Chapter 2 #3
“Your Honor.” Walker stands with assurance, which only makes me angry that he has so much confidence.
“We ask the court and The Historical Society to consider our new offer for the property in question. Daly Industries International, henceforth known as DII, is willing to pay triple the asking price. Also adding a special program featuring the remaining structures as historical properties and enhancing the school district with programming in social studies and state history. We would also like to point out the added benefits to the county with the addition of revenue and jobs.”
“I’ll take that into consideration,” Judge Gibson says.
“Your Honor, with all due respect, The Historical Society can also add revenue and jobs with tours, leaving the structure timeless and intact,” I argue, my jaw ticking.
“With limited reach, Your Honor. DII has an international draw and has the money to back it,” Walker insists as his eyes dart to me. Yeah, I’m about to cut your throat.
“At what price to local environment? If the Historical Society were to take it over, the regional integrity would be intact,” I contend, sneering at his smugness.
“Economically, the budgetary issues facing the area would increase before they could see any gains, if there were any gains. Honestly, Your Honor, no one locally can add more pecuniary funds in so short a time,” Walker maintains with a smirk.
“May I ask, what evidence do you offer?” I demand, gritting my teeth at his condescending tone. Smartass.
“Your Honor, I like to offer into evidence the current Brunswick County Commission budget. A prospectus for The Historical Society and DII. As you can see, DII would immediately show gains.” Walker looks over at me, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. My nostrils flare.
Judge Gibson studies the paperwork laid before him. I sink my nails into the palm of my hand. My eyes tighten, waiting with bated anticipation. I chance a fleeting peek at Walker and see his hands loosely crossed behind his back. He acts as if he’s already won this.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, folks. Each of you offer validity to their cause, and we can all agree the community is the most important element here.
” We agree, and my stomach turns with angst. “Seeing you each acknowledge my thoughts, it gives me hope for the future. With that said, I order you two to work together to find a happy medium. I can see no reason why you can’t find the best outcome. We’ll meet again in thirty days.”
Before the judge can pound his gavel, we both jump with disapproval. “Your Honor.”
He stares at us, opened-mouthed at his words. “Yes?” His gaze switches between Walker and me.
“All due respect, but I’m positive we cannot work this out,” I say. My face pinches in anguish with thoughts of working with the talking jackass.
“I would have to agree, Your Honor,” Walker grunts, shoving his hands in his pockets. Not so smug now, are we?
“Now, there’s the perfect example,” Judge Gibson states. We look at each other and then back to the bench in confusion. “You agree on something. So, thirty days or you may both leave unhappy.” He pounds the gavel to our mutual dislike.
I squeeze my eyes shut, dragging air deep into my lungs. I count to ten before opening them, only to face Walker head on. “What?” I growl, trying to intimidate him.
“We need to talk. Now.” Walker’s glare levels me as his lips smash into a thin line.
“Please, lead the way.” I grab my bag and follow him.
He walks from the courtroom, scanning the hall. He points toward a conference room. “Perfect.”
I pivot on my toes, stomping toward the empty room. Just as I reach the door, I gasp when Walker’s hand finds the small of my back and a charge races through me once again. Dammit. The second I hear the door close, I spin on him. “Spit it out.”
“What is your problem?” His jaw ticks as he shoves his hands in his pockets, pulling his pants tight over his hard body. Fuck. Stop it.
“You.”
“Me? What have I done to you?” His eyes grow wide, his mouth hanging agape.
“What the fuck was that last night?” I fist my hands on my hips.
“Excuse me?” His brow furrows.
“You only volunteered at the crisis center to try to gain the upper hand, didn’t you?” I accuse.
“No, I didn’t. I’m there for my own reasons. I, obviously like you, had no clue you were my opposition.” He’s warped if he thinks I’m going to believe him.
I hold up my hand to stop him. “Ya know what, I don’t give a fuck. Stay away from me and stay away from the center.”
He steps closer to me, invading my space and my senses. Even the good ones. “Let me be clear, Miss Morgan. I have no interest in being around you any more than I have to, and I will continue to volunteer at the crisis center. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard, trying to calm my racing pulse caused by his close proximity.
“Perfectly.” I step around him, but again—with all my judgment failing me—I can’t stop myself.
Whirling around, I leer at him. “Let me be clear, there will never be a time I would want you to be interested in me nor will I ever be interested in you.” Spinning on my heels, I jerk the door open and hurry from the room. And Walker Pennington.