by Cindi Madsen
A laugh burst out of Sadie. “Did your parents have mutual heart attacks?”
“Heart palpitations were definitely involved. Probably more on my part, though. You failed to mention that Heath Brantley’s the kind of hot that makes swearwords fly out of your mouth.”
Sadie shrugged. “You’ve seen him before. I didn’t know it was news.”
“Do girls constantly throw themselves at him after your shows?”
“Yes,” Sadie said matter-of-factly. Which was another reason Quinn shouldn’t give a second thought to the guy. They’d had such great banter going on before finding out they were on opposing sides, too.
They reached the bar, and Quinn plopped herself on an empty bar stool, hooked her heels on one of the rungs, and folded her forearms across the well-worn wood. “And did you know that he’s the other bid for Mountain Ridge Bed and Breakfast?”
Sadie flinched. So yes. “I’m sorry, Q. You know I want you here more than anything, but I also need Heath to stick around now that Dixie Rush is taking off. So I’ve been waiting for the town committee to make their choice, trying to stay out of it and hoping you both somehow get it.”
“Don’t you go Switzerlanding on me.”
“If Switzerland were a verb, I’m afraid I’d have to.” Sadie held up her hands. “Seriously, I can’t get in the middle of you guys. Please don’t ask me to.”
Quinn scowled at nothing in particular. Their high school classmate Seth, who’d inherited the Triple S, came over, familiar green cap covering his red hair. “What trouble are you girls planning to get into tonight?”
“Same old same,” Quinn said. “General destruction and debauchery.”
“So tequila?”
“And Coors for the guys,” Sadie said.
“And a…martini for…yeah, just a martini.” Quinn doubted many people ordered martinis here. Not that it wasn’t a perfectly okay drink. Bond made do with one, so it’s not like it made Grayson less of a man. Now the trips to the salon to get his hair just so…
Better abandon that train of thought right now.
The jukebox transitioned, another loud song blaring through the room. Seth glared at the box, rolled his eyes, and headed to get drinks. While she loved the jukebox with its never-ending supply of country tunes, Seth felt quite the opposite, which cracked her up. Last time she and Sadie had been in the Triple S he’d told them he wanted to get rid of the dance floor and go all bar and restaurant, but apparently the town committee wrote him a letter demanding the dancing go on. Now that they had her future in their hands, she didn’t find it nearly as funny.
“It’s just all I ever wanted,” Quinn said, turning to Sadie, who’d taken the next stool over. “You know how long I’ve talked about Mountain Ridge.”
“I know.” She bit her lip. “Did you hear from the committee, then?”
“Heath and I have been summoned to a meeting later tonight, right when I’m supposed to be helping out with the last-minute wedding stuff and entertaining the Rutherfords, so I’m going to have to come up with a good excuse to sneak away.” Quinn ran her thumbnail over the edge of the bar. “How does Heath expect to run the place when you guys have to travel to shows all the time?”
Sadie shook her head. “I don’t know. He talked to Royce about the property before we got back together. Whenever it came up the past few months, I told them I wanted to stay out of it, because I knew if he talked to me, I’d be obligated to talk to you, and I really was trying to stay clear. Honestly, I figured you’d easily win over the committee. I wanted deniability on both sides.”
“I am going to win.”
“Good luck. And I mean that in the sincerest, I-shouldn’t-be-saying-this-out-loud-but-you-know-I’d-pick-you way. Now, back to the guy over there…” Sadie glanced at Grayson and so did Quinn.
“Maya made me promise not to break up with him before the wedding. It’s a good thing, though, because it’s given me a chance to see how easy things are between our families. Grayson was actually nice about the swearing, too, even though I could tell he was embarrassed by it.”
“That makes more sense—the first part, I mean,” Sadie said. “Getting along with your family is good, and being nice about the swearing is all fine and well, but I’m not sure that means he’s right for you. The real you.”
The real her. People tended to scare when she fully freed the real her. “Despite the cultural differences, my parents have accepted Steven. Of course the Rutherfords’ wealth, high business standing, and the fact that they lease our biggest building obviously helps. Plus Maya’s the golden child and therefore would only fall for a good guy. But they also like Grayson, which has never happened with any of my boyfriends before. We’ve managed to make it past my usual relationship benchmarks, and it really is a more mature relationship than I’ve had with other guys. Maybe I should stick it out.” She told herself that they could work on the chemistry. Most relationships needed a good shake-up now and then to keep them fresh. “He’s good to me and gives me a sense of security, even if I am a little bored sometimes.”
“I think you deserve better than boring,” Sadie said.
Easy to say. The problem was the guys Quinn wanted—the guys that were the opposite of boring and secure—all had the same expectations. Sadie didn’t quite understand, because while she had never slept around, sex was part of the equation when it came to her relationships.
While Quinn had wrestled with her decision and occasionally still did here and there when it pushed her and a guy she liked to the breaking point, she hadn’t given in. Because while there were many principles and beliefs her parents and she disagreed on, waiting until marriage for sex was one that had stuck. She didn’t judge people who didn’t do the same, but she couldn’t help but judge guys who walked out when they realized she truly wasn’t going to sleep with them, especially not as an ultimatum.
So far, Grayson had respected her boundaries, even though he occasionally tested them or asked if she’d changed her mind. So maybe it wasn’t the sparks Sadie and Royce had, but sparks meant getting burned, and after enough of that, she liked to think she’d learned her lesson.
…
The bolt finally came free, and Heath maneuvered to the side so that the oil would spill into the pan and not onto him. The last oil change of the day, and then he’d need to race home, shower, and get ready for the town committee meeting. While he’d sworn he’d never work for Dad at Rod’s Auto Repair again, when he’d come back to town, he’d had to swallow his pride and find a way to make money and get away with free rent. Free rent came with so many strings attached, he wasn’t sure he could actually call it that, though.
It’s just a means to an end. A way to make sure I never have to work for anyone else ever again. Another month and I’ll be done with both this job and my current living arrangements.
Just as soon as he got Mountain Ridge. The old building would need to be demolished and replaced with the lodge, and then he planned on erecting a garage where he could work on his custom motorcycles during the slow season. He wasn’t even sure if there’d be a busy season—he just knew that one night in high school, when he and his brother had decided they weren’t going to end up like Dad, they’d started talking about how to make money at something they’d enjoy. After joking about things like professional motorcycle testers, sports car drivers, and the snort-worthy suggestion of being gigolos, the hunting lodge idea had come out.
He and Cam had practically grown up on the mountain range behind Mountain Ridge, hiking, camping, fishing, and hunting. Any time they got a chance, they’d pack their gear and disappear for as long as possible, and they knew those trails, hills, and lakes like the backs of their hands. Whenever they’d see that abandoned B and B, they’d comment that whoever ended up with the building would be lucky to have such an amazing place practically in their backyard. That night when they’d discussed their futures, they’d decided they could be the lucky ones.
For years it was more of a pi
pe dream, but shortly before Cam enlisted, he’d taken Heath out to the Mountain Ridge property and said, “When it goes up for sale, we’re building that lodge. Look at all that space. Think of how easily we can head into the mountains on a whim. People will come from all over to get away from their lives, and ours will involve taking them to hang out where we most want to be anyway. Can you see it?”
And Heath had seen it. He saw freedom from Dad’s mood swings, beers on the porch of a large log cabin with his brother, and guys coming and going for the various hunting seasons. Now he also saw his motorcycle garage off to the side. Custom bikes had started as a hobby, but word of mouth spread, and now he had a decent amount of high-paying jobs lined up. He’d saved every single spare penny, and the shows he’d played with Sadie and the album they’d recorded had helped push his bank account to the respectable range. Add Cam’s contribution, and now the hunting lodge was so close he could close his eyes and see it.
By the time his brother got back from his last deployment ever, it’d be ready to open—Heath would make sure of that.
Three more months. Then we’ll be together again, and all the family drama won’t seem so bad.
“Heath?” The small voice drifted across the room, and then two untied shoes came into view.
“Under here, buddy. Give me just a minute.”
“Dad didn’t pick me up from baseball,” Oliver said. “I can walk home if I need to.”
“I’m almost done here. Why don’t you go grab a pop out of the machine? By the time you’re done drinking it, I should be finished up.” Heath wiped his hand on his jeans, leaving smudges of black—he should’ve pulled on the coveralls, but another stain wouldn’t hurt his already beat-up pants. He dug into his wallet and produced two dollar bills.
Oliver bent sideways and stuck his face in the gap beneath the car. He still had on his baseball mitt—he rarely took it off these days. “This means I get to ride on the motorcycle, right?”
“Right.” He extended the money to his seven-year-old brother. “How was practice?”
“Made it to second base once. A grounder came up and hit me in the chin.” He rubbed a red mark on there, the dollar bills crumpling with the effort. Then he looked at the green papers, straightened them, and ran toward the pop machine.
“Tie those shoes before you trip,” Heath called, even though he knew it was too late. The focus was on pop now—no going back.
Like the rest of the women Dad chose, Oliver’s mom was pretty and completely unreliable. She was half Dad’s age, and only a year older than Heath. Their relationship—if it could even be called that—had only lasted a few months. Just long enough for Oliver to happen, really. The poor kid had no parents—not functional, responsible ones, anyway—so Heath tried to pick up the slack now that he was here. He knew all too well how hard it was to grow up like that, but unlike Ollie, at least he’d had Cam living under the same roof.
Heath finished up the oil change, parked the car, and told Mrs. Perkins she was good to go. He headed back to the garage to check on Oliver, who was downing a bottle of Mountain Dew, his swinging legs rocking the chair he perched on. Probably should’ve specified a pop without caffeine, but it’s not like the kid had a mellow mode, caffeine or not. “Ready to—”
“Excuse me.” A man in a suit appeared at the garage entrance. Heath knew he’d seen him before, and it took a moment to connect the dots. In the church today. The father of the bride. And of the woman he’d had a hard time not thinking about ever since he’d talked to her outside of the church. He kept reminding himself he was up against her for Mountain Ridge, so asking her out was absolutely out of the question.
Maybe a consolation dinner would help her not be too angry when I win, though.
“I need someone to look at my car,” Mr. Sakata said.
“Sorry, but the shop’s closed for the night.” Heath needed to get Ollie home and make sure he had some dinner to go with the fizzy bubbles pumping through his system. Then he needed to jump through the shower and haul ass to the committee meeting.
“I’ll make it worth your while. I won’t have time tomorrow with my daughter’s wedding.”
Inwardly Heath sighed. He mussed Ollie’s overgrown blond hair. “Give me a few more minutes,” he said and then he turned back to Mr. Sakata. “What seems to be the problem?”
The gleaming Mercedes caught the dying light of the day, reflecting orange and pink on the silver hood. Mr. Sakata ran his gaze over him, a whole lot of judgment filling the brown. “This isn’t just any car, you know. Everything’s controlled by the internal computer. Are you even qualified to work on it?”
Qualified? The guy insisted on him looking at it, and now he was going to insult him? Dad was the one with all the official certification. Heath had worked on cars since he could pick up a wrench, but technically, he didn’t have a certificate qualifying him for the job. Not that he was going to tell Mr. Sakata that while he looked down his nose at him. “Why don’t you tell me the problem, and we’ll go from there.”
“The check engine light came on.”
Heath looked inside, and sure enough, the light glowed orange.
“You’re going to put some type of protection on the seat before you sit in it, aren’t you?” Mr. Sakata asked. “You’re covered in grease.”
Heath straightened, fighting the urge to drag his dirty hands across the gray leather. “Why don’t you pull it in, and I’ll get the scan tool. And don’t worry about your seats. I’ll make sure they stay in their pristine condition.”
If Quinn was as concerned with fancy cars, he probably couldn’t afford a big enough consolation prize. Then again, if she was loaded, she could offer more for the property. His heart sank at the thought. It’d take everything he and Cam had saved to get the property, and they’d still need to take out a loan for the construction. All she’d have to do is bat her eyes at Daddy and he’d probably hand over a couple extra grand.
Mr. Sakata got out of his car, and Heath took the keys and ushered him into the office where he could wait. The man looked around at the chairs and apparently decided they’d get his suit dirty, because he remained standing.
Let him stand, then.
Heath hooked up the scan tool to the car, found it was an emission error, and checked the gas cap—it’d come loose. He contemplated letting Mr. Hoity-Toity stew, but Ollie had finished his pop and was starting to pick up stray tools. Which usually meant about five minutes before he destroyed something, either other tools or body parts.
Heath took the keys back inside the office and explained the error. “So just double-check your gas cap next time, and you’ll be fine.”
Mr. Sakata reached for his wallet. “What do I owe you?”
“No charge. Have a good day. And enjoy the wedding tomorrow.” The man probably didn’t know that Heath would be at the reception afterward. They’d asked Sadie to sing, and that meant he’d be on the guitar.
As Mr. Sakata walked away, Heath gripped the edge of the counter. The Sakatas owned a ton of real estate—they obviously knew how to work the system. If they outbid him enough to sway the committee…
I could get a bigger loan and pay it off after the album releases. I’ll just hope the record hits it big.
Desperation crept in, and it only got worse as he thought about Cam’s last email. He’d been so excited about the lodge, and he’d detailed the tours he’d already mapped out to the best spots, from easier and a day trip to extreme and camping up to a week. He’d also mentioned that if he didn’t have that to come home to, he probably would’ve had to reenlist again.
More than anything, Heath wanted his brother to have a place and a job he loved to come home to. A place where they could make good memories to overtake the bad. From their past and from the war.
So he wouldn’t just roll over and watch their dream go to someone else—to people who already had dozens of properties at their disposal. I’ll do whatever it takes. Even if it means taking on one of the most
powerful real estate families in the state.
Chapter Three
Quinn marched into town hall, head held high. The majority of the time getting what you wanted boiled down to confidence. And okay, money factored in there, too, but no one would entrust you with money if you didn’t have confidence.
The usual suspects had gathered, the who’s who that’d run Hope Springs forever. Patsy Higgins sat at the head of the table. The woman somehow knew everything that took place within the town limits mere minutes after it happened. Quinn and Sadie used to joke that her grandmotherly exterior was a front to hide the fact that she was a former CIA spy who’d take you out if you didn’t participate in town functions.
Good thing I stopped myself at the one tequila shot more than an hour ago, with a giant steak and fries to help absorb it. With Cory teasing her that she’d turned into a soft city girl, it hadn’t been easy to resist his dare to do more shots, but she needed her head straight for this.
See. I totally know how to be mature when I have to be.
The door swung open with a creak, and heavy, booted steps echoed through the room. Somehow she knew it was Heath, even before she turned around to confirm it.
Whereas she’d put on her lucky power suit, he wore the same clothes as earlier today, only now they were smudged with black—the guy hadn’t even shaved or showered. It looked damn good on him, too, and even as Quinn told herself not to check him out, her pulse steadily inclined as she took in the intricate tattoos, muscles, and scruff. A black baseball hat sat on his head, covering the light brown hair that’d probably been blond as a kid, and unlike the majority of men who lived here, his black boots were more motorcycle than cowboy.
He stopped right next to her and flashed her a smile that turned her insides to mush. “Hey, squirt.”
The mush hardened and she curled her hands into fists. Oh, he wanted to play that way, huh? “You know, you probably should’ve dressed up to make a good impression. Lucky for me, you’re out of your league.”
