by Roxy Mews
“I need to remember not to drink coffee while talking to the new Brandon. But something else I want you to think about, you could retain ownership and rent it out to traveling business people. Having that amount of space and luxury would appeal. You could have an excellent income from it. And since…well, since you won’t have a job soon…”
He looked around. That wasn’t a bad idea. He’d been impressed by all the slick clean lines of the furniture and the high ceilings and view. Other people would be too. With all the furnishings being top of the line, he could charge a high end price.
“Can you help me get that set up if it’s something I decide to do?”
“Yes, but before we even talk about that, you need to contact the governor’s office about your spooky plot of land.”
He needed a break from packing anyway. Brandon closed the door to his bedroom and went to grab a drink.
“Why do I need to call the governor’s office?”
“Something about your land purchase. His office called mine this morning. Is there something special about that land?”
He frowned. “I thought there was. Other people didn’t put the same value I thought they did in it. Give me the number I’m supposed to call.”
Brandon hung up a few seconds later and stared at the number. It wasn’t every day you get a call from the governor.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brandon moved his sautéed asparagus around on his plate. The prosciutto wrapped vegetable was usually one of his favorites at this restaurant, but his stomach was not up for the digestive process.
Deborah grabbed the check when it came. She waved for them to wrap up the remaining food as she decided on a dessert and additional meal to go.
“She really is cut off from her parents’ money?” he asked the reporter again, hoping she was just screwing with him to get a reaction.
“Girl is living off of the advertising fees from her blog and the miniscule checks she’s getting from merchandise sales. Absolutely refuses to spend any of the donated money on herself. The least I can do is buy her a meal.” Deborah folded her arms and leaned back in her chair to look down her nose at him. “And since someone swooped in on her creepy land, she doesn’t have a spot to live either.”
“The governor’s office was peeved about me signing for the land. The assistant only accepted the offer because she thought I was representing Felicity.” Just saying her name made the small amount of food he’d been able to swallow feel like lead.
“They are even more peeved that you won’t back out of the contract.” Deborah paid for the meal and started to get up.
Brandon stood with her. “I would sign it over to Felicity in a heartbeat, but she won’t answer my calls. Neither will Tom. I think he changed his number.”
“Tom changed his number. He won’t tell me what the new one is. But nothing says ‘I’m groveling’ like showing up and making a grand gesture.”
“I don’t know where she is. And you’ve been emphatic on not telling me.”
Deborah eyed him. “What would you do if I told you?”
His heart beat faster. “I’d apologize. I’d tell her I was an idiot and I’d walk up to her ready to sign the land back over to her and offer to help her with the tiny house community project.”
Deborah sucked her teeth and turned to leave. “Not good enough. Try again.”
He chased after her. “What should I do?”
She walked from the restaurant and didn’t say a word.
“How do I know she even wants me to talk to her?”
“She doesn’t. That’s why I said you needed a grand gesture. Apologizing is necessary, but it’s weak. If you aren’t any more creative than that, why would she even want to hang with you? The woman has vision and motivation. What are you going to add to that?”
Brandon slumped. That was the big question. He had been strolling through the lumber yards around town, dreaming of taking on projects bigger than stairs, but when he realized there was a whole aisle for just different types of sandpaper, he knew damn well he was out of his league. He wanted to work with Tom, but without calling, he didn’t want to just stop by the shop and ask for a part time job.
“That’s what I thought. I’m doing a wrap up interview with her on Friday and when she drives her house up and parks it in front of the station, I’m going to tell her that even with a week’s notice, the guy she hasn’t shut up about couldn’t step up to the plate.”
Deborah pulled the door from his fingers and slammed it shut. Had she just told him where the woman he was trying to get a hold of would be in less than a week?
Her vehicle started up and the window rolled down. “The interview is for the five o’ clock news, so we are filming at one. Make it good or sign over the land. You’re hot with the new scruffy beard, but if you can’t back it up with more than your dick, you need to let the woman move on.”
It was the second time in a week that he’d met with Deborah off the record. She had decided he was worth a bit of effort, and he was grateful.
Brandon wasn’t creative. He was an office man, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. He pulled a business card out of his wallet and looked at it. The number he’d scribbled across the back side was the cell phone to the governor’s personal assistant.
After the blowback from the bill pushed through the state legislature a month ago, the poor woman was playing public relations damage control. The tiny house community was the only good press she’d been able to get the man involved in where he hadn’t shoved his own foot in his mouth. She taken to calling Brandon daily to ask what it would take for him to release the land they’d inadvertently signed over to him.
But like he’d told the woman over and over again, it was the only thing he had left to offer Felicity Newhouse. He didn’t have the bank job after next month, he didn’t have any building ability beyond mediocre sanding skills, and he had been an unsupportive ass in the relationship department who jumped to conclusions. If what they’d had could even be considered a relationship.
But he knew how to deal with everyone he wasn’t having sex with. He’d already rented out his apartment for next month and was working with a local broker to keep his property at the top of the lists. He’d played Mr. Pembrook like a fiddle and by the time he’d negotiated his exit package, the man was sure the three month salary and four week vacation pay out was a deal.
Brandon climbed into his car and flipped on the radio. After a new song made him feel old for thinking it sounded like noise, a stoplight had him looking at the bright orange sign in the grass across the street from the restaurant. The re-zoning board was holding a meeting tomorrow to allow the field to be developed. This was the same re-zoning board that had to give special approval to allow the tiny houses. An idea clicked.
Brandon’s hand couldn’t grab the business card from his wallet fast enough. He sat at the green light and let people honk behind him for a full thirty seconds as he punched the number into his cell phone.
The governor’s assistant answered immediately. “I really hope you’re calling me to give me some good news.”
“I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Felicity had parked her home in front of the station over an hour ago. She’d made nice with the cameraman and commented on the video they showed before her interview. They did a nice edit to indicate the progress she and Tom had made on the first tiny house.
She plugged her blog as often as possible, and reminded the station of the advertising package they’d bought before they finally made their way into the area next to the news desk.
Deborah touched up her make-up and passed a bottle of water to Felicity. “We’ll get one more pass of interview footage, and that should be it. Did you get my contract back yesterday?”
This was a conversation Felicity was happy to have. “Yes, and I agree your murphy bed idea is fantastic for the lower level. Your loft will be the perfect writing space with th
at pop up desk.”
“I never did get why people would want to sleep in a bunk bed. Who could work a reverse cowgirl with no head room?”
Felicity laughed. “Thanks again for bringing the food by the shop the other day. I think that chocolate lava cake was even better than reverse cowgirl headroom.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. But then again, I’ve returned my dates’ phone calls.”
Felicity frowned. She was grateful for everything Deborah had done, and she was happy to have found a friend and another tiny home fanatic during this crazy journey, but the woman hadn’t shut up about Brandon for the past three days. She practically jumped at the chance to do an interview so she could get Deborah to talk about something else.
Felicity had no desire to go back in front of the camera, and Deborah knew that, but even someone Felicity now considered a friend could be bribed to talk about something other than Brandon. Debbie’s payment came in air time.
“Brandon’s phone calls come with strings. I can find a date without all the history. There’s too much going on in my life to worry about working through something that started on such a rocky foundation.”
The cameramen came back into the studio with the producer and the news anchors. Deborah leaned in.
“You’re my friend whether you like it or not, and I don’t mince words with my friends.”
Felicity frowned. “You’re going to get more blunt than before?”
“You let unfinished business send you running before. You going to hide forever? That man’s not giving up. Hear the jerk out. All men do dumb things when they fall in love.”
Felicity leaned in and covered her mic just in case someone had turned it on early. “Sex doesn’t equal love.”
“No, but if you’re going to look me in the eye and tell me that man didn’t have an effect on you, you’re full of more shit than that composting toilet you keep trying to talk me into.”
The producer pulled an earpiece off her head and looked between the two ladies as she approached. “You ready? We’re warmed up and ready to get some film.”
Felicity did what she’d done for the last few weeks. She realized she could still help people by doing this, and Deborah had already promised this would be the last round of interviews. “I’m ready.”
She was ready. At least during the interview, she could talk about the houses she was building, and not how empty her own bed felt.
* * * * *
After smiling for the camera and profusely thanking those who donated, Felicity let the false happiness fall from her face and got up to leave. She would have talked to Deborah more, but the woman kept making comments about actually taking Brandon’s phone calls.
And honestly, she might have broken down and considered doing it, but for the first time since the exhibition, her phone didn’t have a single missed call when she checked it. Nothing.
She told herself it would be for the best. She needed someone who she could start fresh with. She needed someone who could appreciate her dreams and someone she could be upfront with about her past. She needed someone who didn’t make her stomach burn with desire every time she walked into the kitchen. She needed someone who didn’t look so delicious right out of the shower. She needed someone who wouldn’t put such a mark on her home that she’d swear she could still smell his cologne in the sheets even after washing them five times.
But first, she needed a house to take them home to, because the one she’d left in front of the studio was gone.
Her truck was still there, but her home wasn’t behind it any longer. And unless someone had given it the Wonder Woman jet treatment, her house had just been stolen.
Felicity had heard of tiny houses being stolen before, but she couldn’t believe it was happening to her. She rubbed her eyes and looked at the empty space again.
It couldn’t be gone. Her first home, the drying rack she’d broken when Brandon fucked her until her eyes crossed, her computer, her life…it had to be some kind of bad dream.
“Deep breaths, chick. Here.”
Deborah came walking down the steps of the station and handed Felicity an envelope. Deborah pulled her hair free of her bun, finger combed her locks and didn’t even pause on her way to the garage around back of the building.
“What is this? Do you know where my house is? Did someone tow it?” Felicity’s fingers couldn’t rip the paper open fast enough. She didn’t even want to think about what the tow fee on a house was. And it was Friday. If it was locked up somewhere, she might not be able to get it back until Monday. “You told me I could park here.”
Deborah turned and walked backwards. “No. I told you you had to park here. And I told him this was finally something I could get behind. He did good. Go check it out.”
Felicity gaped at Deborah and scanned the handwritten letter she pulled from the envelope. At the bottom was Brandon’s name.
“You let Brandon steal my house?” Felicity yelled at the woman she’d thought was her friend.
“You can thank me later.”
Then the news anchor who had started this whole thing drove off. Felicity sat on the wide hitch on the back of her truck and read the letter.
It was meant to be sweet and romantic.
It was meant to call to her soft womanly side.
It really pissed her off.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
He never had been able to throw away the beautiful greenery Felicity had displayed all over her reclaimed metal gate. Even when he’d been pissed at her for lying about who she was, and wanting to do anything he could to take back the control she’d stolen from his life, he couldn’t throw it away. The dried sage and rosemary sprigs entwined with the wispy wooden vines weren’t flowery or bright, but there was something naturally stunning about the way she’d put them together.
Brandon had never designed anything outside of a spreadsheet on his own. His trip to Tom’s shop and the subsequent groveling scored him a little help this evening.
“Should I put the flowers in the wheels too?” The tiny girl held at least three dozen daisies in her hand. She had come with her mother to help set the scene. Tom had been doing a consultation for the two when Brandon came begging for help winning Felicity back.
Deborah was right. He needed more than just a few words and the deed to this land. He had to show her he was in this for the long haul.
“I don’t see anything over by the mailboxes. Why don’t you put some there? I want to make sure they look great.”
“Momma told me to stay away from there because the cement might not be dry.”
Brandon walked with Candice over to the mailbox. Sure enough, the cement wasn’t completely dry. The humidity was pretty high this week, and the stuff wasn’t solidifying as fast as Tom had hoped.
“Did you pick out which house number you and your mom wanted yet?” he asked.
She smiled back at him, showing off a missing front tooth and a ton of excitement. “We’re going to be in housebox two. Because it’s just me and mommy and we are all the other needs.” She leaned in and waved Brandon closer. “And two is my favorite number because I want to have two hamsters when we get in our new house.”
Brandon smiled with her and opened up the mailboxes marked one and two. “Well, I think Miss Newhouse should get to be number one then, don’t you think?”
“She’s the bestest, because she said Mr. Tom was putting a dollhouse in my room. In the wall!” Leaning over so as not to touch the cement the little girl placed two flowers in her mailbox and two in Felicity’s. “One flower for me and momma, and one flower for you and Miss Newhouse.” She smiled up at him. “It’s perfect.”
As she ran off to answer her mother’s call, Brandon stared at the two blooms in the mailbox. He wanted one of the flowers to be for him. But that was Felicity’s call.
He touched the petals briefly before getting back to work. His pocket buzzed with a text from Deborah. Felicity was on her way. This scene had to be perfect and it had to
be done fast.
“She’s almost here,” he called out.
“Well, let’s hope this works then.” Tom pushed on the wooden post of the pergola he’d erected over the small fire pit area. The wires he’d wrapped around the entire property had taken longer and been a lot more than Brandon had planned, but it was go big or go home time.
“Do you think it’s too much?” he asked as Tom put the remote in his shaking hands.
“Better too much than too little at this point.” Tom slapped him on the back. “Good luck. But you gave me your word on the land.”
Brandon nodded. He’d promised that even if this didn’t work, he’d sign over the deed to Felicity. He didn’t want to stand in the way of this community any longer than he already had.
After Candice and her mother climbed into Tom’s truck for a ride back to the halfway house, the girl leaned out the window and crossed her fingers. “I hope she forgives you.”
Tom rubbed his neck. “I think Candice is sweet on you.” His serene smile as he looked at the mother and daughter giggling together in his truck told Brandon that Candice wasn’t the only one with a crush.
But Brandon had to worry about his own relationship at the moment. He would have told Tom about his new job, but there wasn’t time tonight. The man would find out soon enough. Until then… “You better get those two home. It’s getting late.”
Tom’s hands were rough and calloused from the years of working, and Brandon squeezed back, hoping he’d get a chance to rough up his hands a little with the man in the future.
“I’m getting the two of them dinner. Kid needs a trip to a restaurant without a drive thru and so does her momma. Especially after bringing all these flowers.” Tom smiled. “I’ll send you the bill.”
“Why do I get the bill?”
“This is your seduction, not mine.”
And with that, Brandon was left standing in the middle of what he prayed was Felicity’s version of paradise. He wasn’t going to give her money or fame, and he couldn’t even give her a loan or financial help any more either.
