Chapter 4 #2
Plus, who knew what other code violations Gabriel Egan and the city building inspector would find once they reinspected her place?
“How much?” she asked, her voice tight. “How much will the policy cover for my renovations?”
Jennifer consulted her paperwork. “Maybe twenty-five, thirty thousand once the deductible’s met.” She patted Kymberlie’s arm. “I know it sounds unfair, but that’s standard for this kind of policy. You took the higher deductible and less extensive coverage to keep your premiums low.”
“Seventy-five hundred,” Kymberlie muttered. “That’s my entire emergency cushion.”
The number hung in the air between them. Twenty-five thousand dollars for a repair job that would probably cost three times that, at minimum.
“I can help you file an appeal,” Jennifer offered. “But I need to be honest—these exclusions are pretty standard in commercial policies.”
Kymberlie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Through the open door of the club, she could see her pack mates and her friends working, sweating, doing their best to help her save her dream.
They believed in her. But right now, Kymberlie wasn’t sure if she believed in herself anymore.
“Thank you, Jennifer,” she finally managed. “I appreciate your coming by.”
The older woman touched her arm. “Don’t give up yet. You’ve already worked miracles with this place. I’m sure you can work another.”
As Jennifer walked back to her SUV, Kymberlie turned to face her club again. The Hair of the Dog looked battered, broken—just like her hopes.
Then, underneath the despair, her stubborn streak flared to life. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Taking a deep breath, she headed back inside. If she wanted to reopen before Christmas, there was a ton to do.
∞∞∞
Gabriel Egan’s boots crunched over the parking lot’s gravel as he approached The Hair of the Dog. The acrid smell of smoke still hung in the air, mingling with the fresh scents of sawdust and sweat as the surprisingly large work crew tackled the demolition.
It looked like at least half the town had turned out to help Kymberlie clear out the fire damage. And Gabriel found himself glad his new town was a place with this kind of community spirit.
He’d donned a hard hat and safety glasses before leaving his truck.
As he passed through the bar area and dining room, his expression neutral, his inner sabertooth paced restlessly beneath his skin, distracted by the wolf-scent that lingered everywhere under the stench of smoke and chemicals in this building. Kymberlie’s scent.
The storeroom had already been emptied of its contents and stripped to the wall and ceiling studs.
Gabriel watched as Fred Barker and his daughters methodically traced wiring paths through the walls, occasionally shaking their heads or muttering to each other.
The old electrician confirmed what Gabriel had observed last night.
This place was a ticking time bomb. The small electrical fire they’d had was just a preview of what could have happened.
“Junction box completely melted through here,” Fred called out, pointing to a blackened section of exposed wall. “And look at this—aluminum wiring mixed with copper. Amateur hour.”
The Barkers’ information dispelled his lingering guilt about shutting this place down. Gabriel had always liked order, liked rules. Safety rules kept people alive and unhurt. And when you had solid rules in place, everyone knew what to do.
But the sabertooth part of him kept glancing down the hall to the main room where Kymberlie was directing the cleanup effort. Her blonde hair peeked out from beneath a soot-streaked hard hat, and her face was set in a mask of determination.
A conflict of interest. That’s what this was. His job was to protect the public, not get distracted by a luscious wolf shifter with fierce blue eyes and a stubborn streak a mile wide.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite fire marshal,” a familiar voice called from behind him. “Glad you’re keeping us busy in the slow season!”
Dismay shot through Gabriel as he turned to see his new boss, Tyler Swanson, standing in the hallway, tool belt slung around his lean hips. The bear shifter’s grin did nothing to ease the sudden tension in Gabriel’s jaw.
“Just doing my job,” Gabriel replied, his voice cooler than he’d intended.
Tyler’s smile dimmed slightly. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m an honorary pack member, after all. We’re all on Kymberlie’s side here.”
After that shitshow at the VFW over in Salmon a few weeks ago, Tyler must’ve heard the rumors about how convenient it was that the new fire marshal was shutting down local businesses, only for Swanson Construction to get the repair contracts.
Sure, Gabriel consulted for Tyler as a safety compliance consultant. But Gabriel would never let that influence his decisions as the county’s fire marshal. Still, he could understand how it added fuel to those rumors.
“The Barkers confirmed that the club’s electrical system needs to be completely replaced,” Gabriel said, redirecting the conversation.
“And I noticed last night that the furnace venting is below minimum clearance standards. And then there are the emergency exits…the one next to the stage is nearly impossible to open if you aren’t a shifter, and the rear exit was completely blocked by storage crates. ”
Tyler frowned. “Geez. That’s a big no-go right there. She’ll need panic hardware on every door—something you can open with one push, even in the dark. If the doors don’t swing out, we’ll have to rehang them too.”
“Exactly. The stage door frame’s warped, and the handle sticks. That has to be replaced,” Gabriel said. “And the back door needs a clear egress path—ten feet minimum from the threshold to open ground. Right now, there’s a wall of crates and a half-broken step.”
Tyler grunted and pulled his phone from his back pocket. He began typing notes. “We can rebuild the stoop and pour a small pad for footing. I’ll have Ward check the swing clearance and spec proper fire-rated doors.”
“Good,” Gabriel said, jotting a note on his clipboard.
“Once the exits, wiring, and fire suppression systems are up to code, I can clear her for occupancy.” He paused, wondering if his next words were a conflict of interest. But his inner cat prodded him ruthlessly.
“She, ah, had some big bookings coming up. Any chance your guys could get the work done before Christmas?”
Tyler nodded, suddenly serious. “We’ll do our best. Maybe? That fire could’ve been a lot worse. From what I’ve seen so far… it might be doable if all the stuff we order comes in on time. But I’m not making any promises,” he added hastily.
“Understood.” Gabriel’s gaze drifted once again to the main room.
Through the open doorway, he could see Kymberlie dragging a large section of water-damaged drywall to a wheelbarrow.
Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, and he couldn’t help noticing that her tight jeans and long-sleeved tee displayed a curvy body he longed to cuddle up with.
Stop it, he told himself. You’re being inappropriate. And a total perv.
His cat stirred again, more insistently this time. Protect mate. Help mate.
Gabriel nearly dropped his clipboard. Mate?
Where the hell did that come from? He’d only met her last night, and under the worst possible circumstances. In fact, she probably hated his guts right now.
But his cat had never reacted this way to anyone before.
“You okay?” Tyler asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” Gabriel muttered. “Just wondering if Kymberlie would mind if I volunteered to help with demo and cleanup.”
“Oh?” Tyler’s hazel eyes gleamed with amusement, and Gabriel wondered if he’d betrayed his cat’s interest in Kymberlie.
“There’s only one way to find out.” The tall bear shifter clapped him on the shoulder.
“I’d better get to work. I promised Kymber an estimate for a complete restoration and renovation by tonight. ”
As Tyler moved off to examine the damage, Gabriel headed for the main room. His sabertooth was practically pushing him forward. Stop watching. Do something useful. Impress our mate.
“Need a hand?” he asked Kymberlie before he could reconsider.
She looked up. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Thought your job was to stand there with that clipboard and point out everything we’re doing wrong.”
Stung, Gabriel slapped the offending clipboard down on the bar. “My job is to make sure your place is safe to reopen. Right now, that means getting all this debris out so we can see what we’re working with.”
For a moment, he thought she might tell him to take a hike. Instead, she shrugged. “Grab that wheelbarrow, then, and take all that stuff out to the dumpster that Tyler donated.”
Gabriel wheeled the load of debris across the parking lot to where a twenty-yard roll-off dumpster sat next to the building. It was already half full of ruined drywall and rolls of wet, stained carpet.
When he returned to the dining room, Kymberlie gave him a grudging, “Thanks.” She hesitated, then asked, “Wanna help me tear away this wall?”
After the sopping drywall was gone, he saw layers of 130-year-old newspaper and clumps of sawdust insulation, peppered with old mouse droppings. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! This stuff’s basically tinder. You’re lucky this place hasn’t gone up before now.”
Kymberlie folded her arms and scowled. “Thanks for the pep talk, Mr. Fire Marshal.”
“Trust me, I’ve seen worse—but not by much,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. “Why the heck did you buy this place, anyway?”
Kymberlie bit her lower lip as if debating whether to answer. “Because everyone said I couldn’t make it work,” she finally replied. “And I’m stubborn like that.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Stubborn is good.”
For the next hour, they worked together clearing out the last of the water-damaged materials. Gabriel fell into the rhythm of the work, appreciating the physical exertion.
His sabertooth, too, seemed content with this arrangement—proximity to Kymberlie while contributing to the rebuilding of her territory.
As they were loading the last wheelbarrow of wet, soot-stained carpet and soaked drywall fragments, Kymberlie reached for a pry bar to remove a section of baseboard. Gabriel reached for it at the same moment she did. Their hands brushed against each other.
The contact was electric, an instant jolt that shot up his arm and straight down to his cock. Gabriel froze, his eyes locking with Kymberlie’s. For a split second, he saw his shock mirrored in her expression—a widening of eyes, a slight parting of lips.
Then she jerked away as if burned, her cheeks flushing.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, covering the moment with a half-laugh.
The laugh couldn’t quite mask the slight tremor in her voice, or the way her pulse jumped visibly at her throat. Gabriel smelled the subtle change in her scent—confusion mingled with attraction, and a hint of anger.
She’s interested in me! And probably annoyed as hell about it. He forced himself to suppress a smirk and handed her the pry bar with an elaborate flourish.
“Here you go,” he joked. “Just don’t get any ideas—”
“About prying that damned clipboard out of your hand the next time you inspect my place?” she retorted.
“That, too,” he said.