Connie knew Allison and Sadie were good friends, and David had tried to get his hands on Sadie’s house last year. But jail seemed a tad harsh. It seemed Connie wasn’t the only one who held grudges. “I know he’s sketchy, but I don’t know that he’s done anything illegal.” Allison’s accusation brought the lawyer out in Connie, however. Instead of merely arguing the facts, she could go after David’s character. His prior acts would be brought up in trial, but maybe she should bring this to the court of public opinion, too. Get Pineville on her side and try to force the defendants to settle.
Allison sighed. “What’s criminal is that such a jerk comes in such a pretty package.” She shook her head. “I’ve been single too long if Carelli is revving my engine. But I’ve seen him swimming at the pool, and day-um. That man has a body. My ovaries hurt just looking at him.”
Connie had to agree. David in a bathing suit was spectacular. He looked pretty great in a business suit, too. And all sweaty and dirty working in her yard… She wiped her napkin under her mouth, hoping Allison hadn’t noticed her drool. But business was business. Regardless of his eye-candy status, it was her job to take the man down. “I don’t care if he’s hot. I’m going to do my best to nail him.”
Allison paused, her straw an inch from her mouth, a smirk dancing around her lips.
Heat tinged Connie’s cheeks. “In court! I’m going to nail him in court.”
“Judge Nichols might object to that. I think that might break a couple of laws.” Allison waggled her eyebrows. “But I can guarantee no one would try to get out of that jury duty.”
They both laughed, and for just a minute, it was like the old days. A friendly conversation. Girl talk about a hot guy.
The moment didn’t last long.
The bell above the front door jangled wildly as someone slammed in. Everyone in the diner looked up, the room growing hushed. Connie recognized the middle-aged woman framed in the doorway, but didn’t know her. The woman gripped the doorframe, her enormous eyes darting around the crowd. When her gaze landed on Jerome, her shoulders began to shake.
“Oh, thank God you’re here.” The woman stumbled into the diner. “I’ve been attacked!”
Jerome shot to his feet and circled the table. “Where? By whom?”
“By a monster.” Her voice lowered. “I think it was a chupacabra.”
Jerome’s shoulders unclenched, and he let out a sigh. “By a mythical beast?” He pulled out an empty chair. “Why don’t you take a seat, Miss Giles, and we’ll see what we can figure out.”
The woman sank into the chair. She seemed all right. Aside from her hair, which looked as if it used to be in a bun. All that remained of that knot was a couple locks of hair trapped in an elastic and sticking straight up. It was the wild look in her eyes that was disturbing, and with a sinking feeling in her gut, Connie realized it was one she recognized.
“I’d just left Soup’s On”—she shot a chagrined look at The Pantry’s owner—“sorry, Allison, and the creature knocked into my back, flinging me to the ground. Then, it was on me.”
Her hushed voice could be heard all through the restaurant, her dramatic recitation enthralling the customers. The woman’s earlier panic was gone as she enjoyed being the center of attention. “It was huge and hairy, and its breath stank of garbage when it put its head close to mine.”
“Sounds like Pete,” someone shouted from the back, and the tow truck driver threw a napkin at his friend in disgust.
“When I tried to get up, it ripped my shirt.” She stood and turned around, showing a tear in the back of her blouse at the bottom hem, and what looked suspiciously like drool dampening the fabric. She sank back into her seat. “It was a chupacabra, I just know it.” The woman shook her head. “I was binge watching old X-Files last night, and the monster looked just like it.”
Resting his hands on his belt, Jerome rocked back on his heels. “So you saw the attacker?”
“Well…I saw its feet. And a long string of hair that trailed in front of my face.”
“But nothing else?” Jerome pressed. She shook her head. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you sure it wasn’t Bigfoot? We’ve had one of those sightings already this week.”
Allison snorted, but tried to cover it up with a coughing fit. The woman glared at her. “Don’t be stupid. Bigfoot isn’t real.”
“But your chupa-whatever is?” With a sigh, Jerome pulled a small notepad free from his breast pocket and jotted down some notes. “Okay, let’s go through this again.”
Tossing some money onto the counter, Connie edged off her stool. How that damned goat had managed to escape his brand new pen was a mystery. And after the two hours it had taken her to get the dumb animal into the enclosure, his getaway almost seemed like a betrayal. Milo didn’t know what was good for him.
Threading her way through the café, she nodded good-bye at some people, but tried to exit as inconspicuously as possible.
Allison rounded the counter and caught her elbow. “You’re leaving before the show is over?”
“I have some work to do.” Like hunting down a deranged goat. And figuring out how to get him back home. “But I’ll talk to you later about my shift on Founders’ Day.”
“I can’t believe it’s in two weeks.” Allison shook her head. “This year is going by so fast. Another year gone and I’m still single and childless, as my mother likes to point out.” Shaking her head, she smiled impishly, no heat in her words. She followed Connie to the front door. “Hey, thanks for volunteering.”
“Of course.” A glimpse of brown fur out the diner’s windows drew Connie’s attention, but it was only Shep, leashed to a parking meter. A leash. That was one idea for Milo. “Well, I have to get going. I’ll see you later.”
Allison nodded, and turned back to the monster story, which seemed to be getting more elaborate with every iteration. With a guilty glance at the woman’s ruined blouse, Connie shuffled to the door and slunk outside. Milo had some serious explaining to do.
Chapter Fifteen
David pulled into Lee’s driveway, gritting his teeth when he saw a truck from his rival company, Better Builders. Colt McCoy’s truck. Well, Lee used to work for BB, before David had made him a better offer, so it made sense that Colt would stop by. But that didn’t mean David had to like it.
Knocking on the front door, he glanced around the cluttered porch while he waited for an answer. A baby’s swing set was tucked in the corner, along with milk crates packed full of toys and games. A low table ran the length of the porch, with two high-backed rocking chairs bracketing one end. David could imagine his foreman and his wife sitting in the chairs in the evening, watching their kids play. A year ago he would have eyed the domestic scene with contempt. But now…now it didn’t sound half-bad. Maybe, a very long way off in his future, maybe he’d want kids.
The front door swung open, and Maureen stood behind the screen door. “David! How nice to see you.”
“Hi, Maureen. I wanted to bring this by and see how Lee’s doing.” He held up a bottle of twenty-five-year-old, single-malt whiskey. Maureen pushed open the screen, and David stepped into the house. “Do you guys need anything?”
Bobby galloped down a set of stairs and skidded to a stop in front of him. “Hi, David. What are you doing here?”
“He came to see your father, and don’t be rude.” Maureen led him down a narrow hallway to a living room at the back of the house. “Lee, look who stopped by to check on you.”
Lee was settled in a brown recliner that looked like it would be hell to get out of with his arm in a sling. Colt sat across from him on a lumpy green sofa. His competitor crossed his arms over his blue-plaid shirt and leaned back.
The silence stretched tightly around the room. Maureen made a valiant effort at cheer. “And look what he brought you.” She placed the bottle on the coffee table in front of Lee. “I’ll go get some glasses in case anyone wants to crack that open.”
Da
vid looked at the empty spot on the couch next to Colt, and dragged a rickety-looking wooden chair away from the wall. He straddled it, resting his forearms on its back. “How’re you feeling? You making out okay?”
“I’m having a hell of a time wiping my own ass, but other than that, yeah, I’m great.” Lee extended his good arm, and Bobby nestled into him. Colt’s lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything.
David searched his mind. Small talk wasn’t usually this hard. “You’ll be glad to hear that the Panthers’ practice went better yesterday. We have a real chance against the Lions tomorrow.” If the other team came down with food poisoning. “What do you think, Bobby?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Bobby and his dad shared a look, and David knew that he’d been found wanting. Again.
“I’ll be back coaching soon,” Lee told the kid.
“Don’t push yourself too hard.” Colt scooted to the edge of his seat and draped his hands between his legs. “You need to give your body time to heal.”
“He’s right,” David said. “I want you a hundred percent before you come back to work.”
Another shared look, this time between Lee and Colt, and David’s stomach dropped. He was going to lose his best foreman, damn it. He glared at the employee-stealing bastard. Colt looked unrepentant.
“Well, we don’t have to talk about that right now,” Lee said. Maureen walked in, holding three tumblers in a triangle shape in her hands. She lowered them to the table with a clank. “Thanks, babe,” he said.
“No problem.” She straightened and rubbed her lower back. “Bobby, go outside and play with your brother and sister. Julie’s up in that tree again. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.”
He grumbled, but did as he was told. David remembered Zeke at that age. Just starting to press his limits but still listening to his mom. A lump in his throat threatened to cut off his air. He missed that age with Zeke.
“Well.” David cleared his throat and leaned forward to pick up the bottle. “Should we crack this open?”
“Can you drink on pain medication?” Colt asked.
“I only take that at night.” Lee’s forehead furrowed as he looked at the bottle. “Hey, that’s good stuff.”
Pulling a pocket knife from his slacks, David pressed the tip of the blade under the wrapping around the screw top and sliced it open. “You don’t have to sound so surprised. Did you think I’d bring you cheap crap?”
Lee stretched out his good arm and took the glass David handed him. “Guess not. No one can accuse you of having bad taste.”
Regret sat like a lead ball in David’s stomach. “Just bad judgment.” He poured another two fingers. He hesitated, then held the glass out to Colt. McCoy looked about as surprised to be accepting a drink from David as David was to be giving him one. Or maybe the man was shocked by David’s admission.
In his professional life, David had learned never to admit when he was wrong. It opened him up to litigation. But this went beyond the normal rules of business. Lee had been hurt because of David’s decision. The man deserved an apology.
He clenched his fingers around his tumbler. “I’m sorry, Lee. I should have listened to you when you brought up your concerns over the bolts.”
Lee’s hand stopped midway to his mouth, the amber liquid in his glass sloshing to the rim. The ticking of a wall clock grew loud in the silence, and David waited for the man to say something. Anything. Even if it was just to tell him off for his recklessness.
His foreman scratched at his chin, his fingertips disappearing into his red beard. “What’s going on with the build now? Has the product been recalled?”
“OSHA is working on that,” David said. “I can resume construction as soon as I get materials to replace everything I bought from that vendor.”
“They’re making you replace everything, not just the bolts?” Lee whistled. “That’s extreme.”
Colt put his glass on the table. “Until they make some sort of formal determination about the vendor, I don’t think they can do that.”
“That wasn’t OSHA’s decision. It was mine.”
“But why…?” Lee’s voice trailed off.
“Why would I be safety-conscious?” David snorted. “When someone almost gets killed because of your mistake, it makes you extra careful.” He shrugged. “I just have to replace the structural bolts, rebar, and the sill plates and gaskets.”
“What about what’s already been used?” Colt sat forward. “Last time I drove past, the build looked fairly far along.”
David twisted his lips. “Yeah, I can’t afford to start over. It would put me out of business.” He blew out a breath. “But I talked with some consultants and the guys from OSHA. We’re going to double the reinforcements to all the walls. It will put us behind schedule, but when we’re done, that building will be able to stand up to an F5 tornado and an earthquake hitting at the same time.”
Colt tilted his head. “Sounds expensive.”
“It’s doable.” David waited for the triumph from his main competitor in Pineville. God knew David had snaked plenty of contracts out from under Colt. It was only to be expected that the man would enjoy his victory over him.
But Colt just sipped his whiskey, looking thoughtful.
Lee popped a lever on the side of his chair, and rocketed forward, his face bleaching of color with the movement.
“Jesus.” David grabbed the bottle Lee had gone for, and poured him another finger. “This shit’s not good enough to rip out your stitches. Be careful.”
Easing back into a prone position, Lee took a swallow, and rested the tumbler on his stomach. “I don’t know. It’s pretty damn good.” He bobbed his head at David. “Thanks.”
Warmth spread through David’s chest, but he put that down to the whiskey. Sharing a drink with some men he respected couldn’t be so unusual a practice that it would make him feel all warm and fuzzy.
He threw back the rest of his drink. “Well, I’d better get going. I still have a stack of paperwork on my desk that OSHA wants now.”
“Bureaucrats,” Lee muttered. Sighing, he closed his eyes.
Colt stood. “I’d better get going, as well. Sadie and I have a hike planned.”
“Thanks for coming by.” Lee’s look encompassed both David and Colt. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“You coming to the game?” David asked. He stood and put the chair back against the wall.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Lee raised his glass in salute. “Good luck with the boys.”
David nodded. He needed it.
Maureen showed him and Colt out, with a quick hug for both men. David froze when her arms went around him, before awkwardly patting her back. “Uh, give me a call if you need anything.”
“We’re lucky to have such good friends.” With a smile, she left him and Colt staring each other down.
David slid his hands into his pant pockets. “I’m not going to let you take Lee. He’s my best foreman, and I’m keeping him.”
The blue-checked shirt rose and fell with Colt’s shoulders. “You can try. But he likes me better.”
“I’ll pay him more. That usually works.”
Colt grinned and loped down the porch steps. “We’ll see.”
David followed, and climbed into his truck. He bit back a smile. For the first time, his competition with Colt seemed a little…fun. He gave one last glance at Lee’s house before turning down the road. Game on.
Stopping at an intersection, he looked left. His office did wait for him with hours of work to do. But he didn’t want to face it. So he turned right, and drove to his sister’s house.
She greeted him at the door, her face set.
“Can I come in?”
Silently, she stepped back and waved him in.
“Thanks.” Following her into the kitchen, he noticed the hardwood floors had an extra sheen to them, and not a throw pillow or picture frame was out of place. “Did you hire a maid?”
“Zeke’s not home to drop his stuff on the floor, and I have a lot of time on my hands.” She pulled a pitcher of lemonade out from the refrigerator. “So I clean.” She lifted the pitcher his way, but he shook his head.
Since he seemed to have a lot to apologize for, David decided to get it all done in one day, hoping the shock to his system would be easier to absorb. “I’m sorry about what I said the other day. I didn’t mean it.”
“Sure you did.” She put down her glass and picked up a sponge. Tracy attacked the already pristine counter. “But not everything you said was wrong.”
“Just most of it?”
She twisted her lips wryly. “Well, you can be a jackass. But”—she blew out a breath—“you have been a good brother. I just don’t think you’ve been the best role model for Zeke.”
“I know. But I’m trying.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the kitchen island. “I, um, have been nominated for Citizen of the Year.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Citizen of the Year! That’s hysterical.” Tossing the sponge in the sink, she wiped under her eye with the back of her hand.
David’s mouth dried out, and he wished he had a bottle of whiskey for himself. Was it so laughable that he could win? That he could be respected in their hometown?
Tracy’s smile fell. “Oh. That wasn’t a joke.”
“No.”
“But…” She leaned back against the sink and spread her arms out wide. “Why would you want it? You don’t care about things like that.”
“Maybe I do.”
Tracy raised an eyebrow.
“Well, it would help with a business deal,” he hedged. Tracy gave him a knowing look, and he pressed his lips together. “But that’s not the only reason. I know what you and Zeke think of me.” He rubbed his chest. “That I’m dishonest. Unethical. But that’s not who I am.” It wasn’t who he wanted to be.
Tracy scoffed. “You don’t need some silly award to show you’re a good man. Just be one.”
Pushing off the island, David shook his head. “You don’t understand. Men need measures of success.”
Why Did It Have to Be You? Page 16