“Whatever you want.” Wyatt moved into the room and folded his large frame into the empty chair on the opposite side of the desk from where Poppy and Ethan huddled around her laptop.

  “Um, do you want to move to the meeting room? There’s a screen,“ she suggested.

  “Here is fine. Show me what you got.” Wyatt pulled the chair closer to the desk and reached out a hand for her to slide the laptop over.

  “Oh. Okay. Sure.”

  Her beautiful graphics would have been more impressive larger on the full-sized screen, but her thirteen-inch MacBook display would have to do. She set the presentation back to the beginning and turned the computer to face him, feeling like a new mom who’d just handed over her baby.

  He flipped past the cover slide and paused.

  She’d memorized a script to go along with the visuals. But with Wyatt on the other side of the desk, flipping through screens, she couldn’t see where he was in the presentation. She should have insisted they go to the meeting room as she’d planned. As she’d rehearsed.

  He flipped again, and again, silent although he didn’t have to speak. His frown did it for him.

  Why was he frowning. What the hell? Was it that bad?

  She glanced at Ethan, who was watching his brother as well, his own brows drawn low. He had to be as confused as she was.

  “I’d like to explain—” she began, not willing to give up the carefully crafted narrative she’d written to go along with the visuals.

  “Yes.” He pushed the laptop back and leveled a stare on her before his gaze moved to Ethan. “I think you both should explain.”

  Ethan scoffed. “What is your problem? Her presentation is great. Those ideas are exactly what the Wilder needs.”

  Wyatt sniffed. “I agree. And they are exactly what CEPS submitted to me.”

  “What? When?” Poppy asked. “I thought they were presenting later this afternoon.”

  “They emailed it to me early.”

  “Come on. I know we used some of their ideas for inspiration but we made them our own. Tailored them to fit this area and this hotel,” Ethan said.

  “I’m not sure taking their Wine Tasting event verbatim and renaming it The Wilder Vine to Table Experience or taking their Murder Mystery and calling yours The Poirot Plot constitutes being inspired by their idea or making it your own,” Wyatt said.

  The twisting in her stomach increased as shock turned to sickening realization. She swallowed hard as reality struck her.

  They’d stolen her ideas. Somehow, someway, they’d gotten hold of her notes. Her notes that also called the events by short simple names. Wine Tasting. Murder Mystery.

  That was before she’d stayed late last night working on the laptop filling in the more creative names for each event. Ethan’s idea for an Army-like training event for team building went from just Bootcamp to Ball Busting Bootcamp. She’d bet her trust fund CEPS had submitted that idea too, with the original simpler title.

  They could have hacked into her computer files before she’d renamed the events.

  She also had disposed of the original worksheets with her many sticky notes here. She glanced at the garbage pail where she’d crumpled the large pages as best she could and stuffed them into the trash for the night cleaning crew to take.

  The pail was empty now, except for the paper bag from the muffins she’d brought from Rosie’s for breakfast this morning. Hours ago, back when she’d still had hope and faith in the world. She pulled her door closed at night but she never locked it. There was nothing in here worth stealing… or so she’d thought. Monty and Caroline both had rooms here. They could have snuck in before the cleaning crew.

  She didn’t know how exactly they’d gotten her ideas, but they had.

  Worse than the fact they’d stolen and claimed credit for her and Ethan’s work—submitting it early so it would look like she’d been the one to copy theirs—was the fact that Wyatt believed she would do something like that.

  The disappointment was clear in Wyatt’s expression. She couldn’t come back from this. Even if she could convince him these were their ideas, the fact he’d ever thought she could sink that low— That was what had the bile creeping up the back of her throat. That had her coffee and muffin churning dangerously in her belly.

  Wyatt might be the love of Livvie’s life, but Poppy would never get over his lack of faith in her. Never sit in a room with him again without remembering this moment and the way he looked at her now.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go,” she blurted before jumping up from her chair, grabbing her cell and running from the room.

  She left the laptop there. She’d have Ethan bring it to her at Rosie’s. Or hell, buy a new one when she got back to New York. She didn’t care. All she knew was she wasn’t spending one more moment in that room. This hotel.

  And she couldn’t stand the idea of staying in this town another night. She’d have to. To explain to Eva and Livvie. But then tomorrow morning, first thing, she’d pack up the Jeep, grab her last ever coffee and chocolate chip muffin from Rosie, and hit the road.

  It felt like leaving home forever. In just a few months, Bitter End had begun to feel like her home. These people felt like family.

  At least her actual family, her mother in particular, would be happy. She’d be back at Water Mill before the Fourth of July. Back to her old life where she expected—anticipated—people to be backstabbers. It seemed preferable to here.

  She’d yet again let her guard down and paid the price for that. And yet again, her pain could be directly attributed to a Wilder man.

  As tears blinded her, she turned a corner and smacked directly into someone, sending her cell flying out of her hand.

  Near hysteria, she raised her gaze and found—of course—one of the two last people on earth she wanted to see right now.

  “Jeezus! Watch where you’re—“

  Poppy’s giant stuttering sob stopped Caroline’s impending rant.

  “What’s wrong?” The other woman somehow managed to make her question sound sincere.

  “You should know,” Poppy squeaked out as speaking became almost impossible.

  Caroline drew her perfect brows low before her eyes flicked wide. “Oh. Did Wyatt choose which event plan to go with?”

  “Yes. He did. He chose my event plan that you submitted as yours. So congratulations. You won and you get your job back because I quit!” Poppy shouted the last word, scooped up her phone and ran, leaving Caroline to celebrate her victory behind her.

  She certainly didn’t want to see it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ethan bolted out of the chair he had sat in, paralyzed, as Wyatt did the unthinkable, which was followed shortly by Poppy doing the thing he’d feared most. Leaving.

  Not that he could blame her. Not after Wyatt had all but accused her of stealing that fucking corporation’s shitty ideas.

  He stalked toward his brother, towering over him as Wyatt remained seated.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you really think that girl, who’s smarter than the two of us put together, would need to steal someone else’s presentation?”

  To his credit, Wyatt didn’t flinch. He didn’t stand either.

  He sat looking eerily calm. Almost content. Emotionless. Cold. As if he were a casual observer of the events happening in the room.

  It was the same demeanor Wyatt had employed after the death of his wife five years ago, when he’d turned into a robot-like machine. All work. No emotion.

  Ethan had seen how the addition of Olivia to Wyatt’s life had thawed the Ice King’s heart, but apparently Wyatt could still put on the deep freeze when needed.

  “No, Ethan. I don’t believe she would. At least I don’t think Poppy would alone, without the bad influence of having you as her partner in crime.”

  Things seemed to take on an other-worldly feel the moment Ethan could fully wrap his head around Wyatt’s unbelievable slam against him.

  In an instant, he knew if he didn’t get out of that room he’d put Wyatt in the hospital and end up in a holding cell himself. He had to remove himself from the situation.

  “Fuck you, Wyatt.” Those three words would have to do, for now.

  He was too angry to think. Too angry to drive too, but he’d risk it. If he remained at the Wilder it would be too tempting to do something he’d regret.

  Not just to Wyatt. As the shock began to wear off, logic crept in. There was a thief involved. Two actually, and it wasn’t Poppy or him.

  It didn’t take a genius to guess who those thieves were. But apparently it took more mental acuity than his blind, idiotic brother possessed.

  Blood boiling, he scanned the Wilder parking lot as he strode outside. Her Jeep was no longer in its usual parking spot. He pivoted and headed directly to his truck.

  Rosie’s. That had to be where she’d gone.

  Poppy wouldn’t go to see Olivia since she lived with Wyatt. He wouldn’t want to risk running into Wyatt if he were her. But he would head for his other bestie. Eva. The sometimes frightening woman he’d want in his corner if the shit hit the fan.

  By the time he reached town without wrecking, in spite of speeding the entire way, his mind was spinning. The anger was still there, but it was overshadowed by concern for Poppy.

  He took the narrow wooden flight of stairs that led up to her apartment over Rosie’s two at a time and was pounding on the door when Eva shouted some choice words from inside.

  Eva yanked the door wide, as her displeasure showed clearly on her pinched features. “Ethan. What the hell?”

  He pushed past her and into the room looking around for Poppy. He’d been inside the apartment before. But that was back when his lowlife cousin Emmett had lived in it. Before he’d run away like the cowardly slug he was.

  Now, he had to admit the apartment looked much better without the cases of empty beer cans and old pizza boxes Emmett had lived amongst.

  There was no doubt that females lived there now. The damn place even smelled good, which it definitely had not when Emmett lived there.

  He skimmed his gaze over the abundance of pretty pillows and fluffy blankets. But what he didn’t find was Poppy.

  He turned and asked, “Where is she?”

  Eva’s eyes narrowed. “She’s in the bathtub having a breakdown. She wouldn’t tell me what happened. But I bet you know, don’t you?”

  She folded her arms and glared at him so fiercely he actually considered whether he needed to worry for his safety. Eva was tall. If she was trained. Or armed—

  He pushed the errant notion out of his mind and said, “Yeah, I know. And if you’re going to be mad, be mad at my asshole brother. It was him who did this to her. Not me.”

  Eva drew her fiery brows low. “Did Wyatt choose Corporate Ken’s presentation instead of hers? Is that what this is about?”

  “No.” He wished that was all that had happened. It would have been preferable to what actually had happened. “He accused her—and me—of stealing CEPS’s presentation.”

  “Why?”

  “Because our presentation was almost identical to theirs.”

  “How?” Eva was on the move before he had a chance to answer. “Mother fuckers. I bet they hacked her account and stole the Powerpoint. I told her until I set up our own dedicated server she needs to stay offline and store her shit on a thumb drive. She keeps using the damn cloud anyway.”

  Eva’s fingers clacked on the keys faster than he’d thought was humanly possible as he considered what she’d said.

  He’d been too pissed to think clearly—to reason it out—until now, when Eva had brought up the possibility of how they’d accomplished the theft.

  She had to be right. The only way for the two presentations to be so similar would be because one of them had stolen the actual files from the other. And since he knew it wasn’t them, that left Monty—and Caroline—as the thieves.

  “Can you prove it?” he asked since she seemed so determined in her typing.

  “I don’t know. I might be able to if I could access their computers. If I could log into the Wilder WiFi—”

  “Stop.”

  The single word had them both glancing up as Poppy stood in the doorway to the bathroom. A thick robe swallowed her body while a white towel wound around her head, completely hiding her hair. She looked soft…and wounded. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and squeeze the sadness right out of her.

  “Poppy—” He took a step forward, just as all of their cell phones chimed.

  Eva glanced down at the cell next to her computer. “It’s that group text Olivia added us all to.”

  He pulled out his own cell and saw the message.

  Olivia: Reminder. Family dinner at six at the house. Don’t be late!

  “Shit.” He blew out a breath.

  Another family dinner was tonight. Of all nights.

  Poppy had her own cell in her hand, shaking her head as she stared at it. “I can’t do it. I can’t go. I can’t be there.”

  There being Wyatt’s house. Unfortunately, it was also Ethan’s house.

  “And you don’t have to. He told me what happened.” Eva tipped her head toward Ethan. “You don’t have to go, but I sure as fuck am.”

  “Eva—”

  “No. I’m giving that Wilder son of a bitch a piece of my mind.” After Eva cut off Poppy, she shot a sideways glance at Ethan. “No offense.”

  “Uh, none taken.” He wasn’t about to tangle with a mamma bear defending her cub, and even if they were just friends, that’s what this felt like between Eva and Poppy.

  “Please don’t say anything,” Poppy begged. “Tell Olivia I’m sick and I’m sorry.”

  Eva drew back. “Fuck that. In fact, I’m going over there now.”

  “Now?” Poppy took a step forward, as if she could do anything to stop a runaway train like Eva on a tear.

  Eva grabbed a purse off the hook by the door and turned back. “I’ll check in later.” Then she was gone. Out the door with a slam.

  Wide-eyed, Poppy spun to face Ethan.

  “Please. Go after her. Don’t let her say anything.”

  What made Poppy think he could do anything to control her friend was a mystery, but he had to agree, he’d like to be there to see Eva let loose on Wyatt. His brother deserved whatever he got.

  But if given a choice, he’d far rather stay here with Poppy. He took a step forward. Afraid to touch her now that they were alone. Unsure if he’d breakdown and kiss her. Or if she’d break down and lose her tenuous hold on her emotions.

  “Please, Ethan,” she whispered, her raw emotional plea cutting straight to his core.

  “Okay. But I’m going to check in with you later too.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t. I’m exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”

  It was only afternoon. Although he couldn’t deny she looked beat. And beaten.

  Fucking Wyatt. He was going to pay for this.

  “All right.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob.

  He wanted to tell her that her ideas were great and she was amazing.

  That he’d gladly hogtie Monty and drag him behind his best cutting horse until he admitted what he’d done.

  All he did was nod his goodbye and let himself out. But he didn’t intend to bite his tongue with Wyatt at the house. If he could get a word in between Eva’s.

  Shit. He’d better hurry. She had a head start.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Ethan came through the back entrance of the house and into the kitchen.

  He’d expected to walk in on a shouting match between Eva and Wyatt. Instead what greeted him was Olivia and Eva huddled together whispering and Wyatt nowhere in sight.

  Tossing his truck key, he paused as all conversation stopped dead at his appearance.

  Maybe Eva was filling in Olivia privately about what Wyatt had done. He’d be on board with being in on hatching a plan to teach his brother a lesson.

  “What are we talking about? Or should I guess?” He stepped closer, wondering at the fact they hadn’t opened a bottle of wine yet. Olivia usually had the bottle open and the glasses out by the time her friends arrived.

  Although, Eva had been early…

  Olivia, deer in headlights expression remaining, said, “Uh, nothing.” She spun toward the stove to stir something. “Dinner’s not for a bit.”

  “All right.” This was strange. “Uh, Wyatt home yet?

  “Not yet.” Eva, lips pressed tight, eyes wide, shot him a meaningful glance.

  That might explain the fact the girls weren’t in mid rant about Wyatt’s behavior. Maybe Eva hadn’t figured out how to break the news to her bestie Olivia that her boyfriend had been a complete ass to their mutual bestie.

  But it didn’t explain what else was up with Olivia that she was acting so strangely.

  Well, shit. What now?

  Making a split second decision, Ethan pivoted on a boot heel. “I’m getting myself a drink.”

  “There’s beer in the fridge,” Olivia said.

  He let out a snort. “Tonight calls for more than beer.”

  Eva sniffed. “Agreed. Pour me one too.”

  “You got it.”

  He’d just poured the second glass when the front door opened and then slammed shut. As he wondered and waited for the new arrival to come into view from where he stood by the bar in the living room, Ethan hoped it was his dad. Or even better, his niece.

  The other choices were less than ideal. Linc was going to give him hell for missing afternoon chores. And Wyatt—well, this confrontation with him was going to be hellish all around.

  The anger began to creep back in as he remembered his brother’s accusation. Wyatt’s complete lack of faith in him.

  He was livid again in no time as he poured a shot of Tennessee whisky down his throat and relished the burn. The fire matched his mood.

  As he lifted the bottle to refill his glass one more time, Ethan felt he wasn’t alone. He shot a glance over his shoulder and drew in a breath.

  “Drink?” he asked, his back teeth grinding together as he waited for Wyatt’s answer.