Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JOANIE
The week leading up to the town meetings is a whirlwind of activity and not the fun, sexy kind. No, it’s me helping Greg plan the agenda and pull out what feels like a million chairs from storage while he constructs a new podium since the old one had apparently bit the dust. Definitely not sexy … well, unless you count watching Greg work with his hands.
But I’m neck deep in my own world, thinking through how this will go, and as we’re setting up the great room, I eye the sea of metal folding chairs skeptically. “Is two hundred chairs going to be enough?” I ask.
Greg shrugs. “There will still be room for people to stand. And we’ve done this kind of thing before — at best, a quarter of the town will show up total.”
I’m unsure if that’s encouraging, but I trust his judgment. He knows this town better than I do. Still, doing that math in my head, assuming a few thousand residents, we’re likely to be over capacity for all three sessions.
Unfortunately, at this point, it is what it is.
On the bright side, while we’re working, Nate drops by with a progress update. “So good news and bad news,” he hedges, arms crossed over his massive chest.
I raise a brow. “Well, out with it, muscles.”
Nate smirks. “The bad news is that my surveyor doesn’t handle town-level boundary definition. The good news is he put me in touch with someone in Seattle who’s handled multiple cases like that in the Pacific Northwest. He books up quickly, but he just had a cancellation for next week. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to meet with him, and I didn’t want to volunteer your time without checking with you first.” He hands me a small square of paper with a name and phone number scribbled on it. “I’d advise you to call him ASAP.”
“Thanks, Nate. I’ll reach out to him,” I promise, taking the slip.
He nods, then turns to go but stops short. “One more thing. I tried to talk Mia out of it, but she’s insisting on making cookies for the meetings. Like thousands of cookies. And she plans to set up a coffee and water station.”
I laugh. “That’s Mia for you. Always trying to feed everyone.”
“We’ll put some tables in the entryway,” Greg assures him. “Fuck knows I’ll need plenty of coffee and a cookie or ten by the time this is all done. Let her know I’ll pay her for it too.”
Nate huffs a laugh. “You know she won’t let you do that. At least I convinced her not to do pastries, hot chocolate, or anything else too fancy.”
“Cookies are fancy enough, in my book,” Greg returns. “Tell her thanks.”
I hold up the slip of paper Nate gave me. “And thanks for this, hot stuff.” I give him a wink as he heads back out, and he waves as he goes.
I turn to find Greg giving me a look.
My brows pinch together. “What?”
He cocks an eyebrow and approaches slowly, slinging the hammer he’s holding through his belt loop before putting his hands on my hips and drawing me close.
“Do I have something to worry about?” he murmurs, looking down at me.
My brow furrows deeper until I realize he means me calling Nate “muscles” and “hot stuff,” and I burst out laughing. “Of course not. Nate just has a habit of being shirtless around the house. The nicknames came from me teasing him about it.” I leave off how much I enjoyed the sight and Nate’s reactions to my taunting. What can I say? I love making a grown man blush.
Greg looks understandably skeptical. “Yeah, I’ve seen him without a shirt plenty of times,” he says drily.
“Oh, baby, are you jealous ?” I tease, running my hands down his dusty shirt. I lean in and lightly touch my lips to his. “I hope not because he’s got nothing on my mountain man.”
Greg narrows his eyes, but a grin pulls at his lips. “Still. I think I might need to find a way to wipe that image from your mind forever,” he murmurs, teasing his lips along the shell of my ear, sending shivers down that entire side of my body.
“Mmmm, you definitely need to do that,” I groan, my hand slipping over the front of his pants before I press him away. “Tonight. Because right now, I need to call the boundary definition guy.”
I step back and pull out my cell phone, waving teasingly at Greg as I head outside to make the call. He shakes his head and laughs before heading back to podium construction.
Chuckling, I place the call. A few minutes later, I’ve scheduled an in-person meeting for the following week, which is one more item checked off the to-do list.
* * *
By Saturday morning, the great room is stuffed with chairs, an elevated podium sits at the front, and the foyer is set up with Mia’s promised refreshments. Greg and I are ready to take the stage, with Rae, Mia, and Nate on hand to help field questions. It’s go time.
And before I know it, the first session is in swing. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s the first or due to the early hour, but it’s nowhere close to full, with only about a hundred and fifty people in attendance. There are very few questions, which I’m unsure whether to be grateful for or nervous about. It’s hard to get a feel for whether they’ll support the incorporation if they don’t speak up. And just as I feared, when we ask for a show of hands on the mayor versus manager issue, only a smattering of people vote, all for mayor.
But then, as we’re about to wind down, an older woman with a short grey bob and a purple pantsuit stands up. She identifies herself as Betty McDonald, then asks, “Why are we even bothering with this? Nobody here wants to pay more taxes to make a few small business owners feel important when the town was just fine before they showed up.” She lifts her chin, and her too-familiar words have me seeing red. And I know, based on Nate throwing a hand up to hold Mia back, that I’m not the only one.
Greg shoots me a sympathetic look that still clearly tells me to stand down. He’s far more diplomatic than I would’ve been as he calmly reiterates the benefits of incorporation: improved infrastructure, essential services, increased property values, protection for local businesses, etc.
And the more Betty parrots what are obviously Jerry’s words, the more advantages Greg is able to highlight. It’s annoying that Jerry has influenced some of the other townspeople. But by the end, the rest of the attendees seem more convinced of our position, given the questions they finally start to ask. There’s more curiousness and openness than there was at the beginning of the session, that’s for damn sure. And when Betty finally retakes her seat with a “harumph,” I can feel the smugness rolling off my bestie. Me? I’m ready to rip Greg’s clothes off right here. His calm and masterful handling of the situation was hot .
“Ever thought about being a lawyer?” I murmur to him as the crowd breaks up.
He turns to face me with a smirk. “Not really.”
I slide up to him and lean in, lowering my voice so only he can hear what I’m about to say. “You’d make a good one. You owned this room, baby. And later, I’m going to own that dick.” I reach around and squeeze his ass for effect.
“I’d say get a room, but we only have an hour for lunch,” Nate points out drolly from behind me, herding us toward the hallway. I smile up at him innocently, but before I can respond, Mia interjects.
“Thank you for handling that so well,” Mia says to Greg as we pass the last of the folks leaving. I don’t miss Mia watching Betty McDonald snatch three cookies from the table before scampering out. Mia shakes her head. “Gran hated that bitch, and I’m starting to see why.”
My eyebrows jump. “Dorothy Lewis, the sweetest and most patient woman to ever grace this earth, hated someone? Wow. Betty McDonald must be a bigger pain in the ass than I realized.”
Nate grimaces. “Unfortunately, Alpine Ridge isn’t short on gossipy, controlling busybodies. She was the first disruption, but I guarantee she won’t be the last.”
I shrug lightly. “Honestly, I’m just surprised there was someone Gran couldn’t melt. But I think Betty speaking up turned the tide. Before she said anything, everyone seemed really …” I tap my lips, trying to think of the word.
“Unsure,” Rae offers. “They don’t know what to think at this point.” She pauses. “They were waiting for someone to speak up and lead them one way or another.”
“I wish it were someone other than Betty McDonald. Even if we managed to convince them otherwise, if she keeps that up outside this room where we can’t refute her, she’s bound to sway them back,” Mia grumbles.
Rae smiles patiently and shakes her head as we sit down at a table Mia set up in another room with our lunch. “Oh, honey, don’t you worry. I didn’t mean Batty Betty. I meant Greg.”
Surprise flashes across Greg’s face, stopping him with a half-filled plate in hand. “Me? They can’t possibly look to me as a leader. I’ve only lived here a few years.”
Rae shrugs as she loads up her own plate with a sandwich and chips. “I think they might. You’ve given yourself a lot of positive visibility lately between the winter festival and New Year’s Eve. You reminded them that you built someplace for them to come together. And those who have come to you for help over the years will likely vouch for you as this all plays out. I think you’re in just about the best position of all of us to make them see sense.”
Greg blows out what I think is a nervous breath. I look at him appraisingly. Hoping he’s up for it. Because Rae is right, people are sheep. Better one of us takes the reins in leading them than someone like Batty Betty. I snag a pre-packed chicken salad and a bag of chips and sit beside Greg.
“While I agree that Greg is a great person to lead this charge,” Nate interjects from across the table, speaking to Rae. “Why not you? You’ve lived here the longest.”
Rae’s eyes go wide as saucers, and she tips her head back and laughs. “I have, but that means I’ve got history with this town and its people. Unfortunately, to them, I’ll always be Chet’s little girl who was just as much trouble as her daddy.” She shakes her head. “Besides, I’m no leader. But you, Greg? You’re a natural.”
The tips of Greg’s ears turn pink as he eats, and he is pointedly staying silent.
“Well, here’s hoping for an even better turnout this afternoon. And maybe another Betty McDonald or two to give my man room to shine,” I tease, nudging Greg with my elbow.
Greg glances at me skeptically, then gives Nate a long-suffering look. Both Nate and Mia bust up laughing. Mia lifts her styrofoam cup of coffee.
“Here’s to round two with the old busybodies of Alpine Ridge,” she teases.
I hoped for a better turnout, and boy, do we get it. The afternoon meeting is standing room only, with nearly three hundred people crammed into the space. Like word has gotten around about all the questions asked at the first session, the questions in the afternoon session build on them, coming fast and furious, mostly about timelines and money.
When will incorporation be complete? How soon can we get trash service? How high will taxes go? We answer most of the queries, though not always to the asker’s satisfaction. But the fact that almost every question assumes the incorporation is going forward makes me want to run a victory lap around the town.
Even more interestingly, almost everyone votes when asked, and nearly all for mayor as well.
* * *
The final session on Sunday is full but not quite as packed. The discussion flows more smoothly and less contentiously than yesterday, with more fundamental questions about what it means to incorporate and what will be expected of them through the process. I can see that Greg is worried, presumably because it means that people are talking about the incorporation with each other. And that it might not all be positive. I try to reassure him with my presence and a few subtle touches that their engagement is a good sign. The vote, once again, goes for mayor.
Greg concludes the meeting, and people rise from their seats, talking in small clusters and grabbing what’s left of the cookies and coffee.
“I like how not even one of them asked what a town manager is,” Mia says quietly.
I snort.
“I doubt anyone wanted to look stupid by asking,” Rae comments in a low voice.
“So they all voted for a mayor to save face?” Nate asks, screwing his lips to the side.
“It’s as stupid and plausible as it sounds,” I murmur. Greg snickers. I shoot him a look. “We all agreed you should lead this charge, remember? What are you waiting for? Go mingle and win over the doubters.” I shove him jokingly toward the crowds.
He swoops in and kisses me. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, trotting off to do what I suggested like the good boy he is. I giggle to myself at the fantasies that thought brings to mind.
“We should all probably do that,” Mia points out. I nod my agreement and pretend like I wasn’t imagining role-play kink while the rest of our group breaks up to work the room. Still, my eyes follow Greg for a few moments as I watch him settle into a conversation with a group of older ladies who look a hell of a lot nicer than Betty McDonald.
Then my gaze drifts toward the foyer, and I notice Ned lurking by the snack table. My inner sneak lifts her head. I watch him stand there awkwardly for a few minutes until his gaze meets mine. And like I’d cast a fishing line and started reeling him in, he moves toward me. I can’t help the satisfied grin that settles over my face.
Instead of seeing the cunning behind it, he takes it as encouragement, his leering grin answering mine.
“Looking good today, Joanie,” he says, his beady dark eyes scanning me from tits to ass before landing on the former. “Can I get you a drink?”
I paste on a flirty smile. “Oh, I’d just love that. I’m so thirsty after that long meeting.” I lay my hand on his arm and bat my eyelashes at him invitingly. “Thank you, Ned, you’re so thoughtful.”
Ned dutifully scampers off, and I watch him approach the table. But his back is facing me, I hope strategically, as he prepares my drink. He returns a few minutes later, handing me a styrofoam cup of black coffee.
I carefully accept it with my fingertips holding the rim, but I don’t take a sip.
“Thank you,” I purr.
“I hope you like your coffee black,” he responds. “I love the taste of straight-up coffee, don’t you?”
I nod agreeably. “Oh, absolutely. I like my men and my coffee tall, dark, and delicious,” I say, pointedly scanning him from head to toe.
He misses the innuendo, his eyes flicking between me and the cup, and I work to school my expression — time to distract him from the fact that I’m not drinking it.
“So tell me more about yourself, Ned.” I run my free hand down his arm. “What do you do for fun?” I give him a meaningful look from under my eyelashes.
His grin stretches even wider. “I could tell you,” he says in what I’m sure he thinks is a sexy voice. He leans in, and it’s all I can do not to wince at the foul odor of his rancid breath. “Or I could show you.”
“Oh Ned, you’re so funny,” I titter, stepping back. Not getting the hint at all, he presses forward.
“And you’re —” I don’t get to find out what I am because a growl rips through the air between us, and suddenly Greg is there.
All I see is thick, dark hair, broad shoulders, and a tapered waist as he shoves in front of me. He pushes Ned, and though Ned’s a touch taller, his skinny ass stumbles back several feet.
“Touch her, and you die,” Greg snarls.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and a unique mixture of fear and arousal courses through me. Ned, for his part, scurries away like the rat he is.
And Greg whirls in place to face me, fury written all over his face. “Come with me.” His hand closes over mine, pulling me through the thinning crowd and into his office. I struggle to keep the coffee from spilling as he slams the door behind us.
“What the hell was that?” Greg demands, barely containing his anger.
I sigh and shake my head, pulling a folded plastic zipper bag from my back pocket. I set the cup on Greg’s desk, open the bag, slip it in, and carefully seal it shut. Greg’s eyes track every movement as his chest heaves. With that done, I step into him, placing my hands gently on his chest. But I can see in his eyes he already has a pretty damn good idea of what I just did. And that it was, at least in part, premeditated.
“Tell me you didn’t bait him into trying to drug you.” Greg’s tone is as hard as his expression. His hands are clenched into fists, and his eyes are wild.
I can’t help it; my hands find my hips as I glare back at him. “I didn’t bait him to do anything. He offered me a drink, and I accepted, but I didn’t drink it. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Greg explodes. “You had a fucking evidence bag ready, Joanie! Even if you were just waiting for him to make a move, he could have tried to lure you away, or injected you with something when Plan A failed, or —”
“We were in public. And I can take care of myself,” I cut in calmly.
He scoffs. “Oh really? So if he grabbed you, you’d be fine?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think I couldn’t handle that?” I challenge. “I’d like to see you try to grab me against my will.”
Greg smirks, but it quickly fades at my stony expression.
“Don’t mess around, Joanie,” he replies, irritated.
“I’m not messing around. Go ahead. Try to grab me,” I grit out through my teeth.
His brow furrows. “I’m a lot stronger than you. I don’t want to hurt you, even by accident.”
I roll my eyes. “Quit treating me like a china doll and fucking grab me, wimp,” I goad him.
Greg gives me the “Oh no, you didn’t” look, and I almost laugh. Almost.
“Fine,” he says in a clipped tone. And then he lunges.
In a flash, I have Greg pinned to the ground, my knee at his throat. He tries to shove my knee off, but I twist, cutting off his air. His face turns red, and he taps out.
“Third-degree black belt in taekwondo,” I explain, releasing him. “I’m not as helpless as I look.” I bat my eyelashes at him in the most menacing way I can manage.
“Holy shit.” He sits up, gasping and rubbing at his neck. As he climbs to his feet, I see a mix of emotions on his face: surprise, relief, and ... arousal? “Still ... what you did was reckless,” he says, but his voice has lost its edge, and he won’t meet my eyes now. “You shouldn’t take unnecessary risks. I couldn’t handle it if anything happened to you.”
And now I feel like a complete asshole. Greg wasn’t saying he didn’t think I could handle myself. He was saying he couldn’t handle knowing I’d have to. I soften, touched by his concern. “I’m sorry. If I knew you’d be this upset …” I trail off, chewing at my bottom lip.
He huffs a dry laugh. “You would’ve what? Not done it?” He shakes his head. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
I scrunch my nose and reach out, lacing my fingers through his. “Still. I am sorry.”
He nods and pulls me into his arms. “I know,” he murmurs into my hair. “And it helps that you’re even more capable of handling yourself than I knew. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to tear Ned’s head off at the thought of him even looking at you wrong. So maybe just … be more careful? Please?”
I melt into his embrace at the earnestness in his voice. And even though I despise being told what to do, especially by a man … well, I’m finding I can’t deny Greg anything. And the idea that I mean enough for him to threaten his own family member like he did … it makes those three little words dance on my lips again.
But I bite them back. Though I do say, “I will, I promise.” I blink hard as the feelings Greg stirs in me bring tears to my eyes. It’s still all too much. So I do the only thing I know how to do to distract myself with a man. “And to show you I’m sorry, and I mean it …”
I press him away and unbuckle his belt, dropping to my knees.
Greg’s eyes darken. “You don’t have to do that, Joanie.” He makes to tug me up, but I can’t handle looking him in the eyes right now because my name on his lips sends a fresh wave of things I’m not ready to feel coursing through my body.
So instead, I withdraw his cock from his boxers and shove it down my throat. His head tips back, and I let those three words melt back into my mouth as he does. I let his moans fill the space in my head where my swirling emotions were. I let his gentle touch on the back of my head soothe the turmoil inside me. But nothing, not the taste or smell of him, the way he feels thrusting in and out of my mouth, or the hot spill of his seed down my throat can distract me from the realization that my heart is his.
Or the knowledge that this visit, this project has become more than a pitstop between what was and whatever comes next. Deep down, I know it’s now my path. And ready or not, I’m walking it with this man. He’s what comes next — no pun intended, for once.
I’m shaken out of my thoughts by Greg hauling me to my feet and kissing me with such passion that it nearly knocks me back off them. When he stops, he’s breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together. “Goddamnit, you drive me so fucking crazy,” he groans against my lips. And I know by his tone and body language that he doesn’t mean sexually. He means that a stellar blowjob wasn’t enough to distract him from what I did and how that made him feel.
“I know,” I murmur back. “I’m sorry for making you worry today.”
He nods, his nose grazing mine with the motion. “I know. But if anything happened to you …” He pulls back to look into my eyes, and I see fear at the idea in them. He shakes his head, and his hand reaches up to cup the back of my neck. His thumb swipes tenderly over my cheek. “I love you, Joanie.”
My heart nearly stops in my chest at his words. I reach for something, anything to say. Except “I know.” Because I’m not going to Han Solo him after that heartfelt confession, after what I did today.
Instead, I nod. “I’m …” I swallow hard. His thumb swipes over my cheek again, making my thoughts go haywire.
“I know you’re not ready to say it yet.”
I look up into his dark eyes with surprise. But I shouldn’t be. He gets me like no one has in a very long time. Possibly ever. And again, the knowledge that he will never ask me to be anyone but who I am nudges me toward giving in.
And yet, I can’t. Not yet.
“I’m not,” I agree. “But take me home, mountain man, and I’ll show you how I feel about that.” I bite into my bottom lip, willing my arousal to show through more than my feelings. Though I’m pretty sure he gets the message: I may not be ready to say it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.