Christmas Clash

by Dana Volney

  “Which one is that again?”

  “She owns the coffee shop with the really yummy BLT. Anyway, she doesn’t think she’ll reopen at the new location across town.”

  “Take the money and run? Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Sophie grabbed the remote for the CD player.

  “It’s not about the money, Soph. It’s about her business.” The look in Mabel’s eyes had been devastatingly sad. “They shouldn’t be able to do this.” Candace stuffed a white chrysanthemum into red square vase, but the pressure was too great and the stem snapped. She tossed the broken flower onto the island, briefly closed her eyes, and when she opened them her entire face felt tight. “Their reasoning doesn’t even make sense. Run seven businesses out of business to try to bring more business to town? How screwed up is that?”

  “Uh-oh.” Sophie switched on the local rock station and low rumblings of electric guitar and drums filled the wide space.

  “What?”

  “I’ve heard that tone before.”

  “So?” Candace squinted at her friend.

  “Ace, that’s your fightin’ voice.” Sophie winked and played air guitar like the front woman of a band—which she happened to be for Orange Heart, an all-woman ’80s cover band.

  Candace smiled at her wild friend. “Well, maybe it is. I can’t sit back and watch. I’m not a spectator in my own life.” Especially considering the nasty rumor Blake had relayed to her. Apparently when Councilman Dean had found out she’d purchased a building in one of the two areas they were considering for the convention center site, he’d pushed hard for her street block to be chosen. What an ass. She stabbed another chrysanthemum into the bouquet, this time managing to keep the flower in one piece.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Sophie asked while bobbing her head to the beat.

  “Not move. I’ll tell you that right now. This is a prime location, a block off Main Street and easy access for delivery.” She shook her head and glued lace to the top of the red glass square. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears and anchored her resolve. The council wasn’t going to steal her, or anyone else’s, business.

  “There’s another way to make all your problems go away.” Sophie lowered her voice. “I know a guy.”

  Of course she does.

  “No guys.” She pointed at Sophie. Not yet, anyway. Candace blew out a deep breath of air, letting her cheeks puff in the process. “There’s a city council meeting tonight. I’ll start there.”

  Yes, her initial contacts had gotten her nowhere and Luke was pissed. So what? She’d never given up before when she wanted something and she wasn’t about to start now. Nope. She was going to convince every single person at the blasted town hall meeting that the convention center needed to be built elsewhere. She’d even find a new location and point out the reasons why it was better suited for the community. Time for my game face.

  She would go to this meeting and rock it—like a boss.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Candace sat at the end of the first bench seat in the empty city hall conference room. She’d called Blake earlier to get more back story on Jeffrey Dean and talk strategy; she and her older brother always worked well together when it came to solving problems. But inspiration still hadn’t struck, so she figured showing up early for the city council meeting might help her thoughts focus. All she’d ended up with was her choice of a good seat and silence. She picked at the seam in her black suit pants. A few people were milling around, and any minute the place would be full for the six o’clock meeting. The Wyoming state flag, with its standing white buffalo backed by blue and encased in red and white bands, hung stoically above the crescent-shaped row set up with microphones for the council members.

  In a way, it was fitting this fight was on her shoulders to solve. Her shares in the Ellison business portfolio, which consisted of banks, a ranch, and numerous other family-owned businesses and investments, were nice, but she’d decided long ago to follow her dreams and make something for herself. Kiss from a Rose wasn’t in the Ellison portfolio and never would be—that baby belonged only to her.

  Without warning, a warm body sidled up beside her. His grapefruit-woodsy scent filled her lungs and caused swirls low in her belly before she swiveled her head to see his face.

  “Hi,” she said.

  Candace watched Luke’s jaw tighten and release. She didn’t know the exact reason they’d never been friends—they’d simply never gotten along. She knew he always had a chip on his shoulder when it came to her family name. He thought she’d hid behind it too much. And, well, she’d always thought Luke was too cocky for his own good. He was a golden boy who never got told no—except by her. She’d figured someone should deflate his head a little and she was okay with it being her. And she’d embraced their bickering wholeheartedly.

  “Hey.”

  She felt the bubble of tension that surrounded Luke push her away. In the couple of times she’d seen Luke since setting up her flower shop, he usually wore faded jeans. Tonight he’d made an attempt to dress up with a white and dark blue plaid shirt neatly tucked under his hunter green pullover. The collar stood up and cradled his neck. It was a good look—a very good look.

  “Come up with anything?” she asked.

  If he had a good answer maybe she wouldn’t try so hard to be the first one to the microphone.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  He scratched his day-old scruff, and she admired how he’d obviously refused to shave for their big meeting. Luke had never seemed to let people or expectations rule his behavior. She’d had to do what she was told growing up, and sometimes even as an adult, to conform to her family’s standards and appearance. Luke made his own path and she envied his ability to be himself no matter the situation.

  “Well, I definitely have something to say—many somethings, actually,” she lied. Okay, she had part of a plan—really only the beginning of one and some shiny folders she’d put together. Her mind still wouldn’t settle down in one place for more than a minute.

  Luke probably didn’t believe her because he didn’t ask for details. For a moment she was irritated. She could have a really cool plan and he didn’t even care. They sat in silence as the room filled. A couple of times they exchanged battle-ready glances during overheard conversations that opposed their plight. Luckily for the people talking, nonverbal exchanges were all Candace and Luke acted on. There may have been a lack of zeal between the two of them, but not about why they were sitting in a government room on a weeknight. The other business owners on Block A—Mabel, Billy Kaye, Hilary, and Dan—sat in close proximity. They all looked equally as annoyed and nervous.

  Her back stiffened as the council members entered and took their respective seats behind their name plates. The meeting would officially start soon. Jeffrey Dean, the president of the council, sat dead center in the elevated area. He owned Dean Construction, which served most of Wyoming, and his bad personal reputation usually preceded him. He was flanked on one side by Edward Ford and Katherine Clive and on the other by Glenn Davis and Zoey Graham.

  “We’re going to call this special city of Casper session to order.” Dean banged a gavel.

  Candace moved her gaze down the line and studied each council member. She took deep breaths. She’d mastered how to look calm and collected on the outside, but she’d yet to figure out how to tame anything internally.

  “We’re all here tonight,” the president continued, “to listen to both sides on the issue of the convention center project being constructed between the downtown blocks of A Street from 1500 to 1508. We will listen to feedback on a first-come, first-served basis at the microphone. You’ll be limited to five minutes. This hearing will end promptly in two hours.” Mr. Dean looked toward the back of the room and nodded. “The time will now begin. Please line up at the microphone.”

  That’s my cue. Before anyone else had a chance to even process the words, Candace stood and took two steps toward the microphone.

  She easily smiled a
t the panel. “Good evening, councilmen and -women. I’m Candace Ellison and I own Kiss from a Rose, the flower shop on A Street next to The Pub.”

  Her voice didn’t shake or waver—a solid start. If only she’d come up with more than the beginning of a plan. Eh. She thought better under pressure anyway.

  • • •

  “I’m here tonight to speak against the convention center project proposal.”

  She’d beat him—hell, everyone—up to the microphone with a determined set to her face, her dark raven hair bent slightly under her chin. Growing up, she’d always kept her hair long; the new look was different, flirty. He’d only seen her a couple of times since she’d moved in next door, and each time he’d wanted to reach out and gently tuck one side of her hair behind her ear—it looked soft and he was a sucker for touchable hair. Touchable hair? What kind of weird thought was that?

  His goal tonight stuck out clearly: Save his bar and the other businesses. However, the consequence of Candace then sticking around he could do without. She stood at an average height for a woman, five-foot-six or -seven, but the curves that rounded out those five-feet-plus were magnificent. Ample, without being too much—she moved with great sex appeal. He wouldn’t say no to wrapping his hands around her hips and luscious butt.

  This is ludicrous. Why in the world was he thinking about her ass? After he figured out this council and convention center mess, he’d put dating at the top of his to-do list. He couldn’t remember the last time he went on a date—the wine-and-dine type. Most of his relationships started in the bar and ended the next morning or two, sometimes as long as weeks later. His interest was rarely piqued past the standard getting-to-know-you conversation.

  Candace’s melodic voice summoned his thoughts back to the current hell he sat in.

  “I believe you’ll hear excellent reasons tonight for changing construction locations.” She swiveled her head briefly to acknowledge him and the five other business owners in the room.

  She wore a well-fitted black suit, a light blue shirt, black heels, and silver jewelry. Since everything Candace did was calculated, the ensemble was no doubt a way to show power. She’s definitely one to watch. Her actions equaled intentions.

  Candace reached into a red purse Luke hadn’t realized she had on her other shoulder, until now. Business folders with clear plastic covers appeared in her hands.

  “I have prepared a portfolio for you that outlines three locations considerably better suited than the current proposed development site.”

  Luke could only see her profile, but he detected a hint of a smile. Maybe he’d underestimated her connections or what she’d try to stop the wrecking ball.

  “You’ll find pictures of each location and reports that include a cost benefit analysis.” She motioned the folders at the panel.

  “You can leave them at the table to your right and we’ll pick them up after the session,” one of the male council members said.

  “Great.” Candace moved two steps to set the stack down and returned to the microphone. “If you have questions, you know where to reach me.”

  “It should be noted, Ms. Ellison, we hired the best surveyors to determine the land used for the convention center. I doubt they missed what you and your reports have found.” Jeffrey Dean folded his hands on the desk all of the council members shared.

  Her lips turned into one white line. Luke could practically hear the silent threat passing between her and Dean.

  “And just so you know, Mr. Dean, we,” she thrust her hand to her right, encompassing her fellow cohorts with her hand circle, “are not relying solely on this hearing to convince you. We have events organized so everybody will be well informed on exactly what’s going on here.”

  If Luke thought he and Candace were enemies, he clearly had not understood the word. They were best buds compared to the intense stare showdown she was having with the fifty-something-year-old president. When had these community events been organized? Why don’t I know about them? He couldn’t move. He could barely breathe waiting to see what happened next. If he could’ve moved his facial muscles, though, he might’ve smiled at her audacity.

  “We will be campaigning fiercely over the next couple of weeks to keep our businesses, our livelihoods, intact,” Candace snapped. “There is no one we won’t speak with and no skeletons we won’t pull out of the closet to make sure we get to stay right where we are. Now, you have viable new options in those packets.” She jabbed her index finger in the direction of the table toward her neatly bound reports. “I suggest you familiarize yourself with the content and weigh your options. You really don’t have many.”

  The council members’ faces all hardened as Candace fractured the line between uniting their groups and solidifying the battle lines. He didn’t feel like smiling anymore. Dammit, Candace, you can’t scare them.

  “Ms. Ellison, is there something in particular you’re implying?” Dean’s voice remained cool yet pointed.

  “No, Mr. Dean, I am not implying anything at all. I think I’ve been quite clear tonight.”

  “I’d hate to think that because of your family, you think you’ll be afforded special treatment.”

  “I happen to know that is not the case. Nor would I expect it. What I do expect, however, is fair and just treatment, not only for myself but for the other business owners in the radius that you have so cleverly designed for your new convention center.” She let her finger graze over her chin easily and briefly. “What is the name of the new convention center, Mr. Jeffrey?”

  Name? They’ve named it already?

  Dean cleared his throat. “It hasn’t officially been named … yet. We haven’t even broken ground.”

  “So, the Jeffrey Dean Convention and Lodging Center isn’t on the table?” Her voice sounded innocent, but Luke, and probably every other person in the room, knew otherwise.

  “Well, that might be a name under consideration but, as I’ve stated, nothing is official.”

  “I see. And when exactly did you put the proposed streets on the list of potential locations for your convention center?”

  Candace looked expectantly at Zoey Graham, as did the rest of the audience. Zoey was a real estate agent by day and the city council’s secretary by night.

  Zoey shuffled papers. “June of last year.”

  “Seven months ago.” Candace nodded and returned her increasingly icy glare to Dean. “That happens to be the same time I purchased a building on the proposed renovation block for my flower shop. Coincidence?” She paused for a breath before she continued. “I’d hate to think you’re using the city, its funds, and these fine business owners to continue a personal grudge.”

  “I will not stand for such accusations. Your time is up, Ms. Ellison.” Dean’s stern voice became more powerful with each word. “And I doubt at this point your feeble attempts will make a difference. The final vote by the city council is set for December twenty-second.”

  Holy mother of—was Candace saying what he thought she was saying? Takes a special pair of lady balls to call out a senior council member in front of everyone. She’d sure pissed off Dean, but how did she think this would help? She’d just put the final nail in their coffins. Now they’d never win the vote. He grumbled under his breath and unclenched a fist he’d formed while she spoke. His body felt hot and sick. He’d just watched the destruction of his family bar.

  “I will not stand for you railroading seven fine businesses. You have not heard the last of us.” Candace spun on her heels and walked straight to the back of the room and through the wooden doors. There’d be no topping her tirade.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I went too far. Crap. I should’ve stopped after I gave them the alternative locations. She briskly walked toward her car, letting the crisp winter air into her lungs.

  He left me no choice.

  He’d taunted her on purpose and she’d taken the stupid bait and let her temper get the best of her. He’d probably expected her to back down. Ha. Little
did he know she was just as willing to prod him back. The Ellison family business had taught her many things—the prim and proper side of politics, her socialite place in her family’s world, and how to be fierce when it came to protecting her own business. She’d never back down concerning Kiss from a Rose.

  Her minutes at the microphone might not have been pretty, but she’d been able to get the information she’d wanted out in the open. The only thing she’d wished she’d done was talk to her fellow business owners to let them know her suspicions beforehand. Now they know they might lose their businesses all because of me. The thought turned her stomach and burned.

  How am I going to fix this?

  “Hey! Wait up.”

  At the sound of Luke’s voice behind her, she sped up her pace. She needed to create a game plan. She couldn’t think with him bugging her—or yelling. He’d never liked her or what she did. If she’d acted the opposite, he’d probably be mad that she was too nice.

  “Candace. Wait.”

  She heard his quick jog and felt his hand on her upper arm. The resistance was too much and she stopped. A quick look up to the starry, dark sky centered her aggravation. “Yes?”

  He stood in front of her. “What in the hell was that?”

  “I spoke against the convention center. What did it sound like?”

  “You screwing us. After your little show, now he’ll never stop. All thanks to you.”

  “Thanks to me, you, we”—she moved her gloved hand back and forth—“now have a shot. They don’t give a crap about us. Tonight was all for show.” She squinted at him briefly. “Tell me you knew that.”

  “Of course,” he said. “But now you’ve sincerely pissed him off and most likely the entire council. You just ruined our chances. We’ll have no recourse.”

  She ignored his hard stare. She had all the experience of being an Ellison. They’d be fine. “Oh, but we do.” She crossed her arms over her red pea coat. “I was serious about what I said.”

  “Did you have to needle him like that?”