“How bad was the damage?” Milo asks when I talk to him a few days after the storm rocked the island.

The smart bastard had left Honolulu to visit family in Portland before Hurricane Laurie hit, and he won’t be coming home for another day or two. I’m silent for too long, because he lets out a heavy breath of frustration. “Fuck, Gabe, tell me it’s not a wreck over there.”

“It’s not.” Spinning my office chair around, I peer out the window. While the sun is bright today, the first couple days of the storm were pure chaos. The cancellation of so many outgoing flights left us booked to capacity. With food trucks not delivering on schedule, and several of our vendors closing down to prepare for Laurie’s arrival, our kitchen staff had a hard time fulfilling room service orders, and there were many. No guest wanted to leave their safe haven when the winds were strong enough to whip them away.

Somehow, though, we’d all managed and none of our employees or guests had gotten caught in that bitch Laurie’s crosshairs.

“I really hate it when you’re so vague,” Milo complains.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “A few broken windows, but it’s nothing the insurance won’t fix.” This resort was not only a sound investment; it’s a structural beast. The damage on the outdoor cabanas and bar is so minimal I can handle it myself.

“You don’t think it’s enough to hurt your chances with the investors do you?” he probes anxiously, irritating me. I can promise him a hundred times that everything will be fine, and he’ll still worry my goddamn ear off. “Believe me, Gabe; we don’t need any more shit from them. They’re cagey enough as it is.”

“Like I said,” I growl through my teeth, my brows tugging together as I spot Maggie in the distance from my office window. “It’s nothing the insurance won’t fix.”

Milo launches into telling me about a conversation he had with one of my potential investors last night, but my attention strays to the woman at the other hotel. I haven’t spoken to her since she shot down my proposal a few nights ago, but I’ve told myself repeatedly that the hurricane is the reason behind her silence. It looks like she’s surveying the damage now, along with her mother, a taller man whose back is turned to me, and two contractors. While my resort had withstood the storm with barely a scratch, Maggie’s place hadn’t. From the way her shoulders sag forward in defeat, she’s getting dollar amounts now and it’s not good.

“Whatever happened to that thing you mentioned?” Milo demands, breaking my concentration. I scowl in confusion, but then he adds, “The plan you were telling me about before I left?”

Standing, I lean closer to the window, plucking the shades apart to get a better look at what’s going on next door. The contractors are getting back into their truck, and now the other guy has his arms wrapped around her. When he finally turns his head, I realize who he is. Ryan Iona. And he’s dressed in a goddamn O’ahu Elite shirt, the same crisp white polo that all my staff wears. I growl under my breath. He’s probably on the clock, wasting my money while he feels up the woman who’s supposed to be my fiancée.

I fucking hate that guy, and I loathe him even more now that he’s got his hands on her. While I normally leave disputes between my employees to their direct supervisors, I’ve had to get involved in the past after Ryan fucked half the housekeeping staff and then moved on to our guests. I believe in second chances—I’ve had plenty of second, third, and even tenth chances—but Ryan’s on his last now that Maggie’s in the picture. She has to know what a piece of shit the guy is. After all, he was the reason she’d kissed me in the first place. Plus there was that angry look on her face when he called her during our dinner. There’s no way she’s falling for whatever bullshit he’s feeding her.

“Are you still there or did you hang up?” Milo asks. “About that plan—”

“I’m staring at her right now,” I grind out. He makes a confused sound in the back of his throat, so I shut him down quickly before he can bug me again about the investors. I don’t want to hear about them until I have a clear solution to the problem. “There’s someone I need to go see and then I’ll call you back.”

“Did I mention how I really hate when you’re vague?”

“And I really hate when you ride my ass, but here we are. Give me an hour, and I promise I’ll fill you in on what’s going on.”

* * *

By the time I get over to Maggie’s, Ryan’s fingers are, thankfully, no longer attached to her back. He’s disappeared—hopefully to go fuck himself with a handful of sand. She’s standing alone, amongst the carnage of their hotel’s front entrance, her bottom lip between her teeth as she takes a break from dragging a giant piece of debris. The moment she lays eyes on me, every muscle in her tiny body seizes.

“What is it now, Carter?” Her voice is so raw I stop moving. “The deadline you gave me passed, so why are you here?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Before she can mouth off and tell me to go away, I grab what’s left of the Bungalow’s sign from her hands, hoisting it high above my head. “I came to help you. Now … where do you want it?”

Placing one hand on a curvy hip, she raps her fingertips against the frayed denim of her cutoff shorts and lowers her eyes to the ground. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“I’m not going to leave, so you might as well tell me. Unless you want me to stay longer, that is.” That does the trick. Making a face, she lifts her hand and jabs a finger in the direction of several other pieces against the right side of the building. I take it over and toss it on top of the pile, then turn back toward her. “What else do you need me to do?”

Her head pops up and her full lips drop open in surprise, but she quickly snaps them shut, shaking her head. “Why?”

Walking past her, I grab a jagged board from the pavement and take it over with the rest. I face her and laugh at her blank expression. “Because that’s what neighbors do, Maggie.”

“You’re not going to gloat?”

“And what exactly do you think I’m going to gloat about?”

“Are you kidding?” She stretches her arms out and looks all around us. Thinning my lips into a fierce scowl, I just stare at her until she rips her eyes from mine and folds her arms over her chest. She sucks on her lower lip and scuffs her running shoes together. “You know what, I’m sorry. That was bitchy and uncalled for.”

“It was,” I growl, stalking over to her. “Open your eyes and look at me, Maggie.”

“I can’t do this with you today.” She moves her head to each side, so I skim the pad of my thumb up along her cheek. She shivers. Clears her throat. And then, her lashes part and I’m staring into green eyes that are red from crying. My gut clenches. “Happy?” she whispers.

“What do you think?” I press my forehead to hers. I’m shocked she doesn’t pull away. “You think I wanted this to happen? That I wanted to come over here to find that you’ve been crying?”

She hunches her shoulders and sucks in her cheeks. “No, but it feels good to lash out at someone.” She squints in the direction of the Elite then releases a harsh sigh. “Since your building looks to be in tip-top shape, I can’t help but want to strangle you.”

“That’s not very fair.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not in a particularly fair mood, Carter.”

“What did they quote you?” I lean back and nod at the contractor’s card poking out of the front pocket of her shorts. She doesn’t answer, so I take a step away from her, plucking the card out in the process. Snarling, she snatches it out of my hand. Instead of returning it to its original spot, she balls it into a tight wad and tosses it on the ground.

Hell, this is bad.

“What’s the damage?” I ask softly. “I know another contractor who does good work for an even better deal. I can give him a call once I get back over to—”

“No,” she croaks. “No!”

“And why the fuck not?”

She kicks at the destroyed business card and carves her hand through her dark hair. “It’ll still be too much.”

She’s so defiant. It’s a turn-on and a curse, and I decide to teach her just how much that frustrates me once she’s mine. “How much is too much?” I demand in a firmer voice. “Don’t tell me to mind my own business, either. I want to know because I’m going to make that call.”

She lifts her chin to look in my eyes and squares her small shoulders. “At least one-fifty. Maybe more, maybe a little less. We—” Her nostrils flare, and I swear she’s about to cry. Fuck, I won’t be able to handle her tears in person. After a long pause, she huffs out a breath and gives me a stony expression. “The insurance lapsed. We don’t have the money so we’re done.”

From where I’m standing, I notice that her dad has driven his chair to the front door of the Bungalow. He’s watching us carefully, his face creased with worry. I’ve only spoken to Henry a handful of times, but I like him. He’s been a good neighbor and hasn’t given me any shit about purchasing the place next door or the parties that go on. For a moment, I feel like a certified dick for wanting to use this situation to my advantage because Maggie’s family is so nice.

But, at the end of the day, my advantage is her gain too.

“You know what you have to do, don’t you?” My plans for my hotel are in the millions—money that I need investors for because I sure as fuck can’t pull it off alone without personally bankrupting myself. Maggie, on the other hand, only needs one-fifty. I can do one-fifty without even blinking. She takes in the expression on my face and presses her fist to her mouth. “Look, Maggie—”

“God, don’t say it, Gabe,” she whispers, shaking her head and backing away.

I stop her, gently closing my fingers around her wrist, but she doesn’t draw away. Not when I tug her close to me or when that dick Ryan reappears from behind the building and shouts out her name. She starts to turn in his direction, but I cup her chin. I want her attention on me, not that little shit.

“Why don’t you want me to say it?” I demand.

“Because,” she murmurs. “I might say yes. I might—”

“Marry me, Maggie.” She moans, sounding like a wounded animal. I never thought a woman would be close to tears just at the prospect of becoming my wife. “You’re wounding my pride. Would it really be so bad?”

“I—” She whimpers again and licks her lips. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

“Then marry me. At least then you’ll know this will all be taken care of.”

Stumbling away from me, she covers her face with her hands. It takes me a second to realize she’s moving her head up and down. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

Ryan finally reaches us, out of breath and glaring at me. He can do it all fucking day long because she’s just given me the answer I want.

“What’s going on here?” he demands, touching her shoulder. She jerks away from him and I grin. That’s my girl. “Maggie, is—”

I speak up before he can utter another word, leveling him with a challenging stare. “You’re not on the clock are you?” I flick my hand out at his O’hana Elite attire—the polo and khaki-colored cargo shorts. “Because I’m damn sure you’ve crossed over the property line.”

He plants his feet in a wide stance and a vein jumps in his neck. “I’m using my lunch break to help a friend.” I make a note to personally check the time sheets because there’s nothing I’d love more than to fire this dick. He strokes Maggie’s shoulder, and I feel a wave of pure joy when she cringes again. He pretends not to notice her reaction, furrowing his brow in bullshit concern and asking, “Are you okay, Mags?”

“I’m … fine,” she whispers.

“Fine?” I drawl, and her green eyes ping up to mine and go wide. “I’d say you’re better than fine, beautiful.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I witness Ryan fisting his hands. Yeah, let him hit me. I’ll be glad to fire and beat the shit out of this motherfucker today. “Maggie, what’s he talking about?”

I pry my eyes off her and grin at her ex. “I’m talking about the good news,” I say. She groans and shakes her head. “Maggie just agreed to be my wife.”