by Lacey Black
Not really. I hated hanging out with her, yet she always seemed to weasel her way into my group of friends. She screwed most of them, and continually made her intentions with me clear. She even went as far as to show up naked in my bed one night. That was right before senior prom. A night I won’t ever forget.
“Great,” I reply, offering her a small smile. “So, here’s your key.” I reach for a key box beside the machine and hand it to her as well. “Let’s go to the counter and get you rung up.”
Dad pops out of his office when we reach the front, a friendly smile on his face. “Oh, Felicity, you’re here.”
“I am! I can’t wait to start tomorrow,” she coos, batting her thick, black eyelashes my way again. She leans across the counter, pressing her tits together and upward out of her shirt.
“We’ll get you a few polo shirts. I’m not sure we have your size in stock, but I can order some,” Dad says as he hands her an employment application. An application that’s apparently just a formality at this point.
“Extra small!” she boasts. I’m pretty sure an extra small is going to barely contain the tits she apparently had worked on while I was away. I don’t ever recall Felicity being so well-endowed in the chest area. Now Harper? She has the perfect, natural shape and size that keeps the fantasy coming.
And me coming too…
It takes way too long to get her out of the store, and when she finally does, I follow my dad into his office. “Really?”
“What?”
“Felicity? You expect her to get any work done here? She’ll be too afraid to break a nail,” I grumble, dropping down into the chair. I throw my feet up on his desk, just to piss him off.
“Listen, I didn’t really have a choice. Darryl was telling me she needs a second job so she can move out of their place.”
“Not my problem,” I protest. “Wait, move from their place? She just told me she needed another key for her apartment.”
Dad snorts. “Uh, no. She moved back home months ago and hasn’t left yet. I think he’s helping give her the little push out of the nest. I know she’s not the best fit here, but he’s my friend. And I do recall him helping you out a few times in the past,” Dad says, referring to the time where he helped me restore my old truck. We didn’t have the extra garage space, but they did. So I worked on my truck there on the weekends, and even used a lot of his tools.
“This is going to be a disaster,” I gripe.
Dad laughs. “Probably. Just keep her busy at the front desk. She can clean and do some of the other organizing stuff you’ve wanted to do.”
Dropping my head, I know I’m defeated. Dad’s helping a friend, and giving his daughter a job. Now, I’ll be stuck with her on a daily basis. “You know there’s nothing there, right?” I ask, needing to make sure this isn’t a setup.
Dad snorts. “Are you kidding? I saw the writing on the wall when you two were in high school. Your mom might need a reminder, but not me. That’s not why I brought her here. Besides, I always had my eyes set on another when it came to you.” I can see his not-so-innocent smile spread widely across his aging face.
“I don’t want to know,” I say, though I’m pretty sure I already do.
“She’s a good girl, Latham. She’s got a fiery spirit that brings out the best in you,” he says as I’m walking to the door.
“Fiery because she’ll try to light my ass on fire?” I throw over my shoulder, Dad laughing as I go.
“I like her,” I hear him holler as I join Dale at the counter.
There’s only one problem.
I like her too.
* * *
It’s just after noon when the phone call I’ve been waiting for comes in. I excuse myself from the counter and head back to one of the storage rooms for a little privacy. “Hello?”
“Yeah, there’s definitely another offer on the table.”
“I thought you said I was the only one?” I ask, annoyed that the deal could possibly be in jeopardy, but more annoyed it’s Harper who could fuck up my plans.
“As of Saturday, there wasn’t. The attorney assured me the listing wasn’t even public yet.”
“Then how did she find out about it?” I growl into the phone, talking mostly to myself.
“She? Who?”
“You don’t know?” I ask.
“No, I’m not privileged to that information. I’m only allowed to know that another offer has been made, not who made it.”
Do I tell him or not? I mean, if he knows, then we can formulate the best plan of attack together. “Harper Grayson.”
Dead silence.
“You there?”
“Yeah, did you say Harper Grayson? As in fucking knockout, with tits that would make a grown man beg, Harper Grayson?”
My blood starts to boil and my nostrils flair. My reflex is to bark and bite like a jealous man, but that can’t happen. Not with Pete, who’ll take every opportunity to razz and joke about how I reacted to his comments. So instead of saying what I want to, I go with, “Yeah, that Harper.”
“Damn, man. She still as hot as ever? I remember in high school when you–”
“Listen, Pete, let’s not lose focus. The goal is to still acquire that building. I need it for what I have planned for the store. I’m not going to let a woman selling thongs and body wash spoil that.”
“Did you just say thongs? Does she wear them?”
I growl. “I don’t know.” I do know. “My point is the space would suit my needs better than hers. Make a bigger offer.”
“How much bigger?” he asks.
I sigh deeply. “As big as you need.”
Pete’s silent on the other end. “You sure?”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I reply without even thinking. “Do it.”
I’ve got the finance to back it up, but had hoped to be able to put some of that money into the renovation. It’s going to take dough to knock out a portion of the wall and make the old space usable again. Not to mention what I’ve already budgeted for the new computer system and updated security. But if I want to make Douglas Hardware the place they come to for all do-it-yourself projects, then we need to make these changes. It’s too easy to make the thirty-minute drive to another town, where the stores are bigger and the selection greater. I need to keep the customers in town.
Or the business I’ve grown up in may be no more.
Chapter Five
Harper
I just wave goodbye to another customer when my cell phone rings. I recognize Mandy’s name right away. She’s a former classmate of mine who I reached out to when I heard about the building next door being for sale. She’s also Mrs. Morton’s niece, so she was able to give me a little more information about the property before it was formally available. She asked where I heard about it, but I never confirmed that piece of information. I’d never tell. It’s a secret I’ll forever keep.
“Hello?”
“We have a problem,” she says in way of greeting.
“What kind of problem?”
“There’s another offer.”
Did I just hear her right? Another offer? How? When?
“I just got word this morning. Another offer came in from a realtor in Harriston.”
“Harriston? I thought you said this building wasn’t even formally on the market yet?” I ask, dropping down onto the stool I keep behind the counter.
“It wasn’t. That’s why I’m so confused on how you found out. Even I didn’t know, and I’m not only her niece, but the listing agent.”
I rub my temple, feeling the headache blooming. “What do we do?”
“You need to come back with a bigger offer. The one you gave is almost exactly what the other offer is. You need to stand out.”
“I don’t have that much wiggle room,” I confess quietly. “My offer was already close to my loan limit.”
“Then can you borrow money from someone? Your mom, maybe? You don’t want to let this opportunity slip through your fingers, Harper. I
mean, when you expand your product line, you’ll bring in the extra income to pay the loans off.”
At least that’s the hope. Of course, it’s never guaranteed. My new vision could tank considerably and all this extra work, time, and money would be for nothing. “I can’t borrow from Mom. She’s still recovering from the fire at the bed and breakfast. They put a lot of extra money into redecorating.”
“Samuel then?”
“Maybe,” I reply, knowing I could probably borrow a little from my oldest brother. He’s always stressing the importance of proper savings and has been squirreling away part of his paychecks since he was old enough to get them.
“I need to go back with a new offer, Harper. What do you want to do?”
My heart pounds in my chest. I know what I have to do, but it’s going to make it tight to do it. Part of that loan amount was so I could add the new lines. Every dollar I take from there means my inventory will be affected. “Add five. That’s about what I was prepared to go, though I had hoped I wouldn’t need to.”
“I can do that. Five thousand is a good offer. I’ll draw up the papers, stop by and have you sign them, and hand-deliver them to my aunt. She won’t be able to refuse the offer, don’t worry. She doesn’t need the money, but still wants premium dollar for the building. You’re already at her original asking price.”
“I hope you’re right,” I whisper, letting worry and uncertainty settle in.
“I’ll be in touch,” she confirms, hanging up before I get the chance to say goodbye.
Everything I’ve been dreaming about is right within my reach. But now, someone throws a wrench in my plans, making an offer on a building that’s too small for the average business. Who else could possibly know about the building being for sale? There’s only one person I know of who knew, and he’s the one who shared that tidbit of info with me. He swore me to secrecy, so I don’t see him telling other people.
Who knows, maybe this is the kick in the ass I need.
Time to settle down, focus, and do what it takes to win this bid. That building is mine. I just need to make it happen.
* * *
At the end of the day, my little sister, Marissa, shows up with a smile on her face and a large iced coffee in her hand. “What has you all happy, happy today? Did you get some?” I ask, teasing my sister. Now all I have to do is sit back and wait for the inevitable blush.
She doesn’t disappoint. “No,” she says, glancing down and averting her eyes. So if she didn’t just get some, it clearly is fresh on her mind. “I came to town to get a few things for tomorrow’s breakfast and thought I’d stop in and see my favorite sister, but since all you’re going to do is give me a hard time, I’ll just leave.” Marissa doesn’t make a turn for the door, but continues to approach the counter.
“Where’s your boy toy?”
“He’s working. He’s working a big job in Harriston, so he’ll probably just stay at his apartment there tonight,” she says with a shrug, but I can see the look of disappointment on her face.
Marissa and Rhenn have only been seeing each other a few months, but I can tell it’s something bigger than either of them have ever experienced. What started off as a hot little fling, quickly turned into more. He ended up moving to Harriston, only about thirty minutes away from my sister, and transferred his job. Even though he has an apartment there, he spends almost every night in my sister’s bed, getting up early and heading off to work. The only thing left hanging open is his dojo back in Jupiter Bay, where’s he’s originally from.
“A night apart will do you good. Give the ol’ cookie a rest for once,” I tease.
“Eww, don’t say cookie.”
“Muff? Honey hole? Sweet love wallet? Snake charmer? Flesh cave? Penis fly trap? Vagina?”
“You’re disturbed. You’ve been hanging around Aunt Emma too much,” she retorts, fighting a smile.
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that ol’ woman is kooky as hell, yet quite entertaining,” I reply, closing out my daily sales log and counting the register.
“I brought you this,” she says, placing the super yummy iced coffee in front of me. Extra whipped cream, just the way I like it.
“Thanks,” I reply, taking the drink from the counter and slurping up the delicious goodness. “Now, I’ll have to spend thirty extra minutes on the stationary bike tonight.”
“Spin class?” she says, making a horrified face.
“Yeah, at six. You should come.”
“Yeah, I’d rather slam my pinky in a car door.”
A bubble of laughter spills from my throat. “So dramatic. It wasn’t that bad.”
“It was horrible. I almost died.”
“Did not, baby,” I say, counting out the rest of the change and filling out the sales log. When it’s complete, I attach the sheet to today’s report from the laptop (which works wonderfully, I might add – just don’t tell Latham). Once the deposit slip is filled out and everything placed where it goes, I turn off the lights and lock the front door. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Someone else is making an offer on the building.”
Marissa looks surprised. “Really? Who?”
“I don’t know, but it came from a realtor in Harriston.”
“That sucks. Can you counter?”
“Yeah, I increased my bid by five thousand. I hope it’s enough because I don’t have anything else to add.”
Marissa reaches across the counter and takes my hand. “I could help. I don’t have too much, but what I do have is yours.”
My heart soars. “Thank you, but I’m not sure I want to do that. I don’t want to owe everyone. I mean, what if the new venture doesn’t take off the way I hope?” I ask, finally saying the main concern I’ve had since I found out about the building being for sale.
“It’s going to do great, Harp. Don’t worry about that. Everyone loves your store, and when you bring in more local product, they’ll love it even more. It shows you care about the community and supporting local entrepreneurs.”
I can’t help but smile. “You’re right,” I state, standing up tall (and towering over my petite little sister). “This new addition is going to be badass.”
“The badassest badass shop in town!”
That makes me giggle. “Badassest isn’t even a word.”
“It should be. We’ll add it to the dictionary – right next to a photo of your storefront.”
I laugh as I gather my purse, Marissa trailing behind me as I head to the back door. “Thanks for your support,” I tell her, pulling her into a hug right before we push through the back entrance. The sun shines brightly, the air warm and heavy.
“You’re welcome,” she replies, turning and heading toward the corner so she can walk back around to the front of the store where her car is parked. “You know,” she adds, stopping in her tracks. “Didn’t you go to school with that Pete Hughes? I recall him being a realtor in Harriston.”
With my keys in hand, I stop and give her my attention. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about him.”
“Maybe you can give him a call to see what he knows?”
“Pete was good friends with Latham in school,” I say absently.
Suddenly a piece starts to shift, clicking into another like a jigsaw puzzle.
No.
He wouldn’t.
Would he?
“What?” she asks, a concerned look on her face.
Just over her shoulder is the back entrance to Douglas Hardware. Their building takes up half the block, with the lumberyard behind the alley and expanding to the back corner. “Latham.”
Marissa glances over her shoulder to the sign above the door, realization setting in. “You don’t think,” she starts, but leaves it open-ended.
“I do think…”
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“Win that bid.”
With renewed energy and focus (and a lot pissed off), I slip into my car, make my way to the night drive-up window at the bank and throw in the dep
osit, then head to the gym. My mind is flying a million miles a second, but it keeps coming back to this one thing: no one else knew about the building being for sale.
Except quite possibly Latham.
No, it wasn’t him who shared this tidbit of information with me in the first place, but his father. Bud might have mentioned it to his son, too. What if that was their intent? To start a bidding war between their business and mine. Well, the gauntlet has been thrown. I’m not walking away. I want that building. I want to expand my dream. I’m not about to let some jackass who sells paint and two-by-fours push me out of the way.
Latham wants a fight?
I’ll give him one.
Of course, I don’t know for a fact it is Latham who’s bidding against me, but whatever.
As soon as I show my membership card to the front desk clerk (that’s pointless, by the way, since we’re in a small town and everyone knows everyone), I head back to the female locker room to change. I rent a locker with my membership to keep my workout clothes in, so I don’t have to carry them with me every day. I change into a black sports bra, red tank top, and black bicycle shorts. When I’m cycling, I don’t want bulky material chaffing my thighs, so I wear short, tight pants that cover all my bits and pieces, but allow me the movement I need. I slip on my favorite pair of Adidas runners, fill up my empty bottle with cold water, and head out to meet my class in the spin cycle room.
Unfortunately, my sour mood is further spoiled when I step inside and find my favorite machine already occupied. And not just by any newbie, but none other than Felicity Charles. The girl who did everything she could in school to get under my skin and take everything I had (boyfriends, mostly) for her own. She’s an obnoxious Barbie doll of a woman, with just as much brains between her ears as her plastic counterpart.
“Oh my God, is that Harper Grayson? I haven’t seen you in forever,” she practically yells in the mostly full room of class-takers. Of course, the hairs on the back of my neck immediately stand up and my teeth start to grind the moment she draws out the last word, as if forever somehow has eighteen syllables.
“Hey, Felicity, how have you been?” I ask, trying not to give her my attention, as I look for an unclaimed machine. This class is wildly popular, and usually almost full, so it only takes me a second to realize there aren’t many left available. Basically there are two: one directly to her left and one right in front of that one.