Chapter 2

“I want things to be perfect. I don’t want them to be shitty and broken like everyone else’s family.”

Juno MacGuff, Juno

Ronan thought he was prepared for this. He’d looked Hope and Kevin up online, had researched the previous productions they’d worked on, and had scoured a back issue of West Coast Film magazine that sang Hope’s praises as being one of the most organized and bright up-and-comers the industry had seen in a while. Hell, he’d even called Chuck, who’d filmed at the Buoys last summer, to get his thoughts, and while Chuck hadn’t worked with Hope before, he claimed Kevin was one of the best in the business.

Yeah, well, that best in the business just stumbled off the plane gripping a full barf bag and reeking of mouthwash. Ronan wasn’t prepared for a cameraman with motion sickness. He wasn’t prepared for how much equipment and stuff they brought with them. He wasn’t prepared for Hope to be prettier in person than in her pictures, he wasn’t prepared for her voice to be even softer than he remembered from that damn conference call with Luka, and he sure as hell wasn’t prepared for the first thing out of her mouth to be about blood-squirting toads.

He still couldn’t believe she’d said it. Worse, he couldn’t believe that he’d laughed and answered the way he did.

“Nope, didn’t know that,” he’d chuckled. “Did you know there’s a town in Newfoundland called Dildo?”

Of all the things he could have said, of all the information he had stored in his thirty-five-year-old brain, that was the best he could come up with? He’d have been better off keeping his big piehole shut, like Liam and Finn had begged him to.

Thank God he didn’t have time to say anything else, because Liam met them at the door, helped stack their bags near the stairwell, then led them into the Buoys’ pub, where Jessie Todd was handing tall glasses of Guinness to the newcomers.

Ro ducked behind the bar and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, then perched on the stool next to Liam and waited while Chuck finished getting everyone acquainted. First, he introduced Hope and Kevin to Kate Hadley, who had come to the Buoys a year ago to convince the O’Donnells to sell and ended up staying because of Liam. Next they met Jessie, who’d worked at the Buoys for the better part of the last fourteen years and who, by some sort of crazy miracle, had flipped Finn’s world on its ear.

His brothers called it love, said they’d finally figured their shit out, and from what Ronan could tell, it sure looked as if that was true. But Ronan knew that looks could be deceiving. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Kate and Jessie, because he did. Hell, he’d hardly balked when Finn said he wanted to add both their names to the Buoys’ deed last fall. But the truth was, the O’Donnells didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to women, and Ro’s ex-wife, Mandy, was living proof of that. He was still paying for the mistake of thinking he’d had his shit figured out with her.

That wasn’t a mistake he planned on making again, and now that he was back at the Buoys for good, he was going to make damn sure the level of craziness that had gone on here last year got dialed back a little.

They had a lodge to run, and with none of them working anywhere else, they needed to keep focused on making this place profitable. And fast. That was the only reason he’d agreed to this harebrained idea with Hooked in the first place.

When everyone had a glass, Liam made a quick toast, then pointed toward the tables, indicating the crew should all sit, get comfortable. Chuck and Kevin didn’t hesitate, but Hope raised her hand, took a long pull on her beer, then licked the foam from her lip and nodded.

“Wow, that’s good.” Still she didn’t sit down; instead, she dropped her huge tote bag onto the nearest chair with a thunk then pressed her glass against her chest and glanced at everyone in turn—everyone except Ronan. “I just want to thank you again for having us here and to make sure you’re all still okay with everything. I know it’s been a hard go with some of the changes we made to the original agreement you guys signed and—”

“Cha.” Finn’s snort got cut short when Jessie elbowed him.

Ronan should have spoken up and agreed with Finn, but instead he found himself almost hypnotized by the way the rain clung to Hope’s long blond hair, sparkling like tiny diamonds and hanging on even as she shook her head.

“No, that’s okay,” she said. “He’s right. Luka told you it’d be the same crew as you had last summer, and then Ashley and Ryan both left.”

Arms crossed, Jessie looked straight at her and shrugged. But right when Ro expected Hope to leave it at that, she straightened her shoulders a bit and nodded.

“And you agreed to have Hooked filmed here because you thought it was going to be the same fishing show it was when the crew filmed here last summer, but then we changed the entire format.”

“And expected us to just roll over and let people we’d never met move in here and take over.” Finn nodded. “That’s what pissed us off.”

“Yes, we understand that.” Hope cleared her throat as her pale-blue gaze skittered Ronan’s way over the rim of her glass; then she blinked away again.

Shit. It wasn’t that he thought anyone would forget what a dick he’d been during the conference call; he just hadn’t expected to feel worse about it now. But he did, and it was all because of the unease in Hope’s quick glance. She was right to be uneasy, too, because despite Ro’s promise to his brothers that he’d hold on to his temper around the film crew, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to keep that promise, not if the crew was going to be up in his face, as they all expected.

“And again,” Hope said, “we’re sorry it wasn’t handled better. The network thought it was a good idea to use your lodge as our base, and we think they’re right on that, but it was wrong not to run ideas by all of you before we decided to change the actual format of the show.”

Damn right it was wrong, Ronan mused. Hooked could film there all it liked; that didn’t mean the network or anyone else was about to get free rein over the Buoys.

“Like Luka said,” Hope went on, “we’re not going to have our cameras rolling twenty-four/seven, and we’re not going to do anything you guys aren’t completely comfortable with.”

Ronan stifled a grunt behind his mug. He might not have been in the best frame of mind during that conference call, but he remembered exactly who said what, and Luka hadn’t said anything of the sort.

Even after Ronan made it clear what the network could do to themselves, Luka continued to try to downplay the whole thing. She talked over them, blathering on about how the new format would work, how they’d all be part of the show now, both at the lodge and on the boats, how the cameras would “only” roll from Sunday afternoon to Wednesday evening and that the focus would be on the family, not just on the fishing.

And when Jessie questioned Luka on what, exactly, the show would be about, Luka said the production company had story producers who would dig up ideas in the everyday running of the lodge and build weekly episodes out of those.

Not once, though, did she ease any of their concerns.

It was Hope who’d assured them that their comfort was paramount to the show working. It was Hope who said they wouldn’t film anything Ro and the rest of them weren’t comfortable with, and it was Hope who said the crew would never do anything to infringe on anyone’s privacy. And as much as the Buoys needed the promotion Hooked would give it, if it hadn’t been for those assurances, none of them would be sitting here right now, so why was Hope giving Luka the credit?

“Obviously, the network is like any other business,” she said. “It’s out to make money, and the suits think that focusing on you guys as a family as well as the fishing is going to be a big moneymaker—not just for us but for you, too. And in the end, that’s what we all want, right? To be rich and famous?”

As Ronan watched, both of his brothers shrugged—reluctantly, sure, but they still shrugged, which was as good as agreeing with her. What the hell?

“No.” His one thundering word hung in the air as every set of startled eyes turned to him. “What the hell are you talking about? That’s not what we want. We’re not doing this to get rich and famous. Are we?”

Ignoring Hope and her crew, Ro shoved off his stool, took a couple of steps away, then turned and zoned in on his brothers, Kate, and Jessie.

“I thought we agreed to this because it was going to help put the Buoys back on the fishing world’s radar. I thought we were doing it so we could show people that even though we don’t have a stupid spa or giant marble pillars at the front door like most of the other places, we’re still the best damn fishing lodge on the entire West Coast.”

The louder he got, the more that Kevin idiot seemed to smirk and the more Hope winced, but Ronan couldn’t stop. Not now.

“I thought we were doing this so that eventually we’d build our client base up to where it was before Da shut this place down, so that one day we could go back to running it the way he did, the way I thought we wanted to—without cameras or hoopla or any of that other bullshit! Just us, the guests, and the fish—am I wrong on that?”

“Of course not,” Jessie said, twisting so she faced Ro head-on. “That’s what we all want, but the reality is that it takes money to make any business successful, and in order to make that money, we need the publicity Hooked can give us.”

“Yeah, I get that, but—”

“Like it or not,” Liam said, “the days of running the Buoys quietly are a thing of the past—at least for the foreseeable future. So we don’t really have the luxury of saying no thank you to anyone who’s offering us wealth and fame right now.”

“The Hooked episode they filmed last summer garnered us more reservations for this season,” Jessie went on. “But even with that, and with the fact that people are coming here because they want to meet the ex-MLB’er and the fish whisperer”—she glanced meaningfully at Liam and Finn—“we’re still only about half booked for the season, Ro, and our first guests arrive Sunday afternoon.”

“I know,” he growled. “And I’m not saying we turn down the money, because that’s stupid, but there’s a big difference between the five of us getting rich and famous in our fifteen minutes of fame and the Buoys being seen as a reputable fishing lodge. And before we do anything else, we need to be very clear about where those lines are and which way we want to go.”

No one said anything for a second, but just when Liam opened his mouth, Hope’s voice cut through the silence.

“You’re right. That was a bad choice of words on my part, and I apologize. I was just trying to…I don’t know…lighten it up a little, I guess.”

As Ro swung his gaze her way, she turned her face away so she was looking at Jessie instead.

“You all made it clear that you don’t want your lodge turned into a joke, like some of the other places on reality-TV shows, and we completely respect that.”

Her gaze shifted first to Kate, then to Liam and Finn, but that’s where it stopped.

“It’s going to be a balancing act for all of us,” she said. “And as you know, you’re only locked in for the first six episodes at this point, so if we haven’t proven ourselves to you by the time we wrap those, you’re free to kick us off your island.”

Finally, with what seemed like a heap-load of reluctance, she turned her eyes to Ro.

“I’m really hoping you won’t feel the need to do that,” she said, blinking away from him again and smiling at the others. “And I’m going to do everything I can to make you want to sign on for the rest of the season, but I’ll need your help to get us there, so what d’you say?”

All eyes turned to Ronan, as if he had the final say. He didn’t, and he knew that. Filming Hooked here all season would be great for the Buoys, there was no question about that, and the contract was already signed, so it wasn’t as if they could back out anyway, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about all those cameras prying into their private lives.

“Nothing happens without our consent,” he said. “And the cameras aren’t on twenty-four/seven.”

“Right,” Hope said, nodding toward the floor. “As we explained before, the insides of bedrooms and bathrooms are off-limits. We’ll have cameras set up in all the main areas of the lodge and around the grounds, but they’ll be programmed to shut off at eleven p.m., just as we agreed.”

What else could he do but nod? He knew he was being a dick about the whole thing, but he couldn’t help it. There’d been way too many changes way too fast for his liking, and if they didn’t keep a tight grip on things, who the hell knew what would happen?

“Great!” Hope’s smile wasn’t very bright, but at least she tried; that was more than Ro did.

She tipped her glass in a small salute, then pulled out the empty chair next to Kevin and sat down. A second later, Jessie pulled up a chair next to her, and just like that everyone was talking. Everyone except Ronan.

Unlike his brothers, who’d clearly gone soft thanks to Kate and Jessie, Ronan wasn’t quite ready to fall in line. So while the rest of them jumped right into easy conversations about what the flight had been like coming in, how sick Kevin had been (that earned him a short glare from Hope), and the projected forecast for opening, Ronan stayed where he was, watching and listening.

They’d all be working together, so of course they’d need to get along, but that didn’t mean they should instantly be best friends. This was a business decision and nothing more, because at the end of the day, no matter what happened, neither Hope nor the company she worked for gave a royal shit about the Buoys or the O’Donnells. It was like she said—they were in it to get rich and famous.

While everyone else talked, Ro sat there sipping his coffee and watching Hope. And, no, it wasn’t just because she was good-looking (freakin’ gorgeous, actually); it was because he was waiting for her to flinch, to give some kind of sign that her bright smile was nothing more than a front.

Annoyingly enough, though, the only time that pretty smile of hers faltered was when she caught him looking at her. The first time she caught him, her eyes widened a little before quickly glancing away, but the second time must have wigged her out, because she downed the rest of her beer, then set the glass down and pushed up from her chair.

“Hate to be the gray cloud here, but we’ve got a lot to do before you guys open next week, so we should get to work.”

“Right.” With a short nod, Jessie stood up, too. “Kate and I’ll show you to your rooms downstairs, and then once you’re settled, I can take you around so you can get a feel for the place.”

Chuck and Kevin pushed back from the table and, together with Hope, they followed Jessie and Kate out of the pub and toward the pile of bags. And while Liam and Finn stayed right where they were, perched on their chairs, Ro grabbed one of the trays and a clean wet cloth and started cleaning up the empty glasses.

“Jesus, Ro,” Liam muttered, keeping his voice down. “You said you wouldn’t be a dick.”

No; he never said that. He said he’d keep his mouth shut, and he’d tried to, but he couldn’t sit back and watch Hope or anyone else try to change what the Buoys was.

“I’m not being a dick.”

“No?” Liam tipped his head toward the spot where Hope had been sitting a minute before. “Well, I’d have to say Hope would argue that point. In case you hadn’t noticed, she could barely look at you.”

Oh, he’d noticed, all right.

She didn’t seem to have any trouble looking at anyone else, but in the brief times she glanced at him, she looked as if she were ready to tase him if he went anywhere near her, and after what he’d said to her outside, he couldn’t really blame her. Shit, harassment suits got filed for less than that these days.

Idiot. So much for dialing back the crazy.

With a sigh, Ro said, “I just don’t want them walking in here and thinking they own the place, that they own us, or that they can do whatever they want and then walk away. We need to stay in charge of what happens here, and I’m not having our personal shit get thrown out there for the whole world to see, either.”

“First of all,” Finn snorted, “we’re talking about a cable fishing show, not the World Series, so let’s try to keep it in perspective about who’s watching our shit get thrown around. And second of all, if you don’t want something to end up on the show, don’t talk about it. I mean, come on, Ro, we’ve spent our whole lives not talking about shit, so what makes you think we’re suddenly going to open up and have Oprah moments now?”

“Because you two already did.”

That shut Finn up for a second. But only for a second; then both he and Liam got those stupid grins on their faces—the same ones they wore whenever Jessie and Kate were around.

“Gimme a break.” Liam chuckled slowly, then shrugged. “Just because we told Kate and Jessie everything doesn’t mean we’re going to tell everyone else. Besides, you must’ve had an Oprah moment or two with Mandy, didn’t you?”

Ronan grimaced. “Fuck no.”

“Never?” Finn asked, his eyes wide. “Well, jeez, Ro, I’m no shrink, but maybe that was part of the reason she kicked you out.”

It wasn’t funny, so why were those two laughing? And why did that make Ro laugh?

“Okay, look,” he finally conceded, setting the tray down. “I’m pretty sure we can all agree I’m never gonna win Mr. Congeniality—”

“Ya think?” Finn ducked in time to miss Ro’s swinging fist.

“But so long as they don’t try to take over the place or stick their cameras up in my face every two seconds, I’ll be as nice as I can be.”

“And…” Liam trailed off, waiting for Ro to say more, and when he didn’t, Liam finished the sentence himself. “You’ll apologize for telling them to go fuck themselves.”

“But that—”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Finn half-groaned, half-cried. “Just do it!”

Ro opened his mouth to argue more, then snapped it shut. His brothers had asked so little of him since the three of them decided to reopen the Buoys, the least he could do was give them this.

“Fine,” he finally muttered. “I’ll apologize. Hell, if it’ll get you two off my case, I’ll even try to dig up a couple childhood stories that won’t make everyone want to slit their wrists.”

“Attaboy!” With a nod, Liam slapped Ro on the shoulder, then pointed toward the door. “Come on, Finn, let’s get going before our paintbrushes harden.”

Without another word, Finn followed Liam out to the lobby and headed upstairs, leaving Ro on his own with the dishes.

Unlike his brothers, Ronan didn’t mind kitchen duty; in fact, he kind of liked it. Okay, he didn’t like washing the dishes, but he liked to cook, and he’d only get to do it for a couple of more days until their chef, Olivia, returned, so he was going to make the most of it. With his fresh-caught halibut cleaned and waiting in the fridge, he finished up the dishes, flung the towel over his shoulder, and headed back into the pub to find the orange liqueur he’d need for dessert.

“Oh!” Hope came through the door from the lobby just as he came in from the kitchen, making them both stop abruptly. “Sorry, I, uh…”

She still wouldn’t look at him. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Her gaze twitched from his forehead to his chin to his throat and back to his forehead, but she never looked directly at him. And what did he do? He stood there like a stupid lump, listening to her stammer.

“I just…uh…I came to…to…I left my bag.”

It took another second, but she lifted her chin a little and finally…finally…looked at him. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person in the world to like, and most of the time he couldn’t have cared less, so why the hell did it bug him so much if she looked at him or not? And why did he suddenly wish he could say something that would erase the unease from her eyes?

Shaking his head clear, he tried to focus on two things: being as nice as he could and not talking about dildos. How difficult could that be?

“Your bag? Yeah, it’s, uh, right here, I’ll just…”

He reached for the bag, then nearly dropped the damn thing because he wasn’t expecting it to weigh that much.

“Lord thunderin’,” he barked. “What the hell d’you have in there?”

Did she flinch?

“I like to be prepared.” She took the bag and swung it up on her shoulder as if it were nothing, even though Ronan fully expected it to knock her over. “Thanks.”

She’d already turned around and was halfway through the lobby, her hips swaying slightly in those jeans, before Ronan blinked his brain clear and hurried after her.

“Wait!” Shit, did she flinch again? Of course she did—he was practically yelling. Again.

He stopped a good five or six feet away from her, waited for her to turn, then wound the dish towel around his hands and forced himself to speak in a tone less…flinch-inducing.

“Listen…what I said before…outside…about, you know, Newfoundland. I don’t know where that came from.”

Tucking her long blond hair behind her ear, Hope looked down at the floor and smiled. Wasn’t anything huge—hell, it scarcely tipped up the corners of her mouth—but it was something. And when she lifted her eyes back to his…well, holy flying shit, Batman, that soft, barely there smile brought out all kinds of stupid in him.

Should he step closer to her or back the hell up? He had no clue. The second she looked up at him, every thought drained from his brain—every thought except for how much he liked it when she looked at him like that instead of as if she was getting ready to bolt. Should he just keep his mouth shut and focus more on tamping down the fire that suddenly flamed in his veins?

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

In all the times he’d ever apologized to a woman—and God knew he’d done it plenty—he’d never had one of them smile at him, at least not until he’d repeated it about half a dozen times. And even then those smiles always seemed to be saying something more like, “Whatever, asshole.” But Hope’s smile, small as it was, seemed real. Still nervous but real. Genuine.

And cute as hell.

“That’s okay,” she said finally. “I could tell you a thing or two about a town in Saskatchewan.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but he didn’t. Instead, he dragged his gaze away from hers so he could think straight again, then blew out a breath and nodded.

“And, uh, about that conference call. That was…the whole day, I mean…yeah, it wasn’t good. There was a bunch of shi—stuff that got me all riled up before I even looped into the call, but still…I shouldn’t have said what I did and I shouldn’t have yelled.”

When he finally looked at her again, he was shocked to see she was still smiling. And that made him smile. Shit, he might even have blushed a little.

“So, yeah,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry about that, too.”

“All right, then.” Hope tipped her head a little to the left. “So no more yelling and no more mentions of anything Dildo. That’d be good, thank you. And can I count on you to keep the f-bombs to a minimum so editing won’t have to bleep too many out?”

This time her smile made him blush all the way up his scalp.

“Well…” He was pretty sure his attempt to smile back turned out more like a wince, so he gave up and lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “I’m not making any promises on that, but I’ll try.”

He didn’t know what, if anything, he was supposed to say after that, and the longer they just stood there not saying anything, the more she looked like a deer in the headlights, so Ro did the only thing he could think of: leave. By that time she was so busy looking at everything else in the room but him that she was probably happy to have him go, so he thumbed over his shoulder and took a step back.

He’d half-turned away from her when her voice stopped him.

“In the movie The Wolf of Wall Street, they drop the f-bomb five hundred and six times.” She blurted the words out so fast that Ronan had to wonder how long she’d been waiting to let them loose. And with her eyes as wide as they were, it was as if she couldn’t believe she’d finally spit it out.

“That’s almost three times a minute,” she said. “World record.”

“Is that right?” Ronan wasn’t sure if she was warning him or daring him, so he lifted his hands slightly and smirked. “So…what? You want to shoot for five hundred and seven? Seems like a lot, but get Finn and me in the same room for a couple hours and—”

“What?” she cried, her eyes huge. “No, I didn’t mean…I just…oh!”

Her whole face turned about six shades of pink, and holy jumpin’ Judas, Ronan had never seen anything as pretty as that.

“You’re kidding.” Her quiet laugh only lasted a second before it faltered. “Oh God, you were kidding, right? Please tell me you weren’t serious. Were you?”

The longer he hesitated, the wider her eyes got, until he finally gave in and chuckled.

“I was kidding.”

“Oh, thank God.” The words whooshed out of her on a laugh that still sounded a little unsure. She wrapped her hands around the straps of her bag and began backing toward the door. “I better go finish unpacking before you start working on that new record.”

Why couldn’t he stop smiling at her? Even after she left, he just kept standing there, twisting that damn dish towel and smiling at the empty doorframe.

Fuuuuuck.