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Lily blew her bangs out of her eyes. She wouldn’t be thinking about missed chances and regret if the firefighters had done their job in the first place. She rubbed her temple with a thumb as that little nugget worked its way in.
“Look, Lily, we need this contract. Brad Mateo is talking major expansion to the bar here. A complete overhaul of the current building, plus landscaping, an outdoor volleyball pit, et cetera. I need—we need—you to secure this contract.” His eyes softened for a moment, allowing Lily to catch a glimpse of worry. “You know how slow things have been. This contract would carry us through clear to next spring.”
She couldn’t deny that business had taken a dive in the past few years, thanks to a tough economy. The summer months had brought them enough work to break even and make payroll, but not much to pad the bottom line. She’d already been lowering bids and cutting into profit margins to try to entice signed contracts, but to no avail. The work was simply harder to get than it used to be.
Their situation wasn’t unique, although apparently people still liked to drink and party their sorrows away if the Throwing Aces could afford to expand.
“I understand—” she began, but Doug cut her off with a shake of his head.
“I don’t think you do. If we don’t get this contract, I’ll be laying off for the winter.”
Lily frowned. Her dad was a builder by nature and trade. He’d rather be on the job, swinging a nail gun and barking orders to the crew, than doing the talking, and sometimes the careful wooing, it took to secure contracts.
That was why Lily was the face of Ashden Construction. She knew how to woo. But sometimes they just couldn’t beat another company’s bid, and then it didn’t matter what she did. Some contracts just couldn’t be won, as was the case more than ever lately with so much competition between companies to secure jobs.
“Doug...” Her voice was tight, thanks to the lump in her throat. The men who worked for them all had families, obligations. They’d never had to lay anyone off before, and Lily had no intention of doing so now.
“Bolstom backed out. Postponed the project for three years in hopes the economy rebounds more.” Doug’s eyes narrowed, making the effect of his words that much stronger.
Lily let out a slow breath. Grant Bolstom was a land developer who had worked closely with Ashden Construction for almost ten years. He’d brought them in to build town houses in new development areas both here and in Nashville, where they each had secondary offices. They’d had a multimillion-dollar, four-year contract in the works—work that would have carried Ashden Construction for years.
“Jesus, Doug. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Doug uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips. “It was my deal, my business. Look, Brad Mateo is expecting you. Take good care of him. Give him what he wants.”
Lily crossed the office as her dad rattled off a list of things he wanted her to do. She stopped by the peaked windows that overlooked the Greenway golf course. When they’d scouted buildings to convert into an office, the windows of this old brick house had sold it. The foundation needed work and the masonry cried out for some TLC, but it was nothing her father couldn’t handle when he finally got some time to tackle it. Carpenters’ houses were always falling down, or something like that.
“Okay,” Lily interjected at what she hoped was the right time. In twenty-seven years, she’d gotten good at blocking him out without him realizing it.
The heavy silence made Lily realize her father had stopped talking. She turned to him, shocked to see an almost sweet expression of...what was that? Affection? Whatever it was, it seemed foreign on his stone-cut face and it disappeared like frosty breath in the sun.
“You secure this contract for me, Lil, and then get yourself to Nashville. It’s time you took a break.”
Her spine tingled. She wanted to run her brother’s architectural-salvage showroom. The designer inside her craved it. All those rescued vintage and antique building materials and decorative fixtures just waiting to find new homes called to her.
Since Katja’s death, every time the subject of her leaving to work with Lincoln had come up, Doug had pointed out all the reasons she shouldn’t go. That plus guilt kept her firmly grounded in Kansas. She couldn’t leave Doug alone. With Katja gone now, he’d have no one. No family around him. They might not get along that well, but Lily was all he had.
“You’re serious?” Her chest tightened. Doug acted as though he didn’t care one way or the other, but the string of excuses he repeatedly blathered on about lent some suspicion that he cared a little. Even if he didn’t show it.
“Secure the contract and you’ll have my blessing.” He knew that was what she wanted—needed. His approval, his love, his support and acceptance. All things he rarely gave. “I need you to do this for us, Lily.”
He raked one big hand through his close-cropped silver hair and eyed her steadily. Lily’s heartbeat seemed to pause, hovering like a leaf on a strong breeze. Then it started again as the leaf began to float down, down...down. He always needed her when it benefited him. This time, it was more than just them. Their employees’ security was on the line.
Katja’s image came to mind—expressive chocolate-brown eyes, full lips curved into an enigmatic smile. He’d loved Katja all the time, just because. But he loved Lily when he needed something.
She was a grown woman, for crying out loud. She shouldn’t need her father’s affection, but she did. The desire for his acceptance had grown even stronger since Katja’s death. She needed some sign, some reason to believe that their father-daughter bond was still important.
Her palms grew damp, her fingers chilly, as panic took root. Lily drew in a breath, shook back her hair and grappled with the tremors rocking her. It would pass. It always did. She tried to focus on the possibility of finally going to Nashville—it offered the change she desperately wanted after all—and she felt the panic start to recede. No sense in relaxing too much just yet, though. Dealing with the Throwing Aces was a huge obstacle she had to manage before she could start packing her bags.
“Text me when you’re done at the bar. I don’t care how late it is, in case you decide to hang out or whatever.” Doug gathered up her case containing a company laptop and held it out to her without meeting her eye. She took it, some of the steel she relied on so much back in her veins. Returning to her office, Lily set the laptop down and sat at her desk to try to focus on work.
She’d already done whatever and his name was Garrett. Never. Again. Too bad he owned the bar, too, because he’d probably be around at some point during the planning phase. That was okay. She’d play nice and do what was required to seal the deal. Beyond that, Garrett would mean nothing to her. Because Garrett wasn’t just a hot man. He was like the best possible vintage in a wineglass rimmed in poison.
* * *
GARRETT TRIED TO stop bouncing his left leg as he sat and waited, but it didn’t last long. He hated that habit, but he could never get it to stop. As a kid, he was always moving, even in his sleep. He’d frequently ended up on the floor in a mess of blankets from rolling around too much. Now he recognized the leg movement as an outlet for a different kind of energy—the restless kind. The Frasier Realty building was quiet with just the barest of sounds coming from the back room. He was grateful for the quiet. It made a soothing background for the chaos in his mind.
He’d been extra restless since his uncle Brad had gone into the hospital last week with a fever and flu-like symptoms. Since Brad was in remission from bone cancer, any sign of illness had the potential to go south in a hurry.
Seeing him back in a hospital bed gave Garrett a hefty dose of anxiety. Last year they’d almost lost him to the cancer, but Brad had managed to pull through. He’d come out a much weaker man, though he tried to pretend otherwise. After being in remission just a couple of months, Brad had returned to work at the bar a few hours at a time. He’d been adamant that Garrett get a crew together to get started on their plans to expand. It was something they’d been talking about for a long time, but with Brad’s questionable health, it had become more of a priority.
When Garrett had visited the hospital that morning, Brad had grabbed his wrist and pulled him close to the bed.
“I’m a time bomb, Garrett. Promise you’ll get started on the bar as fast as possible.” His uncle’s dull eyes were pleading.
Garrett understood. They’d decided to upgrade the bar and expand it to increase the overall value. The bar sat in a prime location and made a profit every year. Selling it wouldn’t be a problem, and with the upgrades, the increased price they could get would pay out Garrett’s initial investment and sustain Brad’s family for a long time. They thought of it as extra life insurance for Brad’s girls—enough to put them through college, buy them each a good car. All the things a father worried about, especially if he didn’t think he’d be around to watch them grow.
Garrett rubbed a hand over his forehead. He hated watching his uncle’s family go through this. Brad had been a pillar for Garrett when his father was killed after a roof collapsed during a structure fire. Determined to be there for Garrett’s family, Brad had hung up his own fireman’s hat and quit the department.
The firefighting gene ran strong, bonding them in a way other people couldn’t understand. Brad had been proud to see Garrett and his brothers, Cash and Sawyer, go into firefighting careers like their grandfather, father and uncle before them. Following in his father’s footsteps wasn’t a decision Garrett took lightly, especially when the pain of how his father died was always a raw and festering memory. But being a fireman was a part of who he was—a big enough piece that if it were to be taken away, he’d be pretty hollow afterward.
Thirteen when his father had died, Garrett had clung to Brad for strength and advice and support. Now it was time to repay the favor, and he was happy to do so. Seeing Brad in the hospital, once again on the brink of something life-threatening, and the devastated worry on his family’s faces only reinforced Garrett’s decision to stay single. He didn’t want anyone sitting at his bedside in such agony. And although it was selfish, he didn’t want to feel that way about someone else. The fewer people he had to worry about, the more he could protect himself.
“Mr. Mateo?” The petite brunette receptionist came back to her desk, a warm smile on her face. “Ms. Frasier will see you now.” She gestured with a hand to the hallway.
Garrett covered a grimace by clearing his throat, then stood and smoothed the front of his jeans. Not that it mattered how he looked. He could have walked in wearing an Armani suit, but given their history, Sylvia Frasier’s reaction to him would probably be the same: frigid.
He followed the receptionist through the tastefully decorated building to an office in the back. He’d been here several times before and knew the layout by heart. He was equally familiar with Sylvia, and he easily recognized her perfume from the doorway. It was the same perfume she’d always worn and it still made his gut churn. He walked inside with a nod to the receptionist.
“Garrett. How nice to see you.” Sylvia’s Southern drawl was the kind that mixed pleasantries with insult. In her late sixties, Sylvia Frasier was the epitome of a wealthy business woman. Well dressed, perfect office. Impressive posture and manners despite the hint of poison that always laced her tone when she spoke to him. She gestured for him to sit, the burgundy polish on her long oval fingernails glinting in the overhead lights.
“Thank you for seeing me so late in the day.” Garrett sat and tapped the envelope in his hand with a finger.
Her eyes fell to it, a small smile crossing her mouth. She knew why he was there. There was only one reason he would be, and that was to talk about the available plot of land behind the Throwing Aces that he’d been trying to buy from her for months. He needed that plot to complete the bar expansion, including a rear deck and possibly a couple of volleyball courts. They planned to make the property available for parties, vendor fairs and other gatherings, too. Garrett had made Sylvia several offers, but she’d turned them all down. Even though the plot was listed for public sale, she hadn’t sold it to anyone else, either, giving him some hope.
He didn’t have any more time, and if she wasn’t going to sell to him, he needed to figure out a plan B.
“What can I do for you?” Sylvia crossed her hands on top of her desk.
“I haven’t heard back from you on my last offer, which leads me to believe you haven’t accepted it. But I’d like to know either way.”
He took out a copy of the offer from the envelope and slid it across her desk. Their eyes met briefly before she took the paper and glanced at it. Sylvia’s perfectly glossed lips twitched just a bit before she gave him that polite yet cold stare he wondered if she reserved for him alone.
“Why are you pursuing this so tenaciously, Garrett?”
He gave a tight smile and glanced down for a second. There was no doubt she’d probably heard about Brad’s illness in gossip around town, but he didn’t feel that his uncle’s personal business was any of hers. Given the intense dislike she’d felt for him since he’d spent a night with her granddaughter two years ago, Garrett didn’t feel that confiding about Brad would change anything.
“That’s personal. You either decide to sell it or you don’t.” He folded his hands across his middle. Getting mixed up with Sylvia’s granddaughter, Holly, wasn’t the most prudent thing he’d ever done, but to his credit, he hadn’t known who Holly was when he’d taken her home. To him, she was a pretty, willing woman who was just as interested in a few hours of mindless fun as he’d been.
Except that Holly Frasier had her sights set on more than that. And when he’d told her there would never be more than that one night, she had gone straight to her grandmother. It wasn’t good for any business owner in this town to be on the wrong side of the biggest realty company in the tristate area. When it came to buying commercial property or selling your business, chances were you were going to deal with Frasier Realty. Sylvia was good at what she did, and she was someone you wanted on your side.
“Let’s say my decision may well be determined on your intentions for the property.” She blinked once, her tight smile tipping up more. “The good thing about being the landowner instead of just the broker is that I get to decide where it goes. Considering I haven’t yet shot down your offer, I’d suggest you indulge me a little.”
Garrett rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. He took a slow breath through his nose. She hadn’t shot him down, true. This was as close as he’d gotten to an acceptance since he’d started offering on the plot when it first came up for sale back in March.
He thought of the desperation on Kim’s face when she held Brad’s hand. Did it really matter if he told Sylvia? Getting that lot would benefit his family, and for that, Garrett accepted that Brad wouldn’t mind if his personal business was aired out a little. He licked his lips, mentally forced his leg to stop bouncing when he suddenly realized it was. Before he could speak, Sylvia made a sigh-like sound, her tight smile turning soft.
“Look, I know what’s going on with your uncle, and I feel for his family. I’ve always assumed you wanted the land to expand the bar, but considering I’ve other offers on the property from a couple of other parties, I don’t think I’m out of line in asking what you intend to do with it.”
“Who told you?” Not that it mattered. Gossip always rubbed him wrong, because for the most part, the information was always skewed and wrong.
“My hairdresser.” Of course. Eight thousand people in this town, but all the juicy bits still came through the coffee shop, hardware store or hair salon. Garrett spread his hands, resolved.
“Okay, yes, Brad’s been struggling with cancer. He’s actually back in the hospital right now. We want to expand the bar, put a deck out back, maybe another seating area. Potentially a small amphitheater that the local bands and theater groups can use. Until we get a contractor out there to show us what’s possible, we won’t know for sure, but that’s the general idea.”
“Bring me a drafted plan.” Any sign of sympathy was gone, replaced by pure professionalism.
“Excuse me?”
“I’d like to see a draft of your plans for the property. This lot is one of the last open, wood-lined areas in town. As much as I support commercial development, it would be a shame to see such a pretty natural area ruined by bad development. I’ve owned that land for years and sat on it for this very reason.”
He couldn’t argue with that. The one-acre plot was parklike, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to use it as such. The gazebo Sylvia had erected to make the plot even more enticing to buyers was a magnet for people leaving his bar to spend a few stolen moments.
Just as he and Lily had. His heart kicked up a notch at the thought. Garrett cleared his throat to refocus.
“Understood. We have a contractor coming tonight, actually, so I’ll get something to you as soon as I can.” He started to rise but paused. “When do you need it?”
Sylvia tapped one nail on the desk. “A week or less would be grand. I’d like to make a decision as soon as possible.”
No pressure or anything. After months of jerking him around, she was finally cutting the chase short. Fine. He knew Brad had scheduled a meeting with a commercial contractor for tonight, intending to conduct the meeting himself, but Garrett didn’t know any details. He hoped like hell that whoever the contractor was, they offered what he needed. Otherwise, starting tomorrow he wouldn’t rest until he found someone who did. He didn’t want this opportunity to slip by, just like he couldn’t play around with time. Both were too precious to waste.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_372ce7d0-a47e-567e-b660-9cb0a0978355)
LILY SAT IN her SUV in the Throwing Aces parking lot for a good twenty minutes, tapping the steering wheel with a fingernail. It was a balmy Saturday evening and more people wandered in the front door than out, making her groan at how packed the place was likely to be. Her nerves refused to settle; the hardness at the corners of her mouth refused to soften. This was a job, a job their company desperately needed. If she blew it with a bad attitude and prickly demeanor, people would be laid off because of her.
No pressure, right? Lily finally managed to step out of the vehicle and smooth her skirt. She stared at the building for another minute before heading inside.
The bar was filled end to end. A basketball game played across several screens above the bar, prompting a cacophony of cheers, hollers and groans from the crowd. It took Lily a lifetime to squeeze through to get to the bar. The constant looking over her shoulder didn’t speed the process up at all. With any luck, Garrett would be off playing with fire.
“Cute top. Even better ink.” A female bartender she recognized from her previous visit gave her a nod while grabbing a glass from a rack above her head. Lily glanced down. She’d chosen the navy blue shirt with little white polka dots and a feminine ruffled hem, gray pencil skirt and neutral pumps carefully. It was about the most professional outfit she owned, and if Garrett happened to show up, she would need all the professional she could get.
“Thanks. Say, I have an appointment with Brad Mateo. Lily Ashden.”
The bartender motioned to a door behind the end of the bar. “Hmm, Brad wasn’t able to make it in today. But come on back to the office and I’ll get someone for you.” Lily followed the blonde through the back, past the kitchen and down a dim, narrow hall to a door on the left. She couldn’t help but notice how dated the back of the bar was—shabby even—with chipped and peeling faux-wood paneling, missing ceiling tiles and patchy carpet. They’d clearly overhauled the public areas of the establishment, but the rest of it was in terrible need of some TLC.
The woman opened the door and gestured Lily inside. The office looked more like a prison interrogation room than an inviting place to conduct business. The cracked yellow linoleum floor set the groundwork for boring beige wallpaper and a harsh metal desk that looked as though it belonged in a football locker room office. The rickety mismatched chairs were questionable, save for the plush leather office chair behind the desk. Lily gave the bartender a tight smile and sat carefully in the sturdiest-looking chair when the other woman left the room.
Lily’s spine felt like a rod, and her shoulder muscles were tight. To distract herself, she pulled out her laptop and set it on the desk. Despite the gloom, a full-bodied scent permeated the room. Musky, with heavy notes of spice and outside air. This was definitely a man’s office. She couldn’t imagine a woman working here, or the office wouldn’t be in this devil-may-care condition.
Time ticked away as sounds from the bar leeched into the small space. Lily was just about to get up to make her way back to the bartender to see if she’d been forgotten when steps in the hallway made her swivel in her chair to the door. A grunt followed the sound of paused footsteps, then a short sound of something being dragged.
“Seriously, Roan, I’m really tired of you passing out on the sidewalk. Next time, I’m just going to leave you there.”
Another grunt and something banged against the wall to Lily’s left.
“Lie down and sleep it off. I’ll take you home in a bit.” A door shut, followed by a mumble. “When the hell did I become a freaking babysitter?”
The voice became crystal clear as it came closer. She stood, not quite sure what was going on.
* * *
LILY’S STOMACH BOTTOMED out as a familiar form stepped into the doorway. Her eyes drank in the sight while her brain rallied against it.
White T-shirt stretched across broad, well-defined pecs. Beaten-to-death jeans hugging long legs for dear life. Work boots. Shaggy blond bangs falling in his eyes, deep golden skin covering the roping muscles of his forearms.
The only thing that would make Garrett more all-American was if his skin tasted like apple pie. But it didn’t. It tasted better. Like sex with a side of brown sugar and buttered rum. She’d half risen from her chair but didn’t realize it until her thighs started to ache from the odd angle.
“Lily.” The brilliant blue of his eyes bore into her. Garrett tugged at the leather gloves on his hands, methodically working each long finger free. “What are you doing here?”
“I have an appointment with...” Her voice trailed away as the tongue-brain connection faltered. “With Brad, but I hear he’s unavailable.” Crap, that came out as a squeak. Lily’s cheeks heated. This wasn’t the reaction she wanted to have. What happened to cool and professional? Out the window, apparently.
He palmed the gloves in one hand. “Wait...you’re the carpenter?” He leaned against the door frame as he tucked the gloves in his back pocket. Despite her dumbstruck brain, he didn’t seem at all ruffled to see her. Surprised, maybe, but not ruffled.
“General contractor,” she corrected. “From Ashden Construction and Design.” Lily smoothed her palms over her shirt and tipped her chin up. The move always helped when she needed a composure boost. “Did you...did you just drag something down the hall?”
He cracked an amused smile. “Ah, you heard that? I’m sorry—I didn’t know anyone was in here. You’re, uh, early. Anyway, yes—someone, actually. My buddy Roan had a little too much to drink, and I figured the couch in the employee room was a better mattress than the sidewalk, so...”
“Right.” She nodded as if it made perfect sense.
Next time, I’m going to just leave you there.
She tried to shake off the image his words brought to mind. Someone lying facedown on the sidewalk, passed out and vulnerable. Someone needing help but being left behind. She knew she should say something, but her mouth was suddenly dry.
“I didn’t peg you for a contractor.” He raked a hand through his unruly bangs, drawing her eyes to every delicious movement. If she hadn’t braced her hand on the desk, she might have leaned forward in time with his arm as it moved up and along the curve of his head as he swept his bangs away.
Instead, she turned to the laptop. Looking at Garrett brought back all the sour thoughts she’d had about Katja the last time she was in this bar. He reminded her... That was a problem. He reminded her of firemen and death and feelings she was working hard to get past.
“Well, I guess we’re both full of surprises, then.” Her chest was already wrenching the breath right out of her. Doug’s threat of layoffs gave her pause. This was a game—that was all. One she needed to win. If she looked at it that way—as a challenge she had to face and conquer—it was easier. She liked challenges, had faced and overcome her fair share, that was for damn sure. Lily gathered her composure and faced Garrett again, ignoring the flip of her heart.
“There’s an insult in there somewhere.” He spread his hands wide. “I feel like I should apologize for something, but I don’t know what.”
“You don’t need to apologize for anything.” Except for not wearing a damn DFD shirt like every other firefighter had been that night so she could have avoided him.
His face took on a boyish quality that made it seem he was teasing her. “Hmm, I’m getting the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ vibe.”
“Does it matter? Look, Garrett, I’m here in a professional capacity, not a personal one.”
“I’d say the other night was a bit personal.” Two lazy strides brought him in front of her. Lily stiffened, though her insides had turned to mush. His eyes fell to her lips. “Talk to me, Lily.”
