Page 46 of Unexpected Entanglement

Rowan and her companions walked to the main house and waited by the driveway for the approaching truck.

“Let me do the talking,” she instructed. Knowing her best friend’s inability to keep her opinion to herself, she added, “Alex, whatever he says, try not to overreact.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Alex bristled.

“I don’t need more issues coming from him.”

“We’ll follow your lead,” Chris assured.

The big, fancy blue truck pulled to a stop in front of them. Rowan plastered on a smile as a man stepped out of the vehicle. Connor Gibbes looked fit for a man in his early sixties. With his full head of white hair, tanned skin, and still trim physique, some might say he was a silver fox. He wasn’t exactly handsome like her dad, but he exuded authority in how he carried himself.

“Mr. Gibbes,” Rowan greeted.

“Rowan.” Gibbes appraised her with a look. “You look well. Different.”

Her eyebrows rose, confused by the assessment. “Different?”

Behind her, Rowan heard Chris murmur to Alex, “Must be the hat—or lack of it.”

“Definitely the hat. Where is it?” Alex whispered back.

Rowan ignored them and refocused on Gibbes. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just wondering how you’re doing. We haven’t seen you in the last two meetings. Your brother told us you were busy putting the inn together,” Gibbes said, sounding as if he was genuinely interested in her well-being.

“I was. I am,” Rowan said without providing more info.

“A big job, managing a property like this. Too big of a job for one person,” he said.

“For one woman, you mean?” Rowan asked sweetly.

Gibbes didn’t acknowledge the jibe, but nodded to Chris and Alex behind her instead. “That’s why I’m glad you’ve got help now.”

Without waiting for an introduction from Rowan, Gibbes held his hand to Chris. “Connor Gibbes. Don’t think we’ve met.”

“Chris Sullens. Pleasure.” Chris shook the other man’s hand. He had no reason not to be civil with the man. Rowan knew his hospitality background would never allow him to be rude, even if she’d told him what a thorn Gibbes had been in her side.

“Sullens,” Gibbes repeated the name with vague recognition.

Rowan groaned inside.Damn it.

“You might remember my friend, Alex Freeman. She’s a chef,” Rowan quickly interjected to distract whatever thought Gibbes was forming with the knowledge of Chris’ surname.

Gibbes’ reaction to Alex was the opposite of his interest in Chris. With one look at Alex’s blue hair, he dismissed her as non-consequential. He didn’t comment, but the look on his face revealed his distaste.

Rowan’s jaw automatically locked tightly at his blatant disregard for women. It’d be a pleasure to clock the sexist son of a bitch on his fucking nose.

Something warm glided over her wrist and covered her balled fist. Rowan glanced at Chris to her right. He kept on his million-dollar smile and engaged Gibbes.

“Rowan told me you own the biggest lobstering fleet on the island,” Chris said. He discreetly and gently loosened her stiff fingers from digging at her earlier wounds.

Blood flowed back into Rowan’s fingers, and she felt the sting of pain and cursed silently at her lack of control. Good thing Chris had noticed it and distracted Gibbes. The last thing she needed was Gibbes telling the island she didn’t have the temperament to run an inn.

Gibbes’ chest puffed up. “We supply a big percentage of the market in the state.”

“When the inn opens full-time, we’ll need fresh supplies of lobsters, fish, and shellfish daily,” Alex inserted. “We plan to have a full-service restaurant.”

“Do you?” Gibbes finally showed interest in Alex. “Where did you cook again?”

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