No One Like You

by Heather McGovern

  “Why wouldn’t they ever be a couple?”

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t say he’s dull, but compared to her, he’s pretty reserved. Those were the most words he’s ever strung together around us.”

  “He’s the strong silent type. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “No. But she’s one of the bubbliest personalities I’ve ever met. They’re completely different.”

  Trevor stopped walking. He quirked his lips to the side, mulling over her comment. “Different can be good though. And did you see how she looks at him?”

  “Now that was obvious. It’s adorable.” Brooke looked beyond Trevor, to the bulletin board of school announcements beside him. “But Lance is oblivious. Probably all caught up in himself and baseball or football or whatever, and being chair of this prom. He wouldn’t notice she liked him unless she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him.”

  Trevor leaned one shoulder against the wall. “Mmm. Getting grabbed by the collar and kissed. Sign me up.”

  “We’re around minors. Behave.” Brooke plucked one of the papers off the bulletin board. “Look at this.”

  On plain white paper, someone had printed colored image of Jolie—probably lifted straight from their website. Beneath it was an announcement for this year’s senior prom. The font was nice, layout unfussy.

  “That looks pretty damn good, actually.”

  “I know.” Her head tilted toward him, she let out the smallest sigh through her nose. “It looks great.”

  “Are you getting sentimental on me again, Sargent?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. You heard them in there. The committee is excited, and the juniors and seniors are freaking out. We’re like their heroes.” A new and unusual sensation for her.

  She’d worked her tail off for years, trying to make everyone around her proud, including herself. But not once had she ever felt like a hero.

  “You know what would be really heroic?”

  She was afraid to ask.

  “You and I should go out to that venue in Newton and see if we can get those kids any of their money back. See if we can find the owners, confront them, and get Windamere High some kind of restitution.”

  Chapter 15

  Brooke’s mouth fell open. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “We can’t—They’re out of business. You heard Dorian. No one is out there.”

  “And you don’t find the whole thing super shady?”

  “Yes, I find it suspicious, but we aren’t the police. We can’t show up at that building, even if anyone is actually there, and demand money.”

  “I’m not saying demand. More like ask. With emphasis.”

  “Those owners are not going to be hanging out in the venue. Beyond that, the money is likely gone. They’ve probably filed for bankruptcy by now.”

  “That’s bullshit—”

  Brooke wide-eyed and shushed him simultaneously, jerking her chin toward a student passerby.

  He lowered his voice. “That’s bullshit and you know it. A place like that? Event locations. There’s got to be money somewhere. And there’s no one more deserving than these seniors.”

  “I know, but going after that venue is none of our business.”

  No, but when had that ever stopped anyone in his family?

  “Someone should make it their business. Someone should stay on the place about getting some kind of refund.”

  “That’s not our job. Our job is to plan the new prom.”

  “And not even to try? How bad would you feel if you could’ve gotten them some money back, and you didn’t even try?”

  He couldn’t let that happen. Knowing the details of how abruptly the place went out of business, giving those kids no warning. Something was up.

  “I’m sure the administration tried,” Brooke said.

  “Have you met the administration recently?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I have. I’m telling you, they aren’t the sort to go kicking down doors.”

  “We are not kicking—”

  Trevor threw up his hands. “A figure of speech. I won’t actually kick anything. We’ll knock. And ask nicely. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Brooke shook her head as she repinned the announcement to the board.

  “Think about it. Me and you, we roll up in there. You’ve got on your power suit. If you can’t get their money back, no one can.”

  She glanced down at herself. “This is not a power suit.”

  “Close enough for Newton.”

  “How would I get their money back?”

  “I don’t know. Tell them you’re the attorney for the school district or something. An auditor. A regulator. Throw some legalese around and scare them. I don’t know.”

  “You mean lie.”

  “Embellish. They’d believe it coming from you. You’ve got that boss air about you.”

  Her burst of laughter was more derision than humor.

  “I’m serious. I stand up a little straighter every time you come into a room. So use it for good. Like a real superhero.”

  “This is certifiable.”

  Over the years, he’d been called weird, crazy, a kook, and worse. But she hadn’t called him certifiable. She’d called this idea certifiable.

  Which meant she was considering it.

  “We should at least try,” he urged.

  She nibbled at her lip in silence and Trevor remembered what her sister Reagan had said about Brooke saying yes. All you had to do was patiently wait out the answer in purgatory. “You said you’re free today, right?”

  “Yes.” Apprehension filled her answer.

  “Great. We can go right now. Cruise by that place, Zen, and see if anyone is there. See what’s what.”

  “I feel like this is something that could get us arrested.”

  “Tell you what; we don’t even have to talk to anyone. Not necessarily. We can check it out and leave.” He smiled, attempting to look as innocent as he possibly could.

  “You don’t, for one second, think I believe you, right? Check it out? Drive by, all sly and incognito, without stopping?”

  Trevor shrugged. Some questions were best left unanswered.

  “You’re trouble.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Tell me, when you went to this school, how many times did you get detention?”

  “Not even once, thank you very much.”

  Brooke leaned back, looking as impressed as she did shocked.

  “My brother Dev broke all the rules before I even got here. I didn’t want to be predictable.”

  Tossing her hands up, she led the way to the double front doors of the school, right up to the passenger side of his truck.

  “So you’ll go with me?” he asked.

  “I don’t trust you to go alone.”

  Chapter 16

  She was the furthest thing from a hero, yet here she was, in Trevor’s truck, on her way to Newton.

  The blame lay firmly with her sense of responsibility and Trevor’s dimples.

  “You got the address there?” Trevor asked as they drove into Newton.

  She checked the website on her phone. “It’s 303 Greenbriar Street. Newton, North Carolina.”

  “Greenbriar Street. Isn’t that where the old cigar warehouse is?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. Then I know where I’m going.”

  “Frequent guest of the warehouse, were we?”

  “No. Dev and his friends broke in there once. It sat vacant for years, and they couldn’t resist. He told me they were going and I begged to go with them to see. I’ll never forget sneaking out that night. I was in middle school and thought I was the big man, trespassing. Once we got there, though, place wa
s pitch dark. Not going to lie, I got a bit paranoid thinking the law would show up at any second.” He laughed. “That was the first and last outing I ever went on with Dev.”

  Trevor glanced at her and grinned. With one hand still on the wheel, he reached over and rubbed her arm, his hand warm and smooth. “Don’t be alarmed. I gave up a life of crime right then and there. I love an adventure, but I don’t have to break the law to have fun.”

  “I’m not alarmed.” Though technically they may be breaking the law today, depending on what transpired, any alarm she expressed was due to her awe at even being in his truck at the moment.

  Brooke Sargent of a month ago would’ve never kissed Trevor in gardens or basements. And she absolutely would not be on her way, with no clue what the afternoon might hold, to confront a business about a prom.

  Brooke of a month ago would be in her office, stressing out over spreadsheets and profits and losses. She’d fight her bitterness and resentment with a giant cup of black coffee every morning and a big ole glass of Cabernet at night.

  But today, she was cruising around with an undeniably gorgeous man, who dangerously viewed her as some kind of Wonder Woman, living his adventure with him while basking in his admiration.

  Explaining away his interest came easy. She was merely another adventure for Trevor, another carefree way for him to pass his time. Regardless, once she’d stop fighting his attention, she began to enjoy it, even looking forward to any time spent with him.

  How long had it been since someone wanted her? How long since she wanted to be with someone else?

  Maybe Reagan was right. Maybe the only way to truly move on and heal was to find someone new. Not in the way of a relationship or commitment, but finding someone to have fun with, enjoy.

  What harm could come if she and Trevor simply spent time together?

  He couldn’t disappoint her, because she’d never again rely on anyone enough to let her down. He wouldn’t hurt her because that required love, and now, all she had to give was like.

  And perhaps a heavy dose of lust.

  “Son of—” Trevor hit the brakes and Brooke threw her arms out reflexively.

  “What? What is it?”

  He pulled into a freshly paved and painted parking lot and took a spot up front. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that isn’t at all what the cigar warehouse used to look like.”

  Brooke stared at the expansive brick building with an additional Spanish-influenced masonry entrance and a tin roof that looked brand new. Shallow, cobbled steps and edging, a ramp, and beautiful landscaping led to tall double doors of solid glass.

  “The only thing this place and the warehouse have in common is the brick itself. This place is gorgeous.”

  “It is.” Trevor jumped out of the truck.

  “They must’ve completely renovated to reopen as Zen.”

  “For the record, I think that’s the stupidest name for an event location.”

  “That’s not why they went bankrupt though. Someone poured way too much money into this place. There’s no telling what this cost.”

  “Come on.” Trevor climbed the stairs with wrought-iron railings. “This entryway alone probably cost thousands.”

  More like tens of thousands.

  Trevor tried the door. “Locked.”

  Both of them cupped their hands on the glass doors and peered in.

  Brooke gasped. “Would you look at those chandeliers? And the exposed brick.”

  “Not to mention that flooring. The original floor was plain concrete, not whatever that is. They spent a damn fortune renovating.” Trevor knocked on the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Seeing if anyone is home.”

  “You said we were only going to look.”

  “And you knew I was lying.” He kept knocking.

  Brooke jumped away from the doors as the lock turned from inside.

  “If you’re a collector, you’re trespassing.” A tall, balding man with a paunch opened the door wide enough to glare at Trevor.

  “We aren’t collectors,” he said.

  “But if we were, and we had liens on the place, we would not be trespassing,” Brooke added.

  The man sneered at her and tried to close the door, but Trevor wedged his foot in the opening and grabbed the handle.

  Paunch’s face began to turn scarlet as he tugged harder, and Brooke blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “We’re interested in buying Zen and wanted to speak with you.”

  Trevor turned and gaped at her blatant lie, but Paunch immediately ceased his tug-of-war to push the door open. “Why didn’t you say so?” He backed up and waved them in before trudging toward the main room.

  Still wide-eyed, Trevor stared as she walked passed him. “You’re full of surprises, huh?” he whispered.

  “I’m improvising. You wanted an adventure.”

  “I am so turned on right now.”

  “Shhhh.”

  The two of them joined Paunch in the center of the main room.

  “I’m…Sally.” Brooke stuck out her hand. “Sally McElhaney.”

  “And I’m David, of McElhaney and Associates.” Trevor went along with the lie, seamlessly.

  “Walter,” the man said.

  Brooke straightened her blazer and looked around, buying herself a moment. “We own a capital investment firm in Charlotte and we heard this place might be available. Our firm specializes in property investments, and we wanted to see if Zen might be a location of interest.”

  Barely moving, Trevor bumped his arm against hers.

  Yes, she was extraordinarily good at making this crap up, because this was exactly the sort of thing she used to do for a living.

  “That—Yeah, that’d be great if it was. What, um, what all would you like to know?”

  Brooke strolled away from Walt, putting on her best unimpressed expression. “We’d like to take a look around first, if that’s all right.”

  “By all means.”

  Brooke’s heels clicked across the artfully painted concrete floors. The exposed-brick walls stood in stark contrast to the crisp white of the table linens and the white, wooden folding chairs.

  Trevor appeared at her side as she inspected the floor-to-ceiling windows along the back of the building. “Look at you,” he whispered. “You’re scary good at this, and it’s working.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to come here and decided to confront someone. We had to have some kind of story to get in the door.”

  “I’m not criticizing. I like it. What’s our next move, partner?”

  “I have no idea. We’re improvising, so…” She waved her hand forward.

  “Got it.” Trevor stood a little straighter and spun around to face Walter. “What’s the asking price on the place?”

  “Negotiable, but we’re looking for seven fifty.”

  Brooke tried not to choke on her breath. Three-quarters of a million dollars? In Newton?

  Trevor’s gaze locked with hers. The price was absurd. “That’s asking a lot for a place in Newton, Walt,” he said.

  Walt shrugged like it was no big deal. “I said the price was negotiable.”

  “What’s the total amount of the liens on the property?” Brooke asked.

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, miss.”

  “If we invest or choose to buy, it is.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “A $750,000 price tag is grossly inflated. It’s my business because I suspect the price reflects your need to crawl out of whatever hole you’ve dug for yourself.”

  “And seven fifty is a mighty deep hole,” Trevor added.

  “As investors, we aren’t interested in paying for your mistakes. We’re interested in paying for the property. Which, off the top of my head, I would say ha
s an estimated value more in the ball park of right under $500,000. Any additional loss on Zen is yours to negotiate with your creditors.”

  “In other words,” Trevor crossed his arms, “you’re asking way too much for this place, Walt.”

  “What’s the name of your firm again?”

  “McElhaney.” Trevor grinned.

  As Walter stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, Brooke took another look around. There was no way the venue would be worth that much. Not at this location, not even if the tables and all the setup came with it.

  Wait a minute.

  She studied the room again, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling up.

  Why were the tables and chairs set up? As though for an event.

  “Why are these tables out and decorated?” She took a few steps closer to Walter. “Are you still booking events?”

  “Wha—No.” Walt’s cheeks puffed out, color rising in them.

  “Holy sh—” Trevor breathed. “You’re still booking events, aren’t you? You’re taking people’s money.” He moved forward to stand right beside her.

  Walt didn’t answer, but his face went even redder.

  Trevor’s volume went up a notch. “You’re supposed to be out of business. Supposedly, you went bankrupt. At least that’s what you’ve been telling people.”

  Fury and indignation flamed up inside Brooke, quickly spreading like fire. “They were told you went out of business. You…you lied to them!”

  “Who? What them?” Walt asked. But he didn’t deny lying.

  Beside her, Trevor bristled, his voice twice as loud. “You lied to a bunch of kids. You’re the reason they almost didn’t have prom. You stole from them and then you lied.”

  “And you give honest business owners, like us, a bad name,” Brooke added, her heart thundering in her chest. “You’re a liar and scam artist.”

  “Preach,” Trevor said. “Did the ten thousand you took from those kids over at Windamere High even manage to cover what you spent on this sound system?” He pointed to the speakers all around the room and the command center at the far end. “Or how about the landscaping outside? You know you could sell back any of this equipment and at least do right by a bunch of kids who lost their prom because of you.”