Too Sweet to Be Good

by K. M. Jackson

  He had to get over these feelings and quick if he was ever going to accomplish what he wanted to do. Kellen placed the final S and let out a sigh. Closed for renovations. But what was he really trying to accomplish? Was he there to actually renovate or excavate? He needed to make up his mind about it and quick. Being a man of a torn mind did not suit him at all, so to speak.

  And speaking of torn, as if on cue, there she was. Kellen was just about off the ladder, almost taking his last step, when he saw her. He didn’t exactly see her fully, not enough to make out all of her features, since she was silhouetted by the sun at her back, but he’d recognize her at fifty paces with just a glance now. Long and lean everywhere, her arms bare and swinging in that effortless graceful, dancer-like way she moved. Like a woman at one with her body, coming toward him, her legs taking long strides in jeans that accentuated every lean curve. He groaned. Get a grip, Kel. This road had a clear dead-end sign on it and he was the one who’d put it up. Why was he even thinking this way? Still, she did make for a pretty view as she made her way from Goode ’N Sweet to the Redheart.

  Kellen’s foot hit the pavement then, just as her face came fully into view, and for the first time he caught her hard expression. It pulled him up short. Oh boy, she was coming at him hard today with dagger eyes and her lips in a firm grimace. His mind did a quick replay of the date/not date last night, and though it had been a tangled ball of awkwardness, it ended congenially enough. But had he gone too far by not showing up at the bakery this morning? What would it matter to her seeing him or not at the crack of dawn? Kellen made a quick dismissal of the idea that she could have actually been expecting him this morning. But before he could even ask, the answer came from her lips after she’d flipped on a dime, bestowing the most radiant smile on ol’ Errol before her smile completely disappeared when she turned back to him. “So, where were you this morning? Sleep in and . . . ? Don’t tell me a guy like you can’t handle a night with a little Joy Juice and dancing. Here I thought you had more of a fighting spirit,” she said, tossing long braids over one shoulder and turning away from him to head into the theater. He reached out and grabbed at her wrist, turning her back toward him.

  “Don’t worry about me, I’ve got more than enough fight to spare.”

  She shot him challenging eyes as she pulled her wrist from his grasp. “Did you say fight or bite? Because I’ve got more than enough in me too, Suit.”

  Kellen felt a smile tug at his lips. All that fight talk had him surmising he loved the fight in her. It pulled him in while keeping him at the distance he needed.

  He found her twenty minutes later up in the wreck of the archives room already waist deep in film reels, dust, and boxes. Actually, she was more than waist deep since she was using precariously stacked boxes to get to something on one of the shelves way up high and her motorcycle boots looked like they were going to slip at any moment.

  Kellen went hopping over three boxes and a stack of reels, catching her just in time as she landed in his arms, looking up at him with a shocked expression.

  “Are you out of your mind? Do I have to ban you and these boots from this room? It’s like every time you’re in here it’s a disaster.”

  Her mouth, wide in an O, was open, but quickly turned flat as she pushed at him, hard in his chest. “As if!” she yelled, going to stand upright. “You can’t ban me from anything or anywhere. Your grandmother said I had free rein around here to get this place in shape and that means you can’t stop me.”

  “Well, la-di-da,” he replied, then pulled a face.

  “I’ll say,” she struck back. “And don’t you sound mature. La-di-da indeed.”

  Kellen let out a growl. What was he going to do with her? What had he done to deserve a woman like her coming into his life at a pivotal time like this? It couldn’t be more inconvenient. Kellen ran a frustrated hand over his scalp and looked up. “What were you trying to get at up there, anyway?”

  She smiled. “Oh, I thought I saw a copy of Splendor in the Grass up here on the 1960s shelf and I wanted to get it down.”

  “What the heck for? It’s not like you’re going to watch it now, and besides, who cares?”

  She made a face and waved her arms in the air. “Who cares? How can you say who cares? It’s Natalie Wood and Warren Beatty’s debut. When he was at his hottest.”

  She coughed and threw her shoulder back, her voice deepening. “I—I was just kidding,” she started, then put her hands over her face only to slowly remove them, her eyes taking on a bright sheen of sadness reminiscent of Natalie Wood and days long gone by as she blinked at him with an expression that seemed to reach in and attempt to tear his heart apart. “I can’t kid about things, because I’m . . . I’m . . .”

  Kellen found it hard to breathe, and the lump in his throat made swallowing an impossibility. She blinked and in an instant, she changed again, her smile going wide as she once again seemed to be back to her true self. “. . . bonkers about you!” she finished.

  He let out a breath as she once again flubbed the line. The quick change gave him just the amount of space he needed to come back to himself. Did she know how very necessary it was? However, with the quick flip of Boots’ off and on switch, Kellen suddenly wasn’t sure who her true self was.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen this one,” she said. “It’s a total classic.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. I think I did, but I hardly remember it,” he replied, the lie rolling off his tongue for reasons he couldn’t fathom. How could he forget the impact of a young Natalie Wood in a tub having a complete meltdown? The scene was so memorable that it was still etched in his cinematic memory and, with Drea’s little two-second Natalie homage, he suddenly could way too easily imagine her in some such similar scenario.

  “Well then, we should watch it or rewatch it together!”

  His eyes widened in shock just as his phone buzzed.

  She looked around the room, the sadness in her eyes so great it was like it could be measured. “It would be a shame to have all these treasures just boxed up. They should be viewed.”

  She let out a sigh. “Viewing all of these will take more time than I’m sure either of us has.”

  His phone buzzed again, and he pulled it out, checking the screen. Jamina Ronson. Perfect timing. Why was he even having this discussion with Boots right now? If he wanted the RPG deal to happen, he needed to find a way to clear out inventory, not catalog it for viewing.

  He looked at Boots. “Listen, I need to take this. Just start making piles. But low shelves only,” he said, pointing at her, then clicking over his phone and putting it to his ear. “No climbing!” he warned.

  “Oh my, aren’t you getting ahead of yourself, Mr. Kilborn,” Jamina purred into his ear.

  Kellen let out a slow breath, and as if on autopilot he forced a smile as he went out into the hallway to walk as swiftly as he could away from what he thought was Boots humming an 80s disco R & B classic. He shook his head when he heard talk of men pausing coming from her lips. The woman’s vintage catalog, when it came to pop culture, was astounding.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking to you, Jamina,” he said, making his voice as placating as possible.

  “I should hope not. I mean, there are those who welcome a good climbing from me. Not to mention I’m in fantastic physical shape. Why, I made Mount Evans my plaything and I’m not talking about that little drive-up route either. The real fourteener.”

  Kellen laughed as he made it to the end of the hall, Boots’ voice nothing more than a low murmur floating through the air. He was sure, or at least moderately sure, that Jamina couldn’t hear her. “I don’t doubt it, Jamina.” Of course she’d do the fourteener as the expert climbers did. “Now, to what do I owe this call?”

  “Well, Kellen, to say I was upset to hear that you won’t be making RPG’s event the Saturday after next is an understatement. What could be so important that you can’t attend? I had you down as one of my special guests and
was hoping to introduce you to some of our more influential investors.”

  Dammit. When he’d told Tracy to cancel all his social events and reschedule his meetings for the next two weeks until he could get a handle on things in Sugar Lake, he’d forgotten about the RPG event. His grandmother was making progress in this deal bad enough. He didn’t need to contribute to the quick demise of it. And of course, here was Jamina calling with just the right carrot to dangle his way in the form of investors. Suddenly his grandmother came to mind—her with Ray Nash and her grand plans, which immediately had his mind shifting to Griffin Nash, sitting in his place when he’d returned to his booth the night before.

  “I’m sorry, Jamina. I’m here in Sugar Lake right now taking care of personal family business.” It’s not like he could very well tell her he was currently working on a project for his grandmother that was completely counter to Jamina’s own interests. That would essentially take him out of the running with the acreage deal he wanted to do with her on the other Kilborn land.

  It was the Kilborns, the Dawsons, the Haneses, the Sharps, the Hepburns, and the Pomeroys who were the largest landowners in the Sugar Lake area. But it was only the Kilborns who had, one, the most land and two, the land that was the closest to buildable on the lake ridge with the best views. Sure, the Sharps came in second, but clearing their land would be hell and he was sure getting clearance, while not impossible, would be difficult since it would change the natural landscape more than he was sure the town council was comfortable with. Virgil Dawson, on the other hand, had a good amount of property, similar to the Haneses, but both farmed on their land and were not likely to budge. Which only left the Hepburns and the Pomeroys. The Hepburns were probably out since they had been leasing a large parcel of their land to the cable company and a local cell company and were not likely to let go of that deal. And the Pomeroys could be moved, but their land wasn’t nearly as buildable, and they didn’t have the added in-town accessibility that the Kilborn land had. Not to mention he and Jamina had already begun to negotiate.

  “It’s a shame really. I did hope to see you. Your friend Brent Howell said he would come. I’m finding him quite enterprising. Why, when we spoke he didn’t seem surprised to hear about the theater not being sewn up at all. As a matter of fact, he mentioned something about new construction on it?”

  Dammit, Brent! What was Boots’ cousin doing running his mouth to Jamina Ronson and what would he get out of messing up Kellen’s potential business? He thought, well, at least hoped, that Brent had evolved from the slickster he’d been throughout high school and in his early twenties, but perhaps he was wrong. If things worked for Kilborn Properties and RPG, Brent would get his standard commission, so why would he go and try and actively sink his deal? Kellen scrambled. “Brent doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Jamina. I’m just helping my grandmother clear up some things with the theater.” He let out a breath. “Yes, she’s still considering things with it being so soon after my grandfather’s passing, but rest assured this will all go as it should.”

  “Oh, I hope so, Kellen. I’d hate to be disappointed in you and so early in what I hope to be our mutual relationship. You know how much I want that property. It’s perfect, central to our plan to build a selling hub and offices for the condos we’ll be constructing in the area. But no worries, I’m sure you’ll clear it up by the time I see Brent at the party. He’s bringing an old Sugar Lake neighbor of yours—Rory Pomeroy? Rory also has land that is usable and if, though I’m sure this won’t happen, but if your grandmother still is reluctant, we do have our options. Maybe not as central, but workable.”

  If he was a lesser man Kellen would have kicked the wall. Of course, Brent was now sidling up with a Pomeroy. Why put his eggs all in the Kilborn basket? It was just good business to keep options open and, now that Kellen thought of it, Brent probably had his eyes on an even bigger prize. It could be Jamina herself and a position at RPG. How could he blame him for that? But still. Just then the low hum turned to a louder bellowing as Brent’s cousin, Boots herself, switched her tune, now putting the men on full stop to switch eras to the nineties and scream about a girl being poiiisonnn!!!

  Kellen turned his head sharply, just in time to see Boots hopping out of the archives room, arms swinging while she held her phone up in selfie mode. Was she singing to herself? Making a video or singing to someone else? When she turned and saw him, Kellen mimed that he was still on the phone. “Do you mind?” he mouthed.

  She nodded, shrugged her shoulders expressing an overblown pantomime of an apology, then looked back at the camera and made an exaggerated motion toward his way with an eye roll. “Gotta run, peeps,” she said. “Looks like I’m dealing with a case of the Mondays,” she pouted, bringing to mind the old line from Office Space, one of his favorite comedies, as she hit the end button on her phone and tiptoed in the opposite direction toward what he assumed was her way to the ladies’ room. Kellen squelched back a laugh when he remembered Jamina on the line and the problem at hand. Between her, Boots, his grandmother, and now Brent, his well-ordered life was quickly spinning out of control. He needed to nip this in the bud and quick.

  But how?

  “Don’t worry about what Brent says, and, though I’m sure you’ll have an interesting time meeting Rory Pomeroy as he’s quite the character, please don’t lose focus as to what we’d agreed on. Kilborn land is perfection and I’d love to help you facilitate your Sugar Lake condo building project. Kilborn has been successful with other projects in the immediate area, not to mention Atlanta and Augusta. We know the people and what folks are looking for when it comes to Southern living. Not to mention I know you want connections in New York. We’re already there and can accommodate all your needs.” Kellen paused. Did he do it again?

  Jamina let out a sigh. “Kellen dear. You don’t have to sell me. I get that you are a good salesman. Sure, and that’s fine, but we’re builders. You and your connections to me mean nothing without the land we need to build on. Now, you have what we need, I’ll give you that, but I already know I definitely have what you need. Now I really must run. Your place will still be open for you if you can find your way back to Atlanta. If not, I understand . . . priorities.”

  The pregnant pause in the way Jamina said priorities had him suddenly queasy. Was it possible for a man to get immediate morning sickness?

  Upon hearing the silence of Jamina hanging up it felt like, if not the final nail in his coffin, at least one along the way toward that direction. Kellen put his head down on the wooden door in front of him. He couldn’t believe how much he had changed in just the past two months. He was fine just a short time ago, though he was the VP of Kilborn Properties pretty much handling the day-to-day operations of things, keeping his grandpa updated and pulling him in for advice only on the biggest deals. For the most part Kellen had felt comfortable making decisions on his own. But now with the level of this Ronson deal and the fact that it was putting him in opposition to his grandmother, he was in the rare position of not being sure of his own mind.

  He closed his eyes for a moment and searched his mind for his grandfather’s voice, wondering what he would say in this moment if he was back in Atlanta at his office calling him under the pretense of just shooting the breeze.

  “You know best, son, trust your gut,” Kellen imagined he would hear. But why today was silence all he was hearing and his gut giving him nothing but queasiness?

  Frustrated, Kellen looked up and pulled his shoulders back, noticing where he had stopped, in front of the other archives/storage room. He decided after dealing with one disaster, he might as well face another. Opening the door and flipping the switch on the overhead fluorescent light, Kellen was stunned at the scene before his eyes. Piles and piles of video cameras of all makes and models. Years of his grandfather’s obsession were piled in this room. He scratched his head and sighed in bewilderment, not knowing where to begin, so instead just choosing to dive in, picking up the closest camera and flipping
a switch.

  “Hey, Suit? Suit!”

  Kellen turned around, video camera in hand, toward Drea’s voice, surprised by her tapping him so hard on his shoulder. She ducked, seemingly surprised by the long viewfinder of the camera.

  “What is it, Boots? I’m right here. Also, is there a reason you feel the need to make your presence known quite so loudly?”

  She frowned, striking what he was coming to know as quite a Boots-like pose. Arms folded across her chest, one hip popped to the side. “And what’s wrong with being loud?” she countered. “Making your presence known?” She turned her head, giving him a side-eyed smirk. “What is it? Don’t tell me Mr. Suit likes his women meek, sweet, and docile.”

  He tilted his head and raised a brow. Once again, last night and the feeling of her in his arms while they were on the dance floor flooded back to his mind. “And what would you care how I like my women?”

  Her eyes went wide before shifting left, then right. He saw the color rising beautifully on her cheeks. “I—I don’t of course.” She dropped her arms, looked around, and then folded them again. “Why would I care?”

  Kellen laughed. It was the first time he felt like laughing all day and he didn’t realize how much he needed it.

  She looked at him, confused. “You’re so odd, Suit.”

  He shrugged. “News flash, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that, Boots. And for the record, no, I don’t like my women meek, docile, or sweet.”

  She pulled a face. “Well, good for you. And for the record, I still don’t care.”

  Chapter 14

  Love and Basketball

  Kellen had no real intention of showing up for the cool old guys’ nightly basketball game, but when he’d gotten wind from his grandmother over dinner that evening that Brent Howell usually made an appearance, he decided it would be best to keep his defense up even while in Sugar Lake.