Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Yep,” I agreed in a quiet voice. “But wait a few moments. Things might get better.”
He frowned, but before he could ask me, the mayor, Darren Thomas, walked into the office. He spied me by the window and came forward, beaming. “Ava, my dear, how good to see you.”
The clerk’s face turned white.
I accepted the mayor’s hug. “How’s Norma?” I asked. “Her hip doing okay?”
“Very well. And that soup basket you sent was much appreciated.” He laughed dryly. “You know I can’t cook. It came in very handy.”
“Excellent.”
“Now, what can I do for you? You said you have a problem? Something about a permit?”
I frowned. “Yes. Mr. Smith here seems to have an issue with the documentation but is unable to tell me what exactly. I thought maybe you could have someone else look it over.”
Darren laughed. “You have incorrect documentation?” he teased. “Has hell frozen over and no one told me?”
I smiled, then became serious. “I was shocked as well. Even more shocked when Mr. Smith offered to help me out—off the record.”
Darren’s face went slack with shock. Mr. Smith sputtered.
“I-I think you mistook my words. I was only saying I would help you. Nothing-nothing more.”
Darren looked between us, his eyes narrowing. “Those are serious charges, Ava.”
I met his gaze. “I am aware. That’s why I would like a second set of eyes.”
He held out his hand to the clerk. “Give me the file.”
Mr. Smith’s hand shook as he grudgingly pushed the file Darren’s way. “I was just doing my job,” he muttered. “Making sure everything was in order.”
“I wasn’t aware that extortion was listed as part of the job description,” I remarked. “You should eliminate that when reposting the position.”
The silver fox barked out a laugh from the corner. The mayor glanced up. “Do you have something to add?”
“Yeah, your man was trying to shake me down too.”
Darren shut his eyes. “Please leave this with me. I’ll be in touch with both of you very soon.” He sighed. “Ava, I have your information. Leave me yours, sir, and I will be in touch personally.” He paused. “I would like to keep this private for now.”
“I have no wish to bring you more trouble, Darren,” I murmured. “I just want my permits. How you clean house is up to you.” I paused, meeting his gaze. “It is very dusty in here.”
The stranger walked past me, handing Darren a piece of paper. “Yep. Swiffer time.”
I met Darren’s eyes. “I’ll hear from you soon.”
He nodded. “Tomorrow, Ava.”
I smiled and walked out.
My work here was done.
Chapter 2
Ava
I reached my SUV before my legs began to tremble. I leaned against the vehicle, taking in some deep breaths of the spring air. Despite my bravado, I detested confrontation. I had to handle it daily in my line of work. I dealt persistently with bureaucratic red tape, foremen not wanting to take directives from a woman, male clerks and suppliers looking down their noses at me because I had breasts.
I could also run circles around them discussing building plans, licensing issues, problem solutions, what type of wood worked best in any situation, and how a building was designed from paper to execution. I had learned from the best, and I knew my stuff. As project manager and coordinator for ABC, I had to.
Many of them disliked that fact. Many of them enjoyed trying to prove me wrong. Most of them failed.
I did my job and I did it well, and for the most part, I loved it. The energy of working at ABC, the enthusiasm of my fellow coworkers, and the talent they had—plus the fact that they were my family—made the days enjoyable and fun. We fed off each other and loved what we did. It was days like this that I disliked. Underhanded dealings. BAM and ABC were well known for their excellence. Their reputation was outstanding, and the companies were highly successful. Sometimes people decided they deserved a piece of that success, even if they had nothing to do with it. Such was the case today. A middle-aged clerk pushing papers who decided he should get a reward for doing his job. That sort of attitude made me want to punch something. Or, as the sexy stranger said, someone.
As if I had conjured him up, suddenly he was in front of me. Muddied Doc Martens appeared in my line of vision as I stared at the ground, feeling tired. I looked up, taking my time, perusing his strong thighs encased in tight jeans and the way his T-shirt stretched over his chest and abs. His lips were curled into a smile, and I met his eyes, the unusual color once again hitting me. How could the color of an eye seem so cool and impersonal, yet penetrating and on fire at the same moment?