“You know what? That does sound great to me.” Now a not-so-friendly smirk made an appearance. “So far the only thing this arrangement has gotten me is a lot of manual labor and grief. It will be nice for things to go back to normal.”

Sloane’s defenses flared to life. She popped her hand on her hip and squared up.

“Grief? So far I’ve managed to score us a boat and decorations for free so the bar could have some much-needed media attention. Not to mention the posts online have gotten more people than normal in through the door!”

“Ha! Free my ass.” He motioned to his shirt. “All you’ve done is pimp me out for yard- and housework for your friends! And where are you during all of this? On your ass inside!”

Sloane saw red.

Why in the H-E-double hockey sticks had she been feeling conflicted about the prickly man-child in front of her?

“Without me, you would be on your ass for the entire festival! At least I’m forcing you to go out and socialize with the same people you want to come to your bar!”

“Forcing me?” He laughed again. One loud, mocking sound. “You didn’t force me to do anything. Remember, I was the one who saved you from Carol finding out your secret. Because you sure as shit weren’t about to fool anyone about you being just another woman—in a very long line of women, I might add—who’s in love with Arbor Bay’s Golden Boy. It’s pathetic, really.”

That was it. That was the tipping point.

Sloane’s face heated from sunburn and anger…and embarrassment.

Instead of yelling back, her voice went low and calm. She might be The Girl Who Said Nothing, but she wasn’t about to keep quiet at that one.

“Maybe I am pathetic. But you want to know what’s even worse? Being the guy we all pass up for him.”

Sloane didn’t wait to see if the insult landed or take a beat to even wonder if she’d meant it. Instead she went to the front door and opened it wide. The word “pathetic” was still ringing in her head.

“And you know what, Brady? If we’re both so pathetic, then maybe we should cut our losses now. It sure would be a lot less of a headache.”

Brady’s jaw was hard when he responded. “It sure would be.”

Then he left.

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

“It’s not that bad.”

Sloane was looking at her reflection in the mirror between the dressing room stalls and trying to rerun the numbers of how fast she could buy a plane ticket, pack a bag, and disappear into the unknown of Antarctica.

Again.