Good Girl Complex(Avalon Bay #1)(75)

“So listen.” Mac sifts through the sand with her toes, picking out shells that catch her eye. She scoops one up, admires it, then drops it back in the sand. “I know I’m out of my depth here. I’m better at writing checks than rewiring a building.”

“That’s no sweat. I know everyone in ten square miles who does this kind of work.”

“That’s what I mean. You know the area, the people.”

There’s an ask coming, and I can’t imagine what it could be that has her dancing around the subject.

“Spit it out, Cabot.”

She rounds on me, arching an eyebrow. “I want to hire your uncle Levi to do the work.”

I furrow my brow. “What part?”

“All of it. As much as he can handle. Whatever he can’t, I want him to sub-contract out to people he trusts. The guys he’d get to do his mother’s house. Keep it in the family, so to speak.”

“Wow. Okay …” I mean, I’d expected her to pick his brain, maybe. Get some references. Maybe toss him a project or two.

This is …a lot.

“You seem unsure,” Mac observes.

“No, no. I’m not. It’s, uhh …”

“A big commitment?” She’s smiling. Grinning, actually. I think this chick is laughing at me.

“I’m not afraid of commitment, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Uh-huh,” she says.

“I’ll commit the shit out of you.”

“Good.” Thinking she’s already won, she spins on her toes and resumes walking. “Then we have a deal. You’ll set up a meeting with Levi so we can discuss scope and an equitable price.”

“Hang on, princess. He’s got other jobs on the books already. I don’t know what kind of time he has. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Details.” She waves her hand at me. “All can be negotiated. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Okay, I’ll put the offer to him if you keep the cheesy platitudes to yourself.”

Mac picks up a piece of driftwood and tosses it for Daisy. “I make no promises.”

I roll my eyes at her back. This woman is kind of insufferable, but I love it. Somehow, she got under my skin. Even when she’s being obnoxious, I’m still into it.

“Be honest,” I say before I can stop myself. “Does this whole thing even put a dent in the trust fund?”

I hesitate to even guess at a number. At a certain point, all the zeros start to run together. The difference between a hundred million and five hundred million is the difference between swimming to China and New Zealand to a drowning man.

She goes quiet for a second. Then another. An apparent unease steals the humor from her face. “Actually, I can’t touch my trust fund until I’m twenty-five.”

That gives me pause, because how did she buy a hotel, then? I know her parents aren’t giving her the money. She’s been vocal about their lack of approval for her ambitions.

“Unless you’ve been a drug kingpin this whole time—I’d be totally sympathetic if you were—where the hell does a twenty-year-old get that kind of cash?”

“You’re going to think it’s silly,” she says, stopping to stare at the ground.

I’m getting a little nervous. Suddenly, I’m wondering if I’d be okay if she told me she was a camgirl or something. Or worse, if she asked me to join her essential oils pyramid scheme.

Fortunately, she works up the nerve to spit it out before my imagination really takes off.

“You remember that time you showed me the funny boyfriend story? The one where the girl was looking for tampons in her date’s mom’s bathroom?”

My eyebrows fly up. What does that have to do with anything?

“Yeah …”

“I built that website. BoyfriendFails. Which spun off to GirlfriendFails.”

“Wait, for real?”

She shrugs. “Yeah.”

Holy shit. “And you made all this money from that?”

Another embarrassed shrug. It confuses me, because what is she so shy about?

“Mackenzie, that’s badass,” I inform her.

“You don’t think it’s stupid?” She looks at me with these big, hopeful green eyes. I’m not sure if I should feel like a dick that she thought I’d judge her for this.

“Hell no. I’m impressed. When I was twenty, I was still burning mac and cheese.” I mean, I’m still burning mac and cheese.

“My parents hate it.” Her voice grows sour. As it does every time the subject comes up, but more so lately. “You’d think I got a tattoo on my forehead or something. They keep waiting for me to ‘grow out of it.’” She makes angry air quotes, kicking sand. “They don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get? Their daughter can’t even rent a car yet but she’s already a self-made millionaire.”

“They’re embarrassed. They think it’s crass and silly high school nonsense. And, whatever, maybe it is. But what’s so wrong with that if it makes people laugh, you know? Far as they’re concerned, my business is a distraction. All they want for me is to frame a respectable degree and marry rich, so I can be like Mom and sit on charity boards. It’s about appearances. It’s all fashion to them.”