by Laura Simcox
“Shit, boy. It’s all over town. Plus you and the mayor having a dinner date at the diner last night? What’d you expect?”
Not the third degree, least of all from Herman. He held back an aggravated sigh. “It wasn’t a date.”
Herman let out a wheezy laugh. “I told you already, you gotta be careful in this town. Before you know it, people are gonna be accusing you of trying to get in her pants. A mega-fuck for a Megamart.” He let out a phlegmy laugh.
Anger surged through Marcus, and he was tempted to throw the phone against the wall. “Shut up. That’s the most ignorant, hateful—”
He caught himself and glanced toward the doorway. “Look, old man. Just meet me tomorrow morning as planned. And unplug your phone before you drunk dial someone else. Better yet, put down the bottle and go to bed.” He hung up.
Two seconds later, Colleen shuffled into the kitchen and opened a drawer. “Don’t mind me. I’m just getting out the pie server.” She rummaged for a moment and then turned around. “Oh, you’re off the phone.”
Marcus managed a nod.
She stared at him and then began to smile. “I have a good feeling about you, Marcus.”
Why? He nodded again. “Thanks.”
Delia bustled in and squeezed past Colleen. She wiped her hands on her apron and took the phone from him to replace it on the charger. “Just out of curiosity, Marcus, where are you staying? With your uncle?”
Both ladies advanced on him, and Marcus pressed his back against the island.
“No!” Hell would have to freeze over first. “Uh. That is, I hadn’t—”
“I know it’s not my place, but he’s a piece of work,” Delia said, her eyes full of concern. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that, whether you’re staying with him or not.”
Marcus nodded. “Thank you.”
Delia placed a hand on his arm. “You always were such a nice kid, and he wasn’t very good to you. Why, after your mother passed and you moved into town to live with him, he always acted like it was some kind of burden. Shame on him.”
What was he supposed to say to that? Like he needed reminding that he’d had nowhere else to go and didn’t know who his father was? He coughed. “That was a long time ago…”
“Where did you stay last night?” Colleen asked.
She peered at him, and he stood up and adjusted his tie. “At Alberta Field’s house.”
“Really?” Delia’s eyes widened. “Oh, my. Somebody should have warned—”
“Time for dessert,” Brian interrupted from the kitchen doorway. He gave Marcus an appraising stare. A stare that said “I know everything there is to know about you, and I don’t like any of it.”
Great. Marcus gave him a small smile, and Colleen reached out and grabbed his arm.
“You don’t look too worse for the wear.” She examined his face. “No scratches. You’re a brave young man, though. I’ve known Alberta Fields for fifty years, and I wouldn’t set foot into her place with all those fucking cats.”
“Language! We have a guest,” Delia snapped.
“Oh, hell,” Colleen mumbled. She yanked open a drawer, pulled out the pie server, and disappeared back into the dining room.
Delia crammed her fists on her hips. “All right. I’ve made a decision, Marcus.”
Ivy appeared in the doorway. She’d let her hair down and that, combined with the glasses and cardigan, made him want to grab her and lead her straight into a bedroom.
He swallowed. “What’s that, Mrs. Calla—uh, Delia?”
“Mom.” Ivy gave Marcus a wide berth as she went to squeeze her mother’s arm. “No big ideas right now. Let’s just go eat pie.”
Grinning, Delia slipped out of Ivy’s grasp and patted Marcus’s shoulder. “I can tell you’re not cut from the same cloth as your uncle, honey. And you’re here to invest in Celebration, right? So don’t worry about having to stay one more night at Alberta’s. You’ll stay here while you’re in town. Colleen is living in the guest room, but Ivy’s room is comfortable enough.”
“Mom!” Ivy let out a gasp. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Ivy! Don’t be rude. Sure it is. You’ll be leaving as soon as you rent a house, and that will probably be wrapped up on Saturday. Marcus can have the couch until you move out of your old bedroom. I want him to stay. He’s here to help our town.”
Marcus’s jaw dropped for a second, and he snapped it shut. “I’m not sure what to say.” He ventured a glance at Ivy, who looked like a guppy gasping for air. A cute, curvy guppy decked out in a naughty schoolteacher outfit. Nervous laughter bubbled in his chest, and he ran a hand over his jaw to suppress it. Ivy clung to the door frame, her face pale.
Delia gave his shoulder a light smack. “Just say yes.”
“I’d insist on paying rent.” Marcus smiled at her.
Delia folded her arms. “Oh, that’s not necessary… But if you insist.”
“I do. And thank you for opening your home to me. It’s very kind of you.”
Colleen giggled and clapped her hands. “Hot damn!”
Chapter Six
Marcus glared at the vehicle careening up Sterling Avenue. He hated that chicken mobile, and he’d developed a particular loathing for the giant hen on the roof bobbing its stupid head. In fact, he had a good mind to punch the shit out of it and send it flying right out of its nest. It would be a good substitute for Herman, who’d been avoiding Marcus like it was his job. The old man had been a no-show for their meeting about the land deal on Friday morning, and then he’d refused to answer the door of his ramshackle house later that afternoon. Marcus was nervous now. Really nervous.
It didn’t help his anxiety that he had been roped into Black Friday shopping with Ivy and her mother. Well, Ivy hadn’t wanted him along, but Delia had insisted. Just like Marcus had insisted on coming along to Ivy’s appointment today. He’d corner Herman and get that land deal taken care of. He had to or the unease spreading through his stomach would eat him alive.
Now he and Ivy stood in the freezing cold, waiting on a late Herman to finally show Ivy a house. It couldn’t come too soon, because her parents’ living room sofa was less than ideal. He’d lain there for two nights, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling, imagining Ivy above him. And not necessarily above him in her bedroom. If he’d been able to find a car and there had been a motel within a half-hour drive, he would have been out of that house like a cannon shot. But there were no cars for rent in Celebration. He was going to have to buy one.
He turned to Ivy. He tried not to linger as he glanced at the front of the soft, clingy, teal sweater she wore, but it was difficult. The view was too nice to pass up. And it beat staring at that chicken car while they waited for Herman to approach. He grinned.
“Whatcha lookin’ at, Marcus?” she questioned.
“Your necklace.”
“Riiiight.”
He cleared his throat. “You think the car lot is open today?”
A loud cackle burst from the chicken mobile as it skidded to a stop next to the curb, narrowly missing the For Rent sign on the lawn of the cute stone cottage. Marcus and Ivy both jumped backward onto the sidewalk.
Ivy let out a surprised screech and then sucked in a breath. “Oh my God, I hate it when he honks that horn.”
That made two of them. Marcus sighed. He should have hired someone to check out Herman before they’d made the land deal. Marcus had assumed that Herman’s life now wasn’t too different than it had been when Marcus was in high school, that Herman didn’t do much besides warm a seat at The Lovin’ Cup, gossip, and sell real estate here and there. Just a cranky old guy who was bored. If he’d realized the level of crazy his uncle had reached, he never would have involved him in the first place.
“Marcus. Marcus,” Ivy said, “Are you even listening to me?”
Marcus smiled. “Of course. You were saying…”
Ivy widened her eyes. “Bill Benson’s dealership is always open on Saturdays.”
&nbs
p; The chicken car cackled again and then burped a couple of times before going silent. Herman sprang from the vehicle and swaggered around the trunk. He flicked imaginary dust from the bumper and pressed down on one of the peeling stickers that displayed his phone number. He coughed loudly into a handkerchief, stuffed it into his back pocket, and then stepped onto the curb.
“Here we go,” Ivy muttered. “Once you’re finished talking with him, he can show me the house, and then I’ll drop you at the car lot.” She glanced up at him. “Good luck.”
“Mornin’, Ivy,” Herman rasped. Reaching for her hand, he pumped her arm like an old well handle.
Bracing her high heels on the cracked sidewalk, she managed to halt the handshake by yanking backward. “Hi, Herman.” She smoothed her palms on her skirt. “Thanks for meeting me. You want to give me the key? I’ll take a look around while you and Marcus chat.”
Herman stepped back and narrowed his already tiny eyes. “What are you doing here, Toothpick? You moving in this place, too?”
“Pardon me?” Ivy frowned. “Herman, you—”
Marcus squeezed her arm in reassurance and stepped forward. “Of course not. I’m here to get the paperwork for the land I’m buying. Look, you bailed on me yesterday, but we’ve got to get the ball rolling.”
Herman sniffed and scratched his head. “I didn’t bail on you. I waited out there at the land for damn near an hour. Where were you?”
“What?” Marcus threw his hands in the air. “We’d agreed to meet at the diner since you don’t have an office. Ten a.m. at The Lovin’ Cup!”
Ivy coughed, and Marcus glanced sideways at her. She looked uncomfortable. “Give her the key so we can talk.”
“Don’t see why ya gotta yell at me,” Herman muttered.
“Key?” Ivy prompted.
Herman dug around in his front pocket and then dangled a brass key in front of her. She snatched it away and turned on one heel to walk up the driveway.
“Dang, what got into her?” complained Herman.
Marcus folded his arms and stared impassively at his uncle. “Well, you implied that she was moving into a house with a guy she barely knows. There’s that.”
Herman shrugged. “Ain’t none of my business what you two are doing.”
Marcus stared at him. “Three things, Herman. First, leave Ivy out of this. Second, give me the paperwork I need so I can look it over. Third, bring the owner of the land to the diner at noon. He’ll get a fair price.”
Herman cackled. “He already did.”
Alarm shot through Marcus. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m one step ahead of you, boy. When you didn’t show yesterday, I sold it not an hour later to a development company. They started sniffing around about a week ago, and I don’t blame ’em. It’s a good piece of land, you know. I think they’re gonna sell it again to the state of New York. Probably build a rest stop there, I’d imagine.” He shrugged a bony shoulder. “A bunch of toilets or your discount store. All the same to me.”
Marcus took a step toward Herman, who jumped off the curb and made haste scrambling into his car.
“You weren’t there so I thought the deal with you was off,” yelled Herman as he started the engine. “Another deal just dropped into my lap, so I took it. Ain’t that what I always told you, boy? Never pass up something that’s a sure thing.”
With an abrupt wave, Herman peeled away from the curb, honking.
When the chicken car was out of sight, Marcus crouched and shoved a hand through his hair. His eyes swam with fury, and he took a shaky breath.
He’d managed to ruin his future by hoping everything would fall into place instead of making sure that it did. Hoping that old redneck would be honest had been beyond stupid, especially since Marcus knew better. Hope didn’t get business deals done. Ruthless calculation did, and Herman had beat him at his own game. Marcus stared at the cracks in the icy sidewalk. What could he do now? His gut told him to leave town as fast as possible, but he’d promised to sponsor Ivy’s downtown renewal, and he did want to help the town. He just wanted to open his own Megamart to do it. He needed time to think.
Heels clicked on the pavement behind him, and he straightened quickly. That would be the final straw, to have Ivy find out what had just happened. If she discovered that he didn’t have the land to build the Megamart, it would be the perfect excuse for her to send him packing. She’d already expressed worry that if the land deal fell through, he might not hold up his end of the bargain with her. But he would hold it up, because he intended to fight. To find a different plot of land. His Megamart was going to be built.
“You ready, Toothpick?” she asked in a cheery voice.
“Don’t call me that. Ever.” Even as he said it, he winced. Way to play it cool, Marcus.
He heard her blow out a breath. “Wow. I was just kidding. Chill.” She frowned. “Where’s Herman?”
Marcus cleared his throat. “He took off.”
“Oh.” Ivy twirled the house key around a finger. “Did you guys settle everything?”
“We spoke.” He turned to her and took her arm. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that I hate that nickname, and Herman always puts me in a bad mood. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, sweetheart.” He winked at her.
A blush crept into her cheeks. “Okay. Well, come on inside. It’s cold in there, but it’s a lot colder out here.”
Wandering mindlessly around an empty house with Ivy suddenly sounded great. As long as he could maintain apathy, he would come out of this situation unscathed. Marcus gave her his best charming grin and then allowed his gaze to linger on her lips. He blew a strand of hair from her cheek and lowered his head to whisper in her ear.
“Let’s check out the bedroom first.”
She shook her head, but he could tell she was trying not to smile. Shoving off his hand, she started up the sidewalk but turned to point a finger at him. “Your ego is bordering on ridiculous.”
He had no response for that.
…
Ivy sneezed as she peered through the dusty pig-and-corn-printed kitchen curtains. No sense in washing them; they were too ugly to live. She jotted “new curtains” onto her notepad resting on the only stick of furniture in the house, a scarred Formica table. The house was small, but it was cute, the leftover furnishings notwithstanding. She liked the kitschy feel of it.
The bathroom was really fun, too. It had brown-and-gold nineteen-seventies tile and big globe lights above the vanity mirror. She grinned to herself. When Marcus had seen it a few minutes ago, the look on his face was priceless. He’d shaken his head and dubbed it the “Brady Bunch Bathroom.” He’d called the living room the “Disco Den.” He’d been laughing, but something was off with him. Something must have happened when he talked to Herman—she could just feel it. And for some reason, all she wanted to do was kiss him again, make him forget Herman and that awful Megamart.
She’d thought about his lips a lot over the past couple of nights. He was right downstairs on her parents’ sofa while she lay in bed thinking things she really didn’t been to be considering. It would have been easy to sneak down in the middle of the night, too easy. But she wasn’t easy, and there was no way in hell she’d give him any reason to think that.
Just like he didn’t need to know about the thrill that shot through her and landed straight below her waist whenever he winked at her. Or that she’d gazed at the breadth of his back, wondering what it looked like underneath his tailored dress shirt. And he especially didn’t need to know that she’d stared at his large fingers, wondering what they would feel like if—
Stop. She clamped down her teeth. She was getting all worked up, and what was the point of frustrating herself? She wasn’t a kid anymore, and Marcus was a business partner, not the same cute boy she’d dreamed about in junior high. Gathering her thoughts, Ivy glanced out the window. Her hammering heart stilled before she groaned. Aw, shit.
A shiny, red BMW convertible idled i
n the driveway, and she only knew one person in town who drove that car, even during the snowy wintertime. Preston.
She didn’t want to deal with him right now. He always found a way to slip their broken relationship into conversation when he felt threatened, which he damn well would today when he discovered that she was alone with Marcus. Handsome, wealthy Marcus who would be working closely with Preston on the downtown renewal. And snooping, jealous Preston did not need to find out about the deal she’d made with Marcus before the details were worked out. Plus, she didn’t think Marcus had any clue that she’d ever been engaged to Preston. That had happened years after Marcus left town. She shook her head. Why did her life have to be like a fucking soap opera? All she wanted to do right now was get the hell out of here.
“Marcus! Time to leave. My list is finished, and I’m really busy today,” she called toward the living room.
“You are?” Marcus asked from directly behind her.
Ivy yelped in surprise. “Jeez, you move like a cat! Quit doing that.”
He chuckled, but she noticed his eyes were somber.
“Did I scare you?” he asked.
“Ya think?” Ivy straightened her gray pencil skirt with nervous fingers.
He crossed his arms. “I have no idea what you’re thinking.”
Good, because it’s X-rated. “I’m going to rent this house, so I need to go shopping.”
“Again?” He laughed. “I followed you around holding bags of stuff for hours yesterday.”
“I need to shop for furniture. Unless you want to picture me sleeping on a bare floor using my coat as a blankie, I suggest we get moving. And let’s use the back door.”
Marcus frowned. “Why?”
The doorbell rang.
Shit. Perfect timing.
Leaning against the kitchen doorway, Marcus put his tongue to a corner of his mouth, grinning.
“Oh, I’m not leaving now,” he murmured.
Ivy felt panic rising, but all she could do was stare at his sculpted lips. And that tongue. He swiped it across his lips.
“Uh…” she began.
Marcus looked toward the ceiling as if deep in thought. “Who could be at the door, Ivy?”
