard when he noticed the For Sale By Owner sign amongst the tall grass. Damn. He hated that he’d left his phone back in the boathouse.
Deciding the paddleboard trip was over, he turned and headed back as he chanted the phone number over and over in his head, trying to remember it so he could call the moment he got back.
The moment the man answered, he asked the asking price. Moments later, he was making an offer. Of course, the man refused to agree to anything until he met him in person.
Damion’s heart sank. Then it jumped when he thought of an idea. He agreed to meet the man in an hour, then hung up and quickly called in reinforcements.
Exactly one hour later, he parked his truck in the overgrown driveway. The owner, a man he’d already met on several occasions in town, stood by his beat-up truck, watching him.
Before Damion could get out, two other vehicles parked beside his.
He jumped out and quickly smiled at Owen Costa, then glanced over at his dad as he climbed out of his parents’ car.
“Nice,” Owen said under his breath. “This the guy?”
Damion nodded. “Johnny Rowlings.” He walked over and held out his hand to the man, who quickly glanced between the other men before shaking it. That was a first. Normally, the man refused to shake his hand or to talk to him. “This is my father, General Wells, retired.”
He watched with pleasure at the surprise on Johnny’s face as he took in the presence of a famous American hero. Anyone who’d followed the news in the past ten years knew who his father was. Knew what he’d done for their country.
“Sir.” Johnny shook his father’s hand eagerly.
“This is my good friend and financier, Owen Costas,” Damion added, motioning to Owen.