Page 12 of Mad Rivals
It’s a half-hour drive to the site from the office, and I take one of the company cars that comes with a driver so I can use that time to assess my father’s notes and research. They have several multi-use facilities throughout Chicagoland, but this site is the largest plot of land they’ve acquired.
If I’m taking over this company after I retire, these are the types of projects I want to work on. As much as I’ve pushed back against wanting this thing handed to me, the truth is that I’ve always loved to build.
It started with Lego sets when I was a kid, and it turned into 3D printing when I got a little older. Those hobbies were pushed by the wayside when I discovered my love of football, but my body can only take so many more hits before it’s done. That time hasn’t come quite yet, and I suppose going on this bid walk is good experience for what comes after the game.
Though honestly, if a year off to travel came after the game, I wouldn’t say no to that.
I blow out a breath as we approach the site. It’s a huge plot of land, and the client is looking to hire developers who can create a town square with everything in one space. I’m more well-versed in commercial development than residential, but we have plenty of staff members who excel in all the different aspects the client is looking for.
My driver pulls to a stop, and I spot other suits on a dirt lot not too far away. I get out of the car and head toward them,tablet in hand. I’m not the first to arrive, but as a car pulls in behind mine, I’m not the last, either.
I make my way over toward the group of men, and I stand near the back of the group. It’s not a huge group, maybe eight or so others representing four or five companies aside from Bradley Group. A few of the men are chatting, and I don’t recognize anyone here—not that I would. I don’t exactly spend a lot of time in these circles.
I hear footsteps approaching, and I assume it’s whoever got out of the car behind mine. I’m about to glance behind me when one of the guys in front of me turns around and makes eye contact with me. “Madden Bradley,” he says, and there’s a tinge of malice in his tone. “I’d heard you might show up here today. Where’s your old man?”
“On an emergency site visit. Do I know you?” I ask.
“No, but I know you. I grew up near Green Bay.” He gives me a sympathetic look like it was a curse that I played for his team’s rival. “Good thing you’re out of Chicago, man. Maybe now I can root for you.”
I raise my brows. I don’t really give a fuck who this prick cheers for. “Don’t put that curse on me.”
I say it lightheartedly, but I mean it with venom.
He chuckles, and for the first time, I wonder whether I’ll get any sort of advantage because of my name. Will this company choose Bradley as their developer simply because of the advantages of being associated with my family?
The prestigious Bradleys produced seven children. Four football players turned pro. The black sheep baseball player turned pro. And, lest we forget, two sisters with successes of their own.
If I’m here, that means others of us could show up at any given moment. They won’t, but nobody here needs to know that. The client may be a football fan, or maybe a baseball fan, and why wouldn’t he hire the family that has the pull and connections to give him the experiences of his dreams?
Speaking of the client, he starts talking. “I think that’s everyone,” he says, looking around at the group gathered. “Welcome, everyone. I’m Simon Sterling of SCS Enterprises, and our company is excited for this mixed multi-use project. In a moment, we’ll walk through the site to help familiarize you with it and the scope of what we’d like to do here. We have visions of this very space becoming a town square offering residences, office spaces, retail, restaurants, entertainment, and parks. At the end of our tour of the land, we’ll be fielding any questions you might have. Let’s begin.”
The group starts to move, and the developer who arrived behind me steps into place beside me.
I glance over, and I find an older gentleman beside me, and on the other side of him, I spot some fine-looking legs in heels that make absolutely no sense for a bid walk when we’re literally walking on dirt.
Still, I glance up from the legs at my competition and see a beautifully fitted tight black dress that seems familiar, but then it’s a woman’s dress, and I’ve peeled plenty of black ones from bodies in my lifetime.
My eyes keep traveling up, and even though this woman is wearing sunglasses, my breath seems to catch in my throat.
I recognize her.
Holy shit.
It’s the woman from this morning. The one from Starbucks who flirted before I bolted.
Maybe we didn’t exchange numbers there, but life has a funny way of swooping in to give me exactly what I need.
And maybe what I need isher.
She must feel my eyes on her because she turns to look past the old dude, and her eyes land on me.
Her mouth forms a round O shape as she gasps a little, naturally sending a message straight to my cock, and her delicate hand that battled against mine for an iced coffee this morning comes up to her chest in surprise.
“Bradley?” she asks, repeating the name she heard as it was read from my cup this morning.
“Kennedy, good to see you again.”
“You two know each other?” the old guy asks, and she seems to snap out of some trance as she glances at him.
