The One Real Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 1)

Do not rip his fucking face off.

Do not.

I’m going to rip his fucking face off.

Cooper found himself leaning toward him and stopped just in time, reining in his anger, forcing his features clean of reaction, because that would be what the prick wanted.

“I met her, you know.” Devlin sauntered over to him. “Interesting woman. And very attractive. Although she’s no Dana Kellerman.” He smirked. “I always thought you were a lucky son of a bitch to have caught that woman’s eye. But . . .” He sighed. “Maybe it’s the bar, Cooper. Have you ever considered that? All those long hours. It doesn’t really give you much time to look after your women the way they obviously need. Otherwise they wouldn’t keep leaving you.” He gave him a small smile that Cooper guessed was supposed to look fatherly. And it did. If fathers ate their offspring. “I will make you a very generous offer on the bar. It will be enough to start fresh, do something that isn’t killing your time the way the bar does.”

Jesus Christ.

Cooper crossed his arms over his chest, studying him. “Is it stupidity?”

Devlin frowned. “What?”

“You and your fucking persistence. Is it stupidity or just sheer arrogance? I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I am not selling my bar. I’m telling you now”—Cooper lowered his voice in warning—“I’ve just about reached the end of my tether with this shit.”

Devlin gave another heavy sigh as he walked casually over to him, stopping mere inches away. “I came here to give you one last chance to accept my offer.”

“And what exactly does that mean? Are you threatening me like you’ve threatened all the other people whose places you’ve stolen out from under them?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. And this is just a friendly warning.”

What the hell was he up to?

Uneasiness settled over Cooper, but he didn’t let it show. “You come after me, Devlin, you’ll have the biggest fight of your fucking life on your hands.”

“Somehow I doubt it.” Devlin leaned in to say quietly, “What you haven’t seemed to grasp is that money makes the world go around. And I have it, Cooper. You don’t.”

It took everything within him to keep his fists at his sides as every nerve ending he possessed screamed at him to deck the bastard. Instead he stood locked in place, fighting for control, watching Ian Devlin swagger out of his bar with a smug smile on his face.

He was still standing staring out the door when Tremaine appeared in it.

Eyebrows raised as he strode inside, he said, “Was that Ian Devlin I just saw?”

Cooper nodded tightly.

Tremaine’s cold eyes narrowed. “What did he want?”

Finally, Cooper managed to unlock his muscles enough to walk back behind the bar. He touched the bar top, worrying now about his future with it.

“Lawson?”

He looked up at his neighbor. “What the hell is Jessica doing at your place?” he blurted out.

Tremaine sighed as he slipped onto a stool at the bar. “Don’t tell me you believe those ridiculous rumors?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Good.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“The doctor said she had some business with Beckwith before she could leave. She doesn’t have much money so I offered her my place to stay until she’s ready to leave. I spend most of my time in a suite at the hotel, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“I still don’t get why.”

Tremaine shrugged. “It gave her time.”

“Time for what?” Cooper scrutinized him. Cooper had realized a while back that Tremaine wasn’t just the cool businessman he portrayed himself as to everyone else, but it shocked the hell out of him that Tremaine may actually be trying to play Cupid here. “To come back to me?”

His neighbor didn’t give him the truth one way or the other. Instead he said, “What did Devlin want?”

The fury returned. “It was a warning. He gave me one last chance to accept an offer on the bar.”

“One last chance? What does that mean?”

“He’s coming after me.”

Tremaine studied him, surprise lighting his eyes. “You’re worried.”

“He’s got the kind of money I don’t. I’ll fight him, with everything I have. But that sneaky bastard is underhanded, and if he greases the right palms—”

“Cooper.”

He stilled at the quiet way Tremaine said his name.

He gave Cooper a dark smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got more money than ten Ian Devlins. And I like my boardwalk the way it fucking is.”

A slither of reassurance moved through Cooper. “Your boardwalk?”

Tremaine smirked. “Better the devil you know, Lawson. Better the devil you know.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Jessica

Number 131 Providence Road was on the south side of Hartwell and it ran along the coastline. The homes varied from moderate to large there, and 131 was somewhere in between. It was a smaller version of Vaughn’s in style. The gardens and driveway were well maintained, and the white cladding had been repainted recently, because it was pristine and fresh.

I’d passed a For Sale sign as I drove up the driveway.

One thirty-one Providence Road. t rip his fucking face off.

Do not.

I’m going to rip his fucking face off.

Cooper found himself leaning toward him and stopped just in time, reining in his anger, forcing his features clean of reaction, because that would be what the prick wanted.

“I met her, you know.” Devlin sauntered over to him. “Interesting woman. And very attractive. Although she’s no Dana Kellerman.” He smirked. “I always thought you were a lucky son of a bitch to have caught that woman’s eye. But . . .” He sighed. “Maybe it’s the bar, Cooper. Have you ever considered that? All those long hours. It doesn’t really give you much time to look after your women the way they obviously need. Otherwise they wouldn’t keep leaving you.” He gave him a small smile that Cooper guessed was supposed to look fatherly. And it did. If fathers ate their offspring. “I will make you a very generous offer on the bar. It will be enough to start fresh, do something that isn’t killing your time the way the bar does.”

Jesus Christ.

Cooper crossed his arms over his chest, studying him. “Is it stupidity?”

Devlin frowned. “What?”

“You and your fucking persistence. Is it stupidity or just sheer arrogance? I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I am not selling my bar. I’m telling you now”—Cooper lowered his voice in warning—“I’ve just about reached the end of my tether with this shit.”

Devlin gave another heavy sigh as he walked casually over to him, stopping mere inches away. “I came here to give you one last chance to accept my offer.”

“And what exactly does that mean? Are you threatening me like you’ve threatened all the other people whose places you’ve stolen out from under them?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. And this is just a friendly warning.”

What the hell was he up to?

Uneasiness settled over Cooper, but he didn’t let it show. “You come after me, Devlin, you’ll have the biggest fight of your fucking life on your hands.”

“Somehow I doubt it.” Devlin leaned in to say quietly, “What you haven’t seemed to grasp is that money makes the world go around. And I have it, Cooper. You don’t.”

It took everything within him to keep his fists at his sides as every nerve ending he possessed screamed at him to deck the bastard. Instead he stood locked in place, fighting for control, watching Ian Devlin swagger out of his bar with a smug smile on his face.

He was still standing staring out the door when Tremaine appeared in it.

Eyebrows raised as he strode inside, he said, “Was that Ian Devlin I just saw?”

Cooper nodded tightly.

Tremaine’s cold eyes narrowed. “What did he want?”

Finally, Cooper managed to unlock his muscles enough to walk back behind the bar. He touched the bar top, worrying now about his future with it.

“Lawson?”

He looked up at his neighbor. “What the hell is Jessica doing at your place?” he blurted out.

Tremaine sighed as he slipped onto a stool at the bar. “Don’t tell me you believe those ridiculous rumors?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Good.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“The doctor said she had some business with Beckwith before she could leave. She doesn’t have much money so I offered her my place to stay until she’s ready to leave. I spend most of my time in a suite at the hotel, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“I still don’t get why.”

Tremaine shrugged. “It gave her time.”

“Time for what?” Cooper scrutinized him. Cooper had realized a while back that Tremaine wasn’t just the cool businessman he portrayed himself as to everyone else, but it shocked the hell out of him that Tremaine may actually be trying to play Cupid here. “To come back to me?”

His neighbor didn’t give him the truth one way or the other. Instead he said, “What did Devlin want?”

The fury returned. “It was a warning. He gave me one last chance to accept an offer on the bar.”

“One last chance? What does that mean?”

“He’s coming after me.”

Tremaine studied him, surprise lighting his eyes. “You’re worried.”

“He’s got the kind of money I don’t. I’ll fight him, with everything I have. But that sneaky bastard is underhanded, and if he greases the right palms—”

“Cooper.”

He stilled at the quiet way Tremaine said his name.

He gave Cooper a dark smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got more money than ten Ian Devlins. And I like my boardwalk the way it fucking is.”

A slither of reassurance moved through Cooper. “Your boardwalk?”

Tremaine smirked. “Better the devil you know, Lawson. Better the devil you know.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Jessica

Number 131 Providence Road was on the south side of Hartwell and it ran along the coastline. The homes varied from moderate to large there, and 131 was somewhere in between. It was a smaller version of Vaughn’s in style. The gardens and driveway were well maintained, and the white cladding had been repainted recently, because it was pristine and fresh.

I’d passed a For Sale sign as I drove up the driveway.

One thirty-one Providence Road.