Dirty Rowdy Thing (Wild Seasons, #2)(37)

Again, he seems completely lost in thought. The music is pretty loud, but it’s not like I’m whispering. Hello, I never whisper.

“I think I’m going to go over to the music booth and see if Kyle wants to get freaky on the dance floor with me.” Nothing. “Maybe bang him on the bar. Or maybe a little action in the back room.” I lean toward him. “And obviously ‘back room’ is a euphemism.”

“Hey now,” Finn says, pulling his eyes from the television. Finally, a reaction.

“Okay, so what’s going on?” I ask him. “If you wanted a quiet beer session you could have brought Oliver.”

“I just wanted to think.”

“And that you could do alone, or on a run on the beach. So clearly you need to talk. Do you need a sounding board, or a brick wall?”

Finn looks at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Do you need me to help you think something through,” I clarify, “or do you just want to talk it out without interruption?”

“Are you capable of that?”

My face right now. “In fact, I am.”

Finn rises from the table, holding out his hand when I start to protest. “I’m going to explain. I want to talk it out, no interruption. I just need another beer first. Or three.”

He starts to walk away so I call out, “Have Mr. Furley bring me some tater tots, too.”

FINN IS ALMOST half done with his second beer when he finally starts talking. “When I said I was here on business, I was telling the truth. I know it sounds weird, because our entire tiny business is centered up on Vancouver Island.”

I nod, inexplicably giddy to learn why he’s staying in San Diego for so long. I feel sort of special that he’s talking to me about this, but I absolutely don’t let that show. I am poker-facing it like a champ.

“But it’s not an easy business, and it’s one of those things where if you have a bad year, okay, you can pull it out the next. But if you have two bad years, it gets harder. A couple bad years, a big commercial firm comes in . . . then the boats need fixing . . .” He runs a palm down his face and then takes a deep drink of his beer, finishing it and then grumbling a quiet, “Yeah, so.”

I’m suddenly not quite as giddy anymore.

I can tell he’s not going to lay the specifics of his business troubles on me and really, it’s fine because I suspect I would be only marginally more helpful than Kyle the DJ would be in this situation.

But I stay quiet, not only because of my inexpertise, but because I know he isn’t done. I still have no idea why he’s here.

“So about, I don’t know, maybe a month ago, some people called up, said they had an idea for . . .”

He cuts off and looks at me for a long pause. “For a show.”

“Like a fishing expo?” I ask.

Laughing, he says, “No. Like a television show.”

Oh.

Oh.

I lean forward, my elbows on the table. “And by ‘some people’ you mean . . .”

He blinks away. “The Adventure Channel.”

I feel my eyes go wide. “Holy shit, Finn. They want to make a show out of your family business?”

“Me, Dad, Colt, and Levi. All four Roberts boys.”

“And you’re here to start negotiations?” I’m reeling. The Adventure Channel is huge. Finn definitely has a face and body for television, but . . . he’s not exactly warm and fuzzy.

He shakes his head, saying, “No. See, one of our smaller boats was f*cked a while ago, but before our main boat, the Linda, broke, I wasn’t really considering it that seriously. I came down here because both my brothers want to do it, and I don’t feel right making a unilateral decision about it without at least weighing the options.” He rubs his face again. “But I found out about an hour ago that the Linda is f*cked, too. I mean, f*cked. We have maybe five thousand in the bank, and are looking at a repair that’ll cost a hundred grand. Maybe two.” Looking over at me, he says, “Now I have to consider this show, or bowing out of the industry completely. I don’t want this, Harlow. It’d be a circus.”

“Have you talked to the network since you’ve been here?”

“Only a couple of emails. I came down early because of Oliver’s opening, and Colton was worried I was going to have a heart attack like Dad and wanted me out of town.” He glances at me. “I’m meeting with them soon in person. They’ve been sending me promo materials.”

My stomach bottomed out at the mention of Finn having a heart attack, but at his playfully hesitating look and the mention of promo materials, I can’t help my smile. “ ‘Promo materials,’ you say? This I need to see.”

With a grimace, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, fishing out a folded glossy 8x10 of the family sitting on a boat docked in the water. “Here’s one thing they’ve sent.” He hands it to me. “They’ve also made a logo and T-shirts.”

“Wow,” I say staring down at the picture. The lighting is professional, the colors rich. Each man in the photo is the perfect balance of rugged and polished. “This is the extreme fisherman version of a JCPenney glamour shot.”

He snatches it from my hand. “Okay, and you’re done.”