Page 12 of Hearts Colliding
Ryan looked down at his tea to hide his smile. His septuagenarian grandmother had rallied after her shock outside the bakery. Nothing would stop her opening up the pub that bore her name above the door.
With his nan and mum running the lunchtime shift, Ryan disappeared to his bedroom, switched on his laptop and waited for the planning application to open up.
He read through it, slowly, carefully, taking in every single word, comma, and full stop, his stomach twisting into ever tighter knots. Appendices, so many of them, with details of the surveys that had taken place. Everything that could have been covered had been.
The New House to be divided into apartments. Existing outbuildings to be transformed into barn conversions, and others built from new. The Jenkins farm, which abutted the village, would support two hundred new homes, and retail units. And the drawings, showing rows and rows of housing, spreading like a cancer.
How long had this been planned? Why had nobody got wind of the hammer blow that was about to come crashing down on them? Feeling sick, he closed down the site. Just about to put his computer aside, he stopped.
Veranne. Alex Love’s development company. A few clicks, and a slick website filled the computer screen.
A sparse bio on Alex that said next to nothing. There wasn’t even a photograph, no corporate shark grinning out from the screen. Even on this own company website, Alex was determined to stay under the radar.
Ryan opened up each page. Photos of stunningly beautiful new houses and fabulous conversions. Ryan didn’t want to admire or be impressed by what he saw, but it was difficult not to be. The website was nothing more than an online sales brochure. Interested parties were invited to contact the professional and dedicated team to discuss their unique requirements, which Veranne Developments could turn from a dream into a reality.
I don’t think so…
Ryan slammed his computer closed and jumped up from his bed. He was due to take over in the bar later, but the pub felt too small and confining for the anger building up inside him. He could surf the net all day for more on Alex Love, and he could study the plans for the development until he saw double. They told him everything and nothing, because they didn’t tell himwhy,and every bone in his body and every tingling nerve wanted answers.
The New House, the Love estate, the village that bore his name. It was Alex’s heritage and he was supposed to preserve it, not grind it underfoot. So why was he doing this? Why was he trying to build a fucking town on the edge of the village?
Why? Why? Why?
Grabbing his jacket, Ryan shot downstairs, and catapulted out of the back door. He had questions he was going to demand answers to, and he knew exactly where to find them.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Alex froze at the sudden, violent hammering on the door, accompanied by Henry’s frantic barking. Closing up the document he was working on, he sat for a moment debating whether or not to answer but if he didn’t he’d only be delaying confronting what he knew this meant. Yet, it was sooner than expected, as the notices had only been put up that day.
“Do you think they’ll have burning flares alongside the pitchforks, Henry? Or will those be dispensed with as it’s still daylight?”
Henry answered with a wag of his tail. Ready to face the inevitable first volley, Alex made his way to the window which gave him a view of the door.
“Oh.”
A battered Land Rover was parked at a skewed angle, the driver side door wide open. Ryan stared up at the house, an angry scowl on his face. In his hand he clutched what could be nothing other than the notice. Alex jumped, as Ryan again beat at the door.
“Definitely not a social call.” He’d expected a visit from somebody from the village — perhaps the vicar or the chair of the village committee, if it still existed — but what he hadn’t expected was the burly young barman with the delicious tattoos and deep blue eyes which met his own and refused to flinch. “This should be interesting. Or not. Maybe I should let his anger abate. What do you think, Henry? Because I wouldn’t want him getting all up close and personal on me, would I?” Alex snorted, but a frisson skittered down his spine as he stared out at Ryan. “Perhaps I’d better answer the door before he batters it down.”
“What the fuck is this?” Ryan, red faced and with fire burning in his eyes, thrust the notice in Alex’s face.
“It’s notice of a planning application.” Alex kept his voice level. As much as he was hands on with all his projects, it had been years since he’d had an angry local confront him directly. And Ryan was very angry. He was also taller, broader and younger and if he chose to throw a punch Alex had no doubt he’d be stunned and breathless on his back, and not in the good way. It would also be assault and he’d press charges in a heartbeat.
“I know what it is, dickhead.” Ryan pushed his way in, causing Alex to stagger back.
Anger flared in Alex’s chest and he ground his teeth together. He didn’t owe Ryan or anyone an explanation. His anger was a match for Ryan’s but it was quieter, colder, and contained, unlike the scorching heat burning up the young publican.
“Then why have you forced your way into my house, into which you were not invited, if you know? You seem to have a habit of being where you’re not wanted.”
Heat scorched Ryan’s face, and for a tiny moment fear fluttered in Alex’s chest as he wondered whether he’d gone too far.
“These plans of yours, they’ll destroy the village. This is a small coastal community and what you’re wanting to do will increase its size by at least half again. Everybody thought the house would be lived in once more—”
“It will be, but not by me.” He had to remain calm and cool, but in front of the blast furnace that was Ryan’s anger, his calm was crumbling and his cool melting. “As to why I’m doing it, and not coming back to this godforsaken house, that’s my business and not up for discussion.” At the base of his skull, a dull throb started up as a nervy pulse tingled over his scalp.
“But it’ll have to be up for discussion because the people of this village are allowed a say, and if enough object—”
“The plan is certainly up for discussion, you’re right about that. Public consultation. But whatisn’tup for discussion or consultation are my reasons. I’m a property developer, Ryan, it’s my business, and my plans for this place are just that: business. This house is bricks and mortar and nothing else, and all I’m doing is making the most of my asset.” Alex’s stomach twisted and turned at the lies he was telling. “But, as you point out, the village can have its say.”
