One #2
“It is. There’s nothing on this road but us for three miles in either direction. And the town needs more than a veterinary clinic, a women’s shelter, a gas station, a pub, and the equipment rental shop.”
“You forgot your own husband’s tour guide business.” I shook my head at her. “That’s terrible.”
She scowled back. “Is it really a business if he carries our daughter on his back everywhere he goes? How serious does the man look feeding her Goldfish crackers?”
I scoffed. “People with kids love him. He showed me his Yelp reviews.”
“Did he? All twelve?”
“You’re being really snide right now and not at all supportive,” I told her. The eye-rolling was just making it worse. “Don’t be mean to him, when he finishes his book on the Early Jurassic period, you’ll be rolling in money.”
“Will I? Rolling?”
“You are crapping all over that man’s dream right now.”
“Oh dear God.” She pointed to where the gentlemen were standing in a group beside a limestone arch.
People had to walk under it from the circular drive before you could cross the courtyard and enter the restaurant.
“They wanted to speak to you as soon as you came in. I’m sure it’s about some kind of partnership. ”
“You’re the manager,” I nearly whined. “Why do they need to speak to me?”
“Because you’re the owner, and the guy standing in the middle—do you see him?”
“I see all three of them.”
“Yes, but do you see that guy’s thick blond hair, the tan, and the shoulders? Did you clock all that?”
I did a slow pan to her.
“What? You don’t see him there with the big blue eyes and those gorgeous cheekbones?”
“May I remind you that I haven’t had coffee yet?”
“Do you know what you need more than coffee?”
“It’s too early for you to be gross,” I warned her.
“Laid.” She enunciated the word clearly for me. “You need to get laid.”
“People look at you and think, total earth mother, not someone with her mind in the gutter.”
“He’s pretty, you’re pretty, I think—”
“Why are you like this? Why can’t you be—”
“I already tested him. I had Sachi walk by the group, and both his friends were drooling,” Paris said. “Then Gaia walked by, with her hips and boobs—”
“You’re so crass.”
“—and the guy with the black hair actually fell off of his chair and spilled Sasha’s homemade lavender honey down the front of his shirt. That’s why his jacket’s zipped up now.”
“Oh, did we get a delivery today? I need to grab one for—”
“You’re not listening to me. The man could not be less interested in the women who work here, but I’ve been watching, and you, my friend, he has not taken his eyes off of.”
Even from where I stood, I heard the man take a breath before a smile curled his beautiful mouth and lit his face when I glanced over.
No doubt about it, handsome man. The issue was, that fast, I could tell he wasn’t for me.
There needed to be power to draw my interest, a strength that radiated from the inside out.
He didn’t possess that. It was the trait that drew me to all people, what everyone who worked for me had going for them.
Every single woman there had an inextinguishable torch inside, a tested life force.
And while to be my friend, it wasn’t necessary, to work for me or sleep with me, it was vital.
“Oh, see? He’s smiling again. Very interested in you.”
“Because he knows they got fucked in the deal with Bill and they need a piece of my land, and even though it’s early for a Friday morning, Desmond already told them to go to hell.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Bill’s land is locked in; it doesn’t go to the road. You need—”
“No, Desmond sold.”
I turned to look at her. “Seriously?”
“Yep. He’s moving to Phoenix to live with his daughter.”
“No shit?”
“No shit,” she confirmed. “They’re good.”
“Huh.”
“Now, back to you getting laid.”
“That’s incredible,” I told her. “Why would he suddenly do that?”
“He loves his daughter,” she said, like the answer was obvious.
“He’s never talked about leaving before.” It seemed suspicious.
“Maybe pretty boy talked him into it. I’d certainly give him whatever he wanted.”
Perhaps the blond had more power than I was giving him credit for. “Huh.”
“Can you go over there, please?”
“Why would they need to talk to me?”
“I have no idea. Why don’t you go find out?”
“You know—”
“And maybe see if he’d like to take a walk in the woods with you.”
“No man dressed in a suit like that wants to take a walk in the woods.”
“You’re so judgmental. Just try.”
“You’re matchmaking now?”
“As far as I know, you haven’t hooked up with anyone since—”
“You should stick to what you’re best at, which is bossing people around.”
“Listen, even if I’d missed him not looking at all the stunning specimens of female beauty who work for you, I could not miss the way he’s been staring since you stepped out here.”
“I would rather have coffee than get laid,” I confessed.
She rolled her eyes. “Listen, I’m sure it’s almost—oh, look, here it is.”
Lupe Salazar was suddenly beside me with an enormous stoneware mug of her amazing café de olla, which had to be made specially in a clay pot that she didn’t pull out every day. It smelled heavenly, like cloves and cinnamon and the chilis she added for me.
“Tapadh leat,” I said, letting my Gaelic come out before I immediately took a sip.
Lupe nodded, crossed her arms, then gently shoulder-checked me.
“What?”
“You saved Missy Harrington, her daughter, and that cute puppy of theirs from her piece-of-shit husband last night.”
“You did?” Paris asked me.
I shrugged.
“He did?” she asked Lupe. “When was this?”
“Crystal told Diane when she was here earlier for their regular coffee order that he was with her until around four in the morning.”
I stayed quiet, just drinking my coffee.
“According to Diane, who talked to Missy, she thought they were going to die.”
“Ohmygod.”
“Crystal said Jimmy showed up at eight this morning, ran his truck up into the shelter driveway, and took out the mailbox.”
That mailbox needed to be on a reinforced pole with how many times angry husbands had annihilated it.
“Diane went out and yelled at him when he got out with his rifle.”
Which she shouldn’t have done. I really liked Diane Gershin, the nurse at the shelter who checked injuries and gave out much-needed hugs and medicine.
The doctor who came once a week from Lewisburg always tried to steal her for his own practice.
She was apparently radically competent as well as fearless. I didn’t want her to ever get hurt.
“What happened?” Paris asked Lupe.
“He was still drunk, can you believe it? He passed out on the grass in front of the shelter. He was still sawing logs when White Sulphur Springs PD came to pick him up.”
“That’s insane.” Paris sounded disgusted.
“I heard he was yellin’ that he wasn’t drunk when they were loading him into the back of their cruiser,” Lupe told her.
“Yeah, but he was passed out in the grass, wasn’t he?”
“Exactly. Like the cops couldn’t tell he was wasted. Diane said the sprinklers were going and everything. He can’t really argue with that.”
“Absolutely not,” Paris said, smiling at Lupe before she turned to me. “You’ve had your coffee, now it’s time to talk.”
Lupe gasped. “You haven’t talked to them yet?”
“I needed coffee,” I whined, sad to see that mine was gone.
“Your manners are terrible.” Lupe frowned at me.
Paris nodded in agreement. “And look at the blond one smiling at you.”
“Oh, muy hermoso,” Lupe said, leaning into me. “Time to show him those beautiful green eyes of yours.”
“You two are gonna make me throw up.”
Lupe took the empty mug from me, Paris shoved me forward, and then I was off, crossing the courtyard, touching the ancient limestone wall, feeling it vibrate under my hand, and trying to smile as I approached the three men. It probably looked more like a grimace.
“Morning,” I greeted them.
“Are you Merritt Baker?” the tall black-haired, blue-eyed man asked me.
“I am.”
Immediately, he offered me his hand. I was surprised by the strength of his grip, and the calluses. Even though he was trying to develop forest land and turn it into gods knew what, he clearly didn’t simply sit in an office all day, in charge of planning.
“I’m Reggie Cunningham from the Swann Group,” he said.
“This is Fletcher Beauden—” He indicated the brown-haired man with freckles beside him.
“—and this is our boss, Justin Wentworth. We just bought Bill Rader’s thirty acres, as well as Desmond Laramie’s piece so we’ll have access to this same road you have here, and we would love to talk to you about your piece there to the south. ”
Something about Reggie and Fletcher was different. I just couldn’t tell what.
“My land is not for sale.”
“Oh no, that’s not what he meant,” Mr. Wentworth chimed in, smiling at me, reaching for my hand. “We just wanted permission to cross it if needed.”
The second I touched his hand, I realized what had confused me about Cunningham.
I was more tired than I thought or it would have hit me quicker.
He was a shifter; probably wolf, as most shifters I’d come across over the years were.
Clearly, Mr. Wentworth was more powerful than Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Beauden, as neither of the other two men had registered as shifters with me.
But even though Mr. Wentworth was more powerful than the other two, he wasn’t an alpha.
That kind of power was easy to discern, and while Mr. Wentworth was a handsome man, perhaps even beautiful, the most enticing thing about him was his scent.
What lingered on him was petrichor and slow-burning fire, a hint of pipe tobacco, a trace of gasoline, and that deep scent of the forest. I could breathe that into my lungs all day.