More Than Hate You (More Than Words)

In fact, I called my mom to let her know this morning and sent her a first-class ticket to arrive on the island tonight. She seems elated…if confused. My sisters are sad they couldn’t come—too many responsibilities to travel last minute—but they seem to understand I can’t wait.

Honestly, they don’t know the half of it.

“I-I thought we would get married after the loan was funded.”

And give her time to worm out of this? “Until you say I do, there’s no loan.”

“How do I know you’ll fund the loan once you’ve got what you want?” She’s grasping at straws.

“We’ve signed a mountain of paperwork to that effect. Stratus’s ‘escape clause’ can only be enacted if I pull the trigger. That’s something I’ll only do if you force me.”

The mulish set to her mouth tells me she’s not ready to give up the fight. “I don’t have a wedding dress.”

I hadn’t considered that, but in Maui I’m surrounded by resourceful women. “We’ll work it out. Our plane leaves in less than three hours.”

“If I refuse to go?”

“Reservoir dies.”

Sloan blows out a breath, clearly looking for calm. She doesn’t have to tell me she hates me; I see it all over her face.

Not for the first time, I question my sanity. Now that I’ve backed her into a corner, how the hell am I going to make her fall for me? There’s got to be a way…but right now I’m not seeing it. Panic won’t help. Once we speak vows, I’ll have a whole year to make her love me. I’ll keep trying until I succeed.

“You think you’re smart, that you’ve got me boxed in, that I’m going to give up the fight and surrender my everything to you.” She glares at me as she grabs her purse. “Think again.”

I already know nothing about this weekend—hell, the next year—will be easy. My last-minute text to Evan, informing him that I’m coming home and bringing Sloan with me just before I switch the device to airplane mode is going to cause a stir.

The eight hours of cold shoulder she gives me during the trip feels damn icy.

It’s no shock that, by the time we land, my text and voice mail have been inundated with messages from my boss and best friend. Of course he wants to know what the hell is going on. It’s also no shock that he’s waiting at the bag claim when we land just before five o’clock Hawaii time.

“Hi, Evan.” I’m a nervous fucking wreck as I grab Sloan’s hand and drag her closer.

“Bas.” He nods, then casts his stare Sloan’s way, hand outstretched. “Good to see you, Ms. O’Neill.”

Cautiously, she takes it. “For the moment, yes. I would say it’s a pleasure, but I’m not in the habit of lying.”

Though she doesn’t know I haven’t told Evan my plans to marry her, she’s dangerously close to letting the cat out of the bag—and pissing him off in the same breath. “You didn’t have to come pick us up, buddy.”

“After that text you sent before takeoff, you knew I would.”

Pretty much. “We need to talk.”

Evan’s face tightens, and I see the exact moment he catches sight of the ring on Sloan’s finger. “Clearly. Nia is cooking. You’re coming over for dinner to explain. It’s not a request.”

I didn’t think it was. “Sure.”

“Unless you want to tell me what the fuck is going on now?”

“You’ll want to sit for this.”

Evan scrubs a hand down his face, as if my reply stresses him out even more. “Then get your bags. Let’s go.”

With that terse demand, he stalks to the door, withdrawing his phone from his pocket to make an angry call.

Sloan turns to me as we wait for the baggage carousel to start. “So he really is Satan.”

“He’s not.” I feel compelled to defend Evan, despite the fact I know he’s going to chew me a new asshole before the night is over. “I’m putting him in an awkward position. He’s not happy.”