Page 11 of That Kind of Guy

“Nope,” I said, cutting her off. “I’ve got it.”

The bell on the front door rang as a customer walked in. Hannah stood. “Be right back.”

I stood as well. “I’ve got to get to the restaurant. Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime,” she said over her shoulder, giving me a smile and disappearing into the book stacks to say hello to the customer.

On the walk back to the restaurant, I mentally ran through my options, coming up short on any solutions. I couldn’t get a smaller loan and offer Keiko less money—that wasn’t fair to her. She had put years into this business and selling it was her retirement income. Offering her less put her in an awkward position, because I had a feeling she would accept. I knew she wanted me to have the restaurant, but I couldn’t sleep at night knowing I short-changed her.

The second I turned the corner and the restaurant came into view, I forgot all about Keiko, the restaurant, and the loan. I had a brand-new problem.

In front of the restaurant, there was a small stretch of grass with some gardens and foliage. The restaurant’s namesake Arbutus tree grew at the right of the entrance. A path led through the garden area to the restaurant and in the evenings, lanterns lined the walkway. Benches were placed around the entrance among the flowers and plants to seat diners waiting for their tables. I loved this front exterior design—it was beautiful, inviting, and serene.

But I didn’t feel the serenity as two men pounded wooden stakes into the grass, installing an enormous blue sign with Emmett Rhodes’ face on it.

I felt rage.

Vote for Emmett Rhodes, the sign read. It was nearly ten feet tall and completely blocked the windows to the restaurant so that pedestrians could view the monstrosity. Instead of overlooking the town’s quaint street and people-watching, diners would have a view of the back of Emmett’s sign.

I barked a humorless laugh. Of course he was running for mayor. The guy thought the sun shined straight out of his ass,of coursehe wanted to get into politics.

I sure as hell wasn’t going to help him, and I wasn’t going to let him scare off customers with a picture of his face the size of an elephant.

The men were putting the finishing touches on the structure as I stalked up.

“Good morning. Let’s talk about this.” I gestured at Emmett’s stupid smiling face. His teeth were so freaking white.

The men looked uncertain. One of them climbed down his ladder. “We were hired by Emmett Rhodes’ campaign to install this.”

I nodded at them. “I understand you’re doing your job, but this is a business, and you don’t have permission to do this. Please remove it.”

Emmett appeared at my side, studying the sign. “Great work, guys.”

They began to pack up and leave, and I turned to Emmett, crossing my arms over my chest. “Get rid of it.”

He studied the sign, ignoring me. “I thought it would be bigger.”

I inhaled and rubbed my temples. This guy. I couldn’t believe him. “This can’t be here. Who said you could put the sign up?”

He gave me the same winning smile that was on the sign. “Keiko.”

My nostrils flared. “Keiko told you it was okay to put abillboardin front of her restaurant?”

He nodded, smiling and watching me with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and amusement. “She sure did. See, Adams, when I’m mayor, I’m going to upgrade the electrical grid. That means no more power outages, and business owners love that idea just as much as residents.” He gestured at the sign. “Keiko was happy to let me install this here.”

I shook my head to myself.Keiko, you’re too good to be wooed by this guy and his false charms. “Unbelievable,” I scoffed. “Your ego knows no limits, does it?”

He gave me a cocky grin. “I’m just trying to do the right thing, Adams.”

Right. The right thing. I knew guys like Emmett Rhodes. Slippery, schmoozey, friends with everyone until you needed them or they needed to be accountable for their choices.

Keiko had said yes to him, and I didn’t own the restaurant. A twist of nerves hit me in the gut when I remembered my bank loan rejection this morning. I had bigger problems than this sign.

“Remove it by the end of election day,” I said, turning and walking up the path to the restaurant. “Or I’ll draw devil horns on it and show people who you really are.”

Emmett’s low laugh followed me, and my jaw clenched.

“I hope I can count on your vote, Adams,” he called after me.

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