To Lance’s left, Ann Caldwell gave an imperceptible nod. The Board had outvoted Ann at the start, and Jack’d had to tread carefully with her ever since he got involved. He didn’t need her to join the dissension. Not when they were so close. He shoved aside another impulse to stand.
“You weren’t here at the previous meeting.” Lance tilted his head back and glared down at her over his nose. Jack grimaced. “We discussed that. We’re raising the money through an incentive plan funded by municipal bonds.”
“Which will put the county under a lot of debt,” Maren countered. “This will either mean higher taxes for everyone, or you’ll have to cut funds to other programs to keep up.”
Okay. Enough. He had told Lance to keep him out of the political part, but Jack couldn’t sit back and watch Lance kill everything he had worked so hard for. How had the man managed to get elected without knowing how to handle people?
Jack cleared his throat and stood. “Let me make a suggestion.”
Whispers skittered through the room, and he ignored them. If he and Maren squared off, people would gossip. Their encounter would be featured at the next Ladies’ League meeting. He didn’t care. He had too much time and money in this project to let that stop him.
Lance’s face relaxed and his smile became more genuine. “Of course.”
“Why don’t you delay the vote until the next meeting? She wants answers. Set up a meeting and give them to her.” He turned his gaze back to where she stood, her eyes alert and her lips pressed together. Seated next to her, his arm draped possessively along the back of her chair, Sam Bradley bored a hole through him with a flinty glare. Jack returned it with a curt nod. He had always suspected his old friend had the hots for his girlfriend, but Sam had been a decent enough guy to keep it to himself. From the look on his face now, Jack decided he’d been right.
He reminded himself he didn’t care.
His blood pressure soared anyway.
“But…” Lance spoke from behind him. “We can’t afford delay. We have a schedule to keep.”
“How could you commit to anything when you don’t own my land?” Maren bit out.
Jeez, Lance, stop talking. The chances that Maren would still be here this time next month were almost none. If Lance kept provoking her, she’d stay just to prove a point. “We can afford to take the time to do this right.” He turned back to Maren. She shifted, and a strand of wavy blonde hair slid from her shoulder. His eyes followed the movement, and the feel of her body in his arms assaulted him.
That kiss was such a mistake.
He cleared his throat and continued. “Okay?”
Maren clamped her teeth over her bottom lip. His eyes locked on her lip, and his chest tightened. Then she nodded. “No promises, but it’s a start.”
“Fine,” Lance said. “I make a motion to delay the vote until the next regular meeting. Do I hear a second?”
Jack hurried from the room several minutes later. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t leave Lance in charge of Maren. He didn’t have the skills to handle her.
And you do? His track record for getting Maren to do what he wanted stood at zero.
Yes. But he also knew not to try to force her into submission. He’d known that before she went to law school. And after? Even Lance should have known better.
He stepped through the door and out into the parking lot, where Maren hurried towards the black convertible that stood out in a sea of pick-up trucks. He picked up his pace.
“Maren, wait.”
She stopped and waited without turning around. He drew even with her, then frowned at her stiff shoulders and tight expression. “What’s wrong? That went well for you.”
Pink flooded her cheeks, and he watched the color spread across her skin. He wanted to reach out and touch it. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. She shifted her gaze to a spot over his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
“Your face didn’t get the message,” he mused. “You look like you’re ready to tear someone’s head off.”
She smiled a little, and her face relaxed. “Sorry. I’m okay.”
Right. Had Lance made her that angry, or had that expression been about him? He’d have a hard time playing the good cop if she still believed he’d chosen her farm on purpose.
You’re doomed, Mason.
He nodded. “If you say so.” He hesitated. Now would be the best time to get her and Lance together. He didn’t like the delay any more than Lance, and the sooner they could get things moving, the better. More importantly, he didn’t want to give Lance a chance to screw things up by talking to Maren on his own.
On the other hand, more of Lance right now might make things worse.
He let out a ragged breath and ran his hand through his hair. “So when do you want to do this?”
“Do…” She frowned. “I’ll call Lance next week.”
“Lance is available now. Can we go talk to him?”
She blinked. “We?”
He nodded. “If you want to know what’s going on, I have to be involved. It’s his project, but it’s my plan.”
“I know.” Her voice chilled, and she took a step back. “I want time to prepare.”
He stared back at her. She’d been mad at him. His temper flared. What had he done to deserve this? She’d taken off ten years ago. She hadn’t cared about the town, the farm or him. But he was the bad guy?
“Suit yourself. I’ll make myself available, if you’re interested. If not, the vote will take place next month either way.” He turned towards his truck without waiting for a reply. She’d gotten what she wanted when she left Shepherdsville, and he refused to take the blame for the consequences. If she wanted to sue, fine. He didn’t want a fight, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t handle one. It’s not like I’ve never fought with her before.
Thanks again, Dad.
Chapter Five
Maren leaned against the kitchen counter with a heavy sigh. She had bought thirty days. She ought to be able to work a miracle in thirty days, right? Then why did panic still race like a mild current through her stomach?
She gazed around the kitchen. The battered white stove waited quietly for Grandma to strap on her apron and spend the day canning homegrown vegetables. On the other side of the room, the metal strap that had created the thin scar on Maren’s left forearm still held the faucet in place. Next to the stove sat the ancient radio with the broken yellow knobs. She reached over and switched it on. Vestal Goodman belted out an old Gospel tune that Grandma had probably known word for word. Memories drifted from every corner. The place breathed with a life all its own.
For now, at least. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. She didn’t know how to fight an eminent domain proceeding. Would thirty days be enough time to learn? It would have to be. Lance and Jack wouldn’t back down. Today’s extension had been nothing more than Jack’s attempt to keep her from gaining any public support.
She cursed Bill for the hundredth time in the last three weeks. Thanks to him, she couldn’t even hire a lawyer. What money she had left now languished in Francine Caldwell’s trust account, and, hopefully, Francie would use it to work enough legal magic to keep her from spending the next fifteen years in prison. Her attorney had all but threatened to quit when Maren told her she was going back home to Alabama. Then Maren had done something she’d sworn since law school she would never do—she’d ignored her attorney’s advice and come home anyway. She hoped Francie would forgive her.
She blinked back helpless tears. No time to worry about that. She couldn’t change what Bill had done, and worry would distract her from what she could do. She pushed away from the counter and wandered over to the dining room table. Her briefcase sat on top, and she plucked a legal pad and pen from the main pocket. Maren sank down in one of the chairs, set the tablet in front of her, and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.
When the doorbell sounded, she raised her head and blinked. How long had she been scratching notes on her pa
d? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? She’d covered three sheets of paper in a series of cryptic notes and questions. She glanced at her phone. Two hours.
Ugh. I’ll never be ready on time. Maren pushed herself away from the table. After two hours, she had more questions than answers.
The doorbell rang again, and she rushed through the living room. “Coming,” she called. She grabbed the doorknob and yanked the door open. “You’ve got to—”
She stopped midsentence. Jack looked down at her with cautious eyes, his business clothes again replaced by blue jeans and a black pullover that exactly matched his hair. Her heart fluttered in her chest. After everything he’d done, why couldn’t she get herself under control?
Her gaze shifted past Jack to the other two men behind him. She had never seen them before. They were each dressed in jeans and steel-blue button-up shirts with a name embroidered over the left pocket. Frank and Sean.
“What’s going on?” she asked, returning her gaze to Jack.
Jack gestured to the older of the two, but his eyes never left Maren’s. “Go ahead, Frank.” The man nodded and shuffled off, followed closely by a sheepish looking younger man who seemed fascinated with the grass in the courtyard.
She tried again. “Jack?”
“I didn’t know, okay?”
“Know what?” She folded her arms over her chest.
“They’re here to appraise the house.”
She studied the small magnetic sign that hung on the door of the van in her driveway, and her lips drew together. “I don’t think so.”
“This has been arranged for weeks. The county was responsible for securing the plots and paying the landowners. Once the county voted to take the property, they had to get a value for it.” He took her arm and guided her back inside. “The county considered the house abandoned. You weren’t supposed to be here.”
She glared back at him. Think, Maren. “But I am here. And I stopped the vote.”
“No, you delayed it,” he answered.
Wait a minute. He had wanted her to meet with Lance today. He’d wanted to make a deal today. Which meant… “You wanted to keep me away from the house, didn’t you? You knew about this, and you wanted to make sure I didn’t interfere.”
He stiffened. “I just told you, I didn’t know. I came over—”
“To what?” She dropped her hands to her hips. “To make sure I didn’t stop them?”
“Yes, actually. It’s a formality. It doesn’t commit you to anything, and we all need to know what the land is worth if we’re going to negotiate.”
“I never agreed to negotiate anything,” she bit out.
He raked his hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh and turned away. “Will you listen to yourself? You do this for a living, Maren. You know how this is going to end.”
“No, I don’t.” Thank goodness she’d had a little time to gather her thoughts. She might not have all the answers, but she had some pretty good questions. “I meant what I said earlier. You have to prove a valid public use. There’s a lot of room for argument there.”
His jaw clenched. “And you want to stay here for the next two years just so you can argue with me?”
She scowled back at him. No, she didn’t want that at all. She couldn’t plan to live here for the next couple of years. She didn’t know how long she’d be able to keep up a fight. And she definitely didn’t want to spend the next couple of years butting heads with Jack Mason. But that didn’t mean she was ready to give up.
“I delayed the proceedings. You can delay the appraisal.”
“Maren—”
She straightened her shoulders. “They can leave on their own or I can call the Sherriff. And if the Board has him in their pocket, I have a pellet gun full of rock salt in the closet. Your choice.”
He let out a bark of laughter, and his lips curved into a lopsided smirk that sent a bolt of heat racing through her. “I’d almost tell them to stay just to see you do that.”
“I’m not joking, Jack,” she warned.
“I knew your grandfather. I didn’t think you were.” He sobered. “It’s only an appraisal. What can it hurt?”
“No.” She forced her voice to remain steady. “It’s more than that. It’s an ultimatum. You want to force me to either sell or have it taken from me, and you want me to make that decision in a matter of hours. This isn’t just a bunch of bricks and boards to me.”
His gaze caught and held hers. “I told you, that’s not what’s going on here.” The gentle note in his voice would have calmed her if she didn’t know him better. It almost calmed her anyway. “I promised you we would talk, and I meant it. Would you please trust me?”
She glared back at him. Ten years ago, they had stood in the driveway outside under a sky as clear and blue as any she’d ever seen. She had spoken almost exactly the same words to him: Please, Jack. Why can’t you trust me?
Two weeks later, he was in Brenda’s arms.
“I think I asked you that once,” she reminded him. “It didn’t work out so well.”
She gasped as soon as the words were out of her mouth. I can’t believe I just did that. She’d tried to avoid that final fight ever since she came home. Their break-up had hovered under the surface like an electric current, but she hadn’t dared let it out. What had possessed her to throw it at him now?
Whatever had caused her lapse in judgment, she couldn’t take it back. His reaction registered on his face, and she braced herself for a verbal tirade.
But it didn’t come.
Instead, his face cleared, and his eyes sparked with something that might have been regret. Of course, it also might have been resentment. He nodded and turned away. “I’ll get them out of here.” A moment later, the door closed behind him.
She blinked at the empty space where he’d stood a moment earlier. Should I go after him?
No. She’d told the truth, and she had no reason to feel guilty. Right?
Then why did she?
She let out a frustrated groan. She wanted to bury her head in Grandma’s lace throw pillows and scream until she turned blue. When would this end? What was she supposed to do?
Why did it have to be Jack?
Stop it. She couldn’t let him get to her. He had to know she could tie them up for years, and he now found himself in the unenviable position of having to placate her to keep that from happening. He had the county, the other landowners, and his company poised on the edge of a multi-million-dollar development, and she stood in his way.
Which meant she had seen resentment, not regret.
She turned back towards the kitchen. Not that it matters. Our past is what it is. He could resent her or regret ever getting involved with her, but that didn’t change what she had to do. She had to stop him.
And she had to stop herself from wanting him while she did it.
# # #
“I’m sorry. What?”
Lance stilled.
Jack leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I said, I want you to back off of her.”
Lance took his glasses off and tossed them on the table, then pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Jack. We’ve spent almost two years developing this complex, and at least another year before you got involved. We’ve spent more money in studies and tests than the county can afford.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Lance’s ears flushed pink and his eyes glittered. What’s with him? Lance had chosen this project as his political legacy, but the guy had been in government long enough to know that nothing ever went through without a few bumps. “Your ex-girlfriend comes back to town and suddenly you want to scrap the whole thing?”
Jack fixed him with a level stare. “Is that what I said? I don’t believe it was.”
Lance dropped his gaze to the table. “Might as well have.”
Jack drew in a breath, then let it back out again. He ought to keep his temper in check, but everyone seemed determined to test him. He’d been stunned to lea
rn that the appraisers were headed to the farm right after the hearing. And when Maren had slapped him the face with their last fight….
He gritted his teeth. She’d been right, though. He hadn’t trusted her—still didn’t—and he could hardly expect her to trust him. Still, her assumption that he’d come up with this elaborate scheme to exact revenge dug at him. Her accusation that he’d tried to hide the appraisal from her cut even deeper. They hadn’t ended their relationship on great terms, but he wouldn’t have chosen to take her farm just to hurt her. He wouldn’t have done that to anyone.
“Lance, you have as much discretion as a charging bull,” he said after a moment. “I can’t believe you sent workers to her house two hours after we told her we would back off.”
“I didn’t want to back off,” Lance reminded him.
“Then you have less sense than everyone gives you credit for.” Jack grimaced. “Why would you pick a fight with someone who sues people for a living?”
“Is that why you suddenly lost your nerve?”
Jack leaned across the table and fixed the other man with the iciest stare he could muster. Lance shrank back. “This has nothing to do with nerve. Or the past. If she doesn’t walk out of this room today convinced that giving up her farm is the right thing to do, then we spend the next two or three years at a standstill while a judge second guesses everything we’ve done.”
Lance’s shoulders sagged. “We can beat her, Jack. We did everything right. The county attorney made sure of it.”
“Do you think that matters?” Jack made an effort to calm his voice. “Those plans will sit around gathering dust while she ties you up with injunctions. Meanwhile, the county is swimming in debt from the money you’ve spent and the revenue you’re counting on to pay for it all won’t be there.”
He waited for Lance to do the mental math. “I don’t want to give in to her, Jack. We planned for this. I won’t let her get in our way.”
Home Again (The Shepherdsville Series Book 2) Page 7