Unexpectedly You (2 page)

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?”

“Well, he’s got it in for you. I think he was the only person in Bella Del Mar who wasn’t devastated after Stefan passed away.”

“That’s an awful thought. How could you even think that?”

“It’s true. How long after did he come sniffing around you?”

It had only been eleven months, and the thought of going out on a date with Tim, even though she’d known him for most of her life, had seemed like such a betrayal to Stefan. It had been the one and only date she’d had in eighteen months.

She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Tim wouldn’t hold a grudge against something like that. We’re talking about a business opportunity for his bank. He stands to make a profit.”

“That may be true, but you know these bankers are risk-adverse.”

“What about all the federal programs to help out small businesses? It’s all over the news. He’d be an idiot to refuse us a loan.”

Dorinda choked back a laugh. “I recommend improving your demeanor before your meeting.”

She frowned. Maybe she needed to stick to one cup of coffee a day. The caffeine was making her jumpy...and mouthy. She was still cringing from the awful confrontation with McKenna. Even though most of her points were valid, she regretted calling him a vulture who took advantage of the sick and elderly. The words had felt vile as they came out of her mouth. Shame hung over her head like an intractable halo.

“It’s McKenna. He brings out the worst in me. I just want him out of my sight, out of my life.”

“That’s a shame, because he isn’t too bad on the eyes, is he? A bit young, but maybe...”

“Are you serious? What is the fascination with this man? He looks like a boy toy. Like he should come with instructions.”

Dorinda’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “My dear, you need a new pair of glasses.”

Emma adjusted her butterfly-shaped reading glasses. “Can we get back to my life-and-death issue here?”

“No, you’re not overreacting at all.”

She managed a weak smile and buried her face in her hands.

Dorinda walked over and draped her arms around her shoulders. “I want you to prepare yourself for the worst-case scenario. Have a plan B just in case.”

She raised her head slowly. “I don’t have a plan B. I need this loan not only to expand the business but also for Sammy. She’s leaving for San Diego tomorrow to check out the campus. I can’t disappoint her. I swore to Stefan I’d follow through on all of his promises.”

“Emma, Sammy will understand if you share with her the truth about your finances. Stefan, bless the man, was irresponsible and selfish for promising all those things, knowing he hadn’t planned appropriately for you and Sammy.”

Tears welled in her eyes upon hearing her own shameful thoughts spoken out loud. “He was just being Stefan. He thought—we all thought he’d have more time to...” Her voice sounded defeated.

She hated worst-case scenarios. She’d lived through one for the four months Stefan had battled pancreatic cancer. Her chest constricted as disappointment and guilt vied for space in her heart. If only she’d paid more attention to the finances, but Stefan had insisted on being in charge of their bills. And then there were other more important things to worry about.

Eighteen months ago, she barely knew a thing about profit margins or lines of credit. But now, she was a single mom with a mortgage, a daughter about to go to college and a business she loved but had yet to show a profit.

Dorinda looked out the window toward the construction site across the street. “I know you may not want to hear this right now, but have you thought any more about Mitch’s offer?”

Emma blinked in surprise. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I haven’t lost my mind and if you weren’t so stubborn, you’d realize he offered you a way to finance your business.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her.

Dorinda took her silence as a pass to keep talking. “He was right to want to help your business get off the ground and rehab your home. It would be mutually beneficial for both of you, since he doesn’t want an eyesore right next to his snazzy condos. Okay, maybe he didn’t quite say the last bit exactly like I just did. But you know what I mean. It was a very generous offer.”

Emma folded her arms across her chest. “There is no way I’d trust anything that came out of that man’s mouth. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying? Mitch McKenna is a slick...greedy...arrogant... What?” Something in her friend’s expression halted her diatribe midstream. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A curious smile played on Dorinda’s face and her eyes twinkled with mirth. “If you’re not going to consider Mitch’s proposal, then I’d be careful not to piss off that bear of a man any more than you’ve already done. He seems like he can get pretty dangerous when poked.”

“I own a Taser.”

Dorinda rolled her eyes. “God help him.”

She ignored her friend’s worried face and returned to the task at hand. Take Mitch up on his offer? She’d rather be eaten by a shark. It’d be less painful.

She saw through him, even if no one else did. Plus, how dare he call her home dilapidated? Sure, it needed some cosmetic repairs, but the vintage bungalow was practically a historical landmark. A family heirloom.

Bulldoze over her home? She gritted her teeth. She’d just see about that. Her fingers itched to wipe the grin off McKenna’s face.

She glanced at the wall clock. It was almost noon. She reached for her cell phone and dialed the building official’s office.

* * *

Mitch pulled his truck into the parking lot of the Surf & Sand Tavern in downtown Bella Del Mar. The torrential rain that had pummeled them all morning had eased, leaving dark, moisture-laden clouds in its wake. Being a Friday, he wasn’t surprised the lot was already half full.

He ran his hands over his prickly face. He’d give an arm and a leg for a hot shower right about now, but the jobsite trailer he’d ordered hadn’t arrived. Add that to the other shit that had gone wrong, and the feeling that his project was cursed hung over him and his crew.

Maybe his brother was right about Bella Del Mar not being the right location for an upscale retail project, not with existing businesses with names like Paws on the Beach, Moon Over Taffy and a hair salon called Cutter’s Away. Shane had warned him about Bella being stuck in a nostalgia wormhole, but Mitch had ignored him and look where they were now.

The project was six months behind schedule and almost a quarter million over budget. Every day he wasn’t building, it cost him three thousand dollars. If it wasn’t Emma LeFleur, it was the weather.

He knew damn well that the forlorn expressions he’d seen on his men’s faces meant they were worried he wouldn’t get the financing to continue with the project and he’d have to lay them off.

He pounded the back of his head against the headrest as frustration mounted and shut his eyes at the very real possibility he’d lose everything if the neighbors decided to further delay his plans.

His phone vibrated against the truck’s leather console. He glanced down, grateful for the interruption, until he saw the caller ID.

Son of a bitch.

“Catch you at a bad time?” Shane’s voice sounded weary on the other end.

Mitch’s stomach clenched, anticipating his brother’s bad news. “You heard from Lansford?”

Burt Lansford was an avid fisherman and a wealthy venture capitalist. He’d agreed to put up the seed capital for Coastal Development for a hefty chunk of future profits.

“He’s calling me every hour on the hour.”

Mitch cursed under his breath. “Your job is to appease him, right? My job is to run the project.”

Shane grunted. “Project’s behind schedule, bro. It ain’t a clambake trying to appease a fat cat like Lansford. He’s a fucking bean counter and all he cares about is seeing the results.”

“Tell him we’re back on track. I can’t fucking control the weather, can I? And I won’t let the guys handle heavy machinery when it’s not safe. He got a problem with that, he could go fuck himself.” He imagined his brother’s grin on the other end of the phone.

“Now I’m reminded why I deal with the front-end money guys and you deal with the meatheads in construction,” Shane said, his voice coated with humor.

“Go fuck yourself,” Mitch joked. “How long can you hold him off?” The seriousness was back in his tone.

Shane sighed audibly. “I can hold him off for a couple of days, but we need to have the final go-ahead from the Planning Council on Monday for him to feel good. If not, we might as well kiss the two million dollars adios.”

The two million dollars would fund operating capital for about a year, giving Mitch enough time to attract other investors to the project.

“Should be no problem. The citizen task force has its final meeting on Thursday. Next Monday’s meeting is just a formality. The Planning Council pretty much verbally approved the plan. Could sure use some positive press.”

A long silence ensued. Mitch was hoping Shane would suggest he call Olivia. Shane’s ex-wife was now a newscaster in San Diego. He held his breath, knowing full well he’d have better luck catching Bigfoot than having Shane suggest such a scenario. The five-year marriage had ended badly.

“What about that crazy broad across the street? She give you any more trouble?”

Bingo. Evade and distract. Shane’s defenses were honed to a razor-sharp edge.

Mitch recalled the confrontation he’d had with Emma LeFleur that morning. He rubbed the tension from his neck. The woman got under his skin like nobody’s business. “She’s a crusader. But like I said, it’s as good as a go. Monday’s vote is just a formality.”

“I guess the threat of a lawsuit scared them.”

“That it did.”

Several seconds passed before Shane asked, “What’s she like, anyway?”

“Who?” For some reason, discussing Emma with his brother annoyed him.

“Emma what’s-her-face.”

“What the hell does it matter?”

Mitch recalled Emma in her colorful pajamas and oversized fleece jacket. His eighty-year-old grandmother had better fashion sense. All that big hair dwarfing her face made her look like a throwback pop rocker from the ’80s.