“Fucking asshole!”

Smack!

My head turns slightly to the side, a burning sting on my cheek. Clenching my jaw, I slowly turn my head around to gaze at the furious little minx dressed in a skintight blue dress who’s practically foaming at the mouth.

Why does it always seem like chicks can’t wait to slap me? Do I have a sign on my face that says Slap Me?

“This is the second time you’ve humiliated me!” Samantha fumes, clenching her hands and standing up on her tiptoes to try to get in my face. She still barely reaches my chin, and that’s in three-inch heels. I’ve heard that short chicks can be feisty, and redheads even feistier. I guess I should have known that going out with a five-foot-tall redhead was dangerous for my health. “I was waiting here for an hour and everyone was looking at me like I was crazy!”

Well, you are crazy.

“Calm down,” I say placatingly, glancing around at the crowd of people flowing around us. We’re in a shopping mall square. I’d just gotten here and barely had the chance to approach Sam before she goes all MMA on my ass. “Something unexpected came up. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

I don’t bother telling her I was handling business for Oliver, my big brother. Yeah, I should’ve called, but I lost track of time. It didn’t seem like it took that long. I know I’m at fault here, but Samantha hasn’t seemed interested in my job before. She’s only wanted to know that I’d be there to show her a good time and then fuck her until she passes out. Usually, I’ve delivered on both.

I would’ve tonight, too, but Oliver cockblocked me. I went into town to check out an eightplex, nothing major, and got held up by an overzealous lady who wouldn’t stop talking. She wasn’t even interested in selling the property. She just wanted to have someone to pour out her life story to. I bet her tenants know better than to hand-deliver the rent checks.

“An hour!” Sam screeches, causing heads to turn as she jerks me out of my thoughts. “We had a date, Tony! A date!”

I scratch at the stubble on my jaw. This is turning left quickly. The biggest problem is, I find myself not really caring that she’s mad. Especially since she just bitch slapped my ass.

“Well, I’m sorry,” I half mutter.

Samantha scowls at me, crossing her arms across her chest. “Sorry isn’t good enough. You know what my girlfriends say? That I made you up. That you are a fictional character whom I only dream about being amazing in bed, and I named you after the vibrator that I carry around in my purse.”

I know I shouldn’t, but I laugh. “You carry a vibrator around in your purse?”

My laughter only enrages her. “That’s funny to you?” she snarls. “It was one damn time, and now you gotta jump on my back too?”

I try my best to hold in my grin, and I hold my hands up in surrender instead. It does me no good. “No, I didn’t mean to—”

“You know what?” Sam yells, cutting me off, “Fuck you! I’m done!”

Her dismissal is broadcast to everyone and their grandmother, and she spins on her heel and disappears in the crowd. A few of the guys walking by give me commiserating looks, but a few are also smirking—single guys who are probably thinking, fuck it, it’s my chance now, homey.

For a moment, I stand there, debating on whether to go after her. After a moment, I shrug. It just isn’t worth my damn time. We’ve only been going out for a month, and she already thinks I owe her the world. The only thing I’ve owed her is what I’ve given back, toe-curling orgasms that leave her knocked out in bed. But she seems to think my getting her off is some sort of privilege. I don’t need that drama. Honestly, it feels like I’ve just been going through the motions.

But the truth is, I’ve been in one failed relationship after another. I always do something fucking stupid. I guess this is another one of those situations. A few times, it was because I was scared to commit. I saw the relationship my father had with my mom. I saw how he left her and how Mom struggled for years, refusing the crumbs from his table. I don’t want to be that dude.

I run my hand through my hair, looking around. I still feel bad for Sam. I honestly didn’t mean to be late. But it’s actually best that we part ways now rather than later. I could already tell she wasn’t the one, so why prolong it?

I rub my cheek. It still burns from the slap, but another girl comes to mind. I fucked that up within a few minutes of talking to her. Shit, I thought I was feeling a naughty vibe from her and figured she’d dig it. I remember the night of the wedding and how she felt for that one dance. The way she looked, and then I went and . . .

I push the thought out of my head. Hannah’s far gone, in another city and probably with a guy who treats her right. Hell, she could be knocked up by now. I only knew her for a second. It was just heated lust.

Fuck it, the night is ruined. I could go catch the movie we were supposed to see. I’d talked her into something decent . . .

My phone buzzes and I pull it out. It’s a text from Oliver.

Hey, I need 2 C U asap.

Sighing, I tap out a response.

Can it wait? Rly not in mood to talk biz right now.

No. It’s important.

Fine. Have it ur way. Be there in 20.

I groan, putting my phone away. There are good and bad things about working for my brother. He’s taught me a lot, and that is something I’m grateful for. But still, part of me hates working for Oliver. He’s so ambitious, and sometimes it’s hard to keep up, present day included. I don’t know how he finds time for his family. He’s a machine.

I leave the mall and get in my car. On the way downtown, I have my windows and rag top down on my convertible Jag and let the wind ruffle my hair. The moon is out, huge and orange in the sky. It’s the kind of night that would be magical except I’ve fucked things up again.

It takes me just over twenty minutes to get to Oliver’s building. I gotta say it looks good. Mindy’s Place is on the first floor, and the small sign for his investment business is on the second floor of what’s still sometimes called the Flaming Dragon building. Despite the funky ass location name, business has been booming off the charts for Mindy. But right now, everything is dark and closed down. Parking out front, I go around the side and down the stairs to the basement, where I find the steel security door open and a dim light filtering underneath the swinging regular door.

I push my way through the door and see that the only light on is the long LED that illuminates what Oliver likes to call the ‘laboratory’, the metal table where he, Mindy, or others try to find new recipes. Oliver’s standing, his chest and head slightly shadowed as he turns toward me. I expected that, but I’m not expecting the guy sitting at the table waiting with him.

“Caleb?” I ask as he nods in greeting at me. “What are you doing here?”

Caleb Strong, my childhood best friend and one of the few I knew who stuck around in this small town. I haven’t talked to him in a couple of days, and he gives me a grin that I’ve known for years, the one that usually means just wait and you’ll see. “I’ll let Oliver explain.”

I nod and look over at Oliver, who gestures with his head. “Sit,” he commands.

I bristle, as I always do when he uses this tone with me. “Dude, what the fuck? I’m not your servant.”

I hate when he pulls the big bro shit on me. It might have worked when I was in my teens. But I’m a man now, and I don’t like being pushed around. Sure, he might have millions of dollars, and yeah, I work for him, but it’s nearly ten o’clock on a Friday night, and this isn’t the White House.

Oliver, as usual, gives zero fucks. “Sit,” he repeats.

I sit down just so we can get on with it. “I let him play big brother sometimes,” I tell Caleb, who only grins. He’s seen Oli and me bump heads before. He knows the game. I turn my attention to Oliver. “It’s Friday night. This couldn't wait?”

Oliver shakes his head. “I’ve been busting my butt, but this concerns us all. I've been waiting months for an answer on this. You needed to know now so you can rearrange your schedule.”

What the fuck is this? I mean, Oli’s always got a lot of projects going. He’s the sort of guy who loves having about a dozen irons in the fire, but he’s making it sound like a goddamn state secret. “My what?”

“How did the look at the property go?” he asks, cutting in before I can complete my question.

“No-go,” I reply. “The lady wasn’t looking to sell. She was looking for someone to talk to.”

Oliver frowns. “Oh, really? And what about the Gallino deal? That one fell through as well.”

“That was bad luck,” I say. “I couldn’t help the owner wanted to pull out at the last second.”

“Maybe . . . what about the Doughtry project?” Oliver asks. “We actually signed the contract on that one, only to find out afterward that the property wasn't zoned for what we wanted to develop it for. Now we’re sitting on the damn thing for another year or more while we wait for someone to look over our application.”

I shift in my seat, squaring my shoulders to display confidence. “We’ll still be able to get back our—”

“I’m getting worried, Tony,” Oliver says, cutting me off. You started off hot, man, but lately . . .” His voice trails off, but I get the message.

I can tell where he’s coming from. I used to be a major fuckup that loved to party. But those days are behind me. I’m not that guy anymore, with the credentials to prove it. Just lately, I’ve had a string of bad luck. “So I’ve hit a rough patch, Oli. Even you’ve told me that not every property, every business you’ve touched turns to gold.”

“I know,” Oliver says, then he chuckles. “Remember when I told you about my sure-fire plan on investing in that deal in Montana? I fucked that one up royally, so I know you can’t be perfect.”

“Exactly. Hell, I even got you that Lakeside deal for a helluva bargain. So what are you so worried about?”

“Relax, Tony,” Oliver says, “I know what you’re getting at. And I don’t think that. I respect you too much to beat around the bush. I don’t think you’re just slacking off. That’s why I want to send you to Hawaii.”

I frown in confusion. “Hawaii?”

“There’s a property there,” Oliver says, and for the next twenty minutes, he fills Caleb and me in about the place. Caleb knew the gist but not details. “Here’s the bottom line. Gavin and I both want to invest, to turn the property into something that can set both of our families up for life. Tony, if this deal goes right, the Steele family is going to have ‘fuck you’ money for generations.”

“I’m glad you have faith in me,” I say confidently. Oliver’s worry about my slipping back into my old habits has me irritated and wanting to prove him wrong, regardless of whether he says he doesn’t believe that. I’m not a fuckup, nor will I ever be again.

I’ll go there, break this bad luck streak, and put all of that to rest.

Oliver looks relieved that I agreed so readily. “Good . . . because Mindy’s pregnant again. It’ll be a huge weight off my shoulders.”

The news hits me like a punch in the chest. I’ve loved being Uncle to Oliver’s two children. “Congrats, man! When did you find out?”

“About two hours before I found out about the Hawaii deal,” Oliver says. “It was like a double-whammy.”

“Damn, that must be something,” Caleb says. “I can’t imagine having kids right now.”

Oliver grins. “They’re a handful, that’s for sure.” He clears his throat, his gaze returning to me. “So yeah, I’d be going with you if not for that. But I’m counting on you to make this happen, brother.”

“Don’t sweat it. The deal is as good as done.” I nod at Caleb. “And what role does he play in all of this?”

“I’ve hired him for Steele Solutions. He’s smart, and he’s helped me on some other properties that needed rehabbing. He’s got an eye for creative ways to solve problems as I’m sure you know from your complete disregard for rules for most of your lives. He’s going to be your wingman, not for chicks like you used to do, but for this… With the two of you working together, you should have no problem closing this deal.”