The Butterfly Effect (Boggy Creek Valley 1)

“Are you looking to renovate an older home, Ms. Daughtry?” I asked.

She laughed and leaned back. “God, no. And please, call me Kathleen.”

“Okay, Kathleen, what are you interested in then?” I said, deciding to get straight to the damn point.

“Should we not order and eat first before we get down to business?” she asked, her eyes bouncing from me to Tucker.

“We’ll do whatever you’re most comfortable with,” Tucker said.

I glared at him before I turned my attention back to Kathleen. “Ms.…Kathleen,” I corrected. “I believe we can do both.”

A wicked smile crossed her face. “I’m rather fond of doing more than one thing at once. Or having more than one man…at once.”

Tucker nearly choked on his water. I leaned in closer to her, and she followed my lead, her tongue sweeping across her blood-red lips.

“Ms. Daughtry, I’m interested in talking about the services you need from our construction company, not the services you want from my cock.” The moment the word was out of my mouth I knew my granddad would be disappointed.

Her mouth dropped open as her eyes widened. Tucker let out a groan that sounded like a dying animal.

After a few seconds, Kathleen laughed. “I see. Well, I have to admit, I found myself in the company of two very handsome men and let my imagination go a little wild.”

“It’s no worry at all,” Tucker quickly added, in hopes of lightening the current mood at the table.

I grabbed my whiskey, finished it off in one drink and stood. “It is a worry. If you’re only interested in toying around with us, then I think our conversation is over. If, on the other hand, you’d like to meet tomorrow, in my office, at ten a.m. to talk about a future project, then you will have my undivided attention. Otherwise, this meeting is finished.”

When I started to walk off, I heard Tucker’s chair move against the wood floor.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he asked in a lowered voice as he followed me out of the restaurant.

Once we were outside, I faced him. “Listen, I don’t know how you handle shit like this, but here’s how I’m going to handle this. I’m not playing games. I only agreed to come to this fucked-up dinner because Betty said this could potentially be a big-money project. I’m not going to let some Hollywood actress flirt with me and make comments about fucking us both. She either wants a house built by a professional company, or she wants a boy toy to screw around with. I suggest you go in, offer to buy her dinner, then leave.”

“You want me to walk out on the dinner meeting?” he asked, a disbelieving laugh following his question.

“Yes,” I said. “I do.”

He shook his head. “Do you know how pissed Carl would be right now?”

I took a step closer to him, forcing myself not to grab the fucker by the shirt and push him against the door. “He wouldn’t even be here. He would have met with her in the office, during office hours. I know you don’t like the idea that I’m coming in and taking over this business, and I don’t really give a fuck, Tucker. We don’t need Ms. Daughtry’s project enough to kiss her ass. I don’t give a flying fuck who she is. If she wants to talk business, she can come into the office tomorrow. If you want to fuck her…you do it on your own time. Not on the time of this company. Understand?”

Tucker looked ready to punch me. “You always were a little cocky prick.”

This time I did grab him by the shirt. “You better watch out, because this prick is your new boss.” Then I gave him a good push before I turned and walked away.

“Waste of my goddamn time,” I said as I jerked my phone out of my pocket and saw a message from Hunter.

Hunter: Don’t forget, poker tonight! We start at eight.

Once I got into the truck, I typed my reply.

Me: Just finished a business meeting, may be a few minutes late.

It was obvious Willa hadn’t told Hunter what happened on Sunday night. A part of me didn’t want to go and have to see him right now, knowing what I had done to his sister. The other part longed for something normal. I’d spent the last few days either buried in paperwork, walking construction sites, or home drinking my fucking sorrows away with my mother asking me every five fucking minutes if I was all right. What I needed was some time with old friends.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced down. It was another text from Hunter.

Hunter: New guy brings a case of beer. Don’t be cheap either.

I smiled, started up the truck, and headed back to Boggy Creek.

“And he finally arrives with the beer!” Hunter said as he slapped me on the back and motioned for me to head over to the large table that had been set up in the middle of his living room. His K9 partner, Jack, was crashed on the sofa, ignoring the lot of them.