Once upon a time, the harbour area had been vibrant, with a busy marina and a popular motel. Then other towns up and down the peninsula between Lake Huron and Georgian Bay that the town sat on had exploded in popularity. There was more to the decline of the harbour area than that, of course, but by the time Josh had returned after a decade on the racing circuit down south, it was dead.
Only the marina had survived, and just barely.
Which meant he’d scored the garage at a bargain basement price. The only price he could afford, given that he’d cashed out his 401k at a not-great-time for the market, and he’d angrily sold his Gran Torino in a fit ofnever want to accidentally remember Monica spread out naked on these leather seats, flushed from a shuddering orgasm, ever again.
He’d poured himself into establishing the garage as a significant, permanent part of the new Pine Harbour. Worked with the Howe sisters across the road at the marina to bring town celebrations back to the water’s edge.
So it should be right up his alley to celebrate another business putting down roots next door.
But even if he could shove the recent, terrifying realization he had a legal mess on his hands—a mess he shared with a woman who never wanted to see him again, to boot—he couldn’t deny that he was tired on other levels as well. Frustrated with work—too much ordinary work, not enough of what he really wanted to do in the more interesting restoration space.
Which was, always, connected to Monica on some level. Those were the dreams he’d confessed to her, late at night as she lay tangled up in his sheets, her fingers tracing lazy figure eights on his chest.
He’d always wanted to prove himself professionally. He was the only Kincaid brother who hadn’t joined the military—who hadn’t served his country and then his community in some meaningful way. Instead, he’d run off to play with loud, powerful cars. That choice had to lead to something with impact, or he’d feel like a selfish child.
And he’d had a plan, a good one. Until he went and fell in love with the wrong girl.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he growled out loud. He couldn’t be left alone with thoughts like that.
Olivia Minelli’s brake job would have to wait until tomorrow.
“Becca! Charlie!” They were almost at the corner, but they turned around and looked at him, bright expectations on their faces. He sighed, although he could feel a reluctant smile threatening on his own face. “Wait for me. I could use some cancakes after all.”
* * *
The pilot’svoice crackled to life. “We’ve begun our final descent, Ms. Fischer.”
Then he gave her a weather update—they’d be landing amidst “wet flurries”, which didn’t sound like something to be cheerful about, at least to this California girl.
Monica checked her messages one last time as the private plane circled the small airport she’d found an hour south of Pine Harbour.
Oh, it was ironic that it took leaving her father’s company and striking out on her own to realize that some of the things she hated to hear from him—like, CEOs never really get to take vacation—actually were true.
She shoved that thought away and called her mother as soon as they were wheels down. “I’m on my way.”
“Good luck, darling,” her mother said, not trying to keep the worry out of her voice. Bianca Fischer had never met her son-in-law-for-a-hot-second, but Monica was very aware her mother didn’t like the idea of Josh.
And her parents were unexpectedly united against Monica handling this herself.
She didn’t care. She needed to see Josh, as soon as possible, and try to get ahead of this. And staying focused on that goal—make this right, and organize a civil divorce—helped her avoid drowning her feelings in a vat of what ifs.
Self-pity didn’t look good on anyone, but it really didn’t look good on wealthy heiresses, and Monica knew that. It was a lesson she was supposed to have learned three years ago, when she played with the feelings of a flesh-and-blood man and broke both their hearts.
In the three days since Amira had called her, Monica had done a deep dive in the rumours swirling about Josh and Wynona. She found the hashtags (#ReboundJosh was trending), and then, to her horror, stumbling across an account dedicated to analyzing public records.
With clear screen shots flashing behind her head, a perky blonde woman detailed how Monica had married Josh in Vegas—and the two had never been seen together in public, but according to public records, they were still married.
That was confusing, stressful news on many levels.
Because she was supposed to get on a plane and fly to Italy. She didn’t have time to deal with her father, but she was incandescent with rage.
On the other hand, she couldn’t risk her father taking matters into his own hands while she was in Italy. So she had to be proactive. She called Amira and profusely apologized, buying herself a few days’ grace before the pre-wedding events really kicked into high gear.
Then she found the best family law attorney in California and made it clearshewas hiring their firm. Not her father.
And then she reluctantly called her father.
The fallout over the next twenty-four hours was massive. He fired the law firm who had handled the annulment. Monica used the biggest weapon at her disposal—her knowledge of how much her father hated publicity—and promised to make this very ugly if he got involved.
