by Brea Viragh
One smooth unfolding motion, and I crossed to the window, pointing toward the decrepit farmhouse in desperate need of a wrecking-ball-slash-bulldozer. “See?”
Weston joined me. “The Miller place. I didn’t realize the matriarch had died.”
“How do you know they’d be willing?” Mark probed.
Another round of laughter. “You need to ask! It seems to me the lot would be perfect for a swing set. Then you wouldn’t have to bother with disturbing the garden club.” I quirked a brow into my hairline. “You know how a group of women can be when they get stuck on something. Never come between a girl and her garden.”
The men shared a chuckle, Weston refusing to look away. He considered me and tapped his pen against his chin. “What would you suggest we do?”
Was he coming around to my side? Inspiration had struck, and I dove ahead. “I would draft a proposal. Approach the sellers with your best foot forward and appeal to their sense of family, of community. It could be a place to gather together. A place for kids to run and play and grow.”
“What makes you think the Miller boys would be interested in those things?” he asked.
“If they’re a part of the community, they will be. I mean, there’s always a chance they’d play hardball.” I chuckled at the word. “But with the three of you on the job, I’m sure you could convince anyone. They would be putty in your hands.”
“It’s…something to think about,” Weston said slowly.
Mark linked his hands behind his back. “Not a bad proposition.”
“It would solve our issues, surely, if it worked to our advantage.”
“It’s a simple suggestion and I’m probably talking out of turn here,” I put in, “so don’t proceed on my account.”
“You think the swing set could be relocated, given the larger lot?” James asked Weston.
“This might be a chance to go bigger still,” I interrupted. “In addition to the swings, why not a whole new activity area? Incorporate the land into an after-school program?”
I saw the picture in my head, the acreage I’d glimpsed. I saw trees swaying with leaves, pretty flowers begging for people to stop and inhale. Plastic athletic equipment for the older kids and a playground lined with mulch for the little children. Everything about the area spoke to pleasure, joy—a combination of play and fun and performance.
“It could be a civic outreach project. Where you could get others involved in the community and the future of their offspring.”
“Tie it into the park, you mean?” Mark asked.
“An extension of the greenspace,” I clarified. Their gazes had shifted toward me, and not in the hungry way I’d first experienced when I walked into the room. They were intrigued by the proposition. This was not a flick of a look stating I wasn’t worth the full force of their attention. The girls bouncing on my chest missed the attention already. “It can be so much more.”
Weston looked at me like he’d never seen me before. My worth ratcheted higher. Part of me truly enjoyed the new and heady esteem. The other part wondered why I’d not been worthy of it until today. Must have been the jeggings.
“Young lady, you may be on to something.” James tapped the toe of his shoe twice before smiling. “Do you remember the number for the office?”
“I have the real estate agent’s phone number programmed on my cell.” I reached down between my breasts—a low blow—and retrieved said cell. “Let’s see if I can find it for you.”
By the time they were done with their meeting hours later, I deserved a gold medal and I’d gone over my humble speech of thanks in my head until it was memorized.
Finn was good with his advice. I gave him props for that. Then again, I was better. I’d managed to touch on aspects James, Mark, and Weston hadn’t thought about. Expanding on others they had.
I left the room with a sense of purpose and accomplishment, not to mention a bigger head than when I’d walked in. If everything worked the way I’d outlined, then the issue of my usefulness was solved. Not my usefulness, but rather my image as a person. A woman. A significant other.
I’d given two of the big players a reason to believe in me.
Weston leaned on the doorjamb, hands clasped on either side of the frame. “Thank you for stopping by.”
We kept our voices low. “Do you still wish I’d left?” I teased.
He shook his head. “You surprised me today. Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll talk to you tonight. Head over to the townhouse. If I get out of here in good time, I’ll swing by and bring dinner.”
“I’d appreciate it.” I leaned in for a perfunctory peck on the lips. We’d have some food, we’d talk, and I’d lord my victory over him. In this game of chance, I’d won.
“Have a good afternoon.”
“You too.”
I left him with a saucy look over my shoulder and a view of my swinging hips.
CHAPTER NINE
Later, I managed to shimmy out of my skinny jeans with only one broken knickknack and no bodily damage.
I may lack what most considered to be meaningful employment, but with new prospects looming large on the horizon, and a test to take, I was prepared to work until my fingers bled. The days became longer, nights shorter, and free time nonexistent.
Most evenings from then on were spent with a keyboard beneath my fingers and a goal at the finish line. Every passing hour meant I was an hour closer to my real estate license. I remembered the fire I’d had inside, trying to pay my way through college. A few hours between classes spent showing condos around the campus to young couples. Or rich parents wanting a safe place for their children to reside during their four years.
I’d done it then because I had to. Because I thought it was an easy way to make enough money to pay for my classes when scholarships and grants couldn’t cover the entire cost. I’d needed a job and found the amount of work it took to get my license was rewarded with sales.
This hopefully translated to an easier time of getting my license in Virginia. Fingers crossed I would pass the exam with ease. Although those sixty hours of required education were going to be a bitch.
Funny how some things came full circle while others came to a screeching halt. How odd to be back where I’d started in terms of what I thought to be an utterly generic job. Nothing I’d want to make into a career. Yet here I was, hunched over a pile of books, studying like a madwoman and blinking to bring the world into focus whenever I looked up.
Retina-searing sunlight deepened into night and I lost track of time. Somewhere along the line, I’d forgotten about my accomplishment with Weston and his big-business pals. Focused solely on the task in front of me.
At last I saw some of my old self. The woman who, pardon the expression, didn’t take shit from anyone. And maybe had enough spunk to warrant the term.
Still, it seemed I had more shit to take before I could fully wipe my hands of it. There was Finn to deal with, which I sometimes equated to having to wrangle a six-foot-four ape. There was the mental demand of studying for hours every day, which upped my respect for college students nowadays. There was the intricate art of avoiding contact with my mother, which upped my skill levels in the ninja reflex department…all kinds of shit.
Studying came with comfort and a sense of accomplishment. Something worthwhile to fill my time. As much as I hated to admit it, so did my work with Finn. I frowned thinking about the dark look on my mother’s face the other day when she’d brought up his past. The damning things she’d said regarding his character, which may or may not be true.
The fact remained—it wasn’t right to speak about someone when they weren’t there to defend themselves. Maybe I was going soft, or maybe there was something about him that did get under my skin. The need to protect him rose up strong and I had a better idea about why I’d come to his aid.
Seeing his progress brought satisfaction. Pride. Maybe it didn’t seem like much to others
. To me, it was tangible. It was important. It had been one thing to fantasize about his recovery and the pleased looks I, for my hand in it, would receive from Weston and his community. Insert sarcasm here. It was another matter entirely to get to know Finn and the thousands of details involved with getting him to walk again.
I dealt with Weston, sharpened my wit on Finn, and burned the midnight oil trying to pass my real estate exam. Somewhere in the madness was my key to a happy future.
Weston let the door swing closed with a resounding thud. I glanced up from my books, glasses balanced on the tip of my nose. It took too long for my eyes to adjust to the dim light outside my pages.
“Hey. I’ve been waiting for you.” I leaned back in the chair and listened to the satisfying click of my spine realigning.
His briefcase dropped to the floor. “I’ve had a long day. I’ve looked into every possible angle of the real estate deal.”
I brightened. “The one I brought up last week?”
“Yes. Let me tell you, sweetie, it was a great suggestion.” He let out a tired chuckle. “Definitely an alternative we hadn’t considered before. Mark and James were impressed.”
I couldn’t help the swell of delight kindling to life in my belly. “You’re welcome.” And here I’d gone and forgotten my speech. Bending over the table, I executed a sloppy bow, resulting in my glasses tumbling down and cracking in the corner. “Dammit!”
“I’m happy for your help. And those jeans…” His sentence trailed off on a low moan. “Wow. I’m not sure I mentioned it before. They were amazing.”
He had mentioned it to me. On multiple occasions, both on our feet and off. Getting laid hadn’t been in the plan. I called it a perk.
“You have, and I’m glad you liked them. I’ll be sure to whip them out the next time I need an advantage.”
I watched Weston shed his light jacket, drop it next to the briefcase still plopped in its habitual spot near the door, and yank the tie loose. He stumbled the short distance to the couch before Olympic high-diving into the cushions.
“I’ve had a long day,” he told me. “I’m sorry I’ve been a little distant lately. There are a lot of things on my mind.”
I shrugged. “It’s fine. We’ve both been busy. I’m happy to hear the real estate deal could be a go for you.”
“More than a go. I sent Mark over to the office to see about talking with the family.”
“Congratulations.”
“I know I told you to stay away, but I’m glad you showed up,” he admitted.
“Well, Finn thought it would be a good opportunity for me to help you out. To boost my image.” I shot Weston a thumbs-up from across the room. “I think it worked.”
“Wait, Finn?” Weston sat up and stared at me over the top of the couch, hair disheveled. “Some guy named Finn told you to come to my office?”
“Well, yeah.”
“You never mentioned him before.”
“The man I volunteer with. For. Whatever. I know I’ve told you about him.” I sat back in the seat and crossed my legs. Had I never used his name? I found that difficult to believe. Not impossible, but certainly improbable. I wasn’t that big of a space cadet. More like Weston had too much on his mind to pay attention to me.
“He had some good advice,” I continued. “Of course, I had to pick and choose from the myriad things he suggested.” Such gems as never dig a well on a Sunday and flavored lubricant is a treat for both parties. “I think between the two of us we came up with a winning combination. Don’t you?”
Weston seemed less than thrilled at my revelation. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say his face tightened and his knuckles clenched. He hid the reaction under a veneer of polish.
“What is this guy’s last name? Didn’t you say you hated him?”
“Yeah, I did at first. We’ve managed to come to a tentative…understanding.” I kept the grin to myself. More than an understanding. I enjoyed the bastard’s company. Prickly on the outside but a wealth of humor on the inside.
“His name, River,” Weston demanded, and I jolted back to the present. “What is it?”
“Finn Price.”
“Oh.”
I watched his gaze harden, his mouth shift to a straight, thin line. This time there was no mistaking the reaction. “I take it you’re familiar with him,” I replied.
Weston sighed, punching a pillow into submission before ramming it behind his head. “Yeah. One way of putting it.”
“I sense a history here.” There was obviously something between the two men, something neither one felt I deserved to know. I wondered why Finn hadn’t said anything.
“It’s not a tale I want to get into right now.” Weston punched the pillow again in an attempt to get comfortable. “It would be better if you stayed away from him.”
“What? Why?” What was it with the people in this town and their desire for me to stay away from Finn? I felt like I was listening to a recording on repeat.
Stay away from Finn. Stay away. Abandon hope, all ye who strike up a friendship with Finn Price.
“He’s bad news” was all Weston would say.
“So I’ve put together, since no one will give me concrete information.” If there was a prize for vagueness, Weston would win it. I folded my glasses and set them down next to my notepad. “I’ve heard he’s had multiple threesomes, got someone addicted to meth…all kinds of ridiculous things. Are any of them true?”
“There’s nothing different to tell you. He’s a sorry excuse for a man. I don’t want you to see him anymore. If anyone can sink you into the gutter—fast—it’s Finn Price.”
Instead of paying attention to the serious thread binding Weston’s words together, I said, “You’re going to have to give me a little more to go on than sorry excuse. I know he has a reputation with the ladies, but he doesn’t seem to be all bad. At least I don’t hate volunteering anymore. You should be happy.” I nibbled my lower lip.
“I am happy, for you. I’m not happy about the person you’re spending time with.”
“I was able to help you out last week because of Finn and his advice. I don’t think you’re in a position to say anything about him.”
There was no softening, no quiet giving. Only steely resolve. When Weston’s eyes met mine, I felt a skittering of nerves from the sheer loathing I recognized there.
“I’m serious, River. I want you to keep your distance. Find someone else at the rehab center to help.” He used his nose to gesture toward a large pile of physical therapy books I’d borrowed from the library. “And absolutely no helping him with those bum legs. Let the doctors do their job.” As though suddenly seeing how rotten he was being, Weston changed his tune. “Besides, you should be focusing on your exam.”
The exam, right. I was the high school slacker and Weston the schoolmaster with his ruler, prepared to redden my rear.
I didn’t appreciate his tone, the hard syllables, the rigid inflections. Not only did I not appreciate it, I found it uncalled for and unwarranted. “I don’t think you have the traction here to tell me what to do. The volunteer work I started was because you said I needed to work on my image. Which one is more important to you? How I appear to others, or the person I volunteer for? Take your pick.”
He didn’t seem to like the questioning. Or having the attention focused on him.
Instead, he threw an arm over his head with a sigh. “If you insist on staying with Finn, then I’ll insist you limit your interactions and always have another person in the room with you. Be careful. Don’t listen to a word he says. Don’t take his shit. Understand?”
He spoke to me like I should heed his every warning and be grateful. Given my current mood, it wouldn’t be a stretch to throw my study material across the room and slap him upside the head.
“I will do my best,” I said instead. To watch my back, at least. To not take shit from anyone. But staying away from Finn wasn’t on my agenda. Sorry.
“And please, no more physical
therapy. You leave the hard work to the professionals. It’s not your place.”
“Whatever you say, Weston.”
“River…”
“I’ll do my best,” I repeated with a dazzling smile. Better to let him see the best of me than the streak of anger. “Stop worrying.”
CHAPTER TEN
Three days later, I waltzed into the rehab house on the balls of my feet. I was late, thinking I’d be there earlier in the day, and Finn was surely going to complain. The grump. Everything must be done his way, no one else’s, and if things didn’t go the way he planned…watch out.
I was between a rock of complaining and a hard place of I don’t want you to see him again. What was a girl to do?
Let them both rage; I had a solid proposition for a job. A solid focus for my future. There was something to be said for concentrating on the positives instead of the negatives. Between the two men in my life, I would need all the help I could get.
“You’re late.” Those were the first words out of Finn’s mouth when I walked inside. A bark to remind me I was wanted, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
I took my time closing the door, then when I turned, I shot him a grin so warm it could have been poured from a bottle. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Finn turned his nose in the opposite direction. He wasn’t fast enough for me to miss the way his eyes lit. “Don’t try to be nice. I haven’t seen you in, what, two days? And you couldn’t get here on time. It’s shameful.”
He looked wild today. It disturbed my insides looking at him, considering how his gaze ate me up when he stared at me. He seemed more on edge than usual. I couldn’t put my finger on why.
“I said four-thirty-ish.” I glanced down at my wristwatch. “It’s five. I’m within the right time range for ish.”
“It’s past five. You’re outside of your routine and it’s not like you. You’re always little miss prim and prompt.” He bit the inside of his cheek, interest once again focused on his window sill instead of me.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were happy to see me.”