by Ciara Knight
“Sounds like a reasonable protest.”
“Not when she did it because someone else had donated a bunch of cups and plastic silverware to the school and Trace didn’t like the attention it brought to a student. The girl rules her life on jealousy. Trust me, don’t buy into her games.” Rhonda cleared her throat. “You keep your promise to the town. I’ve rallied votes for your stop order to be terminated as long as you tear down that shack.”
“That’s the agreement? And I thought big city politics were a mess.”
“Listen, I’ll head over there to help.”
As much as Dustin appreciated the information, he didn’t want Rhonda around more than he had to since her mother had basically told him he should marry the woman. He tugged at his ragged T-shirt collar. “Thanks, but I’ve got this. I appreciate the information and the assist, though. Talk soon.” He hung up before she could argue the point.
Dustin grabbed a peach and stepped outside in time for Trace to march up the hill with a glower and groan.
“We didn’t know, Trace. But don’t worry, I’m sure Dustin will leave your home alone. If the council wants it demolished, he won’t do their bidding.” Trevor and Jewels stood at Trace’s side, ready for a fight.
Dustin slid his shades over his eyes and acted as if he didn’t know what they were talking about. He’d learned a long time ago not to give away too much information too quickly in a fight. “What’s up?”
“Did you know that what you’re about to tear down isn’t a shack in the woods, but Trace’s home full of her father’s belongings?”
He took a chunk out of the fruit; sweet juices trickled down the sides of his mouth and down his chin. He wiped the sticky juice away with the back of his hand and chomped on the peach for a minute before swallowing. “No. I didn’t.”
“See, I told you.” Trevor’s shoulders lowered, and Jewels relaxed into his side.
“All is good.” Jewels looked to Trace. “Your home’s safe.”
Trace narrowed her gaze. “No, there’s something going on here. I don’t trust this six-foot-three eye candy. You better not touch one board on my childhood home.”
Dustin had no desire to tear down someone’s home, but he couldn’t make this that easy for her, not when she held his hotel work orders hostage. “I have to.” Dustin took another bite, remaining as nonchalant as possible.
“What?” Trevor shot to the front of the I-hate-Dustin line.
“Don’t have a choice. Told the council I would do it, so I have to. You told me not to make them mad before the meeting.”
“I thought you realized they were using you to get you to do their dirty work.”
“Sure, but I just got off the phone with Rhonda. She’s going to rally votes for my stop order to be terminated as long as I tear down that shack. Well, house, I guess. I’m playing nice with the townspeople like you told me to.” He had no intention of actually tearing down her home, but she didn’t need to know that. He was about to school her on how business really worked.
“You fool.” Trace fisted her hands warning Dustin to take a step back. He’d never hit a woman, but that didn’t mean he’d let one hit him either. “A one-night stand merits ruining someone’s childhood home?”
A level eight eruption of anger burned his chest. “One night?” Dustin threw the peach pit to the ground. “That’s what you think? I traded my body for my permit?”
“If the document fits.” Trace took a step closer, but Jewels put an arm in front of her.
How could that little whisper of a woman have so much fight? Trace stood nose to chest with him and didn’t back down. If he weren’t so angry at her manipulative tactics to keep him from working on his hotel, he would respect her. But she’d put the line in the Summer Island beach sand, and he needed to cross it before she took over all his plans.
“Violence isn’t the answer,” Jewels said in a stand-down tone.
Trevor looked between them. “Whoa, you two. Neutral corners.”
Jewels held Trace back with a hand on each shoulder. “Relax. Let Trevor speak to him. Remember, we’re here to talk.”
“Listen, man, you can’t tear that down. You need to do this for Trace,” Trevor said.
Trace cleared her throat, unfurled her fingers, and nudged Jewels out of the way. “Right, we can work this out. We’re adults. I’m asking you nicely, don’t tear down my house,” she said in a honey tone laced with arsenic.
“Too late. Deal’s been made. Unless you’ll agree to stop fighting me on the renovations to the hotel and support my decision to make changes to the resort.” Dustin sauntered past them.
“Never. I won’t let the big business bureaucrat win on my home turf. I couldn’t fight in Brazil, but I can fight here at home.”
He had no idea what she meant, but Dustin marched down the steps without saying anything else. The choice was hers. If the house meant that much to her, she’d agree. If not, Rhonda was telling the truth and Trace never cared about the home, only beating him. “I’ve got a job to do, and no pretty, sweet-talking woman is going to ruin my chance at fixing up the hotel. Especially when she doesn’t even care about that place. She’s only doing it to get back at me and prove she can best me. Rhonda said she wasn’t even here when her own father passed. That doesn’t sound like a woman with strong attachments.”
“Give me your keys. I’m done talking,” Trace said with malice and murder in her voice.
Jewels reached into her pocket and dropped the keys into Trace’s hand. “Dear Lord in heaven, help us.”
Chapter Six
Trace and Dustin about-faced and stomped away like a gun duel at high noon.
She’d fire first.
How dare he come outside looking like a peach-eating Greek God statue with the complex to go with it. The way he stood in his swim trunks, shades, and playboy attitude only irked Trace. That man needed to be busted down a few notches. He reminded Trace too much of that tycoon who played dirtier than his oil spill.
“Dustin, stop,” Trevor shrilled like a menopausal woman in the heat.
To Trace’s relief, Jewels reached her side. “I’m with you, girl.”
Trace didn’t pause. Time was too important. Not that she believed the overgrown child would be able to operate a bulldozer, but she wasn’t taking that chance. “You don’t have to. I’m not asking you to take my side. I wouldn’t do that when your boyfriend is on the opposing team.”
“He’s not. Trevor’s going to stop Dustin. Trust me.” Jewels hopped into the passenger seat and held on to the oh-dear-lord-Trace-is-driving bar.
“You can relax. I won’t take a turn on two wheels… this time.” She cranked the engine and then backed down the street and hung a right onto the rocky pavement. “Thanks.”
Jewels chuckled like a nervous penguin. “No worries. It’s only my relationship on the line.”
Trace pushed the pedal harder, and they skidded along the rocks and took the final turn to her father’s place a little too fast. Too fast to stop when Rhonda stepped out from her oversized, fossil-fuel-farting truck.
“Watch out,” Jewels squealed louder than her old drum brakes.
Trace slammed her foot against the pedal and spun three-sixty in a blurry circle of spitting rocks and strangled shouts. The car came to rest with the hood inches from Rhonda and her cross-armed, this-is-war, death-to-the-enemy glower.
Jewels clutched Trace’s arm. “Don’t let her bait you.”
Trace closed her eyes and took in a slow, calming breath to find her inner peace, serene Zen. After two more breaths, she opened her eyes to see an approaching Rhonda wearing a Team Dustin printed T-shirt.
Jewels shot from the car. “I knew this was all you. How could you do this to Trace? All for a better view of the ocean.”
Trace shot from the car and blocked her advancing friend-turned-crazy-lady. “Wait, no. Don’t give her a reason to call the police. Trust me, she’d bring the sheriff and everyone else into her fight. It’s pathet
ic.”
The engine, still running behind them, hummed and rattled. The wind through the tree canopy had the leaves whispering their warning, but most of all she heard the sound of heavy equipment starting.
Trace took Jewels by her arm. “There isn’t time to waste on her. Come on. This is what she wants.”
Trace hopped into the car and pulled around the front of her father’s place. The sight of the abandoned, worn structure churned up acid and regrets. No. She couldn’t let anyone tear this down. She needed to save her father’s place. She had to save something or someone.
Jewels popped the trunk and yanked some chain out. “We need to hurry.”
“Not we. Me. I’m not going to let you chain yourself to the house. This is my fight.”
Rhonda sauntered toward them, and Trace knew there wasn’t time to argue. “Just help me with the chain and then move out of the way.”
At the front porch, Trace spotted the cracks and rotted wood of the roof. Inside, the dust was thick and haunting. Everything inside showed like a symbol of her abandonment of her only parent who had raised her. If she had it to do it all over again, she would’ve come home instead of always fighting the giants who won anyway. Everyone would’ve been safe if she’d stayed home instead of spending half her life fighting to save the world.
Now wasn’t the time to face her demons of past regrets. She opened the cracked front window and slid the chain through to where Jewels took it and walked it to the front door. After three wraps through the house, Trace took her position.
With the padlock in hand, Jewels slid under the chain and stood by her side. “We have you. You’re not alone. When the girls arrive, they’ll help. Trust me. They might be crazy, but they are the exact crazy we need right now.” Jewels slid the lock through the chain and snapped it shut.
In that moment, a war raged inside Trace, knowing that all those years ago she’d left her pregnant high school friend behind to go take on the world. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Jewels asked.
“For leaving you when you needed me most. I should’ve stayed in Summer Island. Not just for my father, but for you, too. All these years I was looking for something I never found when I could’ve been here with you and my dad.”
Jewels took her hand and held it tight. “What were you looking for?”
“Purpose,” Trace said, the realization knocking the wind from her lungs.
“No. You did what you were meant to do, but you’re home now, and I hope you decide to stay.”
Stay? She’d never stayed anywhere since she was eighteen. How did one tiny, four-letter word cause heart-palpitating anxiety? Trace forced the panic down and held tight to her best friend. If there was ever a time to stay, it was now. “I’m not leaving this spot. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever as long as there is a threat against my father’s place.”
It had been years since Dustin had operated a bulldozer, but it couldn’t be that difficult to remember. He climbed in and shut the door. He wouldn’t have to tear down her home, because if it meant that much to her, she’d agree to drop the complaint with the city about the historical preservation of the hotel. But if Rhonda was right and she didn’t care, she’d stand her ground for no other reason than to beat him. Why else would a town approve an outsider tearing down a building over a native keeping it, unless it was some stunt she was pulling? Considering she was one of those kinds of people who took on causes without reason, he wasn’t surprised.
He turned the key in the dozer and let the systems turn on but didn’t even check for any warning indicators before he cranked the engines and the vibration churned his nerves into full speed. Too bad the dozer only went at a crawl’s pace.
He reached for the parking lever but couldn’t find it. With a curse, he eyed the new-fangled display in front of him and analyzed it until he located a parking button. Okay, it had been a minute since he’d operated heavy machinery.
Tap. Tap.
Dustin eyed the window and caught a glimpse of Trevor tossing shells at the door.
He waved his arms madly at his side. “Stop. Take a breath. Forget the bet.”
He ignored Trevor and located the throttle.
“You’re going to make things worse. It’s her dad’s house,” Trevor yelled.
“A home she didn’t care about until she found out I wanted to tear it down. It’s a power play. Trust me. I know how these things work.” He wasn’t even sure Trevor could hear him over the sound of the engine, but he pressed the pedal to put the dozer into idle and lifted the levers to engage the joysticks.
“Are you even allowed to operate that thing? The crew will be here any minute. Wait!” Trevor was putting on a good show for Jewels, who had shot him a wrecking glare while she had chased Trace to her car.
“No need to wait.” Dustin pulled back the right joystick, lifting the blade. He slid his foot off the pedal and rolled forward but only a few feet before large white trucks pulled up, blocking the only path to the woods.
Great. This gave Trace more time to pull some crazy stunt. He shut everything down and dismounted the dozer. “Come on, men. I’ll pay a bonus if you get over there now. Get moving.”
The head guy pulled out work orders and flipped through them and then looked at Dustin. “You the owner of the property?”
“No. I’m the one paying, though.”
The man tilted his cap up and eyed him and then the paper again.
“County ordered the old shack condemned and torn down,” Dustin said in his business tone.
“Right.” The man tossed his work orders onto the front seat and directed the men to move their trucks, and he headed to the dozer. “That’s more than a shack.” The man pointed toward the hotel.
“That’s not being torn down,” Dustin grunted. “Follow that road, hang a left at the path, and you’ll run right into the place.”
“Sure? We can knock that place down today, too. No sense in bringing us back later.”
Dustin gritted his teeth to keep his train of curses inside and looked to Trevor, who shrugged before he eyed the path through the woods to the shack. No doubt thinking about joining the women with whatever crazy scheme Trace was planning. He knew the type. All about stopping progress in the name of old memories they couldn’t let go of to make room for the future. They fought for things they didn’t even care about because they didn’t have a life.
“You gonna help her thwart my plans? I thought you were the one who wanted me to work on the hotel.”
“Yes, but not like this.” Trevor remained by his side but didn’t assist with rounding the guys up or expediting their work.
Dustin waved him off like an irritating sand flea. “Don’t worry. She’s going to back down, and I’ll win.”
“That’s a dangerous game to play.”
The bulldozer grumbled to life, and he realized he hadn’t heard a sound from the shack area. Dustin set off with Trevor on his heels through the footpath. Dustin worried Trace was lurking somewhere, waiting to pull a stunt, but all was quiet. Quiet couldn’t be good.
Worse, she would probably be best buds with the guy in the bulldozer and cry faux tears to win.
At the edge of the woods, he spotted Rhonda, who hot-footed it toward him. Clanking sounded from the front of the house.
“I’ve already called the sheriff. Don’t worry, I’ll have them arrested. I’m on Team Dustin.”
He blinked at Rhonda’s printed shirt. His neck heated at his name scribbled across her chest, despite the shade of the trees. “That isn’t necessary, really.”
Rhonda took him by the hand and walked him to the front of the house.
On the front porch stood Trace and Jewels, hand in hand, chains wrapped across their middles with a lock to secure them.
“I knew you’d pull a stunt like this, Melodramatic Trace.” Rhonda tugged Dustin closer to her side, as if claiming him as her possession. His insides churned and he looked to Trevor for help, but his friend only shook his
head and shot him a you-did-this-to-yourself grin.
“Name’s Tracie. Only my friends call me Trace.” She lifted her chin like a military soldier at roll call.
The equipment roared closer. Dustin knew he had to act fast. “Fine, I’ll pay you.”
“I’m not like you. I can’t be bought and sold.” She eyed Rhonda’s fingers entwined with his. He yanked his hand away, despite knowing she was his only friend in town.
“You’re not here because you want to save your father’s place. You’re only doing this because you want to win.”
“Is that what your groupie told you?” Trace looked at him in a way that made him shiver with shame.
No, he wouldn’t let her pull his strings like that. The tightness in his chest didn’t ease when the town sheriff’s car pulled up as he’d expected.
“What’s going on here?” The sheriff approached, adjusting his heavy utility belt. “Ah, should’ve known you two would be at war again. I told my officers that you two in the same town would incite war amongst our locals.” He pointed at the Team Dustin shirt.
“I don’t know about their war, but Trace here—”
“Tracie,” she spouted with skin-searing heat in her voice.
“This woman is causing delays in the demolition of this structure that has already been requested and approved by the town.”
“Let me guess. You put in the original request.” The sheriff eyed Rhonda.
“Town approved,” she said in a quick clip.
“Right. Okay, here’s how I see it. If this guy wants to be dragged into your feud, that’s his stupidity. For now, let’s go to neutral corners and fight this out at the town meeting in a couple days.”
Dustin stepped forward. “What? You’re going to let her get away with obstructing the demolition?”
Rhonda got in the sheriff’s face. “Do your job and arrest them.”
The sheriff removed his hat with a slow, methodical, powerful movement and glowered down with an authoritative gaze. “You’ll be the one arrested if you don’t calm down.”
