My Beautiful Neighbor (The Greene Family Book 1)

by Piper Rayne

  Instead, I say, “The board only cares about tourism season. Make sure you use that to make your case and you’re in.”

  “Oh gee, thanks. I’m so happy I ran into you, otherwise I would’ve bombed this presentation.”

  Her sarcasm does nothing but make my dick harden. And just for that, I’m not going to tell her that I get a vote.

  “Then by all means, knock their socks off.” I hold my arm out and she walks away without so much as a thanks.

  Presley heads inside, and with us blessed with an unusually mild spring night, I realize I’m going to be tortured by a view of her legs for the next several months. Her ass in jeans was spectacular, but her legs in a skirt… damn. I might as well fall on my knees and beg her to forgive me now.

  After she leaves, my dad walks up the steps and clasps me on the shoulder. “Cade.”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “It’s funny. I heard something about you and a certain soon-to-be bookstore owner.” He laughs. “Nikki sure can spread the gossip.”

  “Maybe she should use her voice on the radio for something more productive than igniting rumors.”

  He laughs. After he married Marla, my dad truly did take on her kids as his own. Although they have a father, he rarely comes up to Sunrise Bay. After the affair, all their relationships with him became strained. “They aren’t rumors if it’s the truth. I like the idea of you falling for someone.”

  “I haven’t fallen. She just piques my interest.”

  We take the hallway along the side of the large room to the door on the side.

  “Still, after seeing you dodge relationships for the past decade or so, it’s a nice change.”

  “Don’t go counting grandkids,” I say. “This isn’t anything serious. We haven’t even been on a date.”

  He stops before we head through the door. “Son, I know that with losing your mom, it’s hard to be vulnerable and let someone in, but one day you’re going to have to.”

  My dad is the kind of man you can talk to about anything. Before my mom died, he was always there for us in regard to playing and joking around. But after Mom died, he really became our confidante. I guess he didn’t have much of a choice though.

  “Who says?”

  He blows out a breath and puts his hand on my shoulder as though he’s ready to give me a long talk. Instead, the gavel on the desk announces the meeting is about to start. Instead of talking to me, Dad reaches for the door and opens it.

  He rounds the back of the panel, finding his seat next to George Lehman, the head of the Downtown Business District Committee. My dad doesn’t have a storefront but he’s on the committee because he’s a longtime resident with a respectable business and often acts as a tie-breaker on votes. He’s our impartial third party, you could say.

  I find my seat next to Trent Lawson, and as I lower to sit in my chair, my gaze falls to Presley in the first row. Her mouth slowly drops open, and I bite my inner cheek before my smile forms. Having to stare at those crossed legs the entire meeting… all I can do is be grateful the desk hides my lower half from view.

  I’m not sure who will be more tortured during this town council meeting: her or me.

  George is a list maker, so when the flyers went out, everyone knew the meeting would start with parking meters and whether we should extend the time. Then we moved into the Fourth of July fireworks—how much will be spent, whether we have to change them, the regulations on boats in the bay during the show. There are no objections from anyone. Fourth of July is a huge day for us in Sunrise Bay.

  Coming to the discussion of Denise Harrison’s building, George calls up Presley. She has Clara help her set up her computer and dim the lights.

  My dad leans over George to whisper to me, “A slide show? I like this girl.”

  “Don’t call the church just yet, Dad.”

  Trent laughs. “She’s a spitfire. She’d keep you on your toes.” He nudges me with his elbow.

  I refrain from telling them they’re all crazy.

  “Okay, so these are just some ideas I had,” Presley says, “and how I see the building looking inside and out. And I’m going to be really focused on running events and promotions that would drive traffic into Sunrise Bay, especially during tourist season.” She eyes me when she says that, and Trent and my dad glance over.

  She flips on the video, and as soon as it begins I wonder how much time and money she put into this. A simple sketch would have gotten her in. The video scans past Truth or Dare Brewery to what she envisions her building looking like. It’s got the navy blue awning but printed with The Story Shop. The camera continues through the double doors and she’s added little streams of stars as though it’s magic that we’re stepping into. The store is quaint and cute and everything Sunrise Bay residents and tourists eat up. Circular tables full of displays, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves closer to the front and filled with books. But midway through the building, it turns into a children’s paradise. Small toadstools spread around an apple tree painted on the wall, lower bookshelves for the kids to grab their own books that interest them. There’s a section for young adult fiction to the right with monthly book recommendations and a couch and chair.

  I haven’t put too much thought into the upbringing Presley had. Based on her fancy clothes, I assume she came from money. But she clearly went to school for something because her sales pitch is pretty damn good.

  After the video ends, she goes through all the bullet points on why she thinks her bookstore will be a great addition to the downtown area. It all holds up and I can’t see why anyone would say no. In truth, the fact that any new business that wants to come into the square needs to be approved by a vote from the five chairs on the committee is ridiculous. But that’s small-town life.

  Since Jed and I share a chair on the committee and I’m the one here tonight, I vote how I see fit. We all write down our votes and hand them to George. Presley’s foot bounces up and down as she waits for the answer. Clara smiles at her and nods confidently.

  “Okay, the votes are in. It’s four to one in approval of Denise Harrison’s sewing store becoming The Story Shop. Congratulations.” George sets the votes down in front of him. “May I suggest that you read all the by-laws that will impact the awning you want to install and read up on the rules for window displays and sidewalk promotions in the square?”

  Presley smiles. “Thank you so much.” She nods to everyone, purposely skipping me it seems. “I promise The Story Shop will be a success.”

  “I’m sure it will, Miss Knight.” George nods, and half of me wonders if they all approved it just so gossip will continue to swirl around Presley and me. “Now, does anyone have any other line of business we need to discuss?”

  Zoe from The Grind raises her hand and gets the go-ahead to ask her question. “I’m wondering about the duo night. When will we hear which two businesses will be partnering up next?”

  George looks at my dad, and they both glance at me. I’m fairly sure the brewery will be one of the two since we haven’t been chosen in a while, and we’ll probably be paired with Trent Lawson. We’ve already discussed him giving free legal advice and we’d name a beer after him for the month.

  After having a silent conversation with my dad, George says, “Let’s tackle that in two weeks.”

  Zoe raises her hand again.

  “Yes, Zoe,” George says.

  Zoe was my mom’s business partner when they opened The Grind. I’m not sure how much of the business my dad still owns or whether he’s allowed Zoe to buy him out. He never involves himself in it anymore. I love Zoe, but every time I see her, I think of Mom and her hopes and dreams when they started the small coffee shop.

  Zoe stands. “I mention it because I was thinking that The Grind and The Story Shop would be a great pairing.”

  George looks at my father again. There might be three other people on this committee but my dad and George run things.

  “We’ll take that into account.” George looks aroun
d. “Anything else?”

  My gaze falls to my sisters Mandi and Posey in the front row. One runs a B&B and the other runs Fringe, the haircutting salon. I always joke that the brewery should team up with Fringe for a night. But no one gets a choice. The committee decides and lately, they’ve enjoyed more absurd than perfect pairings. Hence Bakey Cakey and Chuck’s Meatmarket being paired up for the last one.

  “Meeting adjourned.” George slams down the gavel, which I’m pretty sure isn’t really needed but he uses it only because he loves doing it.

  I head down from the panel and get hung up with Mandi asking me whether the brewery has any more of the peach flavored beer available for her. It was a best seller last year at her B&B.

  After they pack up, Clara comes over and brings Presley with her. “Presley, this is Mandi and Posey Greene.”

  They all shake hands, briefly discussing their businesses.

  “Sorry about Nikki,” Posey says.

  So far it’s been like a Presley Knight biography this week on Nikki’s show.

  “It’s better not to listen,” I say.

  “I’m fine.” Presley sets her gaze on me. She almost has this look like she’s daring me to try to break her. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

  “Congratulations,” I say, trying to turn the conversation to happier matters.

  “Thanks.” She straightens her computer bag on her shoulder. I’d usually volunteer to take it from her, but I get the sense she doesn’t want me to help her with anything. “I’m assuming it’s no thanks to you. Four to one.” She raises an eyebrow.

  Mandi purses her lips to stop from smiling, and Posey watches with rapt attention. My two stepsisters, who would love nothing more than to see me get schooled by a woman.

  “Why do you assume it was me who voted no?” I ask.

  She tilts her head. “Let’s not play games.” She turns to Mandi and Posey. “It was really nice meeting you. Maybe we could talk about including some promotional materials in each other’s businesses.”

  “Definitely. I keep a small library of books in my B&B, so let’s talk,” Mandi says.

  They all say their goodbyes, and Presley turns to me last. “Bye, Cade,” she says as though she doesn’t want to be polite, but good manners have been instilled in her and are just a part of who she is.

  “Great presentation. Sweet dreams, Presley.”

  She gives me a seething glare and turns around, quickly heading out of the building—almost as if she’s running away from something.

  I’ve sold the final sewing machine, and once it’s out of the store, I finally feel as though things are coming together. After discussing with a few people around town who I should hire for the renovation work, it’s unanimous that Hank Greene is the man. He’s got a team which I’m hoping does not include a Greene family member spending time with me all day while I get the place looking like a bookstore.

  A knock sounds on the back door. Since I’m expecting Hank Greene, I open the door without looking, wearing my overalls and sneakers, a bandana around my head. Not my finest look by any means. But it’s not Hank Greene, rather his eldest son, Cade.

  “Sorry, my dad tried to call you,” he says with a grin.

  I dig into the front pocket of my overalls for my phone. Shit, I had it on silent. There’s a notification that I have a voicemail.

  “Thanks.” I move to shut the door, but he puts his foot in, stopping me. I open the door back up. “What?”

  “My dad asked if I could measure a few things. It’s in the message.” He walks in with a tape measure in his hand. “It won’t take me long.”

  There’s that scent again. The scent of him. The one that makes me want to release all the anger I have toward him while he fucks me against the wall. Oh God, what is wrong with me? The man is probably hoping I’ll fail so he can get this building for a steal.

  “Do you work for your dad?” I ask.

  “I’m not on the payroll if that’s what you mean.” He doesn’t even look at me while he measures the front window and jots down notes on a pad of paper. “He just needs to know the specifics so he can order what you need. He’s held up at the courthouse, getting the blueprints for the building. Which you’d know if you listened to your messages.”

  I roll my eyes. “I forgot my phone was on silent.”

  “Good thing for you I’m right next door,” he says, those perfectly white teeth shining bright.

  He continues to measure, not paying me any attention. For whatever reason, that annoys me. It shouldn’t. I’ve been doing my best not to pay him an ounce of attention since the day of the committee meeting.

  “I’m sure you have your own work to do at the brewery.”

  He shrugs. “Jed’s there. And it’s our slow time of the year. We work more on packaging and distribution during the off-season. That, and developing new flavors. Can you give me a hand for a second?” He holds out the end of the measuring tape. “Hold it there.” He moves all the way to the other side of the room. “Thanks, you can let go.” I do, and he smirks like I tried to get it to snap back at him. “Are you replacing the windows?”

  “I think so.”

  “Just so you know, there are ordinances about which kind you get. But I’m sure you have all that paperwork.”

  I glance at my file folder on the one lonely table I kept. “Yes.”

  “I was meaning to ask you the other night before you rushed out, did you go to school for that?”

  I grab the edge of the measuring tape, figuring if I help him, he’s more likely to get out of here faster. “What’s that?”

  “The video. It was really good.”

  “And yet it still didn’t entice you to vote yes.”

  He stops measuring and I release the tape because just the reminder that he voted against me makes me upset.

  He sets down the measuring tape and the pad of paper on the floor as he walks toward me, his eyes never wavering from mine. “You need to stop assuming things.”

  “So you weren’t the no vote?”

  “Votes are kept confidential. I can’t in good faith tell you how I voted because then you’ll throw your animosity at one of the other four people. And since I’m the aim of your anger right now, we’ll just keep it that way because I’m more forgiving than most.”

  “Forgiving?”

  “Yeah, once you realize I’m a good guy.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his vision dipping to the front of my overalls. “I like the outfit.”

  “Don’t make fun.”

  He chuckles and his fingers go to one of the clasps. “I’m not making fun. Just think of how accessible you are with the flick of a clasp. You should think about that when you wear them.”

  I swallow audibly and he chuckles, getting the reaction he hoped for. I’m visualizing what would happen if he did that to me right now and how the material would puddle at my ankles, leaving me in a tight white T-shirt and my panties.

  “Well, they’re comfortable.” I shrug, trying to play off my reaction.

  His thumb runs over the metal as if it’s taking every ounce of his control not to unclasp it. “That’s a great reason.”

  He lets go and the flood of disappointment is damaging to my psyche. You can’t have him, Presley. Remember Clara’s word, complicated. Your life is already a clusterfuck.

  “That’s all the measurements I need. My dad should be here soon.” He steps away and picks up his measuring tape and pad of paper.

  With his back to me, I answer his question because apparently part of me wants to prolong his departure. “I went to school for business. A friend helped me with the video. I did part of it myself and I sketched what I was thinking, but she put it all together.”

  Emery did an amazing job and I can’t take credit for it, even if she’d never know.

  “Still, all the statistics and stuff, that was you?” He stops at the door.

  I nod.

  “Well, great job. Even if it may or may not
have swayed me to vote yes.” He chuckles and opens the door.

  “Cade!” A man strikingly similar to Cade stands on the other side.

  “Hey, Dad. Adam?”

  Two men walk into the shop and Cade doesn’t leave.

  “I’m glad Cade got ahold of you. I’m sorry, I hate being late.” Hank Greene puts out his hand and I shake it, envisioning what Cade will look like when he’s older. Pretty damn close to this man, I suspect. “This is Adam, Cade’s brother.”

  The younger version of Cade shakes my hand.

  “What are you doing here?” Cade asks.

  “Adam’s gonna help me with this project because he needs to keep busy.” Hank turns from Cade to me. “He’s a forest ranger, so he’ll be here on his off days. I’ll fill in on the other days.”

  “Seriously? You agreed to this?” Cade asks Adam.

  Adam shrugs. He shoots a look at Cade, and Cade backs off. I’ve figured out in the short time I’ve been here that their family has entire conversations without words, whether it’s a flick of an eyebrow or quirk of a lip.

  “Cade, do you have the measurements?” Hank takes the piece of paper Cade tears off his pad. “Perfect.”

  Hank walks around the space and I follow as he asks me questions about what I was thinking for the space. When we’re by the windows, discussing the special ones I’ll need, my gaze ventures to the back where Cade and Adam now stand, having a conversation. It looks serious.

  “Don’t mind my sons,” Hank whispers. “Adam”—he looks back, and I assume it’s to make sure he’s not listening—“is going through heartbreak. But he’s qualified, don’t you worry. He’s been my little helper his entire life. He can drywall the holes and repaint. When it comes to the built-in bookshelves, I’ll be here to make sure everything is done properly. Adam can probably handle the flooring as well.”

  He lost me after heartbreak.

  “He’s young to be so brokenhearted,” I say. Damn it, that was supposed to stay inside my head and not come out of my mouth.

  Hank nods. “Yeah, well, when you marry your high school sweetheart, the odds are stacked against you. Though I married mine.”