On The Rocks

Just the thought of making my pitch causes my nerves to fire into overdrive, and my heart starts beating erratically.

Because yes… today is the day I’m putting in a bid to do a huge construction project and, if it gets accepted, it will help to change the course of my future. I need this job to solidify my resume and show that I can work in the big leagues. I need someone desperately to take a chance on me… to give me a shot so I can prove that I can compete with all the men in this industry.

And the thing that really has me freaked is that it’s none other than Hunter Markham that I’m going to submit my bid to. The man who I once thought I loved and now still loathe with most of my being.

Why am I going to Hunter Markham with something so important? Well, let’s just call it lack of options at this point. I’ve been repetitively outbid and overlooked by every major project that I’ve submitted to in the past three years. I’m hoping the fact that I’m best friends with Hunter’s sister, and that our families have been close for years, will give me a leg up.

I have no clue though, what to expect. I haven’t really spoken that much to Hunter since our “encounter” five years ago. He left for Australia just three days after that disastrous kiss and essentially trotted the globe for the next five years, competing on the ASP World Tour.

At twenty-eight, it was a bit of a surprise that Hunter decided to retire from the sport. He was surfing the best of his life and just last year had become the number two-ranked surfer in the world. He was swimming in cash, swimming in women, and swimming in fame. I never asked, but Casey always kept me updated, even though mention of him caused a tiny pang of hurt to lance through me each time.

Without any warning or reason, he retired from the surfing world and returned home to open up a beach bar. He purchased Salty’s, a popular oceanfront bar in Nags Head that had started to get rundown and neglected, mainly because poor Salty had a coke habit that sucked up all his money and time. Hunter came in, did a quick refurbish, and had a grand re-opening last month. He renamed it Last Call, and it looked like it was going to be quite a success. He also had big plans to expand onto the existing structure.

Of course, it didn’t escape my notice that his return home coincided with Brody’s return home, but it was just my guess that he wanted to be there to help his twin acclimate to the world. And yes, that made my heart pitter-patter a tiny bit, but then I hardened it up again. Hunter Markham didn’t deserve to have my heart doing anything other than sneering at him in the future.

So, even though it made me nervous to do so, I pulled out the binder that I would be handing over to Hunter in about three hours, and opened it up to show Casey and Alyssa. I spent the next thirty minutes going over my pitch with them and explaining the budget on the bid. I also showed them the architect’s plans that Hunter had given me, including a few potential design changes that I wanted to suggest that would help keep the bid low but would functionally be better suited for what he had planned.

When I was finished, Casey whistled between her teeth. “Damn girl… I have to tell you… that’s just hot the way you talk all those numbers and construction terms. I’d do you in a heartbeat.”

Chuckling, I punch her lightly on the arm. “Thanks, Case. Leave it up to you to turn my bid into something sexual.”

Laughing in that husky, sexy way of hers, she says, “Hey… if ‘sexual’ will help you land the bid, I’m all for it.”

“Eww,” I groan. “This is your brother we’re talking about. This is professional, not sexual.”

Casey gives me a small flick of her finger on my nose. “Lighten up, Gabs. It’s just Hunter. It’s not like he’s going to jump your bones or anything.”