Dirty Rowdy Thing (Wild Seasons, #2)(67)

God, this is hard to do when his slight edge has returned. Pushing forward, I say, “I had an idea at Salvatore’s the other night, but didn’t want to mention it to you until I got a sense from him whether it would work.”

Finn’s eyes narrow.

“See, Salvatore’s new production company—along with my dad—is starting filming on this really huge movie in April. Much of it takes place out on the water, on a large boat.”

He continues to stare at me, no reaction at all. My stomach twists.

“I thought maybe he could fix your boats as payment for using them as a set in the spring. And I accepted a job with him, at the production company, so I could be up there with you a lot.”

He nods slowly, studying me. “I’m not sure I’m following what you’re telling me.”

“I’m saying I’ve connected you with Salvatore, and he wants to pay to use your boats for a movie that would film for a few months. But the best thing is they would need weird hours, like middle of the night, so I thought you could still fish during the morning and—”

“You offered my family’s boats to a film crew without talking to me?”

My skin goes cold, panic rising in my chest. “Not offered, I just wanted to see if it could be an option—”

“But obviously it had to go up enough channels internally for Salvatore to call you personally and give his approval. And all this happened without even talking to me.” He reaches down, buttoning his pants. “I just want to make sure I’m understanding here.”

“Finn, I—”

He lets out a short, pissed-off laugh. “Do they even know how much it will cost to fix these boats?”

“Well, they’ll first fix the Linda to use, but then at least it’s a leg up for you, right? I mean, it’s a few hundred thousand dollars or more that you can use to get back on your feet.”

“You’ve already discussed which boats? And money?” Finn’s eyes are so wide it makes me see for the first time how green they can be. “Harlow, you’ve never seen my f*cking boats. Are you even serious right now?”

This whole conversation feels like whiplash. I can still feel the warmth and shape of him in my mouth. My hands are shaking, my eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “Finn, there’s only been a couple of conversations so far. They know you need to fix your boats.” His face turns red, his jaw tightens, and I hasten to add, “They’re really excited to work with you on this.”

“A shit ton of decisions can be made in a couple small conversations. Are they counting on this?”

I feel my stomach drop out. “I think they’re ready to move forward on their end, yeah.”

His expression grows thunderous. “Why couldn’t you have talked to me before you ever approached Salvatore?” he asks, turning and pacing the room. “Why did you think it was a good idea to meddle in this? This is my business, Harlow, this is my life. My family. How do you even know if this could work for us? You’re here shuffling papers and getting donuts for NBC executives downtown while I’m trying to save an entire business my grandpa started when he was eighteen, for f*ck’s sake .

My dad and brothers and I depend on this! I don’t even know what you told these guys!”

“I can tell you everything,” I say, following him and putting a hand on his arm. “When I talked to Salvatore at his place—”

“Aw f*ck, Snap,” he interrupts, not hearing me and starting to pace again. He pulls his hat off, rubs both hands over his scalp and down his face. “This is a f*cking mess.”

This whole conversation has me feeling unsteady on my feet, struggling to figure out what to say to make it all clear that it’s a good thing. “This is money that allows you to fix your main boat,” I remind him, trying to keep my voice steady. “And to use it exactly as you’ve been using it before it broke.

You wouldn’t have to do the reality show to keep your boats. This would allow your business to stay solvent, to work with your brothers and get in front of—”

“Do you have any idea how na?ve you sound right now?”

I gape at him. I can actually feel my pulse in my neck, that’s how hard my heart is pounding. “You know what? Why don’t you call me later and we can talk about this. You’re being an epic *.”

He turns to look at me, flabbergasted. “I’m being an—?” Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and then exhales, opening his eyes again. “Yeah, it’s probably best if you go.”

MIA PULLS THE third mug of coffee out of my shaking hands. “I don’t think you need any more caffeine, sweetie.”

She’s taken precious time away from Ansel to come see me in my crisis mode. I drop my head onto my arms on the table, groaning. “Am I a jerk? Is he a jerk?”

Lola picks at her blueberry muffin. “Both, I think.”

“Can someone please explain the male brain to me? First he was mad about Mom, then I was about to give him the head of his lifetime, and then I’m trying to save his business, and then he goes and throws a huge mantrum.” I feel the threat of tears returning. “What the hell just happened?”

“Well,” Lola begins, “you basically aired all his dirty laundry to a potential business partner for him and offered something you aren’t sure he can deliver.”