Chapter 6 Stone
Stone
“And there it was—a tiny patch of wilting flowers, right on the outskirts of town.”
Clarice Sinclair sets a fresh mojito beside me. “Another?”
“Sure. What the hell. My project’s destroyed. I might as well drown in sugar while I’m at it.” The older woman glares at me, and I instantly regret what I said. “Sorry, Clarice. It’s been a bad day.”
Isaac shuffles the cards and deals them around the table. One to Ron, one to McCauley, and one to me. “Texas Hold’em, okay?”
“It’s fine,” we all reply, not in unison.
“So how bad was the spot of land?” McCauley asks as he shoves hair from his eyes. McCauley is the yard guy in Mystic Meadows, makes a fortune mowing and sculpting lawns.
Sounds like a cake walk, and right now, I wish my job was that easy.
Who am I kidding?
I’m a Maddox.
We do not do easy or convenient.
I sit up and stare at the cards. Three of spades and eight of diamonds—two unconnected cards, which means there’s little chance of winning this round. Figures I’d be dealt a shit hand. Just one more strike against today.
To McCauley, I say, “The wilting flowers weren’t bad. A couple of dandelions and brown grass that looked like Roundup had been dumped on it. But when I tried to point that out, oh no, the whole thing was proof enough to that woman—”
“Coco,” Ron corrects lightly, as is his way.
“Whatever.”
Coco Higginbotham. Of course I haven’t forgotten her name, but the guys don’t need to know that. They might act like fourth graders and think I’m sweet on her. For the record, I am not—nor was I at any point—sweet on that woman.
That might be a lie.
The point is, I don’t do sweet. I don’t do feelings. I don’t do anything but frustration, and even that’s been rising today, bubbling under my skin. I push it down in an attempt to remain neutral.
Feelings lead to things like . . . feeling.
And I’ve had enough of it.
“The grass was proof enough that the materials we’re using—which she said are somehow not allowed—are destroying the ley lines.”
The lambicorn presses its head to my leg and I pull away. Let someone else take care of it. I’m done.
Done.
“And then what happened?” Isaac asks.
“She marched to city hall with pictures she took, like it was a crime scene, and insisted the whole town will suffer if construction doesn’t remain shut down until I change the building materials.
It wasn’t enough that she’d already revoked the permit.
She added the pictures on top to strengthen her case. ”
What a nightmare.
This is the first signature project my brother and I have taken on without our mother’s money underneath us—and my entire future hinges on it being successful.
When I worked with the Maddox Group, there was always a cushion.
Failure was never a possibility. And when we began building the Summit, failure wasn’t even a flicker in my mind because of support from the community and my cousin Rhett coming on board.
But now . . . it feels like I’ve been tossed into the ocean with a life raft just out of reach. Oh, and I’m surrounded by sharks.
Sharks that all look like Coco Higginbotham.
With silky, dark hair and big doe eyes.
Shut it down, Stone. She is the enemy.
If I have to tell Pane and my cousin we’ve got to start over because of some ley lines? Good grief. Not only will we be behind schedule, but we’ll also be over budget.
Well, I could always go back to working with Sylvia.
Hell no.
Not after what she did.
“What are you doing about the building?” Isaac asks.
“I put a call in to my attorney. Hopefully, we’ll have this cleared up by tomorrow. It needs to be fixed tomorrow because my cousin is set to arrive soon, and if he sees us stalled, Rhett will have my ass. So will Pane. Hell, I’ll have my own ass.”
“Can your lambicorn have milk?” Clarice shouts from the bar.
“Goat’s milk,” I shout back. “Do you have any?”
“There’s some in the fridge,” Isaac tells her. When the three of us throw him questioning looks, he shrugs. “What? I got some today in case you showed up for poker tonight.”
Ron pats the baby sheep, which still sits at my feet. Damn thing hasn’t left my side all day.
So Ron, Isaac, and McCauley are actually Pane’s friends, but I inherited them when I began work on the project.
It’s been good to have friends in this town.
“Have you fed the lambi yet?” Ron asks, stroking its thick coat. “It looks hungry.”
“No, I haven’t fed it,” I snap. “I’ve been busy trying to save the resort from a small woman who thinks she runs this town.”
“Who, Coco?” Isaac laughs. “She’s just trying to do what she thinks is right.”
“Well, she’s a real pain.”
Even if she was adorable at first, with the whole pencil-in-her-hair thing and the joke about a cat poster in my trailer, those thoughts are now gone. I’ve erased from my body all semblance of anything that remotely hints at fledgling affection for her.
But Coco’s still under my skin and she’s not even here. I’m wound up. My chest is in knots, and feelings pulse through me in a manner I don’t like.
I deal with it the only way I know how—by biting back.
“We’ve got a deadline,” I growl. “No matter what, I’ll get this project finished, and I won’t be breaking concrete.” The guys are silent as they study their hands. “And another thing,” I add. “Who dropped that pile of bricks on the wrong side of the site? They left a mess.”
Without looking up, Isaac answers with, “That was Antoine. New guy.”
“Fire him.”
Ron stops organizing the cards in his hand. “I thought you said, ‘Fire him.’ Must be hearing things.”
“You’re not. Fire. Him.”
“The guy’s got kids, a family. Trying to make a fresh start,” Isaac tells me, like I’m supposed to be someone who cares.
“Not my problem.”
The table goes silent except for Clarice, who gives a low whistle. “You’re not like your brother, are you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.
“Means whatever you think it does.” She sets the bowl of milk beside the lambicorn. The sheep laps it up like its life depends on it. “Poor thing’s thirsty.”
“I didn’t ask to be its mom,” I grouch. “Would you like to have it? You can own a magical creature for free. People would pay millions for such an adorable thing. It might even have magic, though I don’t know what that is yet, other than the gift to follow me everywhere.”
“Better a creature than a human,” Isaac mumbles.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Isaac rearranges the cards in his hand and doesn’t look up when he replies, “People and magic don’t mix well in Mystic Meadows.”
“You said that before. What’s it about?”
He hitches a shoulder to his ear. “There are stories.”
“What kind?”
McCauley pipes up when Isaac doesn’t answer.
“There’s one about a garden. But what I remember is about a guy who lived outside town—named Tom.
This was when the magic was really strong, so over twenty years ago.
Folks said he could light candles without touching them, among other things.
Then one day he vanished. No note. Just a burned-down house and a lot of rumors. ”
“But that doesn’t mean someone hurt him,” I challenge.
“Doesn’t not mean it,” Ron says darkly.
“All you need to know is that magic and animals, good,” Isaac explains. “People and magic, bad. But I wouldn’t worry about it. That lambicorn looks partial to you.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me, but I’m not interested. I don’t even know why I care so much about not caring.”
That’s not true. I know, and I don’t like it. Frustration bunches up my muscles, and I exhale a sigh so hard my lungs deflate. Everything in me shifts, coils, like I’ve got to explain it.
Before I can stop myself, I grumble, “When you grew up believing your dad didn’t give a shit about you—a lie concocted by your own mother—the last thing a person’s interested in is being responsible for something that can be hurt.”
There’s a long stretch of quiet at the table. My insides feel raw, jagged, the edges razor sharp.
Good God. Why don’t I just open my mouth and vomit all my secrets? It’s that woman. First my mom called, and then Coco spun me out of control.
“It was all Sylvia Maddox being Sylvia Maddox,” I add bitterly. “Besides, do I look like a mother to any of you?”
McCauley eyes me. “Get rid of that scruff on your face and maybe you could pass for female.”
“Ha ha. Hysterical. I can see why my brother likes hanging out with the three of you.”
Ron talks around a mouthful of potato chips. “Before all that stuff came up with Coco, it looked like the two of y’all were getting along.”
The men stare at me, waiting for an answer. Are they serious? “Are you talking to me? You think Coco and I were getting along?”
“You did give her a hard hat,” Isaac points out.
“Yeah, so she wouldn’t die from a freak accident. It would be just my luck an inspector gets killed. And so we’re clear, Ron, that woman and I were not getting along.”
We were totally getting along, and it pisses me the hell off.
The lambicorn finishes lapping the milk and then curls up beside my chair. For a flicker, I note how cute it is.
Cute for someone else.
I study my hand. Two pair. Nothing that’ll win. “Fold.”
I drop my cards on the table and plow my fingers through my hair. There’s got to be a way to keep the resort on schedule.
Clearly, demanding Coco change her mind won’t budge her. The whole thing makes no sense. There weren’t any restrictions on materials that I know of, yet she’s saying there are.
She’s also saying the ley lines are affected.
Wait a minute . . .
The ley lines.
The police tape. It didn’t burn. It was ignited.
There wasn’t a lighter in her hand, and no one, for the weeks that we’ve been working, has said one damn thing about ley lines.
Except her.
Because maybe she can somehow sense them.
Maybe she can even see them.
Shit.
That’s it.
Coco can see ley lines. She has magic—magic she doesn’t want anyone to discover.
Wait. Before I jump to conclusions, I need to go back and think.
So I replay the entire exchange in my mind, and when I’m finished, only one answer seems possible. My stomach flips. My fingers flex on the table. This is it. This is how I’ll save everything.
Coco Higginbotham, the tables have just turned on you.
Though this feels like victory, another part of me hedges. If what the guys say is true, this could be bad for her.
Don’t worry. Nothing bad will happen to Coco.
Not that I’ll make sure of it. I just don’t think it will.
“Do any of you know where Coco lives?”
Ron eyes me suspiciously. “You’re not going to do anything dumb, are you?”
“No, of course not.”
I’m definitely going to do something dumb. But this isn’t for me. It’s for the project. It’s for my future. I’m protecting what needs to be protected—the resort, which will bring millions in revenue to Mystic Meadows. I’m building, but Coco wants to rip the future apart. Two can play that game.
“Just thought I’d talk to her, see if we can come to an agreement.”
The guys tell me she lives within walking distance. I rise, slide on my jacket, and head out of Sparkle Bar.
Coco Higginbotham has no idea what’s about to hit her.