Читать книгу The Firefighter's Appeal - Elizabeth Otto - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

“NO WAY IN HELL, Doug.” Lily turned sharply, prepared for a stare down with her father. Irritation and lack of caffeine had her every last nerve on fire. The message on her answering machine from her ex, Rob, yesterday still made her edgy. Almost a year with no word and he had the nerve to call to see if he could stop by when he came to town at the end of the month. She preferred that he stay in Mississippi with his new girlfriend, because, frankly, Lily had nothing to say.

More unsettling than the unexpected phone call were the nightmares. Every night since the fund-raiser, she’d had the same unsettling dream. Always about Katja and the fire, and Lily, seeing herself lying on the grass as the building burned, reaching for her sister but not being able to get her.

Sitting just to the side within the dream was a fire engine with glaring, revolving lights. Every night, she turned toward the lights and the truck would disappear, prompting her to wake up with a heavy sense of confusion. It was confounding and unsettling, especially since she had stopped having nightmares about the fire a few months ago.

And now her father wanted her to do this before she’d gotten her feelings under control.

Lily cocked her head and crossed her arms, mirroring her father’s posture. “Can’t someone else go?” Like father, like daughter.

Doug Ashden scowled and stuck his chin out. “Everyone else is busy. I know the appointment time is a little unconventional, but it’s a bar...and you’re young. You like the nightlife, don’t ya?”

Lily enjoyed her job as a general contractor for Ashden Construction and Design. Building and designing were in her blood, and as much as she liked the physical labor of creating a structure, she liked generating ideas more. She didn’t just meet with clients to consult on their projects, she also drafted out plans and brought them to life. Lily had a pile of drafts to work on, but being second-in-command meant that when the other employees were gone, she picked up the slack.

In this case, it wasn’t the meeting that had her stomach in knots—it was the bar.

“Stay and have a drink or dance or something.” Doug waved an impatient hand.

Or something. Right. Because the last time she’d engaged in “or something” at that bar, she’d had her tongue down the throat of a man she would rather not see again. Lily shifted her weight from one foot to the other as her body tingled at the memory.

She clenched her jaw hard enough to grind her molars. She needed to forget that night had ever happened. Not only was it out of character for her to get so physical with a man she didn’t know, but she’d done it with a goddamned firefighter.

Doug made an impatient sound when she didn’t respond quickly enough for his liking. “You look like you could use a drink.”

His gruff tone made it clear she was supposed to obey without question, though he knew her well enough to know that she liked to buck him. She was one of the few people, besides her brother, Lincoln, who could talk back to Doug Ashden and make it out alive.

And there’d be talking back, all right. Being the general contractor for Ashden Construction and Design might mean that Lily went where the jobs were, but not this time. She glanced at the new-client form on the edge of her father’s desk. Throwing Aces was printed across the top. God.

“Are you giving me permission to drink on the job?” Her quip was meant to ground her thoughts into work and not on Garrett the Bartender’s very talented mouth. The hurt and surprise in his expression when she’d recoiled from him was a doozy, though. She’d almost felt guilty about hurting his feelings. A man like Garrett, well, rejection probably wasn’t something he’d come across too often. She’d stomped on his ego a little, but he’d get over it. He’d probably replaced her with some hot blonde the minute he’d stepped foot back inside the bar. Nothing to feel guilty about.

Doug smirked. “It’s a bar. I expect it. In moderation, of course.”

“Of course.” Lily sighed and pushed the new-client form around the desk with one finger. “So Nick can’t go because...?”

“He’s busy.”

“And Raul?”

Doug sniffed and gave her a hard stare. “Out of town. Why are you hedging about this damn meeting? Seriously, Lily. You meet with the client. You talk to him about what he wants. You leave.”

Her father’s harsh tone could melt weaker hearts into a puddle of submission, but she was used to it—had learned from his no-nonsense personality over the years. They were certainly cut from the same cloth, and if she wasn’t careful, he’d see right through her. No way did she need her father wandering in on the hot-fireman replay flickering in the back of her mind. Or the regret she was struggling with.

“You go, Doug.” Lily narrowed her eyes. She and her dad had always had a tenuous relationship, and the habit of calling him by his first name she’d developed when she was a rebellious teen had stuck.

It was an easy way to remember that her dad had never really given her the same affection he had shown her sister, Katja.

Despite being night-and-day different, she and Katja had been as close as sisters could be. Katja was athletic and bubbly to Lily’s artsy moodiness, but somehow they’d balanced each other out.

Lily always suspected that Doug identified more with the choices Katja had made—working hard in school, staying away from boys, going to a good college. While Lily had never considered her own choices bad, they paled in comparison. Mediocre grades, changing boyfriends like sweaters, decorating her body with ink and getting a two-year degree instead of a four-year like Katja. Even in their adult years, Doug had leaned toward her sister more, like a plant to the sun, leaving Lily in the shadows.

Doug threw his hands in the air. “No, you’re going! And we’re done with this conversation. 8:00 p.m., tomorrow night. End of story.”

Lily snatched the paper off the desk, tempted to crumple it in her hand. She couldn’t keep arguing with her father without bringing up questions she wasn’t willing to answer.

Bitterness clawed at her throat. Two years ago, she’d had the chance to move to Nashville to work with her twin brother, Lincoln, but she’d stayed in Kansas with the plan to open a small architectural showroom with Katja. She wished now that she’d gone. Linc had been her one salvation this past year. His quiet contemplative nature had offered her a refuge when the tension with Doug was too much to bear.

Lily blew her bangs out of her eyes. She wouldn’t be thinking about missed chances and regret if the firefighters had done their job in the first place. She rubbed her temple with a thumb as that little nugget worked its way in.

“Look, Lily, we need this contract. Brad Mateo is talking major expansion to the bar here. A complete overhaul of the current building, plus landscaping, an outdoor volleyball pit, et cetera. I need—we need—you to secure this contract.” His eyes softened for a moment, allowing Lily to catch a glimpse of worry. “You know how slow things have been. This contract would carry us through clear to next spring.”

She couldn’t deny that business had taken a dive in the past few years, thanks to a tough economy. The summer months had brought them enough work to break even and make payroll, but not much to pad the bottom line. She’d already been lowering bids and cutting into profit margins to try to entice signed contracts, but to no avail. The work was simply harder to get than it used to be.

Their situation wasn’t unique, although apparently people still liked to drink and party their sorrows away if the Throwing Aces could afford to expand.

“I understand—” she began, but Doug cut her off with a shake of his head.

“I don’t think you do. If we don’t get this contract, I’ll be laying off for the winter.”

Lily frowned. Her dad was a builder by nature and trade. He’d rather be on the job, swinging a nail gun and barking orders to the crew, than doing the talking, and sometimes the careful wooing, it took to secure contracts.

That was why Lily was the face of Ashden Construction. She knew how to woo. But sometimes they just couldn’t beat another company’s bid, and then it didn’t matter what she did. Some contracts just couldn’t be won, as was the case more than ever lately with so much competition between companies to secure jobs.

“Doug...” Her voice was tight, thanks to the lump in her throat. The men who worked for them all had families, obligations. They’d never had to lay anyone off before, and Lily had no intention of doing so now.

“Bolstom backed out. Postponed the project for three years in hopes the economy rebounds more.” Doug’s eyes narrowed, making the effect of his words that much stronger.

Lily let out a slow breath. Grant Bolstom was a land developer who had worked closely with Ashden Construction for almost ten years. He’d brought them in to build town houses in new development areas both here and in Nashville, where they each had secondary offices. They’d had a multimillion-dollar, four-year contract in the works—work that would have carried Ashden Construction for years.

“Jesus, Doug. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Doug uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips. “It was my deal, my business. Look, Brad Mateo is expecting you. Take good care of him. Give him what he wants.”

Lily crossed the office as her dad rattled off a list of things he wanted her to do. She stopped by the peaked windows that overlooked the Greenway golf course. When they’d scouted buildings to convert into an office, the windows of this old brick house had sold it. The foundation needed work and the masonry cried out for some TLC, but it was nothing her father couldn’t handle when he finally got some time to tackle it. Carpenters’ houses were always falling down, or something like that.

“Okay,” Lily interjected at what she hoped was the right time. In twenty-seven years, she’d gotten good at blocking him out without him realizing it.

The heavy silence made Lily realize her father had stopped talking. She turned to him, shocked to see an almost sweet expression of...what was that? Affection? Whatever it was, it seemed foreign on his stone-cut face and it disappeared like frosty breath in the sun.

“You secure this contract for me, Lil, and then get yourself to Nashville. It’s time you took a break.”

Her spine tingled. She wanted to run her brother’s architectural-salvage showroom. The designer inside her craved it. All those rescued vintage and antique building materials and decorative fixtures just waiting to find new homes called to her.

Since Katja’s death, every time the subject of her leaving to work with Lincoln had come up, Doug had pointed out all the reasons she shouldn’t go. That plus guilt kept her firmly grounded in Kansas. She couldn’t leave Doug alone. With Katja gone now, he’d have no one. No family around him. They might not get along that well, but Lily was all he had.

“You’re serious?” Her chest tightened. Doug acted as though he didn’t care one way or the other, but the string of excuses he repeatedly blathered on about lent some suspicion that he cared a little. Even if he didn’t show it.

“Secure the contract and you’ll have my blessing.” He knew that was what she wanted—needed. His approval, his love, his support and acceptance. All things he rarely gave. “I need you to do this for us, Lily.”

He raked one big hand through his close-cropped silver hair and eyed her steadily. Lily’s heartbeat seemed to pause, hovering like a leaf on a strong breeze. Then it started again as the leaf began to float down, down...down. He always needed her when it benefited him. This time, it was more than just them. Their employees’ security was on the line.

Katja’s image came to mind—expressive chocolate-brown eyes, full lips curved into an enigmatic smile. He’d loved Katja all the time, just because. But he loved Lily when he needed something.

She was a grown woman, for crying out loud. She shouldn’t need her father’s affection, but she did. The desire for his acceptance had grown even stronger since Katja’s death. She needed some sign, some reason to believe that their father-daughter bond was still important.

Her palms grew damp, her fingers chilly, as panic took root. Lily drew in a breath, shook back her hair and grappled with the tremors rocking her. It would pass. It always did. She tried to focus on the possibility of finally going to Nashville—it offered the change she desperately wanted after all—and she felt the panic start to recede. No sense in relaxing too much just yet, though. Dealing with the Throwing Aces was a huge obstacle she had to manage before she could start packing her bags.

“Text me when you’re done at the bar. I don’t care how late it is, in case you decide to hang out or whatever.” Doug gathered up her case containing a company laptop and held it out to her without meeting her eye. She took it, some of the steel she relied on so much back in her veins. Returning to her office, Lily set the laptop down and sat at her desk to try to focus on work.

She’d already done whatever and his name was Garrett. Never. Again. Too bad he owned the bar, too, because he’d probably be around at some point during the planning phase. That was okay. She’d play nice and do what was required to seal the deal. Beyond that, Garrett would mean nothing to her. Because Garrett wasn’t just a hot man. He was like the best possible vintage in a wineglass rimmed in poison.

* * *

GARRETT TRIED TO stop bouncing his left leg as he sat and waited, but it didn’t last long. He hated that habit, but he could never get it to stop. As a kid, he was always moving, even in his sleep. He’d frequently ended up on the floor in a mess of blankets from rolling around too much. Now he recognized the leg movement as an outlet for a different kind of energy—the restless kind. The Frasier Realty building was quiet with just the barest of sounds coming from the back room. He was grateful for the quiet. It made a soothing background for the chaos in his mind.

He’d been extra restless since his uncle Brad had gone into the hospital last week with a fever and flu-like symptoms. Since Brad was in remission from bone cancer, any sign of illness had the potential to go south in a hurry.

Seeing him back in a hospital bed gave Garrett a hefty dose of anxiety. Last year they’d almost lost him to the cancer, but Brad had managed to pull through. He’d come out a much weaker man, though he tried to pretend otherwise. After being in remission just a couple of months, Brad had returned to work at the bar a few hours at a time. He’d been adamant that Garrett get a crew together to get started on their plans to expand. It was something they’d been talking about for a long time, but with Brad’s questionable health, it had become more of a priority.

When Garrett had visited the hospital that morning, Brad had grabbed his wrist and pulled him close to the bed.

“I’m a time bomb, Garrett. Promise you’ll get started on the bar as fast as possible.” His uncle’s dull eyes were pleading.

Garrett understood. They’d decided to upgrade the bar and expand it to increase the overall value. The bar sat in a prime location and made a profit every year. Selling it wouldn’t be a problem, and with the upgrades, the increased price they could get would pay out Garrett’s initial investment and sustain Brad’s family for a long time. They thought of it as extra life insurance for Brad’s girls—enough to put them through college, buy them each a good car. All the things a father worried about, especially if he didn’t think he’d be around to watch them grow.

Garrett rubbed a hand over his forehead. He hated watching his uncle’s family go through this. Brad had been a pillar for Garrett when his father was killed after a roof collapsed during a structure fire. Determined to be there for Garrett’s family, Brad had hung up his own fireman’s hat and quit the department.

The firefighting gene ran strong, bonding them in a way other people couldn’t understand. Brad had been proud to see Garrett and his brothers, Cash and Sawyer, go into firefighting careers like their grandfather, father and uncle before them. Following in his father’s footsteps wasn’t a decision Garrett took lightly, especially when the pain of how his father died was always a raw and festering memory. But being a fireman was a part of who he was—a big enough piece that if it were to be taken away, he’d be pretty hollow afterward.

Thirteen when his father had died, Garrett had clung to Brad for strength and advice and support. Now it was time to repay the favor, and he was happy to do so. Seeing Brad in the hospital, once again on the brink of something life-threatening, and the devastated worry on his family’s faces only reinforced Garrett’s decision to stay single. He didn’t want anyone sitting at his bedside in such agony. And although it was selfish, he didn’t want to feel that way about someone else. The fewer people he had to worry about, the more he could protect himself.

“Mr. Mateo?” The petite brunette receptionist came back to her desk, a warm smile on her face. “Ms. Frasier will see you now.” She gestured with a hand to the hallway.

Garrett covered a grimace by clearing his throat, then stood and smoothed the front of his jeans. Not that it mattered how he looked. He could have walked in wearing an Armani suit, but given their history, Sylvia Frasier’s reaction to him would probably be the same: frigid.

He followed the receptionist through the tastefully decorated building to an office in the back. He’d been here several times before and knew the layout by heart. He was equally familiar with Sylvia, and he easily recognized her perfume from the doorway. It was the same perfume she’d always worn and it still made his gut churn. He walked inside with a nod to the receptionist.

“Garrett. How nice to see you.” Sylvia’s Southern drawl was the kind that mixed pleasantries with insult. In her late sixties, Sylvia Frasier was the epitome of a wealthy business woman. Well dressed, perfect office. Impressive posture and manners despite the hint of poison that always laced her tone when she spoke to him. She gestured for him to sit, the burgundy polish on her long oval fingernails glinting in the overhead lights.

“Thank you for seeing me so late in the day.” Garrett sat and tapped the envelope in his hand with a finger.

Her eyes fell to it, a small smile crossing her mouth. She knew why he was there. There was only one reason he would be, and that was to talk about the available plot of land behind the Throwing Aces that he’d been trying to buy from her for months. He needed that plot to complete the bar expansion, including a rear deck and possibly a couple of volleyball courts. They planned to make the property available for parties, vendor fairs and other gatherings, too. Garrett had made Sylvia several offers, but she’d turned them all down. Even though the plot was listed for public sale, she hadn’t sold it to anyone else, either, giving him some hope.

He didn’t have any more time, and if she wasn’t going to sell to him, he needed to figure out a plan B.

“What can I do for you?” Sylvia crossed her hands on top of her desk.

“I haven’t heard back from you on my last offer, which leads me to believe you haven’t accepted it. But I’d like to know either way.”

He took out a copy of the offer from the envelope and slid it across her desk. Their eyes met briefly before she took the paper and glanced at it. Sylvia’s perfectly glossed lips twitched just a bit before she gave him that polite yet cold stare he wondered if she reserved for him alone.

“Why are you pursuing this so tenaciously, Garrett?”

He gave a tight smile and glanced down for a second. There was no doubt she’d probably heard about Brad’s illness in gossip around town, but he didn’t feel that his uncle’s personal business was any of hers. Given the intense dislike she’d felt for him since he’d spent a night with her granddaughter two years ago, Garrett didn’t feel that confiding about Brad would change anything.

“That’s personal. You either decide to sell it or you don’t.” He folded his hands across his middle. Getting mixed up with Sylvia’s granddaughter, Holly, wasn’t the most prudent thing he’d ever done, but to his credit, he hadn’t known who Holly was when he’d taken her home. To him, she was a pretty, willing woman who was just as interested in a few hours of mindless fun as he’d been.

Except that Holly Frasier had her sights set on more than that. And when he’d told her there would never be more than that one night, she had gone straight to her grandmother. It wasn’t good for any business owner in this town to be on the wrong side of the biggest realty company in the tristate area. When it came to buying commercial property or selling your business, chances were you were going to deal with Frasier Realty. Sylvia was good at what she did, and she was someone you wanted on your side.

“Let’s say my decision may well be determined on your intentions for the property.” She blinked once, her tight smile tipping up more. “The good thing about being the landowner instead of just the broker is that I get to decide where it goes. Considering I haven’t yet shot down your offer, I’d suggest you indulge me a little.”

Garrett rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. He took a slow breath through his nose. She hadn’t shot him down, true. This was as close as he’d gotten to an acceptance since he’d started offering on the plot when it first came up for sale back in March.

He thought of the desperation on Kim’s face when she held Brad’s hand. Did it really matter if he told Sylvia? Getting that lot would benefit his family, and for that, Garrett accepted that Brad wouldn’t mind if his personal business was aired out a little. He licked his lips, mentally forced his leg to stop bouncing when he suddenly realized it was. Before he could speak, Sylvia made a sigh-like sound, her tight smile turning soft.

“Look, I know what’s going on with your uncle, and I feel for his family. I’ve always assumed you wanted the land to expand the bar, but considering I’ve other offers on the property from a couple of other parties, I don’t think I’m out of line in asking what you intend to do with it.”

“Who told you?” Not that it mattered. Gossip always rubbed him wrong, because for the most part, the information was always skewed and wrong.

“My hairdresser.” Of course. Eight thousand people in this town, but all the juicy bits still came through the coffee shop, hardware store or hair salon. Garrett spread his hands, resolved.

“Okay, yes, Brad’s been struggling with cancer. He’s actually back in the hospital right now. We want to expand the bar, put a deck out back, maybe another seating area. Potentially a small amphitheater that the local bands and theater groups can use. Until we get a contractor out there to show us what’s possible, we won’t know for sure, but that’s the general idea.”

“Bring me a drafted plan.” Any sign of sympathy was gone, replaced by pure professionalism.

“Excuse me?”

“I’d like to see a draft of your plans for the property. This lot is one of the last open, wood-lined areas in town. As much as I support commercial development, it would be a shame to see such a pretty natural area ruined by bad development. I’ve owned that land for years and sat on it for this very reason.”

He couldn’t argue with that. The one-acre plot was parklike, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to use it as such. The gazebo Sylvia had erected to make the plot even more enticing to buyers was a magnet for people leaving his bar to spend a few stolen moments.

Just as he and Lily had. His heart kicked up a notch at the thought. Garrett cleared his throat to refocus.

“Understood. We have a contractor coming tonight, actually, so I’ll get something to you as soon as I can.” He started to rise but paused. “When do you need it?”

Sylvia tapped one nail on the desk. “A week or less would be grand. I’d like to make a decision as soon as possible.”

No pressure or anything. After months of jerking him around, she was finally cutting the chase short. Fine. He knew Brad had scheduled a meeting with a commercial contractor for tonight, intending to conduct the meeting himself, but Garrett didn’t know any details. He hoped like hell that whoever the contractor was, they offered what he needed. Otherwise, starting tomorrow he wouldn’t rest until he found someone who did. He didn’t want this opportunity to slip by, just like he couldn’t play around with time. Both were too precious to waste.