2. Brighton

"I'm just parking. I'll be right there," I inform my realtor on the other end of my phone as I ease my car into my spot at the resort. I would have been here sooner, had I not gotten a flat tire. Triple A couldn't come for over an hour, so I simply pulled up my sleeves and changed the damn thing myself. I guess dating a car-obsessed guy in high school, who spent nearly all his spare time working on his vehicle, as well as talking about it, finally benefitted me.

I kill the ignition and snatch up my purse. I'd like to have five minutes to at least change my soiled clothes, but my realtor and the possible buyer for the resort are inside the lobby, and I can't keep them waiting any longer. I step from my car and take a deep breath to calm myself. I want this deal to go through, need it to go through, and pray to God, whoever is interested in the place doesn't want to tear it down and construct condos like investors are doing everywhere else along the shoreline.

Honestly, a part of my soul would die if I couldn't keep the resort alive. The ocean has been my playground my whole life, and the staff count on their jobs. The thought of them losing work and seeing the place torn down would seriously gut me. Also, with any luck the new owner will want to keep me on—doing something.

I smooth my hand down my white dress, and that's when I notice the streak of black grease staining the linen. "Oh, God," I murmur, and hold my hands out to discover more grease. I glance over my shoulder, to my family's estate, situated just behind the main lodge. While I want to run up to the house to scrub up and change, there's just no time. I've kept them waiting long enough, and I don't want anything to ruin this possible sale.

I put my big bag in front of the grease stain and hurry up the steps, my thoughts returning to last week, when I had ice cream all over my clothes. Honest to God, seeing Noah up close and personal like that really threw me off. I mean, I've seen him around town during the NHL off season, but I always go the other way. Not because I hate the guy, but because he hates me. I don't blame him one little bit. The way my friends treated him…my stomach cramps in memory.

Crater Skater.

My throat grows so tight it hurts. Why are teenagers so damn cruel? Maybe the better question is, why did I hang out with people who were hateful, and why didn't I stand up for Noah? I might not have shouted names, but by not stopping the others, that makes me just as bad as they were, and I hate myself for keeping my mouth shut.

I have to say, though, Noah looked good. Strong, healthy, confident, and his little girl is a sweetheart. From the rumor mill and social media, I know Camryn's mother ran off shortly after Camryn was born. Not that I've been checking Noah's socials…not a lot anyway. Does he have someone else special in his life? Before we ran into each other on the street, I'd seen him at the park sandwiched between two women.

But now is not the time to be thinking of Noah, or his current relationship status. I need to put on my game face and sell it to someone who wants to keep it a resort. I step up to the automatic doors, and they don't open. Why does this keep happening lately, and not just at the resort. I glance up and wave my hands. I realize maintenance had done some work on the sensor mechanism after our last big storm, but why is it still not working properly? I wave my hands again. Nothing.

It's because the sensors don't register someone as shallow as you, Brighton.

From inside I spot Simon, our concierge, and he comes hurrying over, the doors automatically opening for him. "Good afternoon, Ms. White. Everything okay?"

"Hi Simon. Are the doors not working again?"

Confusion moves over his face. "They've been working fine all day."

I shake my head. Of course, they were. They're just not working for me, a reminder that I really don't belong here anymore because I'm a failure.

"I can call maintenance again."

"That would be a good idea, thanks."

I step inside the opulent, air-conditioned front lobby and glance around. Simon, knowing exactly who I'm looking for, leans in and in a low voice whispers, "The sofas, near the back deck overlooking the ocean."

"Thank you." I start across the foyer, my steps fast as I make a beeline for the sofas. My realtor Phillip is talking to a man sitting across from him, but I can only see the back of our potential buyer.

Phillip jumps to his feet and buttons his blazer as he smiles at me, and the second the man across from him stands and turns my way, my legs just about give out.

Is this some kind of joke?

Noah smooths his hand over his tie as he widens his stance, in that sexy way guys do, and my purse slips from my fingers. His smile dissolves as his gaze drops, to the big streak of grease across my abdomen. This is our second run in this month, and once again I'm a mess.

"Noah," is all I manage to get out, and his brows pinch together.

His gaze slides to my hands, and then back up to meet my eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I…I'm okay." It's a lie. I'm not okay. I haven't been okay in quite some time. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting." I wave my hand toward the parking lot and give a light laugh, even though there are hurricane force winds swirling around my stomach. "I had a flat tire on the highway, and Triple A…" I pause and take a breath, to stop myself from rambling, and he picks up where I left off.

"They didn't come." He angles his head, his brows raised. "You changed your own tire?"

Does he really need to look that surprised? Okay, maybe he does. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and up until a few months ago, had the world in the palm of my hand. Now, however, that spoon has tarnished, and the only thing I have in my palm is overdue bills.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, instead of answering his question.

He opens his mouth to speak when Phillip moves forward and picks up my bag, handing it back to me. "He's the buyer I was telling you about."

It would have been nice if Phillip had told me exactly who the buyer was, instead of letting me find out this way. Then again, Phillip went to school with us. He wasn't in either of our cliques, but that doesn't mean he didn't know about the rivalry. Which is probably why he kept a few details to himself.

I shake my head, working to wrap my brain around this unusual turn of events. "You're interested in White Sands Resort?"

Noah nods and I follow his gaze as he glances around the front lobby, cataloguing the place like he's seeing it for the first time. He's not. It's just that now he's no longer that teenage boy who worked for my father. He's looking at the place through eyes of a grown man, with a bank account that now allows him to buy whatever he wants. I follow his gaze and try to see the place through his eyes. It might not be as posh as it was in its heyday, but with an injection of funds, it could be spectacular again. "I'm interested in looking around, and seeing if it's a good investment."

Phillip claps his hands. "I'm sure Brighton will be happy to show you around, and we have all the paperwork ready for you to take to your investment banker."

I stand still for a second longer, my gaze bouncing back and forth between the two men. Any second now, I expect someone to jump out at me and scream, surprise. But the longer I wait, and the longer they stare at me, expecting me to say or do something, I realize this is no joke.

Noah Jones, NHL hockey star and the guy who hates me, is interested in buying my resort.

Damned if my day didn't just go from bad to worse because what does he know about running this place? No way is he going to keep me on staff. Not that I'd want to work under him, or well, do anything under him. Wait, why am I even thinking about being under Noah? Sure, he looks damn good in his suit, but we have a horrible history and I'm clearly under a tremendous amount of stress.

"Shall we?" Phillip asks, pulling me from my stupor.

I quickly pull myself together, and grip my bag tighter. "Yes, of course." I turn. Where the hell do I take him first? Just then, Phillip's phone rings and he pulls it from his pocket.

"I have to take this," he informs us. "Can you two get started and I'll catch up to you?"

Great, now I have to be alone with Noah. He's probably going to toss me in the pool, or drown me in the ocean, for how I treated him back in the day. I clear my throat and try to remain professional. "Of course. Noah, what would you like to see first? The grounds, the rooms, or the amenities?"

He considers it a moment, a frown on his face. "I know the grounds pretty well."

My throat tightens. Of course, he does. He spent his summers mowing and tending to the gardens, keeping a low profile so as to not bother any of the guests—as per management's instructions. Dad.

"Why don't we start with the restaurant, and then the indoor pool, after that I can show you some of the rooms. I believe the penthouse suite is free right now." That gives me pause as the unthinkable hits. If he buys the place, will he move into our family's estate out back, with Camryn? I actually have no idea where he lives now, so maybe he won't be moving into our family home. It's the only home I've ever known. I take a deep breath, barely fill my lungs. I guess deep down I knew the family home would sell with the resort, but it really hadn't hit me until this moment. I guess I've had too much on my mind to really consider it.

As if reading my mind he asks, "What about the family estate out back?"

I try not to show a reaction even though my stomach is in knots. "Are you thinking of living in it?"

"That would make sense, wouldn't it? I have an apartment in the city, but I think a house would be better for Camryn."

"Yes, I'm sure it would be. She's a really sweet girl, Noah. You're a great father."

Do not ask if he has a woman in his life, someone to mother little Camryn.

His face tightens, and I go still at his sudden sadness. "Just not a great mother," he murmurs. Before I can say anything, and really, what do I say, he continues, "She liked you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I liked her too. You're doing a great job."

He nods, but there's skepticism in his dark brown eyes. I can only guess Camryn got her big blue eyes from her mother. "I get a lot of help from my mother. She just…let's just say she's not been well, and I need to make some new childcare arrangements."

"I'm sorry to hear that." No need to let him know I heard about his mom's illness through the grapevine.

"Thanks, and I'm sorry about your father, Brighton." The warm sincerity in his eyes nearly steals the air from my lungs. Honest to God, I don't deserve sympathy from him. "I know none of this has been easy on you."

"It's okay," I say, as my heart squeezes tight. Trying to stay strong, as I have since his death months ago, I fight off tears. Noah watches me carefully as I work hard to keep it together, but I sense he can see just how distraught I really am about…everything.

A moment of silence as a frown mars his features. "Anyway, I've been thinking about moving for a while, and I'd like to get her into the Sparrow Springs school district. They have award winning programs, and I guess no matter what school she's in, there will always be bullies. I just hope she doesn't fall victim."

My gaze moves over his face as my blood runs cold. But I don't see hatred for me there, and I'm not even sure he's making a point about our past. Maybe he is, and maybe he's just a great actor. I take a breath, as my lungs constrict, and hug my purse to my chest.

"Noah," I begin slowly. "About high school?—"

He holds his hand up and cuts me off. "Brighton. Let's leave the past in the past, okay?"

I take in the warmth of his dark eyes, but there's something else there too. Hurt. Pain. Little boy lost. I nod, my heart aching for the teen with bad acne. He was a nice kid, and mainly kept to himself. He always ignored the verbal abuse, but not the physical. He got pushed around in our junior year, but he always fought back, even if the guys picking on him were bigger. I always admired that about him.

It was in our senior year when he really filled out, and the guys started backing off. Too little too late, because the psychological damage had been done, I'm sure. No one walks away from high school bullying unscathed. I wasn't bullied, but watching it and doing nothing to stop it, has seriously scarred me for life. Guilt by association. I wring my dirty hands together, and note the grease under my fingernails. Ugh.

"Hey," he says, making a fist and giving my chin a light nudge. "Gotta admire a girl who can change her own tire."

I laugh at his joke, as I appreciate his attempt to lighten the mood. "I guess I'm not totally useless." I sweep my arms wide to take in the lobby. "I might have made a mess of this place, but I can change a tire. Not that that in any way redeems me for what's happening here."

He angles his head. "You made a mess of this place?"

I give a humorless laugh. "I have a degree in business management and tourism, and here I am selling the resort because I failed to save it."

His hand lands on my arm, and a wave of heat races through me. I stare into his dark eyes, which are brimming with concern. "Brighton, it wasn't your fault."

My stomach clenches so tight, I fear I'm going to lose my lunch. As Noah watches me, his hand still on my arm, the room spins around me. Within six months, I've lost my father, my boyfriend—because apparently, I'm only appealing when I'm rich—and now, the resort that's been in my family for generations. Cripes, I haven't even had a chance to breathe, let alone grieve my father's death, or the loss of the only home I've ever known.

"Noah," I begin and shake my head under his watchful eyes. I can't talk about this. I'm a failure and he's just being nice, and everything about that confuses me.

Why would Noah ever be nice to you, Brighton?

"Let's get on with the tour." Before I can help myself and a part of me just wants to know for sure, I add, "I'm sure you're missing your daughter, and…" Oh, God Brighton. Way to be subtle.

"Just my daughter." His hand falls from my arm, and his body stiffens as I walk away. My shoes click on the floor as I lead him into the restaurant, which is quiet midafternoon. "I've never been in here," he says as he glances around and it once again reminds me of our childhood social status differences. He was the hired help. I was the owner's little princess. Although I did help out at the resort. It wasn't a hardship playing games with the kids in the pool, ocean and tennis court.

"The food is great. There are chicken nuggets on the menu are a favorite with children. I'm sure Camryn would love them." That brings a smile to his face. It's clear he loves his daughter with all his heart, and that warms me from the inside out, especially knowing she doesn't have a mother. I almost snort out a sad laugh, because Camryn and I have such a deep loss in common. It hurts my heart to think her mother ran out on her, too.

Abandonment leaves you with a kind of emptiness that can never be filled. Or maybe it can for Camryn. With the right love from her father, she might never feel the pain of rejection, and there's time to Noah to find a mother. I'm not saying my father didn't love me. He just buried himself in work after Mom left…and then gambling...and maybe there was a part of me that became a workaholic to get his attention and respect.

I turn my thoughts to Noah as I stand back and watch him walk around the restaurant. He glances out the window at the gorgeous view of the water below and it strikes me that he's now the one looking out, and I'm the one looking in.

"Nice," he says, and puts his hands into his pockets. I stare at his suit, loving the fit on his big, athletic body.

"Come on." I wave my hand, gesturing for him to follow me, and begin to show him around the rest of the resort. We visit the pool, the weight room, the outside patio and rooftop bar, which he seemed rather impressed with. "How about we head to the family estate out back?" I suggest.

He nods and I have the strangest feeling in my gut as we walk to my family's home. The second he enters, standing there with authority and confidence, like he owns the place, it becomes glaringly apparent that life as I've always known it is going to change drastically. My chest flutters, and as I swallow against a gritty throat, I turn my head to wipe the tears in the corners of my eyes. This is all happening so fast, and I'm clearly not prepared for it.

"This is where you grew up?" he asks. I quickly pull myself together and turn back to him.

"Yes," is all I manage to get out.

"You still live here, Brighton?"

"The house is broken into wings," I explain, working to keep my voice from cracking, as I point to the two staircases that lead upstairs. "My father lived in the west wing. And I live in the east. There are numerous guest rooms on the main level here. There's also a kitchen and everything a guest could want down here. We have staff on hand for meals and cleaning." As those words spill from my mouth, I can only imagine how much of a princess he must think I am. "Which wing do you want to see first?"

"Why don't you show me what you want to show me, Brighton."

I gulp, as my thoughts go south. What the hell is wrong with me? Why are my thoughts constantly heading down a very personal direction around Noah? Sure, he has residual scars on his face but they don't detract from his good looks. The man is handsome and big and his dominant presence overwhelms me, but the way my body is warming is ridiculous.

I force my legs to move. "Let's start in my wing. It hasn't been emptied yet, but I'll get on that right away."

"When you're ready," he says quietly, warmth and understanding in his voice. "We'll have to reassign them," he says, as I start toward the stairs.

"Excuse me?"

"The staff here, in the family home." I glance over my shoulder and eye him. He scrubs his face, his gaze meeting mine. "I prefer privacy."

"Yes, of course." My mind races. While I'm happy that he wants to reassign staff and not fire them, it definitely means he won't want to rent me my wing as I'd hoped. That would invade his privacy. Not that I think it's a good idea either. Do I even have any friends I could stay with until I find a place? I suppose I could ask someone on staff to help me out in the interim.

I hurry up the stairs ahead him, and when I hear a sound, like a groan, I glance over my shoulder again and realize my ass is perfectly aligned with his face, but surely to God, he's not groaning because he's admiring my backside. Right?

"This is my…or rather, was my wing." I walk down the hall and open the door leading to my wing. I stop inside and wave my hand around my living room.

He gives a low slow whistle. "Very nice."

"My father's wing is larger, and it has three bedrooms. You'll probably want that for you and Camryn."

"Three bedrooms, huh?"

"Yes, I only have one. That's all I ever needed." I walk through the living room and open a door leading to my bedroom. Noah follows me in and steps up to my bed. He runs his finger down the long oak bedpost, admiring the wood and craftsmanship. My entire body tingles as I think about checking myself into the hospital for some much-needed counselling, because yes, I'm suddenly jealous of a bedpost.

He turns back my way as he hovers near my bed. "Gorgeous piece of work here."

"It is," I agree. I gather up my courage. "Noah, if you do buy the resort, are you going to keep it running as a resort?"

"That would be the plan."

Relief washes through me. "Thank you." He angles his head, confusion in his eyes. "It's important to me."

"Okay."

"The staff are important too. They all do their jobs very well and I don't want to see anyone let go."

"I understand." He goes quiet for a moment as he takes another look around. "Will you stay on?"

My heart jumps. He wants me to stay on? I'm not sure if this is a dream or a nightmare. "Why…?" is all I can manage to get out. "Why would you want me to?"

He touches my bedpost again, deep in thought. "I'll be mostly absent during the NHL season."

"Then why are you interested in buying it?"

Something dark passes before his eyes, but he quickly blinks it away. Unease seeps through my veins, as I try to figure out his motives.

He rolls one broad shoulder as he glances toward my window. "Right location, right schools for Camryn."

He's right. The school system here in Sparrow Springs is top notch, but it does surprise me that he'd want his daughter going to the school where he'd been bullied. There has to be something else going on here.

"Also, it's an investment," he adds. "My investment manager thinks I should diversify."

"You really want me to stay on?"

"Yeah, I'll definitely need your help."

A little bubble of excitement goes through me. It looks like someone has faith in me after all. The resort brings in great money, and if Dad hadn't been gambling it away, we wouldn't be in this mess. That and if I had the savvy and connections to get us out of this mess, we wouldn't have had to sell it. But nope, not going to think about that, because Noah has faith in me, and I swear to God that that's maybe all I needed—one person on my side, believing in me.

"I'll have to look for a place close to the resort once the sale is final."

"You can stay right here. In this wing. You can stay at the house with Camryn and me."

I frown. Why would he want that? I walk to the window, and from the corner of my eye I spot a man sauntering toward the ocean. For the briefest of seconds, I think it's my father, and this is nothing but a bad nightmare. My heart squeezes tight, as reality seeps back in. "My dad ran this place. He did all the recruiting, training and supervising, and he managed the budgets, and maintained statistical and financial records. I'm the event coordinator, but I know this business inside and out…I just didn't know my father…."

Ran the place into the ground with his gambling.

I don't bother saying that. I don't need to. Everyone knows what he did, and the fact that I didn't see it happening right under my nose, and couldn't fix it after he died…that's my failing.

I try not to fidget. "I'm just saying I can step in wherever you need me."

His eyes gleam as they meet mine. "Excellent."

I square my shoulders, striving to look confident. "The resort is still very popular. We just need the right person overseeing it. After Dad passed, I've had someone filling my position as event coordinator while I sat at his desk."

"They're good?"

"Excellent, actually."

"Good, and you've been doing your father's job?"

I nod. "Yes, and while I realize things haven't been perfect, I can continue in the role." I square my shoulders, letting him know I can do better.

Can you, though, Brighton?

God, I've been second guessing myself ever since I've been unable to get us back in the black.

He goes quiet, and I hold my breath as I stare at him. "You'll be too busy to take on management duties."

"Too busy?" I ask, completely confused.

He angles his head, taking in my bed again before he slowly looks back at me. "My lawyer has connections for the managerial role, and I'll put him on that, because I need you for another position, Brighton."

Something in the way he says position, has heat running to my face. Or maybe it's because I'm imagining all kinds of positions with this man, simply because he's standing next to a big king-sized bed. A bed that hasn't had a warm body other than mine in it for a long time. This is ridiculous. Honestly, if this man thinks sex is part of the deal, he's out of his mind. I lift my chin an inch, thoroughly offended. Okay maybe not thoroughly. Partially could be a better choice of words.

God, what am I even saying?

"I'm not interested in…" I glance at the bed as my words fall off.

The corners of his mouth turn up, and I instantly feel foolish. He's not interested in taking me to his bed, and while he's not saying it with words, his eyes are telegraphing the message—don't flatter yourself, Brighton.

He's right. He doesn't want anything to do with me, and not just because of high school. My father taught me early on there are winners and losers. I fall into the latter, and those are the people who get eaten alive. No one wants me now that I'm a nobody with no career and zero dollars in my bank account. I'm a failure and have to do whatever I have to, whatever it takes to survive in this dog-eat-dog world. The people orbiting me know those rules and are going to take advantage of them…of me.

"What position?" I ask, my tail now between my legs, because I'm no longer in charge here and I don't want to be out on my ass.

"I need a full-time nanny, for Camryn."

I stare at him, sure I'm misunderstanding. "I…A…what…"

"You need a job and I need a sitter for the upcoming NHL season," he explains, as I stand before him my mouth agape. "Camryn needs more female influences in her life and you two seemed to really hit it off. You're good with kids."

"We have a childcare center here at the resort and I used to run programs here years ago, but that's different. I took care of them for a few hours a day. I never had to mother them. I don't have motherly instincts, Noah." How could I, when I grew up only with a father?

"I don't want her at the childcare center all day and I'm not looking for a mother. I'm looking for a nanny, and I saw first-hand how good you were with kids. I plan to offer you a very generous salary starting right away, even before I leave for the season."

My heart sinks into my stomach when I realize he's not kidding. Here he told me it wasn't my fault that I failed to save the resort, yet he doesn't trust me in my father's position or to even go back to my old position as event coordinator. He's reducing me to a nanny, someone to care for his little girl. He's the boss now, and I'm his employee. Talk about making that point clear.

Then again, why would he believe I could do the job after I'd failed? I have zero confidence in myself now.

He cocks his head, his dark eyes searching my face. "It's a win/win, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it's a win/win," I tell him and try to force a smile. I'm sure I look like the village idiot on crack.

"Good."

Honest to God, I can't tell if he's being genuine or being a jerk. But here's what I do know. He's in this for an investment, all right. An investment in payback.