chapter five
On Friday morning, Sydney waited outside her house, trying to ignore the sickening twirls in her belly. She felt like she’d just gone on the teacup ride and was ready to hurl. Embarrassed at her childish reaction, she kept reminding herself this was a business trip. Adam Cushman wanted a face-to-face in Manhattan to go over some important details and to begin moving forward. Since the attic incident, she and Tristan had spent the last few days working separately or in the office surrounded by people. The tension between them had turned from cool distance to shattering awareness.
Today would be the first time they’d be alone since the kiss. She chided herself mentally for her worry. They’d chat politely in the car, listen to some music, have their client lunch, and go home. There was no reason to feel as if she was going to be held hostage and tortured. She’d set the tone, he’d follow her lead, and they’d get this thing done. Nothing to worry about. It was just a kiss.
The kiss. Oh, God, the kiss.
She burned just from the memory of that hot, soul-stirring, wicked kiss. He’d tasted like musk and sin. Smelled like the ocean and sun-warmed sand. Her fingers gripped rock-hard muscles trapped under soft, elegant fabric. He kissed her with the same raw passion and dominant control that always made her panties wet. It was everything she’d remembered but more. So much more.
Damn that stupid ghost.
He pulled up to her door in his silver Lincoln Crossover—both practical and elegant. Just like him, her mind reminded her. Whether he was closing a deal or stripping off his clothes, he’d always held an innate animal grace that buckled her knees.
Don’t think about it.
He strode around the car toward her dressed in a black pin-striped suit and red tie. Timber-colored hair swept back from his face, showing off his broad forehead, arched brows, and gleaming whiskey eyes. He opened the car door for her. She swallowed. Maybe he’d forget that moment of weakness and intimacy. They’d just managed a truce to promote their business relationship. Neither of them was prepared for more. “Morning,” she offered.
“Morning. I brought you coffee and a fruit cup.”
“Thank you.”
“You ready for this?”
She turned and found him standing close. His hand propped the door open, and a tiny smirk rested on his full lips. His jaw was clean shaven, and the delicious ocean scent of his cologne drifted from his skin. Her fingers itched to trace the faint scar that ran down his right cheek—evidence of a rock fight with his brothers that hadn’t gone well. A reluctant smile got past her. Did his question hold a hidden meaning, or was she being paranoid? She fought the blush and ducked her head anyway. “Ready.”
She got in the car, and he came back around, pulling out. The smell of leather and his cologne wrapped around her. Jazz music played softly from the speakers, soothing her ears. “You can put on the seat warmers if you’d like. It’s a bit chilly this morning.”
“March is temperamental.”
“Yes, it is.”
Silence descended. Sydney tried not to wring her fingers and stared out the window. One hour and twenty-eight minutes left to their destination. Could she pretend to doze? There should be plenty of room in such a spacious car, but it felt as if his powerful thigh was just inches from hers. Why had she worn a skirt? Her legs were practically naked and vulnerable to his gaze. He kept his attention on the road, sipping his coffee, not seeming to care that the tension between them was knotted so tight, she might choke. The chunky silver watch emphasized the sinewy muscle of his wrist and his long tapered fingers. She’d always believed he could be a concert pianist. Lord knows he’d played her body like a maestro. With his lips, too.
Don’t think about it.
“Do you know what the goal is for this meeting?” he asked.
She clung to the subject like a jumper to a parachute. “Contracts are finalized on three houses, but he’s holding out on the others. I think he’s giving me pushback for price. My margin is limited in order for this to be worthwhile for our local suppliers, so I’ll need to be ready for negotiations.”
“Smart. I’ve met him a few times when I worked in the city. He has an excellent reputation but is well-known to be ruthless. Most good businessmen are.”
“Are you?”
“A good businessman?”
“No, ruthless.” Sydney wished she could take the words back. They’d just popped out. The boy she’d loved was no longer here, but the man he’d become still intrigued her. For years, he’d been held under his father’s rule, until his ambition turned into a ruthless need to escape everything he’d once loved. Including her.
“When I need to be.”
She believed him. “Did New York teach you that?”
His grip tightened on the wheel. They were in new territory. Since his return they hadn’t discussed his time in the city or anything that could lead them back to their past relationship. But now, with their working truce, she admitted to being a bit curious about those five years when he’d grown into his own man.
His answer reflected no hidden tension. “Yes. I needed to go to New York and find out who I was without my family. Dad would never have allowed me to explore real estate. It was difficult at first, but I hooked up with a decent firm and began learning. In my spare time, I took some extra home-design courses and built my skills. After two years, I was ready to step out on my own. I recruited a small clientele and kept growing.”
“Did you enjoy living in the city?”
She didn’t ask the question she really wanted to know:
Did he regret coming home to stay?
“The city is a beast. It’s big and powerful and tries to devour you whole. But if you work hard, take your punches, and fight back, the rewards make it worth it. I found my niche. Sometimes it was brutal, because this business is cutthroat and you have to be able to make some hard decisions. There are people who get right in your face and say you’ll fail. You have to get past the negative junk.” His voice held a bit of self-mockery. “Dear old Dad helped me with that.”
She smiled. Christian had been hard on him, but like with everything else, Tristan was able to take the bad and change it into a life lesson. “He did have a way with words,” she said drily.
He smiled back. The bitterness and hatred toward his father had softened over the two years since his death. In a way, Sydney wondered if Tristan was able to see him more as a man than as a father. Diane had eventually left Christian for another lover, only to die in that fateful car crash. The events had trapped Christian in such bitterness, he alienated his family one by one. It was as if he ended up only punishing himself, and Tristan had finally moved past it.
“I loved the cultural benefits in New York. Great restaurants. Theater. Opera. Museums. Endless opportunities to meet interesting people and have unique experiences.”
A pang hit her. She’d never traveled. Sure, she’d been to the city for a few events. She’d visited Boston, and Philly, and even taken a short ski trip to Vermont. But that was as far as she’d gone. She’d never longed to see beyond the borders of Harrington and used to look at it as a lack within herself. Especially compared with Tristan’s burning need to see the world and flee his home. After birthing Becca, she’d learned more about herself and refused to apologize any longer for her own dreams. She’d been lucky to be raised by grandparents who loved her, but knowing her parents never cared about her broke something deep inside. She’d always felt . . . needy. Needy for love and security. For comfort. For assurances that everything would work out.
When she was pregnant with Becca, Sydney had needed to provide a home and security for her daughter. She’d known Jason for years, as he worked construction for a competitor, but when he seriously began pursuing her after Tristan left, he seemed like the answer to everything. He was kind, happily settled in town, and wanted a wife and family. When he learned of her pregnancy, he didn’t run but offered a future they both seemed to want. It was a whirlwind courtship so they could be married quickly. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to discover that friendship and good intentions did not make a marriage. How badly she’d wanted to lay a strong foundation of home for herself and Becca. They’d tried so hard to make it work, but when Becca turned six months old, Jason was offered a unique opportunity to move overseas to do underwater construction, and everything fell apart.
Besides refusing to move her daughter to a new country, they realized there was too much missing in their marriage to endure a long-distance relationship. Their decision to part was painful, but there’d been no resentment. Just a sadness they weren’t meant to be together. Becca still retained her ex-husband’s name, but Jason was no longer a part of their lives. Becca was truly, solely hers. One day, she intended to explain to her daughter the details of her past, but Becca was still too young to understand. One day, questions would be raised and answers demanded.
After all, the truth was clearly revealed on the birth certificate.
But not now. Not with Tristan refusing to even interact with her daughter and not with the distance between them.
Her brief marriage taught her so much. Sydney had spent her entire life consistently looking to others, usually men, to fill the empty, aching void inside.
Now she knew only one person could fill it.
Herself.
She refocused on the conversation. “I guess you miss New York.” Her voice sounded calm and analytical, with a touch of interest.
“Not anymore.” She glanced at him, startled to find his gaze swiveled to meet hers. “I know I belong here. With my brothers. Running Pierce Brothers.” His amber eyes flared with intensity. “I’m finally home.”
The tension knotted a few notches tighter. She fought the urge to roll down her window for air. Instead, she reached for her coffee with trembling hands. Okay, no more questions. She didn’t like playing with matches that could cause a bad fire. She still carried the scars from the last one.
“What about you? Do you regret never leaving Harrington?”
The past rose up like a tsunami, but she fought the waves and held on. “No. I never needed to leave to find myself.”
“Plus you had Becca.”
She froze. Her daughter’s name on his lips caused a deep shudder to wrack her body. She cleared her throat. “Yes. I had Becca to think of.”
“Do you ever see him?”
Her voice broke. “No.”
The pause between them was rife with memory. “He never comes back to see her?”
Her head spun in sudden sickness. She put her coffee down and concentrated on breathing. She needed to pull it together. “He lives overseas now and isn’t part of our lives. Becca’s mine and no one else’s. And I’d rather not discuss my ex-husband.”
He drove in silence. This was the reason she couldn’t be alone with him. The questions were too dangerous—the mess of the past better left untouched. The soothing jazz coming from the stereo mocked the seething tension between them. “Syd?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you thought about that kiss?”
Sydney sucked in her breath. Instantly, the chemistry flickered, caught, and burned hot. All of her senses were trained on him, his body heat practically pulling her in. Her nostrils flared at his scent, and her body surged to life, still conditioned to her first love, her first lover, her first heartbreak.
Yes. She wanted to scream, fight, surrender, beg. Instead, she locked her muscles and fought with everything she had left.
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
A cry caught in her throat. She would not do this with him. She made sure to inflect her voice with her only defense: coldness. “Then I’d suggest you get over it. Because nothing is going to happen between us again. We agreed to a working truce and no more.”
“Fine.”
She kept her gaze averted for the rest of the ride, counting down the miles and praying she hadn’t made a huge mistake.
He shouldn’t have mentioned the kiss.
Tristan drove and tried to ignore the screaming silence between them. He’d sworn to push the encounter out of his mind, chalking it up to impulse, fear, and curiosity about the past. But he’d never expected such an intense reaction, from either of them. It was as if the kiss was bigger than them, swallowing good intentions and reminding him of all the wonderful things Sydney had brought to his life. Besides the most powerful physical chemistry he’d ever experienced with a woman, there was an emotional connection bridged from their shared memories. They knew each other. Had experienced great love and great pain. She was the only one who’d stripped down all of his layers and truly seen the man he was.
And she’d loved him anyway.
Though, she ended up betraying him.
Once she’d turned nineteen, he began to lose the battle not to touch her. They worked together for almost a year while he fought his body with a crazed intention. But eventually, it was too much for either of them. She used every opportunity to get close and tortured him with sweeping generalizations about her dates with other men, hinting at physical intimacy. Her eyes told him she wanted him if only he had the balls to ask. To seduce. To take.
The lines had blurred, until he walked around with a constant erection and woke from lustful dreams of her naked in his bed. He was slowly being driven insane, until that one late night in the office pushed them both over the edge.
“I hate this software system,” he grumbled, banging on the keyboard as columns of numbers flashed in front of him. “It sucks. Why did we have to upgrade?”
“Because it’s better, and once we’re trained, it’ll be worth it.”
Her calm dismissal of his grumpiness only irritated him further. Her outfit was driving him nuts. Weren’t redheads supposed to stay away from pink? Well, she’d broken that damn rule. The hot-pink little suit barely covered her curves, and the conservative white blouse only emphasized the illegal length of her skirt. Her hair was loose today, and extra wild, as if teasing him to try to tame the strands.
To try to tame her.
He told himself to focus, but he was really directing the order at his dick.
“It’s not calculating the supply orders properly. I don’t have time for this, Syd.”
“Here, let me show you.” Her scent whispered behind him, tantalizing. She leaned over behind his chair, her breath rushing against his ear, the full curve of her breast pressing into his shoulder. “You need to hit the equal button and make sure you highlight this column. Then drag it over. See?”
Her scarlet-tipped nails clicked deftly over the keys. His muscles tensed as her hair brushed his cheek. Both her arms stretched forward, caging in his body.
He bit back a tortured groan. Slowly she withdrew and placed her soft hands on his biceps. Then squeezed.
He stilled. Dragged in a breath. And waited for her to move away.
She didn’t.
“Tristan?”
His name on her lips was a question that burned with need. Smothering a vicious curse, head pounding with desire, he swiveled his chair around to look at her. His dick strained against his pants at the naked want gleaming in her green eyes.
“Be sure you know what you’re doing, Syd.” His body craved to pull her into his arms and show her every pleasure a man could bring. “I don’t fool around with little girls.”
She surprised him with her boldness. Though her hands shook, she slid onto his lap, looping her arms around his neck. Her touch burned through his shirt. He could practically smell her arousal, her nipples straining against her blouse, begging for his mouth. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Tristan.” Her voice was full of smoke and sex, leaving innocence behind. “I know things you don’t think I do.”
The rage that shook through him at the idea of her being with some clumsy boy egged him on. He growled and twisted his fingers in her hair, tugging back her head. Her pupils dilated with arousal, no fear reflected on her face. “I don’t like a tease, either.” He gave in to the need to taste her, bending to swipe his tongue down the exposed curve of her neck. She shuddered. “Are you a virgin?”
Color flooded her cheeks. He was ready to stop right then and there, but she arched toward him, gaze fastened on his. “Yes. I’ve been waiting for you.”
He closed his eyes, fighting for control. His ego screamed with satisfaction that he’d be her first, that he’d be carved in her memory for the rest of her life, that he could make it so good for her, she’d never forget him. “Be sure,” he said again. “Your virginity is a gift, Syd. I don’t intend to screw with it.”
“I know exactly what I want, Tristan Pierce.” She looked him straight in the eye with resolve and a raw ache that ripped at his heart. “I want you.”
He didn’t need any more convincing. Keeping her head still, he took her lips with his and drowned in pure sweetness and exotic spice. He devoured her with a hunger he’d never experienced before. She burned up in his arms, her skin blistering hot, her mouth and tongue and lips giving back to him with both inexperience and eagerness. The kiss became an explosion of hidden wants he never even knew he had, and Tristan feasted on her body without regret or apology.
His fingers dove under her tight little skirt, brushing against the lace of her panties, savoring the sopping wetness he found there. She jerked in his arms, eyes wide open in pure surprise. “You like that?” he murmured, moving his thumb to rub softly against her clit. She writhed in questing need, grinding her sweet pussy against his thumb, trying to get there. He refused to take her virginity tonight. Sydney didn’t deserve a quickie on the office chair, but God, his entire body pulsed with a raw ache that desperately needed fulfillment. “Answer me, baby.”
Her face turned red, but she gave him what he needed. “Yes. Oh, I need—more—”
“I know. Let me play a bit. Show you how good I can make you feel.” His index finger slipped under the elastic at the same time that he opened the top buttons on her shirt to reveal her breasts. Clad in delicate white lace, she was a vision in front of him, and he wondered if he was going to come in his pants like a kid. He closed his mouth around one stiff nipple and sucked her through the lace while his finger traced the swollen folds of her sex, ramping up her need. She writhed in his lap, dragging her thigh against his erection, caught in the pleasure only he could give her. Mesmerized by each expression flickering over her face, he pushed his finger inside her tight channel, groaning at the way she tightened around him.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he growled, his teeth scraping against her hard nipple. “Give me more. Don’t hold back.”
“Tristan, oh, God, it feels so good.”
He pulled down her bra and sucked on her nipple, adding another finger inside of her. With controlled motions, he played her, bringing her slowly to the edge and keeping her there, until her clit throbbed with need and her teeth sank into her lower lip, her head thrashing back and forth as she reached desperately for climax.
His blood roared in his veins, and he knew he couldn’t take another moment. “Let go, baby. Come for me.”
He rubbed her clit and bit down on her nipple at the same time.
She screamed, jerking in his arms as the release washed over her. He cursed and studied her face, drinking in the shocked satisfaction, reveling in her response to his touch. He kissed her again, murmuring softly against her lips, taking her down with care.
She collapsed on his lap, still holding him. Tristan wrapped his arms around her and held her just as tight, not wanting her to regret a single act they’d done together. She’d surprised him with her erotic surrender mixed with the pure honesty she always reflected. It was a heady combination.
“Are you okay?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Mmm,” she murmured against his chest.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” He stroked her, and she purred like a cat, and all he could think about was how fast he could make her come again. “We work together. My brothers would freak. My father would kill me. Baby, I don’t know where this can go between us, and I don’t want to hurt you. I’d rather die than hurt you.”
“I know. But I can handle it, Tristan. Why can’t we take it slow and see what happens? We don’t have to tell anyone. It can be our secret.”
“Is that what you want?”
He held his breath. His head warned him if he took this road with her, everything could change. But something in his gut drove him forward: a need to dive deep and discover everything this woman had to give. He waited for her answer, swearing that if there was even a glint of wariness, he would let her go.
Slowly she raised her head and treated him to a sexy, sleepy smile. “What I want is for you to do that again.”
So he did.
“The parking garage is that way. We can walk to Carmine’s,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.
He got himself together. This was about business. Not stolen kisses in attics or hot memories of bringing her to climax as she sat sprawled on his lap. He needed to bring his A game to Cushman, and he didn’t intend to let his little head dictate the next couple of hours.
“Got it.” He parked. She climbed out of the car, hitching her purse over her shoulder and smoothing down her black skirt. They walked the few blocks to the popular Italian place, known for good Chianti, generous family-size portions of food, and solid service. He tried not to notice the way her skirt hugged her lush ass or the stretch of those muscled legs, flexing due to her high strappy heels. She’d put her hair up in a bun today, reminding him of a sexy librarian he ached to mess up.
He was sure she wouldn’t appreciate his thoughts.
They walked inside, where Adam was already seated. The dining room was richly decorated, from the glittering chandelier to the numerous portraits of celebrities and the sprawling wooden bar that took up half of the front room. Adam stood up to greet them. The man was a dynamo when it came to real estate, preferring to sweep up good property and trust builders and design teams to increase the value. “Adam, good to see you again,” Tristan said. They shook hands with mutual respect. “I’m so glad we’re able to work this deal together.”
“Me too. Sydney, you look wonderful as always.” He pressed a kiss to both of her cheeks in the European manner. With his neatly trimmed goatee, dark hair, and muscled body, he was known to turn a woman’s head, then keep her attention with his intelligent conversation. He’d already ordered a bottle of wine. “I started off with a red but can easily order a bottle of white if you prefer.”
Sydney smiled. “Red is perfect, thank you.”
They exchanged polite chitchat, then Adam swung the conversation to business. “I love that I finally got an investment property in Harrington. Lots of activity going on, especially after the Rosenthals moved there. You’re close to New York, near a marina, and have a pick of artsy stores. Plus there’s money. Everything I want to invest in.”
The Rosenthals were a celebrity couple who’d filmed a movie in Harrington and hired Morgan to build them a custom dream house. She’d done the job side by side with Cal and become an even bigger name in home design. Now Harrington seemed to be the new buzz city for the up-and-coming.
Tristan hated thinking about his small town getting overrun, but he also understood that if he helped with the design and locations, at least he had input. Sydney smoothly cut in. “It’s a great place to live,” she said. “Problem is good land is getting scarce, especially around the harbor. Buying up the Bakery block to renovate a string of custom houses that look upscale is a brilliant idea. Tristan and I already solidified the plans for the first three houses, and we’re ready to move forward. Were you able to go over the cost estimates we sent?”
Adam nodded. “Yes. I love the designs and being able to work with local suppliers. But I’m not sure if that’s going to work out. I’m thinking of going with the Builders Loft warehouse out in Jersey. They were able to offer a very competitive proposal.”
Tristan’s radar began to ping. He knew Cushman always threw a curveball, and this one was a biggie. He’d given them the sample, hooked them like a fish, then reeled Pierce Brothers in. Sydney wouldn’t have been prepared for such a strategy. New York had taught him about the ruthlessness and touch of greed within the property development segment.
The waiter dropped off platters of stuffed artichokes, calamari with marinara sauce, and salad, then smoothly retreated.
He decided to wait it out, hoping Syd would have time to wrap her mind around Adam’s challenge. Tristan hoped he wouldn’t have to dive in to save her, and be forced to engage in the main contest that all males knew best:
Who had the biggest dick.
Sydney filled her plate, nodding thoughtfully. “I understand why you’d be concerned, Adam. Working with an established warehouse definitely drives down costs, but then we’re missing out on the big picture and the true goal of this project. Hiring local brings in a unique perspective, product control, quality, and the loyalty of the town. Depending on one warehouse to complete all eight houses is risky.”
Hmm. Nice volley. He decided to play backup until she needed him to jump in and take the reins. “She’s right. You’ve already expressed reservations about the cookie-cutter products available. Our suppliers will give you houses with a custom feel, and that sells properties fast.”
Adam glanced back and forth, considering. He broke off a piece of bread, buttered it, and took a bite. Sydney took his lead and began to eat, not pressing him for a quick response. Damn, when had she learned the fine art of patience when negotiating? Many grown men weren’t able to stop talking to save a deal for their lives.
“Local suppliers are sometimes difficult to work with,” Adam finally commented. “I’m unsure if it will be worth it. How about this? I’ll give you the first three houses. The rest I’ll move to the warehouse and tweak the plans accordingly. It’s a win-win.”
Tristan admired his savvy, but he knew compromising on a half deal wasn’t the way to go. Splitting the jobs would bring chaos and resentment from the locals. It was a breeding ground for disaster. Pierce might need to walk away from the entire deal. He’d learned that not compromising sometimes led to better profits that he could make up in the future. Pierce wasn’t desperate. And beginning this relationship with Adam on an unbalanced foundation was unacceptable.
A flash of regret settled over him. He’d still try to save the deal, but he hoped Sydney wouldn’t be too disappointed.
Platters of chicken parmigiana and spaghetti were placed on the table. Water and wine were topped off. Sydney filled her plate, rotating her fork with deft expertise, seeming to relish the meal with no nerves. She dabbed at her lips with her white napkin.
“Sorry, Adam. Pierce won’t be able to compromise on that issue. I’m afraid this is an all-or-nothing deal.”
The businessman blinked, suddenly looking curious. “You’d give up three solid houses just for the other five? It doesn’t make good business sense. You’ll still be ahead with profit margins, and if this works out, I’ll consider a future deal.”
“This is the deal we need to close,” she said firmly. “I’m not screwing my suppliers, who already agreed to take a discount in order to meet your needs on this project. And please don’t forget the zoning in Harrington is extremely strict. Problematic, actually. Fortunately, Pierce Brothers is well-known and can smooth over a lot of bumps.”
Tristan tried not to gape like an idiot. Why didn’t she seem off balance? She’d threatened Cushman. Oh, it was subtle, but the consequences were clearly stated beneath the fluff. He was used to her glancing at him for support and following his lead. When he used to occasionally force her to meet clients, she’d duck her head, a lovely blush staining her cheeks. He’d nod in encouragement and help her through the discussion, then sit back and revel in her wide-open admiration of his skill.
Now he’d been neatly pushed to the sidelines.
She simply didn’t need him like that anymore.
Adam considered her words, swirling the wine around in his glass. “Interesting. I hadn’t expected any . . . problems in that area.”
She kept her smile flawless, as if she had no idea what he meant. Tristan bit back a chuckle. “Oh, you wouldn’t have any of those problems with Pierce. What did you think of the actual design plans for the remaining homes?”
“I like them,” he said almost grudgingly. “I like a lot you’ve done, and that’s why I want to work with you.” Respect edged his gaze. “So, I’ll give you my final proposition. I want an additional five percent cut if we use all your suppliers. Get me that, and I’ll sign the rest of the contracts. Then we’re in business.”
She shook her head. “They’ve already taken a substantial cut.”
“An additional five percent for this job is what I’m asking. Let’s get it done.”
She took her time. Forked up more pasta. Tristan waited for her to check in with him, even via a veiled glance, but she seemed to be running this whole deal on her own. He kept quiet, not wanting to ruin her mojo at the moment.
“I’ll discuss it with them. Give me three days.”
“You have two. I need to get moving on this.” His shark smile was hidden under buckets of charm. “You understand how much I want you to take this deal, don’t you?”
This time, she glanced over. He jumped right in.
“We do, too, Adam, but you’re still looking for a lot. We’ll get back to you in two days, but then I want copies of the contract expressed to us in a twenty-four-hour time frame. We need to know about your commitment, too.”
“Agreed.” Adam grinned. “Let’s have a toast.” They raised their glasses. “To a fruitful prospective partnership.”
Crystal clinked. They spent the rest of lunch going over details, and Tristan and Adam shared stories of their time in Manhattan when they had tried to take the real estate world by storm. But the whole time he was aware of the woman sitting beside him. She’d come into her full power.
It was sexy as hell.
And he didn’t know what he wanted to do about it anymore.