by Lily Santana
Sitting on her haunches, Emma pressed her face against the warm furry softness. “That devil even woke you up, didn’t he?” She gave the gentle giant another squeeze. How had she managed to live without having a dog in the house? Easy. Stefan had been allergic to everything.
Another loud bang erupted outside, and Bogie’s tail quickly hid between his legs.
“If I let you outside, can you go Cujo on that man?”
But the dog simply whined, his floppy ears remaining limp against his graying whiskers.
“Don’t you worry, bud,” she said, straightening her legs and then fisting her hands. “I’ve got this.”
She fought the urge to run back to her bedroom and bury her head under a pillow of denial. On unsteady legs she marched down the dark hallway straight to the closet and pulled out Stefan’s fleece jacket, instinctively wanting the reassuring warmth around her. She fumbled with the zipper. Taking slow, deep breaths, she clenched and unclenched her hands to stop the trembling. Fury simmered in her chest. Tension pulsed in her head.
This was always her reaction right before she came within two feet of McKenna.
She pulled herself together and snuck a peek out of the narrow, stained glass window that flanked each side of the front door. She was too far away to see his expression but imagined those deep blue eyes and how they zeroed in on her lips when she spoke, or the intimidating thing he did with his brows. Or how his mouth curled into that sneer she hated. She tried not to think about the few times when those same lips seemed sexy. Like when he smiled, which hardly ever happened, especially when she was around.
Without giving herself a chance to change her mind, she swung open the front door and stepped outside. Last night’s rainfall brought on a cold front, and she shivered beneath the fleece. She kept her steps solid as she stormed to where McKenna hunched over a six-foot folding metal table.
With her hands firmly planted on her hips, she waited for him to turn around and acknowledge her presence. The wet grass soaked through her flimsy slippers, and she curled her toes but stood her ground. She noticed that despite the cool, overcast weather, he had on jeans and a T-shirt that looked like it had seen the inside of a spin cycle one too many times. Up close, she could make out the sinewy muscles of his back beneath his T-shirt. Unlike Stefan’s wiry runner’s frame, McKenna had a strong, powerful upper body, which flexed in interesting ways as he attempted to keep his plans from flying off the table.
Frustrated at herself for even comparing the two in her mind, she cleared her throat loudly, surprising McKenna enough that he lost his grip on the plans and the papers blew off the table into the wet, muddy ground.
* * *
Inch by inch, Mitch McKenna turned, nudging his sunglasses down to his nose to take in Emma LeFleur from the top of her messed-up bed hair down to the pink furry balls that peeked beneath her flannel pajama pants. He clenched his teeth to keep a sneer off, triggering a sharp pain in his jaw. The woman would reduce any man into wearing a mouth guard.
She’d picked up his project plans from the ground and held them out to him.
Cursing under his breath, he took the muddied papers and tucked them under his armpit. “Thank you,” he said grudgingly.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Here we go again.
“We have a noise ordinance in our town, and you are most definitely violating it.”
He deliberately curled his lips into what he now hoped was a sneer. “Then file a petition to stop me. Wait, you did—and lost.” He turned his back.
“Fine. I’ll just call the police.”
“You mean Officer Landis? The same Officer Landis I had breakfast with this morning?”
His slow drawl stiffened her spine. She wheeled around and narrowed her eyes. “You had breakfast with Brandon?”
“That’s right.” He gave her a pointed look, knowing without a doubt that she was single-handedly responsible for the early morning visit with the rookie peace officer. “Apparently someone had plastered my mug shot around town, warning people about my intentions.”
Her cheeks turned a shade lighter than her cranberry-red hair. “How unfortunate for you.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I told Officer Landis that this bordered on harassment and slander, and when we find out who is responsible, he offered to arrest them.” He enunciated the last three words to ensure it got through her thick head of hair. Though he doubted anything could penetrate the mass of curls.
Her expression remained neutral. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to nail your head to the wall.”
A bark of laughter erupted from the group of men behind him.
Her gaze shifted and she frowned. “You and your men jolted me out of bed at the crack of dawn. Do you even care?”
He shot her an exasperated look. “Look around, lady. This is a commercial zone we’re talking about. Not residential.”
“I live here, so that makes it residential.”
He looked past her at the enormous paw-shaped welcome sign displaying Paws on the Beach, the business she ran out of her converted garage. He arched his brows. “Your sign there says otherwise.”
“Unlike you, I’m respectful of my neighbors. That’s why we don’t open until eleven.”
He rubbed his jaw in annoyance. “Yeah? And how’s that working for you? Maybe if you opened earlier and closed later you’d start to see a profit. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
“I do mind.” She pointed to the excavator his men were preparing to use. “What is that thing for?”
He adjusted his sunglasses so she could no longer see his expression. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s to pull up the grass.”
“Pull up the grass,” she repeated, aghast. “You can’t do that. That plot of grass is our dog park.”
“Wrong. This here—” he spread his arms out wide, “—is where the parking lot will be, and right behind it will be my three-story personal residence.” He had the satisfaction of seeing her already pink complexion get even pinker.
“What do you mean?”
He grinned. “I mean, we’re going to be neighbors.”
“You c-can’t be serious,” she said, her eyes almost crossed.
“Just try me,” he drawled.
“Your p-plans said nothing about...you plan to live here?”
“Don’t sound so excited.” He knew the threat of building his ostentatious structure would ruin the quaint character of Bella Del Mar, not to mention completely eliminate her ocean view. The bluff was worth it, seeing how an angry red blotch suffused Emma’s pale face.
She gaped at him. “You can’t do that.”
“Wrong. I can and I will.” He gestured to turn back toward his men, but Emma grabbed his arm.
He flinched, her touch unexpected. Her long, slender hands pressed into his forearm, and the feeling of protectiveness that overcame him was surprising and unwelcome. He narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses.
Of course he was aware of her situation. Bella Del Mar was a small town. People gossip. He knew she’d lost her husband to cancer and was now in debt up to her ears with a daughter about to go to college and a business that was barely above water. He’d offered to help her a few months ago, but the woman standing in front of him with her green eyes blazing was as stubborn as a two-year-old negotiating naptime.
Her gaze remained fixed on his face. “You can’t,” she insisted, despite his assertion. “Mrs. Madsen designated this piece of her property to the community to be used as a dog park.”
He stared at her from behind his sunglasses and then his eyes traveled to where her fingers were still singed on his forearm. He didn’t even bother to mask his impatience. “News flash, Mrs. Madsen no longer owns this property.”
Emma’s eyes darkened into a mesmerizing aqua green, like the color of the Gulf Coast he’d fished many times with his brother. “But it was a stipulation to the sale. Nothing was supposed to change.”
He shook his head. “What’s with you anyway? What do you have against change?”
“I don’t have anything against change. I have everything against people like you.”
Her words were like salt to his open wound. Coming from a blue-collar logging town, he’d heard those same words repeatedly like a sick, recurring chorus every time he’d tried to dig his way out of the sludge. “People like me? And what do you have against people like me?”
“I have everything against vultures like you who wait around and snap up property from sick people, old people, people who are struggling every day so the banks don’t foreclose on their properties. And for what? So you can build expensive playhouses for the rich that ruin the authenticity of our quiet community.”
“And by ruin, do you mean building quality homes for people to purchase, thereby driving up the value of existing homes? You’re right. I’m an asshole.” He jerked his arm free of her hold and gave her one last disgusted look before heading off toward his men.
What did she have against capitalism anyway? It wasn’t his fault the economy had tanked. According to Emma LeFleur, buying foreclosed properties was a crime against humanity.
Goddamn. He’d worked twelve-hour days, six days a week in construction the last four years to save up enough capital to invest in distressed properties. He’d put in every dime he owned and borrowed what he could from his brother to get Coastal Development off the ground. And now, the company was at the juncture where it could either soar from an infusion of cash, or tank if he couldn’t close on this project in time as he’d promised.
Her voice stopped him midstride. “You’re so full of crap. You know very well the homes you build are out of range for the average family who live in Bella Del Mar. You’re not interested in helping us. You’re not going to stop until you’ve displaced all of us and made room for your snooty clients. I won’t let that happen.”
His back stiffened and he did a one-eighty, ripping off his sunglasses in one angry swipe as he marched back toward her. His temple throbbed and he wanted to throttle her slender neck. Instead, he leaned in to within inches of her face.
“You are a real head case, you know that? You think I don’t know that you’ve got the entire town ramped up against me? From the building official you’ve got wrapped around your little finger to the waitress at the diner who can’t take an order if her life depended on it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, no?” he asked sarcastically. “It’s not because of you I have a glove compartment filled with bogus parking tickets and city fines? Or how about when I order fries on the side, I get cottage cheese. Or I order a rare burger that’ll come out charred to a crisp. I’ll give you that it took me a couple of times before I realized what the hell was going on. I get it. I’m on to your little game.” He pointed a finger at her to drive home his words. “This time, you’ve crossed the line.”
She recoiled from the force of his rage.
Encouraged that he was getting to her, he inched even closer. “What the hell do you have against people making a decent living? Not everyone wants to dwell in the past like you.” He looked at the ground for a couple of seconds before his gaze returned to her face. “You got dealt a fucked-up hand and I am sorry for that. If you recall, I offered you a way out, and you threw it right back at me. You know what your problem is? You’re too stubborn to realize when you need help.”
Her eyes glassed up with unshed tears and he cursed inside, knowing he was responsible. “How dare you. Who do you think you are? You don’t know anything about me.”
He tried to control his temper but he was beyond reason. The woman needed a wake-up call. “I know enough. I know you like feeling sorry for yourself. But let me be very clear. Are you listening, Emma? If I am delayed one more minute from this project, you will be very, very sorry.”
“You listen to me, Mitch,” she stressed his name for drama. “If you dig up one blade of grass, I swear I’ll have the town here protesting with signs and banners. And I won’t stop there. I’ll call Seattle’s and Portland’s news channels. They’d love to hear about how greedy developers are ruining the delicate estuaries and precious beaches of the Pacific Northwest. We’ll see if that will help your case on Thursday, when we make the final decision to recommend your project to the Planning Council.”
Fury spread like wildfire in his blood. “Just try it and I’ll forget where my property ends and yours starts and bulldoze right over your dilapidated house, foundation and all, with you in it.”
“Go to hell,” she spat.
He cocked his head to one side. “Considering who’ll be my neighbor, I think I’m halfway there.”
Her jaw dropped. She wheeled around, her feet crushing the overgrown grass as she marched back to the safety of her porch with her geriatric dog waddling closely behind her.
He kept his eyes glued on her back, wishing he could jam his hands in, break a couple of ribs and jump-start her heart, which he was convinced had turned into limestone.
Their gaze met once more before she slammed the heavy door with enough force to agitate the glass wind chime on the wraparound porch.
Jesus Christ. She was hell on steroids. He couldn’t afford another delay, not if he wanted Lansford to cough up the money that would allow him to operate for another year. Even though he was bluffing about the three-story home, he wasn’t kidding about bulldozing over her home. Not by a long shot.
Chapter Two
The biting wind and sideways rain brought few customers into the store that morning, so Emma took the opportunity to decorate for the holidays. The tedious task was just what she needed to get her mind off the ugly confrontation with McKenna earlier that morning. She was still furious about his plans to bulldoze the community dog park. Not to mention his outrageous claim to build his so-called personal residence next door. He was lying about that. He had to be.
She groaned inside when Dorinda returned from the back storage room, carrying two more boxes overflowing with ornaments. In her late sixties and chic with her pixie brown hair, Dorinda had been Sammy’s fifth grade teacher before she’d retired. Now she worked whenever Emma needed an extra hand.
“I still can’t believe he’ll be building his home next door. Doesn’t that stink of karmic mojo?” The dark blotches of mascara fanning her cheekbones was proof that Dorinda hadn’t stopped laughing since Emma had spilled the beans on why she’d been in a sourpuss mood.
She gave her friend a disparaging look before taking the boxes from her outstretched hands. “Go ahead, laugh. I’m glad one of us finds this funny.”
“Well, something about this man sure puts you in a lousy mood. I haven’t seen you this riled up in a very long time.”
She sighed. “He looked at me right here—” she pointed a finger between her eyes, “—a couple of days ago and said he’d keep Mrs. Madsen’s dog park. The man will say anything and do anything just to get what he wants. I won’t let him get away with it.”
“It doesn’t look like there’s anything you can do about it, is there?”
“Don’t you worry. I’ll think of something.”
“I’m getting goose bumps thinking about what kind of misery you’ll come up with.” Dorinda rolled her eyes before picking up a knotted bundle of lights to string around the display window. “I don’t know how much more that man can take. He’s put down a good chunk of money already, and you’ve delayed him for six long months. It’s almost getting to that time of the year when it doesn’t make sense to start anything. I think he’s only looking at a few more weeks to break ground before he has to put it all off until the spring. I’d be careful not
to push him too far.”
“Am I the only one in this town who can see through his bull?”
“Don’t be silly, dear. But let’s give Mitch McKenna the benefit of the doubt. He said he has no intention of ruining the essence of the town and I, for one, believe him.”
“Great. First Sammy, now you.”
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting? Just a smidgen?”
“I’ve been nothing but calm. The epitome of reason,” she yelled.
“You could be the poster child for Zen.” Dorinda didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm behind her words. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else that’s bothering you? Wait a minute. You haven’t told Sammy about the loan, have you?”
Emma shook her head.
“No wonder you’re on edge.”
She expelled a long breath. “I haven’t discussed it with her because I have a meeting with Tim at three this afternoon. He wants to see me in person.”
Dorinda harrumphed. “It’s about time, if you ask me, that ‘Mr. High-and-Mighty’ will grant you an audience. It’s been quite a while since you’d asked for the loan. I still think it would have been better to go elsewhere.”
“But Tim knows us. He knows we’re slowly building a client base. He understands it takes time to build a business. Most start-ups operate in the red for a couple of years. He’ll be reasonable.”
“After he makes you cower in fear.”
“You’re not helping.” But in her heart, she shared Dorinda’s feelings. Tim Brooks did have a tendency to be patronizing. She guessed it was because he felt entitled, considering his family owned the oldest savings and loan in the Oregon Coast.
Dorinda sighed. “The man is a pompous gnat. I’m glad you guys didn’t hit it off. Though I sure hope he’s not holding a grudge.”
“What? For God’s sake, Dorinda, we only went out on one date. Who in their right mind would be that petty?”