by KC Crowne
After catching my breath, I was done. I finished washing and turned off the shower, throwing a towel around my body as I stepped out of the bathroom.
The fantasy was killer, sexy as hell. But I knew it was only the tip of what I wanted with Crystal. I didn’t just want to make her mine in the bedroom – I wanted to make her mine completely.
And I was a man who got what he wanted.
Chapter 6
Crystal
I plopped in front of my desk, blueprints of the B&B laid out in front of me. My goal was to figure out some way to carve a pair of entrances and exits into the first floor, and to do it as cheaply as possible without ruining the charm of the building. But it seemed in impossible.
“What about right there?” Sabrina’s slender finger landed on a blank space on a first-floor wall. “We could put an exit there. Looks like there’s plenty of space.”
I shook my head. “That was the first spot I saw too, but it’s right in the middle of the lounge. If we put the exit there, it’ll be right next to the fireplace. And a giant illuminated exit light will totally screw up the ambiance.”
“What about down the first-floor hall? Just past the bathroom?”
“That’s the garden out there, remember? If we go with that, we’ll have to slice right through with a sidewalk, along with a ramp for disabled guests.”
“Are you serious? We have to put in another ramp even though we’ve already got one on the front?”
“That’s what the code says.” I slumped back in my seat. “God, whatever we do’s gonna cost a fortune. You can’t just put in an exit – you have to put signs, stairs, make sure it’s all up to code.”
“But we can do it, right?” she asked, biting her lip. “We have to or we can’t reopen.”
“I know, I know. Just…shit. If we chew through the rest of my savings puttin’ these in, we’re gonna be on a shoestring budget while we actually have them constructed. If somethin’ else were to come up…”
Sabrina took my hand. “It’ll be fine, you know that, right?”
I squeezed her hand. “I know, I know. But damn, if it ain’t one thing after another.”
The door opened and Adie slid in. She smiled and took a seat. Her laptop was tucked under her arm, and her expression made me curious.
“What’s up?” Sabrina asked. Adie glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “Somethin’s on your mind.”
“Oh God,” Adie replied. “Am I that obvious?”
“You don’t exactly have the best poker face,” I teased.
Her cheeks reddened prettily. “Well, it’s not like I got a secret to hide.” She opened her laptop and clicked around. “I was lookin’ at that letter the guy sent you from City Hall and I got to thinkin’.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, leaning forward in interest. Adie had a sharp mind.
“Got me thinkin’ specifically about how in Dallas we had these same kinda rules with buildings and such. But Dallas has all these old buildings, some over a hundred years old.”
Sabrina and I said nothing, waiting for her to get to her point.
“I looked into it, and it turns out they make exceptions for older buildings,” she announced, smiling. “Can’t exactly go smashin’ up historical sites, right? If you can prove that your location’s older than a certain amount of years, you can register it as a historical building. And I looked into ours and guess what?”
She grinned and turned the screen toward us, revealing a black-and-white picture of the B&B, the photo looking quite old. “This place was built in 1855 – pre-Civil War. Used to be a farmhouse, one of the oldest in the region. And because it’s so dang old, that means all these modern codes and such don’t apply to it. We don’t have to build any fire exits – what we’ve got is good enough.”
She handed the laptop to me. One window was information about the building, the other was the state’s webpage for historical landmark rules. I scanned each quickly and found everything she said checked out.
“Holy shit,” I murmured in disbelief and excitement. “This is exactly what we need. Adie, you’re amazing!” I ran around the desk and threw my arms around her, giving her a big hug, one so tight she let out a little shriek.
“Nice detective work, Adie,” Sabrina added, beaming. “You just might’ve saved this humble joint of ours.”
My heart was racing – I was beyond excited. “Alright, let me get City Hall on the horn and see if we can’t get this all sorted out. Y’all scram for a minute and I’ll let you know what’s what.”
They hurriedly left as I called the same number I had before. I reached the same secretary, and after I told her what was going on and made the same threat of coming down to talk in person, I was put on hold again.
Took a few minutes, but Marlon Ford finally answered again. “Ms. Peterson?” he asked, clearly irritated to be talking to me again. But I didn’t give a good damn about that.
“It’s me alright, and I’ve got news for you.”
“This should be good.”
“You familiar with…” I craned my neck to read the screen. “The Historical Landmarks Act?”
There was a long silence, and I got the impression he knew exactly what I was talking about and what I had in mind. “I am.”
“Well, then I don’t need to explain it to you. Keepin’ it short and sweet, my little B&B more than qualifies as a historical landmark. So that means I don’t have to make the changes to the building you said I do. Which means I can open back up.”
There was more silence, and I grinned like crazy, knowing I’d won. His reply brought me down a notch. “If only it were that simple.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sure, your building might qualify, and true, that might mean you don’t need to make the adjustments to the property. But Ms. Peterson, getting your building to qualify for the Historical Landmarks Act isn’t…” He snickered over the phone, as if he was about to take some serious pleasure in telling me something I wouldn’t like.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s not a matter of calling City Hall and simply telling us. It’s a whole process. You have to apply, and then the building must be inspected, and only then are you approved. And do you want to guess who approves it?”
My gut sank. No, I didn’t need to guess. “But…” I turned my eyes back to the legal information. “It says here that if you think your location qualifies, that supersedes any local code in the meanti—”
“Ms. Peterson, I’m gonna say this once and hope that you get it,” he interrupted, causing me to clench my teeth before responding to his rudeness with more rudeness. “If you want anything, and I mean anything to happen with that place, it’s got to go through me first.”
“This isn’t a state board decision?” I asked, wracking my brain to make heads or tails of his monologue.
Now, if you want to try the historical stuff, you go right ahead. But between everything that has to go into it, you’re gonna have at least six months before you can even think about gettin’ approved.” He chuckled. “And you should know, my very good friend is on the state board. So like I said, it will still be on my plate.”
“This is ridiculous,” I growled, furious that one person could have so much power over something that seemed relatively trivial.
He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Or, you can do what I asked and install those exits. Don’t make a damn bit of difference to me, but the next time I hear from you, you’d better not be wastin’ my time. You got it?’
I was steamed. “You know, you’ve got a real attitude for someone who’s supposed to be professional, workin’ for the city. I’m startin’ to wonder if you’re out to get me or somethin’.”
He laughed. “Oh, you think you’re real special, huh? That I’d go out of my way to bully you or some nonsense? I’m just doin’ my job.”
“You’re bein’ difficult and costin’ me my business in the process.”
“You’re really not earning my sympathies here,
Ms. Peterson. Now, if I were you, I’d figure out what I was gonna do with my business and not make an enemy out of the one person who gets to decide if you reopen or not. Got it?”
I bit my tongue. Man alive, did I bite my tongue. “Got it,” I bit out.
He hung up and that was the end of our conversation. Of course, my friends poured back into the room once they heard the conversation was over, and I had to break the bad news.
“He can’t just do that,” Adie seethed. “He’s totally out of line.”
“He’s abusing his authority,” Sabrina agreed. “It’s a very common thing for men like that – once they’re given a little bit of power, they go crazy wielding it. Now, I don’t want to speak out of turn here, but in my psychologist’s opinion…” She held her thumb and index finger in the universal sign for small penis. In spite of everything, I chuckled.
“Maybe the fastest thing would be to just pay for the improvements and take it on the chin,” I said.
“But then we let him win,” Adie said, shaking her head.
“Adie, he’s makes the call – he’s already won,” I replied, defeated. As the words came out of my mouth I regretted them. And I could tell the ladies didn’t like to hear them.
“Crystal, that’s not like you to say somethin’ like that,” Sabrina admonished. “We’ve put our hearts and souls into this place, and we’re not givin’ up. And I know you’re not plannin’ on it.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “You’re right – we’ll get through this. Just have to figure out how.” I got up. “I think I need a walk or somethin’. Clear my head.”
We left the office, and I walked into the kitchen alone. I made myself a mug of tea and headed out back into the small garden I’d planted with my own two hands before we’d opened. It was quiet and peaceful, the green hills rolling off into the distance. But I wasn’t out there for long before I had company.
“Looks like we’re thinkin’ the same thing.”
I turned to see Gerald, a mug of something in his hands, a small smile playing on his handsome face.
“But there’s a little somethin’ extra in my drink.” He reached around and slipped a small, silver flask out of his back pocket. “Want a little kick?”
“Don’t normally drink this early,” I said. “But hell, sure.”
I held out my mug and Gerald dumped a little brown liquor into it, the smell of whiskey hanging briefly in the air. I sipped my drink, the booze doing its work almost immediately.
“You look like you’re havin’ a rough one.”
“Somethin’ like that.”
“Is it the City Hall nonsense?” he asked.
“Yep. Thought we’d found a way out, but all roads lead right back to the same dickhead on a power trip.” I shook my head. “I swear, it’s like he’s not gonna be happy until my place is out of business.”
“It’s those damn bureaucrats,” he commented. “They’re the same everywhere. They get a little power and never let you forget it.”
“You sound like Sabrina.”
He flashed a smile. “She’s a smart cookie – I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I sat down on the wooden bench among the flowers, Gerald taking a place next to me.
“You know,” he said. “If it’s a matter of money, I can help you.”
My eyes narrowed. “Are you serious? You’re offerin’ me charity?”
“Hey, I know you’re in a tough money spot, and I’ve got cash to spare. You want me to kick a little your way and help you out with the additions, that’s no problem. One of my cousin’s is good friends with one of the best contractors in the area – bet he could have him over tomorrow mornin’ and get all this taken care of by week’s end.”
“No way, no how. Me and my friends made this place what it is, and we’re gonna be the ones to get out of it. I don’t need your or anyone else’s charity.”
“You can think of it as an investment. Hell, pay it back when your business is up and runnin’, if you want. I’ll even charge you interest if you insist.”
Something about his offer, him throwing out money as though it were no big deal, really rubbed me the wrong way.
“I don’t need your investment or anything else. I’ll figure it out. Hell, I don’t need your whiskey either.” I handed him the mug, and he took it with a grin. “And speaking of your cousins, feel free to tell them what’s goin’ on here – I’m sure they’re more than interested.” I stood up and prepared to leave.
He laughed. “Wow, kitten’s got claws today.”
I nearly jerked around to call him a name that wasn’t nearly as nice as kitten, but I stomped off. Once inside, I let out a noise of frustration. Gerald was so cocky, so immune to anything I might say to him – it drove me a little crazy.
And it brought one question to mind.
Why the hell was I so attracted to him?
Chapter 7
GERALD
The business looked like a whole lot of nothing.
I checked the folded-up piece of paper on the passenger’s seat, setting it on the steering wheel and smoothing it out with a hard drag of the back of my hand. Like all my notes, it was written in pencil on loose-leaf paper. My mind was like a steel trap most of the time, and I only took any kind of notes when I needed to remember something really specific, like the name of a car lot that might very well be part of a criminal operation.
The name written in my small, blocky handwriting – “Manuel’s Used and New Trucks” – was the printed on the big, garish sign over the lot. But the lot hardly seemed like the kind of business that’d pull in the numbers I’d found in my research. A couple dozen cars were on the lot at most. They’d have to be selling them all and bringing in a fresh set every few weeks to do the kind of business they had on the books.
What the mayor had said in his notes was even more reason to investigate the place. Evidently, six months ago the place had been on the verge of bankruptcy, but if the numbers were any indication, now it was thriving. If there was any doubt I needed to give the place a once-over, that was gone.
I hopped out of the truck, my boots kicking up a couple small coughs of dust as I landed on the ground. After shutting the door, I adjusted my hat against the late morning sun, squinted my eyes, and headed toward the lot.
The place looked run-down – that was the first thing I noticed. Rather that smooth blacktop, the lot was gravel. A shoddy, chain-link fence surrounded the property with no barbed wire on the top – like they didn’t care if anyone broke in. The only building on the grounds was a blocky white thing in the middle with a couple of Coke machines in front that looked like they hadn’t seen proper maintenance in years.
I stepped onto the lot, noticing the place was desolate – no customers, no employees that I could see. To attract attention, I did my best interested customer impression, kicking a few tires with the steel toes of my boots and giving some of the cars a narrowed-eyed inspection, checking my watch before I did.
“Good morning, sir!”
I glanced up blank-faced as a man walked toward me. The man was short with dark hair and dark skin, a thick moustache over his upper lip. He wore a soft blue cowboy shirt with a bolo tie, clean jeans, and a pair of boots that must have cost a pretty penny. The hat on his head looked pretty damn pricey too.
“Howdy,” I called.
As he approached, I checked my watch. Ten minutes had passed since I’d stepped onto the lot. For a used car joint, that was strange as hell – most places you couldn’t put one boot on the property before the salesmen pounced like a pack of hungry hyenas.
“Name’s Manuel,” he said, offering me his hand.
“Carl,” I replied, giving him my usual fake name. I wasn’t much for lying, but at the same time I didn’t want anyone to know I’d been poking around. The perils of my line of work.
Manuel turned toward the pearl-white F-350 I was standing near. “Noticed this one caught your eye,” he said, patting the side of the truck like it wa
s a trusted steer. “Just got her on the lot. She’s used but barely any miles on her. Last owner bought her mostly for trips to Costco, believe it or not.”
I let out a quick snort of a laugh. “Lemme guess – Houston suburbs.”
Manuel grinned. “You got it.” He glanced over my shoulder at my own truck parked outside the lot. “That’s a hell of a truck you got there yourself, partner. In the market for another?”
“It’s for my son. About to turn sixteen and I’m thinkin’ of gettin’ him a beater for his first vehicle. No sense in wastin’ a brand-new truck on a kid who’s just gonna put it through the paces, you know?”
Manuel grinned knowingly. “That’s right. Well, we’ve got plenty of used on the lot if that’s what you’re lookin’ for. Happy to help out.”
“’Preciate it.” I strolled slowly around the truck, as if I were checking out the body for any dents or scratches. Really, I was looking for anything out of the ordinary. And I found it. Manuel was close behind, and while he was at my side, I tapped the price sticker on the windshield. “Now, I ain’t the savviest buyer there is, but this price seems a little steep for used.”
Manuel’s face took on a sheepish expression as I turned my attention back to him. “They’re, ah, places to start negotiations. Get a lot of buyers from Houston who’re used to payin’ an arm and a leg for cars. Believe it or not, this is less than what you’d buy on a lot closer to the city.”
I flashed him a grin to put him at ease, one to let him think I didn’t mind and that I was only asking out of curiosity. “I tell you, those Houston types gotta be good for somethin’, right?”
He grinned as well. “They get a cheaper truck, we get a little more off the top – everyone wins, you know? But since you’re a local, I’m sure we can work somethin’ out.”
There was relief on his face, as if he was worried I’d almost caught him in the act. Fifteen minutes on that lot and I was already smelling something rotten.