When Lanelle came over, Charlotte wasn’t surprised. She had figured it was only a matter of time before her neighbor gave in to her curiosity.
“Have a seat,” Charlotte said, waving her into a chair.
“What in tarnation is going on over here?”
Charlotte waved her hand toward the giant lift currently moving the building into place over the old foundation under the watchful eyes of Nate and his five minions. “Apparently I’m getting a beauty salon today.”
“Why do you sound more like your septic tank backed up?”
Raising her voice so Nate would be sure to hear her, she said, “Because I didn’t agree to this.”
“It sure is pretty though.”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “That’s beside the point.”
In no time at all, the building was settled into place and the plumber and some man with a giant compressor and a nail gun went inside. Nate talked to Eddie, signed some papers and jogged over to them.
He nodded at Lanelle, but spoke to Charlotte. “Want to come see the inside?”
“Not at the moment. Right now, I want to discuss terms with you.”
“Terms?”
“Yes. You mentioned a rent-to-own option. I think that sounds great.”
Nate stared down at her with absolutely no expression on his face, though his eyes narrowed slightly. She wondered if that was how he looked at his business associates when they said something he didn’t like.
“Is that the only way you’re going to be okay with this?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Let me call Sam.”
“Who’s Sam?”
“My personal assistant. He’s the best contract drafter I know.”
“Great. Sam and I need to have a conversation. Lanelle?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“Want to come in for some pie? I got one of those frozen chocolate cream pies.”
“No thanks. I’m gonna go have a look-see at your new salon.”
As Lanelle walked away, Nate crossed his arms and leaned against a support post. “I could take a piece of pie.”
Charlotte stood and poked a finger into his chest. “As far as I’m concerned, you can take a flying leap.”
And with that satisfying bit of childishness, Charlotte stormed inside to await her introduction to Sam, the contract man.
Chapter Eight
Nate stared across the table at Charlotte over the mess of wadded up papers between them. Sam sat to the left with a resigned expression on his face and the latest draft of the contract in front of him. Negotiations were taking forever. It was almost midnight and Taylor had long ago been sent to bed, but Nate wasn’t giving up yet. He’d pulled all-nighters over deals that meant a lot less to him than this one. Clearly, he’d messed up, and this was his only shot at fixing this. If he didn’t fix things, she’d have nothing else to do with him.
“What possible reservations can you have left?” Nate asked. He drummed his fingers on the table, then leaned forward. “You are paying me back every single penny I spent on you today.”
Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “I’m still mad that you jumped in and did it without asking. By the time I realized it was happening, it was too big and involved too many people for me to stop it.”
He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the popcorn ceiling, thinking—racking his brain for a solution. He had known she wasn’t going to be happy about him taking the initiative to help her, but there was no way she would have accepted his help any other way.
When she’d talked about her plans for the salon, her whole face had brightened. The passion she felt had shown in her eyes. He wanted to make sure it stayed there. When he’d ordered the building, the need to see her financially secure and following her dream had seemed worth the risk of making her mad. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Charlotte was an unknown entity. He was still trying to learn her personality and what made her tick. He felt like they had come together and found a compromise that would make both of them happy, but she was still hesitating over the terms.
He ran his hand through his hair and turned to Sam, his last hope. “Got any ideas for me, my genius friend?” Nate had worked with Sam enough to respect his business acumen and cool-headed logic, but this was a new situation for Sam as well.
Sam didn’t answer immediately, just sat quietly thinking. The clock ticked on the wall and ate on Nate’s nerves. Impatient and frustrated, Nate stood and paced around the small dining area, the only part of the house with the lights still on.
Finally, Sam cleared his throat and said, “I think the problem here is a personal one. Am I right?”
Charlotte nodded. “I don’t trust him not to pull something like this again.”
Nate sighed. “I’ve already said I’m sorry. I promise not to go behind your back and make large purchases for you.”
“Or small ones either,” Charlotte said, pointing a finger at him.
“How do you define small?” he asked, not liking the direction of this conversation.
“Anything that costs money.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Sam cleared his throat. “We could add a clause that says Mr. Haverton is restricted from spending any money on you—”
“What?” Nate straightened, and his shoulders tensed. “No way.”
Holding up one hand, Sam continued, “Unless he gets prior approval from you.”
Charlotte slapped her palm against the table and smiled. “Yes. Let’s do it.”
Nate glared at Sam. “Traitor. There’s no way I’m agreeing to that.”
Charlotte stood and faced off with him. “Then you can take that building of yours out there and park it somewhere else.”
Raising his eyebrows, Nate smiled. “You don’t want that. You love it too much.” He’d watched her expression carefully when she’d finally agreed to go check out it out earlier.
“That’s not the point,” she said, throwing up her hands in frustration.
Nate sighed. He wasn’t going to win this one, so he needed to negotiate better terms while he still could. “Let’s specify what you have to approve and what you don’t.”
“Ugh, Nate. Why do you want to spend money on me in the first place? We barely know each other.”
He was tempted to show her why he wanted to spend money on her by grabbing her and kissing her until her head spun, but he had no doubt that was a bad idea. Though it was a very tempting one. Instead, he gave her a more acceptable response, which still happened to be true. “I told you, I like to help people. And I’d only do it if I could afford it. Which I can. Right Sam?”
“Yes, you certainly can, Mr. Haverton.”
Nate smiled at Sam’s dry tone, but didn’t break eye-contact with Charlotte. “See? Sometimes it’s hard for me to keep a proper perspective on what is too much when I want to help someone. I’m sorry.”
Tilting her head to the side, Charlotte studied him with a grave expression. “This is hard for me.”
Nate leaned closer. “I know. But I want to fix this. Will you sign the contract?”
Charlotte glanced over to the contract on the table. “Only if we add in Sam’s clause.”
“If that’s what it takes. Add it in, Sam.”
Sam picked up his pen and added the new wording before sliding it across the table toward Charlotte’s chair. She sat back down and read it carefully. After signing her name with a flourish, she passed it across the table to Nate. Their fingers brushed as he reached to take it, and even that small, warm contact coursed through him like electricity. Again, his thoughts switched to wondering what it would be like to hold her and kiss her. He only realized after he’d signed that he hadn’t read the new clause.
He looked across the table at her, not even trying to hide whatever emotions might be playing across his face. “I’m glad I don’t have to negotiate with you often.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
>
“Never mind. Let’s go home, Sam.”
Charlotte rose from the table with them. “Wait, you can’t say something like that and leave.”
“Watch me. By the way, you have an electrician coming over first thing tomorrow.”
“No. I don’t want you spending money on an electrician for me, and according to our contract, you can’t spend the money.” She smirked and tilted her head to the side like she knew she had him beat.
He stepped closer, leaning down until he was inches from her. Then he smirked right back. “I already paid the electrician, so it predates the contract.”
Her eyes shifted to his mouth. “But you don’t pay them till they’re done.”
“You do if you want them to make room in their busy schedule for you. And you pay well.” Pleased that he’d finally salvaged some of his pride, he straightened again and smiled.
Charlotte pressed her hands over her eyes, and ran them slowly down her face, making an odd, frustrated groan. She was so adorable. But he didn’t actually want her to be stressed out, so he wrapped his hands over her shoulders and squeezed gently until she looked up at him. “Relax. You’re exhausted and understandably annoyed, but tomorrow morning you’re going to wake up with a contract that makes everything better and a beautiful new salon to get ready.”
“You are so maddening. Gorgeous, but completely maddening.”
His raised his eyebrows and grinned as his whole chest warmed at her confession. But she looked appalled.
“Oh my gosh. Did I just say that? Nate, you have to go. My brain is obviously shutting down or I never would have said that.”
“Which part?” Nate said, trying and failing to repress a grin.
Stepping back, Charlotte swept his hands from her shoulders. “The part about you being gorgeous. See? I said it again. And you’ll probably never let me forget it. Please go home.”
“But this is going so well for me. Sam, what do you think? Should we take pity on her and let her go to bed, or stay here so I can bask in her adoration of my perfect male beauty?”
Sam dumped an armful of crumpled papers in the trashcan before replying. “I vote we go.”
“Of course you do. She isn’t admiring you.”
Sam smoothed out the contract on the table and took a picture of it with his phone. “She also isn’t saying I’m maddening.”
“Well what woman wants a man that doesn’t make her a little crazy?”
Charlotte interrupted their conversation with a sputter of indignation. “Oh no. I didn’t say anything about wanting a man at all. Here, I’ll open the door for you.”
Nate walked to the door, but paused to say, “But we could stay and help you think of a name for the salon. How about “Charlotte’s Cut You Down Salon”? Or maybe, “Crazy Lady Wielding Scissors”?
That did the trick. For the first time all day, Charlotte smiled at him. Something inside him settled down and relaxed. Maybe he hadn’t ruined his chances after all.
“You’re full of good ideas, aren’t you?”
Nate thought about the ideas currently floating around in his head, most of which were some variation of kissing her goodnight. “You have no idea. Come on, Sam. We’d better get out of here before she starts hating me again.”
***
A week later, Nate stood up from the long table in the conference room in his Florida offices. He’d been here for five days wrapping up as much business as he could, so he could get back to Alabama in time for t-ball practice. But if he was honest with himself, he knew he was also anxious to get back to see Charlotte. He wanted nothing more than to be able to delete all the meetings on his calendar and head home.
What would her feelings be towards him now? Had she moved on from being annoyed at him? Enough that she might go on a date?
Sam had his head down, still hard at work on his laptop at the other end of the room. Nate walked over to the window, and glanced out at the blue skies stretching over the city of Tampa. Since the windows faced away from the bay, he was able to see the oddly slanted dome of Tropicana Field where the Rays played. It reminded him of Charlotte’s few references to her ex-husband, the pro-ball player.
“Sam?”
“Yes?”
The man still had his eyes on the screen, his fingers flying, but at least he’d responded.
“Am I correct that our contract says I can’t spend money on Charlotte, but says nothing about Taylor?”
Sam looked at him then, his sharp eyes growing wary. “If I may, sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“No, no. You misunderstand me. I don’t even want Charlotte to know about this, and I’m not certain what could or should be done. But I want you to look into his father. He plays for the Royals.”
“Are you thinking about getting the man fired?”
Nate turned sharply. “You think I would do something like that? Come on, Sam. You’ve worked with me for ten years.”
“Well, there’s never been a woman involved before. At least, not one you cared this much about.” Sam’s voice was dryer than Nate had ever heard it.
“Let me reassure you about my character, old friend. What I want to know is if there might be a way to exert some friendly pressure on Mr. Mabry to pay his child support in an appropriate way.”
Sam crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully. “How far are you willing to take things?”
“If The Haverton Corporation needs to acquire a substantial interest in the Royals, I’m willing to do it.”
“But not buy them outright, I hope?”
“I don’t know, Sam. Get me the numbers. Find out how I can have the most sway with the least investment.”
“Okay. Do you want me to leave for Kansas City today or fly back with you first?”
“You’d better come back with me first. There are a few other things we need to wrap up. How long until you can leave?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Nate nodded and went over to the intercom to call his secretary. “Zoe, can you call my pilot and tell him to schedule takeoff for an hour from now? Also, I’m leaving in thirty minutes, so anything you need me to sign before I leave needs to be in front of me a.s.a.p.”
Chapter Nine
Charlotte’s financial advisor, otherwise known as her best friend, flew in as promised as soon as she heard Charlotte was ready to get her salon open. Jill was the perfect person to help her iron out the business aspects of running a salon, since Charlotte was only trained in the actual business of making people beautiful. All the things that gave her a headache, like taxes, overhead, and pricing, made Jill as happy as a cricket.
And once Jill got a look at the actual building with its cute shutters and baskets of purple petunias, she flipped with excitement. But when Charlotte told her the whole dramatic story about the salon, Jill sat her down with a firm expression and extracted every single detail before demanding to see the contract.
Fortunately, Sam’s contract met with her approval. She even laughed at the Sam Clause, as Charlotte had taken to calling it. “You have a strange knack for meeting overbearing rich men, girl.”
“Is there any other kind?” she asked.
They didn’t discuss it again because they got so busy with getting the salon set up, which was a relief for Charlotte. She knew the crazy ideas Jill would get if she even suspected Nate was someone Charlotte was…well… attracted to. Which, she had to admit, she was.
Even after their big blow up. He’d given her space, but texted her occasionally to ask how things were going. And each time her phone dinged with a notification, and she saw it was him, her heart gave a telling lurch. Now that they were communicating more, she realized that he was a very busy man, always going to Tampa where his main offices were located. And yes, she hated that he was so far away. Because Jill would read way too much into her feelings, Charlotte was determined to keep it under wraps.
So when it was time for t-ball practice on Tuesday, Charlotte tried to slip out with Taylor an
d leave Jill at the house going over purchase orders. Unfortunately, Taylor said, “Coach Nate said he might have to miss practice today. I hope he doesn’t.”
Jill’s ears perked up. “Coach Nate? Like as the Nate Haverton who bought your salon? Your domineering sugar daddy?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Stop calling him my sugar daddy. He’s no such thing. I’m paying him back. And there is definitely no sugar involved.”
“Unfortunately,” whispered a little voice in the back of her mind.
As usual, Charlotte climbed a few steps up the bleachers and plopped down behind the magpie mommas. Jill followed, announcing loudly, “Okay. I’m ready to meet this rich guy of yours.”
Delynn heard her, of course, and twisted around. “Hey there. You a friend of Charlotte’s?”
“Besties since high school,” Jill answered, smiling brightly. “I’m here for a quick visit.”
“And you came to see the sights, huh?” Delynn wiggled her thin eyebrows. “Can’t blame you there.”
Jill’s manicured eyebrows shot up. “Sights? Charlotte, have you been keeping something from me?”
Misty, who sat next to Delynn, laughed. “She didn’t tell you the coach is hotter than a spittin’ griddle?”
Jill turned to study Charlotte. “No. She failed to mention it.” Then, with a mischievous smile on her lips, she leaned forward for more gossip. “Details, ladies, please.”
Delynn was happy to oblige. “He’s six-foot-three, near as I can figure. He’s built and athletic. Then there’s that lady-killer smile of his. Best of all, his hind-end fills out a pair of jeans as well as any butt on a wrangler ad.”
Misty stopped chewing her gum long enough to drawl, “My husband thinks I requested this team because my son’s friend was playing on it. Nope, it’s because I get to watch Nate bend over and pick up balls for an hour every week.”
Jill was fighting hard not to burst out laughing. Her lips twitched. “Charlotte, dear, what do you think of the coach? Is he hot?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes, knowing it was pointless to refute it. “Why don’t you decide for yourself. Here he comes.” She pointed toward the outfield. Nate had jumped the fence facing the parking lot, and was jogging toward the infield. Where he got his boundless energy, she’d never know, but every line of him was as graceful as a cat.
The Trouble with Billionaires (Southern Billionaires Book 1) Page 6
