Page 7 of Mad Rivals (The Bradley Legacy #1)

He's All Man

Okay, first things first, choosing heels was a dumb fucking decision for a bid walk where we’re walking on undeveloped land.

But second…Bradley is here ? And he’s bidding on this same project?

How am I supposed to function properly when I can’t even seem to think straight with him around? It’s a valid question, honestly.

I’m trying to listen to Simon as he explains his vision.

“We currently have twelve acres and are working on purchasing neighboring land for future expansion, so please consider the different phases of this project in your bids.” He points out different areas and what his vision is for them, and I’m trying to listen but having an incredibly hard time since I can barely walk on this uneven dirt, and I’m still shook over seeing the hot iced coffee guy.

“Literally this morning at Starbucks,” I say a little more haughtily than I intend to.

“Mm,” my dad murmurs, and it feels like he doesn’t really believe me.

Well, it’s the truth .

“And we meet again,” he says, and he’s so calm and collected over there, so cool, while I’m a sweaty mess who keeps stumbling on divots in the dirt.

It’s weird having this conversation with him across my father. He’s almost flirting with me, and I want him to flirt more, but he’s also my business rival. We’re here to bid on the same project, and I can’t let hormones come between what I’m here to do.

Not when this is my first project with my father. Not when he said he’s shadowing me today. I may not have wanted this job, but I took it anyway, and hell if I’m not going to see it through.

Especially now that there’s a competition at stake.

I’m nothing if not competitive.

We don’t get a chance to say anything else to one another, though the insinuation is heavy in the air.

My father explained to me on the ride here how important it is to ask questions at the end to show how interested we are in the project, so I go first.

“Can you clarify the size of the lot?” I ask.

Bradley, who is now standing beside me close enough that I can smell his cologne that’s causing my brain to misfire, snorts. “That information was in the RFP,” he mutters, referring to the initial request for proposals.

Right. Of course it was.

But I don’t like being made to look stupid and incompetent, which is exactly what he just did.

“Twelve acres,” Simon says.

Bradley asks the next question. “You mentioned commercial and residential. In your phase one vision, is that combined into one building or separate facilities?”

“A great question indeed, and that’s one we haven’t definitively concluded just yet. We wanted to take a look at the different proposals before we made that decision.”

Others ask questions, and I can’t find the nerve to ask another one. I don’t really have any, anyway. I just asked the first one to please my father, and the coffee guy obliterated my confidence with his snort and snarky comment.

He may be hot, and I may want to ride his lap while we’re both naked, but he’s kind of a jerk.

My dad unloads on me once we get back into the car.

“Under no circumstances are you to get involved with the Bradley family,” he says.

Um…excuse me? And also…what? “The Bradley family ?” I ask. I thought his name was Bradley.

“Mm,” he murmurs. “The boy at the bid walk, that’s Madden. The eldest.”

Wait a minute.

First of all, he’s all man, decidedly not a boy.

But also…

“Madden Bradley?” I ask. Holy shit. It was him. That’s why he looked kind of familiar to me. He’s a fucking football god around these parts. He was out of his element in a suit and tie, and that must have been why I didn’t piece together who he was.

“Thomas Bradley has been a thorn in my side for over three decades, Kennedy. We simply cannot be associated with them.”

“Why?” I breathe, suddenly wanting to know everything about the family.

He shakes his head a little as if to say that’s the end of that discussion, but I need more.

“If you’re going to put me on this project, don’t you think I need to know everything I can about the competition?” I ask.

He sighs as he eyes me warily. “You know how work can come between friendships,” he says, nearly echoing my mother’s words from just the other day. “That’s what happened.”

“Details?” I ask.

He glances out the window. “Thomas and I attended the same college. He was a few years ahead of me, but we were on the football team together. We were the same major, so even though I was younger than him, he mentored me. We talked about opening a firm together someday. And then something changed. He was injured off the field and could no longer play, and he seemed to form a resentment toward anybody who could. We lost touch only to find ourselves competing for a bid several years later, once your mother and I started VBC. The former friends might’ve teamed up on the efforts, and instead, he went behind my back and did something to win that bid.

I don’t know what it was, but here’s what I do know.

He’s been slimy and underhanded ever since, and every goddamned time I go up against him, he wins. ”

I may not be the world’s most perfect daughter. I may not be all that close to my parents.

But I refuse to sit back and let some slimy, underhanded asshole take this project out from under us.

“What can we do?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says, and he glances over at me. “But I like the passion in your voice.”

“Why don’t you fight?”

“Thomas Bradley has the kind of connections you just don’t fight against, Kennedy. Trust me. So if I lose this project to him, it wasn’t meant to be.” His phone starts to ring as he finishes his sentence, and he takes the call, effectively ending the conversation.

Okay, fine. My dad won’t fight Thomas Bradley.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t fight his son.