Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
A loud bark in the distance pulls me from my memories.
I look toward the beach to see Wally and Copper walking under the moonlight.
It’s a peaceful sight, and although I’m tempted to join them, sleep is calling my name.
I have a lunch date tomorrow that I need to be rested up for, because I have a feeling Joe considers me his dessert.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Holden
I ease back on the padded chair I’ve been sitting in for the past two and a half hours. That’s how long it took me to make one of my brother’s recent dreams a reality.
With a smug smile on my face, I wave goodbye to the man who sat across from me, eating a perfectly grilled steak while I convinced him to sell his company to me.
He’s the reason I’m in East Hampton this weekend, so it seems fitting that I toast to my accomplishment. I wave the server over. He practically sprints across the crowded restaurant to get to me.
“What can I get for you, Mr. Sheppard?” he asks, eagerness edging his tone.
I’ve been in this establishment enough times in the past few months that he knows how well I tip. He’s been nothing but attentive and helpful during this business dinner, so I’ll reward him handsomely for that.
“Get me a glass of your best champagne.” I stop to consider my request before I amend it. “Actually, pack up a slice of that chocolate cake thing I had for dessert. I’ll take that to go.”
“No champagne, sir?” he questions.
“Send a bottle to the table in the corner.” I tilt my chin in that direction. “I sense they’re celebrating something important.”
The only reason I noticed is that the man at the table passed a small box to the woman just moments ago. She squealed in delight when she popped it open. She tugged a gold chain with a heart pendant hanging from it out of the box before he fastened it around her neck.
Maybe it’s a birthday or an anniversary celebration. Whatever it is, the cheap wine they’re drinking doesn’t fit the occasion.
“I’ll tell them it’s courtesy of you,” the waiter boasts, as if he’s doing me a favor.
“Don’t,” I warn with a stern look. “It’s the thought that counts, not the source.”
He grins. “I’m going to steal that saying, sir.”
“Steal away. Pack me up that dessert. I want to deliver it as soon as possible.”
Just as he rushes away, my phone vibrates on the table. I turned off the ringer during dinner so I could focus solely on the man who just left this restaurant with a smile on his face that could light up the night sky.
“Jameson,” I say as I answer the call. “What do you need?”
“Information,” he says evenly. “Tim Lightell just sent me a cryptic text message.”
Tim must have sent that text the moment he walked out of the restaurant. James has been working his ass off trying to set up a meeting between Tim and us for months. When I heard that Tim would be in East Hampton for the weekend, I made sure I would be here, too.
I lured him to this restaurant with the promise that I’d make it worth his while. I did that and more since he left after shaking my hand on a deal that will put a seven figure payout in his bank account once the sale of his company is finalized.
“What did the message say?” I play along because making Jameson suffer is part of my job as his older brother.
“Nothing.” He chuckles nervously. “Call your brother. That’s it. Did you fuck up things with him, Holden? I’ve been trying to set up a meeting with him for a hell of a long time. I want his company. We need it.”
We don’t need it, and Jameson is the only one who wants Tim’s company. One very short conversation with our grandmother years ago convinced James that she wanted Carden to take over Toffee Twist.
I wasn’t part of that conversation, and I fucking hate toffee. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t ignore it when my brother suggested we make Tim, the owner, an offer to buy his business.
He tried to play hardball, but he lost that battle tonight when I tossed out a number that made him realize he could retire to a home near a golf course and leave the toffee business behind forever.
“It’s good to know that your first thought is that I fucked things up, James.” I keep my tone even so he can’t tell I’m teasing him. “Your faith in me is inspiring.”
I can tell he’s taking a few extra seconds to craft a response. “You’re my brother, Holden. I trust you. I have faith in you. Just tell me what Tim is talking about.”
Putting him out of his misery right now serves me well in two ways. It’ll make him happy, and I’ll get this conversation over with so I can get out of here and surprise Summer.