11. Charlie
ELEVEN
CHARLIE
“Ah, screw it.” Rex grinned and crossed in front of me, then wrapped the other man in a bear hug while he whacked him on the back with all the strength of a firefighter in his prime. “Bastian! Never thought I’d see you around here again. Charlie, you have no idea what you’re in for with this guy around.”
I forced a smile as Rex turned to face me, beaming, his muscular arm still slung around Anderson’s shoulders. “I have an inkling,” I replied through gritted teeth, hiking my big tote bag higher on my shoulder.
“You don’t call. You don’t text,” Rex went on, beaming at Anderson, fake punching him in the ribs. “Broke my little eleven-year-old heart. You here to stay, or what?”
“Not if I can help it,” my nemesis replied.
Rex laughed, as if Anderson had been joking, then turned to me. “Anything to add, Charlie?”
“That’s the first reasonable thing I’ve heard him say since we met two days ago.”
“I think you two might be soulmates,” Rex said, clutching his chest. “And here I thought I had a chance with you, Charlie.”
“Not on your life,” I answered, but I couldn’t help the grin that twitched on my lips. Rex winked in response, which, strangely, made Anderson’s scowl deepen. Apparently even Sophie’s baked goods weren’t enough to sweeten the man up. Shame. Looked like I might have to reassess Operation: Catch a Fly and Drown It .
“How do you two know each other?” I asked. Rex was the fire marshal and a volunteer firefighter, and an all-around good guy. I couldn’t imagine him and Sebastian Anderson, AKA Mr. Scum of the Earth, traveling in the same circles.
Rex grinned and pointed to the scar on his eyebrow. “This kid kicked a dodgeball in my face and then laughed at me in the first grade.”
“That tracks,” I said, and Sebastian rolled his eyes.
Rex laughed. “We were inseparable, until?—”
“Until I moved away,” Sebastian finished tersely.
Rex shot him a quick look and nodded. “Until he moved away.”
“I see,” I answered, even if I didn’t really see at all.
“Let’s do this,” Rex said, pulling a palm-sized tablet out of his back pocket. Well, it was Rex’s palm size, which were about twice the size of mine. “First things first, the landing. The Virginia fire code for existing buildings states that the landing for approved fire exits can’t be less than seven feet or more than twelve feet from street level and must be made of noncombustible material. The lobby door is at grade and the landing is made of concrete, so we’re all good there.”
I nodded. That was a good start.
“Any plans to make alterations to the facade?”
Anderson and I exchanged a glance, then looked at the peeling paint on the Art Deco structure, the old marquee that no longer lit up, and the rows of bulbs lining the graceful curves of the building.
“It could use a facelift. Paint, new lights,” I said.
“Any changes you make will have to be compliant, so I can send you a report with the rundown of what you’ll need to keep in mind.”
“Thanks, Rex.”
“And how do you propose we pay for this facelift?” Anderson asked me, arching a brow.
“Mayor Greene gave us a budget for the works. I propose we pay for it with that,” I sniped.
“Right. And leave no budget for the interior?”
“Are you reaching that conclusion based on actual quotes you’ve received for painting and lights, or are you just determined to be difficult?”
“Unless you plan on getting Albert to do the work in exchange for a plate of cookies, I don’t see how the budget will stretch far enough to include the exterior. I’m basing that on experience , Ms. Reeves.”
My eyelid twitched. The know-it-all, arrogant, overbearing jerk . I took a step closer so we were nearly chest to chest. “If this is a pathetic attempt to intimidate me into rolling over and letting you have your way, you’re testing the wrong woman.”
Rex whistled. “Gloves are off already! Damn, girl. Show him how we do it in New Elwood.” He grinned at me, shadowboxing a few times, then glanced at his tablet. “The plans show two fire exits out back, so let’s check those out before we go inside.”
We circled around to the back alley, where Rex pulled out a measuring tape to check the compliance of the small exit stairs. He rattled off half a dozen numbers while he measured the treads and risers and width, then informed us they were noncompliant and would have to be changed before the place was approved for the event.
“No problem,” I told him, with a pointed look at the enemy. Anderson crossed his arms, tightened his jaw, and said nothing. His shirt stretched over his chest as he glared at the stairs, and despite myself, my gaze was drawn to the line of his jaw and the little bit of chest hair that poked up above his open collar. I resented how good he looked. He should’ve been ugly, like his soul.
Rex nodded at me. “That’s what I like to hear. All right. Let’s go inside.”
We circled around the front, where Anderson pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the lobby doors.
Rex paused when his phone rang. “Oh, I have to take this. I’ll meet you inside.”
I nodded and followed Anderson into the Monticello’s lobby. The first thing that hit me was the smell. Buttery popcorn, dust, and layers upon layers of history. It didn’t smell good , exactly, but it smelled comforting. As soon as I walked in, I remembered sneaking into R-rated movies with Abigail and Sophie when we were supposed to be in school, or watching the latest shoot-em-up action movie with my dad. My mom and I had watched Titanic together half a dozen times in this place when it came out. It was the first movie I’d ever seen in theaters.
I shuffled onto the faded red carpet, my gaze drawn up to the massive chandelier that dominated the space. It was at least four feet tall, with linear rows of crystals dropping down in an upside-down pyramid. It was gorgeous. The rectangular crystals were covered in dust, grime, and cobwebs, but those could be buffed right out.
To the left, a ticket booth stood empty. It would be the perfect place for councilmembers to cast their votes. Straight ahead, past the spacious open lobby under the chandelier, was a huge concession area. Perfect for a bar for the gala with space for caterers behind. On either side of the concession area were two sweeping staircases that led up to the theaters.
I clutched my hands at my breast and let out a sigh. This was the kind of space that was rare these days. Sweeping, dramatic, with gilded detailing on the paneled walls, rich carpeting, and cinematic lighting. It was perfect .
“What a fuckin’ dump,” Anderson said, and I whirled to glare at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Excuse you ? Excuse me! Look around you, Reeves. The carpet is threadbare, the chandelier looks like it’s about to fall and crush someone, and there’s no way that concession area could possibly pass a food safety inspection. It smells like a thousand people walked in and crop-dusted the place.”
I spluttered, fists clenched. “This place is romantic .”
Anderson recoiled, like the word triggered his gag reflex. “Romantic? What the hell is romantic about a run-down dump that I’m sure Rex is about to inform us is full of faulty wiring and malfunctioning fire suppression systems?”
“It’s romantic because people have felt joy here, Anderson. It’s baked into the walls.”
“Something’s baked into the walls, all right, but I’m not sure it’s joy.”
“How the hell would you know? I doubt you’ve ever experienced the emotion in your entire miserable life.”
He took a step toward me, and suddenly I realized how tall he loomed. I stood my ground by sheer force of will, but he kept advancing until I had to tilt my head up to continue meeting his gaze. His body was warm—warm enough that I could feel the heat of him all down my front. Despite myself, my heart began to thrum.
“Maybe the person who’s experienced joy here is you, Reeves. I could see teenage you sneaking into the back row with whatever boyfriend you’d decided to string along that week.”
“You are unpardonably rude.”
His voice dropped. “Did you have your first kiss in here, sweetheart? Which theater was it? Maybe we should go for a walk down memory lane together. You get to second base in Theater Four? Have your first orgasm in number seven?”
“You’re disgusting,” I said, but it came out breathy.
His chuckle skated over my skin, setting my nerve endings alight. Being this close to him, seeing the flecks of amber in his eyes as they softened, watching the shape of his mouth taunt me…it made breathing difficult. It’s not that I was turned on. God, no. At least, I didn’t think I was. It’s just that he was close enough that I could smell the scent of his cologne, could practically feel the fine weave of his button-down shirt against my front. All that masculinity bore down on me while I did my best to resist, my knees locking, my nipples tightening.
Oh, hell. I was turned on! I was turned the hell on! By the worst man I’d ever met!
I jumped back like he’d burned me, and the flash of triumph in his gaze ignited my rage.
“You did that on purpose,” I accused.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Might I remind you that we work together, Anderson.”
“Never said we didn’t.”
A throat clearing over by the lobby doors made us both glance over. Blood rushed to my cheeks. Rex watched us with raised brows, calculations happening behind his eyes.
“Huh,” he said.
“What’s next on the list?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“As I was about to mention,” Rex started, “the fire suppression system has been tested and maintained. We’ll have to go around and make sure the fire extinguishers are up to date and make note of the ones that need to be replaced. Smoke detectors are due to be replaced this year, so I’ll recommend you do it ahead of the gala, and I can see at least one emergency exit sign that isn’t lighting up properly. You guys ready to keep going?”
“Lead the way,” I said, painting a smile on my face, and pointedly ignoring the man beside me even though I could feel his gaze on my skin like a physical touch.
By the time we went through the building, there was a moderate list of non-compliant items that would need to be fixed ahead of the gala, but it all seemed manageable. With a few taps of his tablet, Rex sent the report to both of us and wished us a good day.
Halfway to the door, he turned around. “I expect you to grab a drink with me, Bastian. How’s your week looking?”
Anderson’s gaze slid over to me. “Difficult.”
Rex laughed. “Right. I’ll call you! I’ve got your number now, so there won’t be any more disappearing acts.” The lobby doors closed gently behind him, and I took a deep, calming breath before turning to the man at my left.
Lifting my eyes to meet his, I said, “We need to talk.”
“The four words every man most loves to hear.”
“I don’t think I need to remind you that a lot is riding on us getting this place ready for the Wine Festival Gala. And it’s not just about the vote. My town—and my job—is on the line, as is your ability to do anything with the properties you own. It’s in both our best interests to figure out how to build a decent working relationship.”
There. Nice and professional.
“What if I don’t want a decent working relationship? What if I like when you get all snippy with me? Did you know that when you get angry, the tips of your ears turn red?”
I resisted the urge to shift my hair to cover the traitorous body part, widening my stance instead. “You keep needling me like it’ll make me break. It won’t. I’m going to save this place, and there’s nothing you can do that will change my mind.”
His gaze flicked between my eyes until there was a slight softening of his features. “I guess you should know that I have no intention of changing my mind either. For every old building that poses a health or fire risk, I’ll fight to replace it with something new. And my pockets are deep, sweetheart.”
“What’s with the obsession with newness? Don’t you appreciate history at all?”
“Not when it puts people’s lives at risk.”
“Did you listen to anything Rex said? We only have minor updates to make to this place before the gala. Most of our work will be cosmetic. It is safe.”
“Safe enough to last the month, I guess, which will have to be good enough.”
Gritting my teeth, I pulled my notes out of my bag. Professional. I’d be professional, do my job, and everything would turn out fine. This place was worth saving. “I have some ideas I’d like to go over with you. We need to hit the ground running. We don’t have much time.”
“What if I want to drag my feet? If you get this place looking amazing, it’ll be that much easier for people to see the ‘potential.’” He put the last word in finger quotes, as if it were a ridiculous concept.
“But if you don’t help, there’s no way Mayor Greene will greenlight the rest of your projects. Ergo, you need this, and you need me.”
He huffed, then jerked his chin at my notes. “Show me what you got, Reeves.”
I gave him a smile full of teeth, then looked around for somewhere to sit. He followed me to the grand staircase on the left side of the room, and we took a seat near the bottom. I flipped open my portfolio and passed him the draft scope of works I’d started working on the night before.
“I think the marquee is an important feature. It’s the first thing people will see when they come in. We can even consider selling a line or two of it as advertising space for extra funds. I know at least half a dozen wineries in the area that will pay good money to have their name up there for the gala.”
Dark eyebrows twitched upward. “Maybe you’ve got an ounce of business sense, after all.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve already contacted the event planner who’s in charge of the gala. Here are the confirmed attendees and sponsors so far. You’ll notice it includes the entirety of the town council. We’ll have two hundred people in attendance. They’re planning on building a small stage right there” —I pointed to the small recess across from the ticket booth— “which is where we’ll make our speeches.”
“New carpets, paint, and a refurb of the chandelier,” he read off my notes. “Along with the marquee and exterior paintwork. New, period-appropriate sconces for the walls, and a deep clean of all areas that will be used for the gala.”
“If we add Rex’s requirements, I think we can turn this around within four weeks. The event planners need two full days to set up before the gala.”
Anderson leaned over to pluck a sheet of paper from my notes, and his shoulder brushed mine. Seated as we were on the stairs, I could feel the heat of his body all down my side. “A quote for the carpet,” he said, brows arched. He rested his elbows on his thighs to hold the sheet of paper between his spread knees, causing his thigh to press against mine. “You’re very efficient, Reeves.”
There was a note in his voice that almost sounded like admiration, and I hated how much it made me want to preen. When he wasn’t being an insufferable ass, he wasn’t the worst person in the world to be around. “I got that quote just over a year ago, so we’ll need to contact them to find out if it’s still valid,” I said, leaning over to point at the date at the top of the sheet.
“You did?” He turned toward me, surprised, and his lips nearly brushed mine when he did. Time stopped. We sat there, frozen, with me reaching over him and his lips just a couple of inches from mine, in the silence of the empty theater.
For a moment—an instant, really—I thought Sebastian Anderson was about to kiss me. His gaze flicked down to my lips, and a puff of breath left his mouth. I felt the warmth of it skate across my skin and resisted the urge to lick my lips.
The last thing I wanted to do was kiss him—but it still took me far too long to pull away.
I made a mental note to have someone check this place for black mold. My brain wasn’t working right.
“Yeah, your grandmother’s lawyer contacted me, actually. She was wondering about the cost of restoring this place.” I shuffled my papers, ignoring the pounding of my pulse and the heat snaking low in my belly.
Anderson cleared his throat. “Right, yeah.” He spun to look at me again. “Wait, what? My grandmother wanted to restore this place?”
I glanced over to see the scowl to end all scowls on his brow. I snorted. “Maybe she just wanted to get a cost estimate to see if it was worth it. Maybe being a mercenary runs in the family.”
The sharp words had the intended effect: the weird energy between us popped like a soap bubble, and the property mogul beside me was back to being the remote, arrogant man I knew him to be.
“You’re right. I am a mercenary. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m right about this place. You think a simple spit and shine will bring this pile of junk back to its former glory, but you’re wrong, and everyone will be able to see that you’re wrong when this gala happens. Soon this place will be ushered into the twenty-first century.”
“And then you’ll leave and never come back once your pockets are lined to your liking.”
“That’s the way of the world, sweetheart.” He grinned at me and slapped his hands on his thighs. “On that note, I’ve got a meeting with a local demolition contractor. You’re not the only one soliciting people for quotes.”
I gritted my teeth, and he smiled at my reaction.
We walked out of the lobby into the sunshine outside. I watched him lock the place up before he flashed me a smile and gave me a little salute, then sauntered over to his sleek Maserati. He’d parked right beside Ted, and my twenty-five-year-old car looked sad and forlorn next to his vehicle. As his engine roared to life, I wondered if I even had the slightest chance of winning against him.
I had a horrible, sinking feeling that I didn’t. A new coat of paint and a polished chandelier might not be enough to convince people to pour millions of dollars into making our town everything it could be. Maybe people would look around at the old building and decide that they really did want a giant hotel—and all the tourist dollars that such an establishment would bring. The sun’s rays soaked into my skin as Anderson’s engine faded in the distance, and I wondered if all my efforts would be in vain.
Heart heavy, I did the only thing I could: I pointed my feet in the direction of Cardinal Spring Road. Sophie’s treats were calling to me, and it was late enough that she’d probably have time to listen to me complain about the man who seemed intent on ruining everything I loved.