Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“So you’ll figure it out.”
She bites her lip. “Right.” Then she nods. Swiftly, decisively. “You’re right. I will figure it out.”
This is what I dig about her. Her confidence. The courage. She had an idea and some gumption and went for it. Most people spend their whole lives talking themselves out of their dreams. Point out all the reasons it’s too hard or farfetched. Not Mac.
“When you look at this place, do you still feel the same way as you did when you put the offer in?” I ask.
She smiles, the gleam of ambition fresh in her eyes as she stares at the crumbling building. “Yes.”
“Pull the trigger. Can’t win if you don’t play.”
“That’s the lottery,” she says, nudging my shoulder.
“Same difference.”
To be honest, I’m glad she asked me here. Even if only for moral support. There isn’t much I can give a girl like Mackenzie Cabot. Nothing she doesn’t already have or can’t get on her own. We all want to feel useful, though. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I started needing her to need me.
After a couple hours, the inspector comes out with his clipboard and runs down the list with Mac. Most of it we expected, some we didn’t. All of it carries a price tag.
“What’s the bottom line?” Mac asks him after he’s gone over every bullet item line by line.
“It’ll cost ya,” the man says through his overgrown mustache. “That said, there’s no reason this place can’t be operational again. I wish you luck.”
After a handshake, he gives her the paperwork and walks off to his car.
“So?” I prompt, taking Daisy’s leash from her.
She hesitates. Only for a second. Then she smiles wryly. “Guess I better call the bank.”
Gotta admit, it’s kind of hot that she can just call up a few million like placing a bet on the Panthers. She wears it well.
After she gets off the phone, we take a walk on the beach and let Daisy run around a little.
“So listen.” Mac sifts through the sand with her toes, picking out shells that catch her eye. She scoops one up, admires it, then drops it back in the sand. “I know I’m out of my depth here. I’m better at writing checks than rewiring a building.”
“That’s no sweat. I know everyone in ten square miles who does this kind of work.”
“That’s what I mean. You know the area, the people.”
There’s an ask coming, and I can’t imagine what it could be that has her dancing around the subject.
“Spit it out, Cabot.”
She rounds on me, arching an eyebrow. “I want to hire your uncle Levi to do the work.”
I furrow my brow. “What part?”
“All of it. As much as he can handle. Whatever he can’t, I want him to sub-contract out to people he trusts. The guys he’d get to do his mother’s house. Keep it in the family, so to speak.”
“Wow. Okay …” I mean, I’d expected her to pick his brain, maybe. Get some references. Maybe toss him a project or two.
This is …a lot.
“You seem unsure,” Mac observes.
“No, no. I’m not. It’s, uhh …”
“A big commitment?” She’s smiling. Grinning, actually. I think this chick is laughing at me.
“I’m not afraid of commitment, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Uh-huh,” she says.
“I’ll commit the shit out of you.”
“Good.” Thinking she’s already won, she spins on her toes and resumes walking. “Then we have a deal. You’ll set up a meeting with Levi so we can discuss scope and an equitable price.”
“Hang on, princess. He’s got other jobs on the books already. I don’t know what kind of time he has. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Details.” She waves her hand at me. “All can be negotiated. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“Okay, I’ll put the offer to him if you keep the cheesy platitudes to yourself.”
Mac picks up a piece of driftwood and tosses it for Daisy. “I make no promises.”
I roll my eyes at her back. This woman is kind of insufferable, but I love it. Somehow, she got under my skin. Even when she’s being obnoxious, I’m still into it.
“Be honest,” I say before I can stop myself. “Does this whole thing even put a dent in the trust fund?”
I hesitate to even guess at a number. At a certain point, all the zeros start to run together. The difference between a hundred million and five hundred million is the difference between swimming to China and New Zealand to a drowning man.
She goes quiet for a second. Then another. An apparent unease steals the humor from her face. “Actually, I can’t touch my trust fund until I’m twenty-five.”
That gives me pause, because how did she buy a hotel, then? I know her parents aren’t giving her the money. She’s been vocal about their lack of approval for her ambitions.