Chapter 20
20
Delaney squinted against the glare of the floodlight illuminating the front of The Bad Seed—she really needed to think up another name for it to disassociate the bar’s past from the present—and secured the last piece of siding at the very top of the gable.
Pa-chunk. Pa-chunk. Pa-chunk.
She sighed with relief and muttered, “One down, three to go.”
Sliding her finger off the trigger of the nail gun, she rested her forearm on the top of the ladder and winced at the bone-deep burn in her shoulder while glancing over the last section of siding she’d installed.
Looked good, considering how long it had been since she’d done it. That thought brought her mind back to Ethan’s “It makes a difference if it’s true that you used the affair to get benefits in the job,” and a familiar pain tore at her heart.
She glanced toward the row of warehouses on the adjoining property and found his truck parked at the door of his unit, the lights still on. She didn’t see Ethan, but it was pretty dark. Unless he was standing near the headlights, she wouldn’t. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in four days.
In some ways that was a blessing—it gave her time and room to still her insides from the spin he created, and it left her free from interference, allowing her to get a lot done in a short amount of time. But in another way his absence generated a new problem—it created an ache that left her feeling hollow and distracted.
She didn’t understand how she could miss him when they’d spent so little time together, and 80 percent of that in bed. But she did. She missed his humor, his intelligent conversation, his compassion. She missed his voice in the dark. The sweet way he treated her.
She closed her eyes at the bittersweet squeeze in her chest, her memory flooded with all those touching moments he’d spent tracing the lines on her palm, kissing trails over different parts of her body.
She’d been with enough men to know a special guy when she found one. And she’d become so jaded she’d begun to believe they didn’t exist for her anymore.
Ethan had changed that.
“This is a good thing,” she reminded herself softly. Ethan was nothing but a bundle of problems. And she already had too many problems.
She took a deep breath and forced the memories away and her mind back to her work.
The light, smoky-green color of the siding would pop against the white trim planned for the windows, doors, and gingerbread. The finished product would not only be beautiful, it would add to Main Street’s appeal while restoring the building’s authentic charm.
She envisioned the end product in her mind, and for the first time since Trace had informed her that Ethan had signed off on the site grading inspection, approving the land excavation and drainage changes she’d made, Delaney experienced a spark of relief. Of excitement. Of...pride?
She wasn’t sure, because this pride wasn’t the kind she’d experienced with any project in the past. This pride was far more personal, something that was completely illogical, and something she wasn’t ready or willing to acknowledge.
“Delaney,” Trace called.
She pushed her hard hat off her forehead and squinted down at him.
“It’s almost eight. The crew went home hours ago. And now it’s dark, not dusk,” he said, killing the argument she’d used earlier to keep working. “You’d never let me use a nail gun at night by floodlight. Which means you shouldn’t be using a nail gun at night by floodlight. Get your ass off that ladder.”
“Okay, okay. I’m coming down.”
“Told you she was stubborn.” Phoebe’s voice touched Delaney’s ear as she took one more look toward the warehouse and allowed one more pang of longing to pass, wishing things could be so very different, before climbing down the ladder.
Once she touched the ground, Trace recapped the day’s progress for her while Delaney put away her tools and supplies.
He finished by saying, “We’ve got the HVAC, electrical, and plumbing tied down. We’re set for the inspection tomorrow.”
She dropped the compressor hose into the toolbox and pressed her hands to her knees to help her straighten. She was stiff and sore everywhere. “Fantastic.” That would cut her exposure to Ethan way down. “What time?”
“Eleven a.m.”
“I’ll make sure I have something to do somewhere else. Just call me when he’s gone.”
Trace lifted a brow, puzzled by her evasion. She’d used the old family-feud excuse, but Delaney could tell Trace suspected some other underlying conflict. “You can’t avoid him forever.”
She flashed a grin. “I can try.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Do me a favor and stay off that ladder when no one else is around.”
“Since when am I nobody?” Phoebe asked, hands on hips.
He started toward the crumbling parking lot. “You know what I mean.”
The lights of his truck washed Phoebe in halogen, and Delaney surveyed her aunt’s dirty T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. “How’s the dumpster queen?”
“Fillin’ ’em quicker than they can bring ’em.”
Delaney laughed and rubbed a smudge of dirt off Phoebe’s cheek. She’d been pitching in when she had time and had been hauling debris to the dumpster most days. Yet she never complained.
“Well, it’s way past quittin’ time.” Delaney patted her back and walked her toward the bar’s entrance, where Phoebe had left her keys on a workbench.
“I can stay until you’re ready to go home.”
Delaney smiled, picked up her keys, and pressed them into her aunt’s hand. “Very sweet, but I know you’re dying to get home and primp for Avery’s arrival tomorrow. So go.”
“Are you sure? I really don’t mind?—”
“Yes. I’m sure. Honestly, I’d appreciate some quiet time.” She glanced around and shook her head. “Man, can you believe this place? Trace is an amazing project coordinator. What I would have given to have a guy like him on my team when I was with Pacific Coast.”
Phoebe’s gaze scanned the space, now lit with work lights. The walls were still open studs, but walls had been removed and repositioned to open the space and engineered beams placed to secure the second floor. The drop ceiling had been ripped out, adding height and giving the whole place the illusion of being twice as big. The workmanship was clean, the materials new. It was fresh and vibrated with possibility.
“I knew you’d do something amazing,” Phoebe said, letting Delaney guide her out the door and toward her car. “I just didn’t know you’d do it so fast. I never dreamed this much work was possible in...what? Ten days?”
“Almost. We’ve got a great crew that signed on for long days and subcontractors booked in tight succession, a schedule that needs to be finessed with skill to keep us from running over budget. It’s really a finely tuned machine. If one thing falls out of place, like dominos, everything behind it goes down, too. And every mess-up costs money.
“Which reminds me...” She winced as she walked Phoebe to her car. Delaney had known she wouldn’t be able to finish this job with her own funds, but she hated asking Phoebe for the money her aunt had offered so early in the process. “Once I got into the second floor, it turns out the termite damage is worse than we first thought.”
“Just let me know what you need, and I’ll get you a cashier’s check.”
“God, you’re a saint.” Guilt and gratitude mixed and swamped Delaney’s chest. She slid her arm around Phoebe’s and cuddled close to her side. “I don’t know how you put up with all of us.”
“I love all of you.” She threaded their fingers and pulled their joined hands to her chest. “When you love someone, you do what you need to do to support them, give them what they need to see them happy.”
Delaney’s mind shot straight back to that afternoon in Ethan’s office when she’d asked for those variances in building code. He could have said no and been within his rights. He could have made this job miserable for her half a dozen different ways, but he hadn’t.
God, she hated the distance between them now. Hated the emptiness it left in her heart.
“Where’d you go?” Phoebe asked.
“Hmmm? Oh, I was thinking about all the ceilings and walls I’m going to be able to take down on the second floor, which will make that space huge and serve as a variety of different things. It could be an event space, or a wine-tasting space, or even a living space.
“Whatever the future owners decide to call it and do with it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that when I get done with it, it’s going to be a gorgeous, sun-soaked space that will pump the value of this place through the roof. But we’re still a long way from done. Finish work is tedious and time-consuming.”
“One day at a time, honey.” Phoebe paused at her door and turned into Delaney for a hug.
Delaney pulled back, finally voicing something that had been on her mind since Ethan mentioned it. “Hey, I found out that the liquor license to this place is worth some good money. Do you think I should try and sell it separately from the building? It would help with liquid funds for the renovation. But I don’t know if it would hurt the value of the property.”
“Every liquor license in this county is worth a mint—there aren’t any available. Not even any up for sale—of any kind. One of Henry Kilgor’s daughters has been trying to start a tasting room for local wines but can’t because she can’t get a license and can’t even find one to buy.”
“So, I guess I should hold on to it until this place sells in case the buyer wants to use it as a full bar.”
“That would be my suggestion. Consider it a bargaining chip in the sales negotiations.” She leaned and hugged Delaney. “Don’t stay here too late. You need your sleep. You can’t afford to get sick now.”
Delaney soaked in her aunt’s sweetness and thanked God for sending Phoebe into her and her sisters’ lives. “I won’t be far behind you. I just want to play with the wood on the staircase a little. See how it’s going to take a stain.”
She pulled back with another vision for the space in mind. This renovation idea had come to her in a dream. Actually, it had been a nightmare. Regardless, the image had stuck with her, and driven her to follow through on this renovation detail. One she hadn’t told anyone about. Not even Trace.
Delaney wrapped her arms around herself against the crisp evening breeze as she watched Phoebe’s taillights disappear on the main road. Now that she wasn’t working, the air felt cold, and she shivered.
Turning back toward the bar, the glow from the warehouse lights drew her gaze, and a familiar tug made her belly ache. She wished she could wander over and say hi. Wished they could talk about their days over a beer. Wished she could ask him to dinner.
Wished one or both of them were normal. With a normal family.
She took one more look at the soft glow against the sky, sighed, and stepped onto the porch to start her work on the hundred-year-old stairway banister.
An hour later, sitting on the bottom stair leading to the second floor, Delaney lifted the piece of salvaged maple she’d picked up at Reclaimed Wild Wood in town; held it beside the banister she’d stripped, sanded, and stained to match, and shone her work light on them, looking at the two from different angles.
And smiled. “Perfect.”
She set the light down, pulled out her phone, and dialed. While she waited for the answering machine to pick up, she imagined the bar floored in this light, bright, gorgeous, variegated maple. It would be unexpected. A shocker. Once she put in all the other finishes, this place was going to be a showstopper.
That strange sense of pride welled again. But this time she smiled. She deserved to smile. This was going to be incredibly special. She didn’t even care if anyone else thought it was special or not. It was special to her. Somehow, in some way, it quieted a very pained piece of her heart.
“Hello?”
Bruce’s voice startled Delaney out of her thoughts, and her smile fell. “Oh, hey, Bruce. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I didn’t expect you to pick up. I just wanted to leave a message.”
“No problem. I answer when I can. I’m in the workshop. Who’s this?”
“Delaney.”
“How’d that maple work out?”
“Perfect.” She smiled again, then grew suddenly worried and nervous and closed her eyes, hoping... “That’s why I’m calling. I know we talked about this, but before I buy five thousand square feet of this stuff, I just need you to verify its origination.”
“All done. I even have a signed statement of authentication, which is about as good as we can get in these situations.”
Delaney did a silent little cheer and dance. “That’s all I need. Hold that five thousand for me. I’ll be in tomorrow. And, Bruce? Can you keep this purchase between us for now?”
She hadn’t explained why she wanted the wood or what made it special for this renovation, so when he paused and gave her that confused, “Uh, sure,” she wasn’t surprised.
“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
Delaney disconnected and held up the wood again, happy with the color match.
Tires on the gravel brought her gaze up, just as headlights swept across the front of the building. But the vehicle was out of sight, and her heart hitched with the hope of seeing Ethan. Then dropped at the thought of starting yet another argument.
She set down the wood and recapped her stain and mineral spirits. By the time she was putting away her rags and sandpaper, footsteps sounded on the porch. Heavy footsteps. Footsteps of a big man wearing big, hard-soled boots. Not the kind she’d seen Ethan wear.
The hair on the back of Delaney’s neck prickled and gooseflesh rose on her arms. Instinct had her reaching for a hammer and pushing to her feet as the door opened.
But when Austin filled the doorway, in a pristine navy uniform shoulders to toes, a thick gun belt hanging low on his hips, Delaney knew the hammer wouldn’t do any good. The only thing that would help her with a man like Austin was what she’d learned as a troubled teen.
So she dug up that cunning little street kid, who’d gotten a lot of polish over the years.
“Good evening, Deputy.” Twirling the hammer, she wandered to the nearest toolbox, set it inside, and closed the lid. “I expected your visit a few days ago.”
“You’re not that important in my world.”
“Good to hear. What can I do for you?”
“You can get out of town like I told you to last week.”
She turned to face him, crossed her arms, and leaned her back against the bar. “That would be the same time I explained that I’m here because?—”
“I don’t give a damn why you’re here.”
He advanced, stepping into her personal space. Everything from the superior look in his dark eyes to his arrogant posture screamed he had a serious self-confidence issue. His bullying only confirmed it.
“If you were looking for allies in this town,” he said, voice dripping with contempt, “you are definitely fucking the wrong brother. Ethan’s always been the pussy of the family.”
Shock stung Delaney’s stomach, and she had to use all her skills not to show it. Her insides rattled with betrayal, tension, fear, but she reminded herself that Austin couldn’t see any of that. He could see only what she showed him.
“But he’s my brother, so the fact that you’re fucking with his head really pisses me off. Me, on the other hand...” His index finger scooped beneath both her tank and her bra strap, and Delaney’s throat tightened. “I have all the pull, all the power, and no one can fuck with my head.” His gaze lifted to hers. “So stop doing my pussy of a brother, start doing me, and not only will you get a taste of what a real man can give you but things might even start going your way.”
“I’m not fucking either of you.” She rocked her shoulder to knock his hand away, and his expression froze. His eyes went dark. She’d just stepped into the danger zone. It was all or nothing now. So she drew a breath and used all her strength for her final demand. “Get. Out.”
Austin’s hand whipped up, and Delaney flinched for a strike. But instead of hitting her, he planted his hands on the bar, trapping her there.
Alarm swamped her brain, but she did her best to stay calm and think smart. He was way too big, too strong to fight. And none of her tools would win against a gun.
“You don’t tell me to get out. I’m the authority here. I’m the cop. You do what I say. Do you get that, Hart? You do what I say.”
Desperation tipped back into panic. And Delaney slipped into that zone she’d used as a kid, that steely place inside herself—a place where she was quiet, stable, and intently focused. A place she’d visited when her father had gone into drunken tirades and grown violent. A place that brought her an immense amount of inner strength and personal power.
But only temporarily.
“I’m not doing anything wrong. And I’m not making any trouble?—”
“Your mere presence is trouble.” He smacked the bar, making Delaney jump. Then he bent until his face was directly in front of hers, but his eyes were focused on her mouth, and a lecherous little grin tipped the corners of his lips. “What are you willing to do to make me forget about all the nasty ripples you’re causing around here, Hart?”
She pulled in a shaky breath. “I’m willing to warn you that you’re being taped right now.”
His eyes shot up and latched on to hers, hot with irritation.
“I’m willing to tell you that the video and audio equipment monitoring the property, inside and out, is the hottest technology on the market and can record sounds down to ten decibels, which means it’s recording our every word.”
Fury leaped in his dark eyes. His jaw turned to stone. His nostrils flared. Color rushed to his cheeks. Delaney fisted her hands to keep from shoving him back.
Austin’s gaze darted up and around the ceiling. He straightened and stepped away, searching for the video equipment Trace had installed even when Delaney had insisted they didn’t need it. Trace had installed it to protect against the common crimes of vandalism and theft on a construction site, not assault. And Delaney was intensely clear on the fact that the equipment guaranteed little safety in this moment.
She pulled in a deep gulp of air and stole glances toward all the exits, but no direct route existed. And Austin still had his gun, which he might just be crazy enough to use. So she stuck with what was working.
“Don’t bother. You won’t find them. Do you know how small they make these cameras now? The technology is?—”
He swiveled back to her, lunged, and pinned her to the bar by the arms. Pain shot up her spine. Ethan was just as tall as Austin, just as big, just as built if you took away Austin’s Kevlar vest. But Austin’s menace made him seem ten times as imposing.
Hysteria bubbled around the edges of Delaney’s mind. She was a millimeter away from unraveling and going batshit crazy on him. But she knew that could earn her a spot in the local graveyard and Austin some kind of Deputy of the Month award.
“Them? How many? Where are they?” he demanded. “Tell me. Right now.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her stomach spiraled with acid. “They’re web based. The feed is automatically saved directly to a server. You can’t even find it, let alone kill it.”
The heat of rage glowing in his eyes turned cold and hard in a way that shivered over her shoulders and clearly translated to, But I can kill you.
“The video is viewed by a security company daily,” she added. “You’re in Technicolor and Dolby, Deputy. If anything happens to me, now or in the future, cops at a higher pay grade than yours will be coming for you.”
Austin released her. “You fucking bitch.”
“A smart fucking bitch.” Residual terror made her shake uncontrollably. She straightened and forced herself to maintain a show of strength. “Since I’ve got your ass on a skewer, let me tell you how this is going to go.
“You’re going to leave me the hell alone for the rest of my time in town, and that feed, the one of you blackmailing me then threatening me, stays our secret. If you don’t, tonight’s footage goes viral. And I mean viral—the sheriff’s department, the state department, the mayor, the media. Anyone who will watch or listen.
“I imagine your father will have to drop out of the mayoral race when the public sees his son abusing his authority and the rights granted to every American citizen under the Constitution.”
When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off with, “If you doubt for a second that I’ll expose you for the narcissistic, misogynistic bastard that you are, go ahead, Deputy.” She was so panic stricken, she wobbled on the razor’s edge of insanity. “Push your luck. Try me.”