Page 22 of Suddenly Dating
Harry had huffed. But he’d paused. “What?” he’d snapped.
Hazel had glared at him. “Don’t treat me like I’m your mother.”
“Sorry. But I’m not staying, Hazel. Don’t try to talk me into it. I’ve had a rough week and I don’t want to listen to her—”
“I want to offer you the money,” Hazel had blurted.
Harry blinked. “For what?”
“For your crane! I can lend you the money.”
Harry hadn’t been able to keep from smiling, and had fondly wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her. “Thanks, Hazel. But the last thing I want is to take any money from my big sis. And besides, even though I know you’re pulling in some bucks these days, I doubt you have the kind of money I need.”
“How much?” she’d asked.
“A million.”
Hazel had pushed back from him, her eyes full of shock. “Holy shit! For acrane?”
“Not all for a crane,” he’d explained. “That’s operating costs, heavy equipment, manpower... I need that in the bank before I go and bid as a contractor on one of these state projects. I’ve been subcontracting pieces of the bridge. Now I want the whole thing. That’s why I’m selling my apartment.”
Hazel had groaned. “Look, don’t be mad at Mom. She doesn’t want to see you sink your inheritance into a business that might not work out, you know?”
His sister was referring to the money they’d inherited from their grandfather. Harry had used his share to buy his apartment. “I know,” he said. “But Grandpa built Carlington Industries from the ground up. I think he’d understand. Actually, I think he would tell me there’s no gain without risk and to go for it.”
“I miss him. Come on, Harry, come back in. Mom will be passed out in an hour, and you and Dad and I can watch the Mets.”
“Nah,” he’d said, and had tweaked Hazel’s nose. “I’m gonna run.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to drown your sorrows in beer.”
“No,” Harry had scoffed as he started for the elevators, punching the down button. “I’ve got the kind of sorrows only a single malt whiskey can touch.” He’d winked at Hazel and stepped into the elevator car.
He did have a couple of whiskies that night. They did nothing to ease the hurt in him.
He hadn’t been back to see his parents since.
He damn sure wasn’t going back now with his tail between his legs, leaking money and still trying to win a bid on his own, all because a woman with less-than-stellar housekeeping skills had barged uninvited into his life. He could imagine how that conversation would go.No, I couldn’t stay at my friend’s house because this woman stacks dishes in the sink and leaves them there.
No way, man. He was too strong for this. He would make this work somehow. He’d treat it like boot camp—keep his nose down, do his work, and ignore her.
Harry got out of his truck and slammed the door, suddenly determined. He’d go to work, eat out, and never come out of that mother-in-law suite. He didn’t need a kitchen or a pool. He just needed a place to sleep.
Eight
Lola figured she might as well get to the coffee shop, seeing as how her roommate had rudely awakened her and made her so mad she couldn’t go back to sleep. She didn’t know what she was going to do with him yet—ignore him? Annoy him to death? Turn him in? One thing was certain—she wasn’t going to let him interfere with her plans to meet Birta Hoffman.
Determined to forget his awful personality, which totally ruined his super-sexy physique, she hopped on her bike at half past eight. The drivers on Juneberry Road were in such a hurry to get to work, and whipped around her so fast that twice she almost lost her balance.
On Main Street, Lola locked her bike to a rack beneath a maple tree, removed her tote bag with her laptop from the bike’s basket, and entered the Green Bean Coffee Shop, where she discovered the drivers who’d almost mowed her down were now standing in line for coffee. She took her place at the end, wedging herself between the door and the creamer station.
As the line inched along toward the barista, Lola scanned the crowded tables in search of Birta Hoffman. She had no doubt she’d recognize her—in all of Birta’s author photos, she had signature long black hair with a thick streak of white that framed her face. Shelookedlike an author. On the book jacket of her latest novel,Inconsequential, she was wearing a strand of mala beads around her neck. She held a pair of glasses as if she’d just taken them off to speak to the viewer. She wore leather and silver bracelets on her wrist and stared at the camera with a contemplative gaze, as though she were willing to discuss the meaning of life with you.
There was no such woman in this coffee house. Maybe Birta knew about the morning rush and preferred to wait it out. Well, Lola had brought her laptop so she could work. If Birta didn’t show up today, Lola would come again tomorrow.
When it was finally her turn, Lola ordered a caramel latte.
The young man behind the counter didn’t acknowledge that he’d even heard her. He said nothing at all, just scratched around his nose ring before he took her debit card and ran it, then placed a paper cup in line with others. She spent another five minutes crowded against the wall before her drink appeared. She gratefully accepted it and sipped.
