Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It’s hard to keep my mind right as I park next to the curb. This isn’t the time to be distracted. DonAzule Agave has to be the priority.
Tucking Gingersnap’s keys into my purse, I climb out of the driver’s seat, and draw a steadying breath.
I pat the hood. “Good girl, today.”
She ran like a dream.
No yucky smell. No chugging.
Weirdly normal.
As I make my way to Banco de Karma, my mind spirals again. So much has happened since I was last here.
A brush of fabric against my bare arm makes me jump.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Let me get that for you,” I say when I realize I’m totally blocking the entrance because I am daydreaming about a man that makes me burn hot and see red in alternating seconds.
“Oh no worry. You looked lost in thought. I hope it was good,” Ms. Pelletier says with a giggle. “You were frowning and smiling at the same time.”
Ah. Yes. That’s exactly how I feel. She’s very observant. But I already know this about the sweet former school teacher that’s about to celebrate her one hundredth birthday.
She bustles into the bank with surprising speed. A blur of yellow and bright blue. Something’s got a pep in her step today. I need to borrow some of that.
Breathe, Marianna.
I approach the desk at the right of the lobby with my nerves bouncing like ping pong balls. “Hi, Annie. I’ve got an appointment to see the president.”
After a pleasant greeting, she picks up her phone and says something quietly. When she hangs up she smiles. “His receptionist will be out to get you.”
“Thanks, I was here the other day when the hold-up happened, but I haven’t had time to come back since.” I shudder and glance around. “That was so terrible, I don’t know how you work here!”
“I’m sorry to say I’m getting used to it.” She crinkles her nose. “They only got a small amount of money… this time.”
Another customer walks up, cutting off our conversation, and I motion for them to move up to the desk. “I’ll get out of the way. See you soon.”
Eight minutes later, the president's assistant swivels her way over to the corner of the lobby where I’m lingering. “Ms. Flora, please come this way.”
A prickle tightens my skin. I glance back at the door to see if someone is watching me.
Maybe my dark guardian angel?
A shiver races down my arms as I follow the woman.
The way he looks does something primal to me.
It also sets off alarms.
Wanting him is dangerous.
I swallow roughly, my mouth as dry as sandpaper, as we cross the ugly carpeted expanse. Confusing feelings swirl around inside me. Evan protected me, twice. Then he made sure I got to the hospital for emergency care.
I want to kick myself for being so curious about him There’s something about him. An edge. He wears confidence like a comfortable shirt. Like he’s ready for a fight. Any fight.
And god, all those hard muscles.
The man is built like a cage fighter.
Heat blooms around my neck and creeps up toward my hairline. What would he think if he knew I used to be addicted to watching MMA fights when I was in college?
But I have to wonder, how is he honing that body of his?
“Ma’am are you coming?”
I snap back to reality. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I was just trying to remember something.”
Where I lost my sanity…
Truthfully, I’m trying not to remember something.
I need to focus on the business. There is no plan B in this scenario. The loan money will save the farm and let me launch the new product line that my grandfather worked so hard for.
Please, say yes.
The woman points a manicured, eclectic blue fingernail at a bank of chairs. “Wait here. He’s with someone now.”
Hiding my own stubby, plant-stained fingernails, I perch on the edge of a very stiff leather chair.
At least I wore a dress, and didn’t come to the bank in my work clothes. That would have definitely gotten some stares. Namely from the woman who is wearing enough perfume to warrant a gas mask.
The seat I picked sucks. Quickly, I’m uncomfortable and ice cold.
That’s one way to keep you from hanging around. They will either freeze you out or make your butt hurt so bad you can’t wait to run away from the place.
No wonder people rob the place. If they’ve ever had to sit here, they probably started scheming about revenge.
Shivers take hold.
The receptionist gives me an eye.
Yes, I’m rubbing my arms.
I don’t know how the woman’s vast expanse of cleavage isn’t blue. Give me the heat any day. The dirt in my hands. The sweat on my brow.
I can’t wait to get back to the farm. Now that I’m feeling better today, I’ve got work to do. Plants to check on.
And the tractor. Ugh. It’s still broken.
The more I think about it, the more anxious I get. I glance at my watch—now more than half an hour has passed.
I go from rubbing my arms to tapping my foot. What is the hold up?
Sadly as I look at the receptionists curves—because who could miss them—my mind drifts to my pathetic sex life.
Duds. No one excited me until Evan. Besides, I had important things to do, like getting my education and getting back to help on the farm.
I startle when Mr. Reyes’s door swings inward. Yes.
Finally!
My breath holds and my heart wobbles with a mix of dread and excitement as male voices drift out.
I shift my bag and sling the strap over my arm as I take a steadying breath, but my nerves sky-rocket instead.
This is it. The moment of truth.
The voices grow louder.
But my mouth drops open when I realize who’s walking out.
Sylvester.
He doesn’t even see me. I shrink back with my stomach knotting.
What in the world is he doing with Mr. Reyes?
Especially during my appointment!
The assistant thanks Sylvester, then escorts him to the front door. Stunned, I stare as she laughs and talks to him like they are old friends.
God. That man. I can’t stand the sight of him.
When I snap myself out of my disbelief, I rise and walk slowly toward Mr. Reyes’s door. My legs feel like frozen wood and mushy noodles at the same time.
“Oh my!” I stumble back as the bank president rushes out toward me. He doesn’t even speak. Coattails flapping, he stares straight, storming across the bank.
Without slowing, he rushes through a nondescript brown door at the rear of the building.
Wait. What?
I’m still standing in the same spot, mad and confused, when the assistant returns.
“What about my appointment with Mr. Reyes?”
She shrugs as she rubs on some garish plum-colored lipstick. “Something’s come up. He needs to reschedule.”
No. No. No!
I’ve never been punched in the gut, but I have a feeling this is what it feels like.
Something came up.
My blood starts to boil. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. I need to speak to him about the loan I’ve applied for. I’m supposed to find out about the application.”
She compresses her lips into a flat purple. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about your loan.”
My hand tightens around the strap of my bag as I search for patience that I lost a long time ago.
Months ago, actually.
“Is there someone else who can help me?”
She moves to her desk, and busies herself, tapping on her keyboard. “Mr. Reyes handles all of the loans.”
I stalk to stand in front of her desk, glaring down at her. “When will he be back?”
“He’s out for a lunch meeting now.”
I growl in a very unladylike way. Choking on the word. “Lunch.”
She smiles. Syrup sweet. But her eyes remain cold.
After forcing myself to draw in a breath that feels like razor blades, I speak in a low, angry voice. “He bailed on me because of lunch?”
“A very important meeting over lunch.”
I hear a sound come from my teeth. It’s them begging for mercy. “With Sylvester?”
She picks at her nail. “That’s bank business.”
Dammit. If I wasn’t a civil person I’d reach across the desk. “I need to know about my loan. It’s critical.”
She smiles coyly this time, raising her eyes to me. “I’m sorry, but I cannot discuss the business of Mr. Reyes or other clients. Now you need to move along, the bank lobby is closing for lunch.”