by Skye Jordan
“You can’t,” he ordered with absolute authority. “You don’t have time. We talked about this almost two weeks ago. You have to have—”
“The building plan application with all supporting documentation and the application fee,” she finished, dragging an inch-thick sheaf of paper from her bag and dropping it in front of him. “There you go.”
His mouth remained open as he stared down at the neat bundle with a check attached to the first page—a completed application.
His holy-shit expression pissed her off. Despite his past compliments on her accomplishments, he still hadn’t expected her to succeed or perform in this situation. And that both hurt and angered her.
“I can’t justify throwing away tens of thousands of dollars—really, everything I have in the world—when I have the knowledge and experience to renovate that place for a profit. I know this is going to be a problem for your family. And I know that is going to make your life uncomfortable, and I really wish there was another way I could do what I need to do without causing—”
“There might be.” He looked as surprised by his own words as she was.
“What?”
He licked his lips and sat forward, and just like that she was looking into Ethan’s eyes again. The Ethan she knew. The Ethan she craved. His eyes were warm, his expression open and real and vulnerable.
“I might know someone who’d be interested in buying your liquor license.”
“Where did that . . . ?” She shook her head, confused. “What?”
“I’m not sure how much you know about liquor licenses, but California only gives out so many, a certain number to each county based on their population. So, while yours is currently inactive, since you’ve been renewing it every year, you still own it, and you have the right to sell it to another qualified individual or company.”
Her brain stalled. Backtracked. Yes, she knew about the liquor license. Yes, she’d known about the limited supply. But after searching her mind, she realized that someone else at Pacific Coast’s Finest had dealt with procuring them for their restaurants, which was why she didn’t know anything about the ability to buy and sell them.
“I’d have to check into it some more,” he went on, “but I’m betting the license would sell for enough to cover demolition at Trace’s rate. They’re difficult to come by around here.”
Seventy-five grand? The license was worth at least seventy-five grand? Why hadn’t anyone told her this two weeks ago?
“And I’d be interested in buying your dad’s old stills out back. I could convert them into brewing kettles.” The more he talked, the more animated he became and the deeper Delaney got sucked back into those old feelings. “You could end up coming out of this in the short term with some cash in your pocket until the land sells, at which point you’ll be well in the black.”
He sat back, his face alight with the excitement. He was freaking adorable. And she was—dammit—she was crazy about him. Nothing was going to protect her from that.
Ethan laughed, his eyes shining. “You could actually see something good come of that place after all.”
That statement T-boned her thoughts.
See something good come of that place? That sounded exactly like Jack.
The warm spot inside her went cold. “Let me guess who you know offhand with a cool seventy, eighty grand in cash at their disposal to toss away on a liquor license. Specifically, the liquor license to The Bad Seed. Your uncle.”
Ethan looked as if he’d been hit with a bat. “What?”
As soon as that first puzzle piece had been placed, the rest fit together instantly. “And let me guess who suggested your uncle put up the money to buy the license. Your father.”
Anger flashed over his face. “No.” He drew a breath and continued in a more controlled tone. “No, someone I’m doing business with mentioned it to me a few hours ago. It didn’t occur to me as a viable option until just now. One that would allow you to cut ties to the place with a few bucks in your pocket.”
Anger turned to fury and surged from deep in her belly and spiked her body. She was so damned sick of being discounted and underestimated.
“My experience and my knowledge are worth more than a few bucks. In fact, it’s looking like they’re worth close to a million bucks in this situation.” She found that steely place inside her, the one that had gotten her through all her lowest points in life, and rooted herself. “Whether you believe that or not makes absolutely no difference in this situation, because I’ll prove it when I turn that dump into a million-dollar property. And you can tell Jack and Wayne the same thing I told you two weeks ago—this time I’ll leave Wildwood when I decide it’s time to leave Wildwood. No one is going to push me, force me, or buy me out of here.”
She surged to her feet and hiked her purse up on her shoulder, grateful for the anger that would get her out of there before she fell apart.
“Hold on—that’s not . . .” He stood as she turned for the door. “Come on, Delaney. Let’s talk about this. Where are you going to come up with the kind of money you need to renovate that place? Where are you going to find the labor force required to take on this size job? You’re not at Pacific Coast anymore. You don’t have unlimited resources.”
Perfect. This was just perfect. Having a man assume she couldn’t handle a renovation similar to those she’d performed successfully more than two dozen times, while being reminded of the job she’d loved and lost because a man had abused those very abilities . . .
God, irony sucked.
Delaney met his gaze directly. “The other night you called me the renovation guru of the West Coast. Now you don’t think I can handle one project?”
He got that well-shit look on his face. “I didn’t mean—”
“There are three yellow stickies denoting locations in the plans we should just talk about now.” She decided to get all the preliminary talking points out of the way to limit the need for future meetings. “They’re the only areas open to interpretation that could cause conflict, and I’d like to get that out of the way. I really want this to go smoothly. This is going to be hard enough on both of us as it is. I don’t want to cause any undue stress or conflict.”
He heaved a breath that seemed to come from the bottom of his lungs, closed his eyes, and rubbed his face with both hands. After scraping all ten fingers through his hair, he bent, slapped his palms to his desk, and read over the first noted item.
While he listened to her requested modifications, Ethan’s jaw muscles flexed. The sight reminded Delaney of his restraint in bed and the lengths to which he’d gone to please her. The hole in her gut burned hotter, and she had to look away.
After some back-and-forth, he ultimately agreed to all her requests, flipped the packet closed, and dropped into his chair.
Delaney relaxed a little. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he muttered without looking up.
Delaney rolled her eyes.
When he met her gaze again, his walls were down. He looked as exhausted and miserable as she felt. She couldn’t bring herself to leave, but she knew anything she said would end up in an argument. He must have felt the same way, because he didn’t speak either.
They stayed like that, suspended in that moment, lost in each other’s eyes with thoughts and emotions floating between them for what seemed like forever, yet wasn’t near long enough.
The ring of his desk phone broke the trance.
Ethan swore and hung up on whoever was calling.
Delaney pulled in a breath and pushed out a soft, “Thank you. If you find a problem as you’re going through it, you know how to get a hold of me. And you can have the stills. Come pick them up anytime.”
This was the beginning of the end, and a jagged streak of panic flashed through Delaney’s chest. The kind of panic that signaled she was losing something she could never get back.
Second, third, and fourth thoughts chased one another around Delaney’s m
ind, but she’d done all the preliminary work, had all the numbers. From a business perspective, taking on this project was just the no-brainer Trace had labeled it. She couldn’t justify walking away from it now. And she shouldn’t have to.
She cleared her throat and forced the words forward. “I think this goes without saying, but since this change creates a concrete conflict of interest for you—”
“We can’t see each other anymore,” he finished, his tone harsh, his voice final. But it was the damn-right look in his eye that cut into Delaney’s heart.
She pressed her lips together, nodded, and, with nothing more for either of them to say, walked out of his office, leaving with what felt like a gaping wound in her chest.
TWELVE
Delaney paused on the sidewalk outside Black Jack’s and observed the crowd inside. The small café was packed. People of every age filled the main restaurant and mingled between tables, from Heidi’s wailing two-month-old baby girl to the cackling members of the Geri-Hat-Tricks bridge club.
She was tired and sore from long days of demolition work, and all she wanted to do was go back to Phoebe’s house and sink into that claw-foot tub and a mountain of lavender-scented bubbles. But over the last couple of weeks she’d promised half a dozen people she’d come tonight, and Trace was going to swing by to go over the grand plan for the renovation and talk timeline and budget and crew.
Laughter broke out in the restaurant again, drawing Delaney’s gaze to the back room, where the open space was crowded with people closer to her own age. The huge television hanging on one wall played a Giants game.
Delaney scanned the space, searching for a head of golden blond and a smile that lit the room. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Ethan since she’d dumped the building permit application on his desk and he’d discounted both her abilities and the importance of this project in the scope of her life.
Her gaze grabbed hold of him where he sat at the end of a large table of men around his age, and even still pissed and hurt, the sight made her stomach float. It was a damn good thing this renovation had forced them to distance themselves, because she’d realized in their time apart that she was truly crazy about him.
Allowing that to grow would have ended in nothing but heartache.
Her insides jittered with the knowledge that she would face a lot of people in town here tonight for the first time in decades. People who both loved and hated her. She didn’t doubt Jack, Wayne, and Austin would pass through at some point, and she only hoped she could avoid direct contact with them. She wouldn’t back down from a confrontation, but she certainly wouldn’t instigate one either.
She took a deep breath, stepped toward the door, and her cell rang. Delaney gritted her teeth and sank back to a spot alongside the building to pull the phone from her bag.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Delaney,” a rough female voice responded. “It’s Avery. I know I don’t sound like myself . . .”
Delaney’s face broke into a smile, and excitement rushed into her belly. “Hey!” Just hearing Avery’s voice made a long-lost sensation of warmth and belonging swamp her. Tears of love and loss rushed to her eyes. Regret swelled in her chest. The urge to apologize for everything she’d done wrong as a teenager, for leaving too soon, seeped in. “How are you? Phoebe told me you’ve been sick.”
Avery cleared her throat. When she spoke again, she sounded more like herself. “Better now, but yeah. It hit me pretty hard. Sorry I didn’t call earlier. Phoebe told me about the bar. Man, that sucks. I want to help—I really do. You always take the brunt of everything, and it’s not fair. But, honestly, I’m always in the red. Phoebe floats me five hundred dollars every month, which is the only reason the collection agencies aren’t coming after me. But we all have our own problems. Mine are no rougher than yours. It’s all relevant, right?”
“God, it’s great to talk to you.”
“You, too. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
And just like that, the eight-year gap closed and they were sisters again. Delaney closed her eyes, pushing tears down her cheeks. “Me, too. And I’m sorry it took this situation for me to call.” She tightened her muscles for the answer to her next question. “Have you heard from Chloe?”
“Off and on. She’s . . . well . . . she’s a nomad. Doesn’t stay any one place very long. Don’t tell Phoebe, but part of that five hundred goes to Chloe.”
The guilt expanded, and her tears flowed. Delaney pressed her fingers to closed lids to stem the flow. “But she’s okay?”
“I think so.” Avery laughed softly. “I guess we’re all survivors in our own way.”
“I guess. Phoebe said you and David are struggling? Do you think you’ll be able to work it out?”
“Nope,” she said, clipped and matter-of-fact. “I got the final divorce papers in the mail today.”
“Oh, Avery . . .” She slid her hand down to cover her lips. “I’m . . . God, I’m so sorry. That must be so hard.”
“Yeah,” she said on a heavy exhale. “It’s been a really long, rough road. I’ll be okay. You know, we’re always okay, but man . . .”
Delaney thought of Avery on the other side of the country, feeling abandoned by her husband, with no family to support her, and her heart broke. Enough was enough. “Bet you could use some serious Phoebe time right about now, huh?”
Avery chuckled. “Oh, God, could I.”
“If I bought you a plane ticket, do you think you could find time to come out? I’ll pick you up at the airport. I’m staying with Phoebe, so we’ll all be together. You can even sleep in the guest room with me—it’ll be like when we were kids—or I’ll take the couch. During the day you can hang at Phoebe’s shop or pound a few nails with me.” Delaney laughed. “Wouldn’t Dad just roll over in his grave if he knew you and I were wielding hammers in his bar?”
Avery burst out laughing, and the truly light sound gave Delaney hope.
“I’d really like to share my plans for the place with you,” she said. “Explain what that means for all of us in the future. It’s good, Avery. Really good. I want to do right by you and Chloe. I know it’s taken me too damn long to do it, and it isn’t the same, but . . . I really do.”
“Delaney, don’t. You did your best, and you held us together until Phoebe got there. You did more than enough.”
She couldn’t accept that, but she didn’t want to argue either. “The weather’s perfect right now. At night, the three of us can hang on Phoebe’s porch with a few bottles of wine and talk. It would be great. What do you say?”
She held her breath and prayed her sister said yes.
“Well, since I lost my two biggest clients while I had bronchitis, and they were my only daily deliveries . . . and since I’m not making any money anyway . . . and since I don’t have anything to stay here for . . .”
“I can have a first-class ticket in your in-box by midnight.”
Avery paused, then exhaled an, “Oh, hell, why not?”
Delaney squealed. “Wait until I tell Phoebe. Oh my God, she’s going to start nesting and driving me crazy.”
They both laughed and said their goodbyes. Delaney was grinning so big her cheeks hurt when she turned for the door of Black Jack’s to find Harlan McClellan standing at the base of the stairs, his hand closed around the railing.
“Oh.” She stopped short. “Hey, Harlan.”
“Homie still smells like that lavender crap you washed him with last week,” he said, his voice grouchy, but his mouth half curved in a Harlan-style grin. “Everyone’s gonna think he’s a girl.”
Delaney laughed and propped a hand at her hip. “That crap keeps fleas away. And what’s wrong with smelling like a girl?”
“Nothin’—if you’re a girl.” He glanced at the windows, then back. “Amazing what a ruckus small-town folk can make. Food smells good, though.”
“It does.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m starving.”
“Guess that means you’re goin’ in, not c
omin’ out.”
“Yep.”
“You probably deserve your very own pizza judging by the work I hear you’ve done at the bar in the last week.”
“Oh, how I love the small-town gossip mill.”
“Is it gossip or is it true?”
“It’s true,” she conceded. “I happen to love demolition. It’s a great way to release frustration. Which is probably why it’s going so fast.”
He chuckled. “This place can do that to you.” But his smile faded quickly and his gaze went distant in a way that made Delaney uncomfortable for a reason she didn’t understand. She was just about to segue into a goodbye, when his gaze returned to hers. “Avery comin’ for a visit?”
“Yeah.” The reality softened Delaney’s heart. “But don’t tell Phoebe. I want to surprise her later tonight with the news.”
That got a full smile out of Harlan, and for the first time Delaney caught a glimpse of Ethan in his grandfather, which pulled at something deep in her chest. “Bet it will be good to see her.”
“So good,” Delaney agreed.
“Yep, family . . .” Harlan sounded as if he were going to say something profound, but then came back with a quipped, dry, “Can’t live with ’em; can’t kill ’em.”
Delaney laughed and squeezed his arm. Harlan patted her hand, then gestured toward the stairs. “After you.”
She pulled in a deep breath as she ascended and slipped into the restaurant, grateful for the crowd enabling her to get her bearings without dozens of pairs of eyes on her.
It seemed the whole town was there. People she recognized from her past. People she’d reconnected with recently. And new people to the community who were complete strangers.
“You’re here.” Heidi spotted her first and pushed through the crowd with her new baby cradled in one arm, using the other to hug Delaney. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”
If she were honest, she’d thought about it. Seriously thought about it. Just knowing Ethan was in the other room made her stomach jump. And that place deep in her body that had started aching when she’d laid that application for a building permit on his desk deepened now.
