Phoebe stabbed a finger toward the ground, her expression tight, her eyes flashing. “This is your home. This is your property. And no one can make you run unless you let them. Stop running, Delaney. Stop running long enough to show these people, show this whole goddamned town, who you really are and what you’re really made of.”
Delaney huffed, crossed her arms over the fury battling inside her, and turned her back on Phoebe, the bar, and Ethan. Her gaze wandered the acres of countryside. Beautiful countryside covered with century-old live oak and tall grasses waving gently in the morning breeze. She’d come this morning with an open mind. But now she was having a hard time pushing aside the ugliness of the past to reach for the opportunity in front of her.
“I can come back.” Ethan’s voice cut into her thoughts. “But my schedule’s pretty booked up for the next—”
Delaney spun and met his gaze directly, cutting off his words. But he didn’t look the least bit concerned. He’d flipped his sunglasses over his head, and they sat at the back of his neck. With his hip against the grill of her Jeep, a coffee cup in one hand, half a scone in the other, he looked absolutely carefree.
He looked as if he’d smell warm and male if she pressed her face to his neck and breathed him in. As if he’d feel hard against her softness if she leaned into him. As if he’d wrap her in his arms and stroke her hair the way he had last night as she’d fallen asleep in his bed.
Now she had to wonder exactly what last night had been about for him. Why he’d taken her to bed knowing who she was. There had to be an ulterior motive. With the Hayes family, there was always an ulterior motive.
She forced her body to relax as best she could and closed the distance between them. “You need to recuse yourself from this project.”
He frowned. “This isn’t a trial.”
“Isn’t it?”
He scanned her face, and whatever he saw made his frown soften. Made a hint of compassion lighten his eyes. “No. It’s a simple procedure that home and business owners go through every day.”
“You can’t expect me to believe your opinion won’t come into play here. You have a history with this property. A vested interest in seeing renovations—if that is the direction we decide to take—fail.”
“Even if I wanted to recuse myself—or whatever you want to call it—I can’t. I’m the chief planner and building inspector, the Wildwood Planning Department all rolled into one person. If you build in this town, you go through me.”
Goddammit. It figured.
She crossed her arms and shifted her gaze to her rattrap of an inheritance. Screw it all. If she had a towel, she’d throw it in.
“Maybe I could just torch it,” she said, speaking before she thought. “God, that would be amazing. Just watching it burn . . .”
Phoebe came up beside her. “Maybe another day would be best, Ethan.”
“No, he’s already here,” she said without looking at either of them. She may as well get a read on where he was going to take this. “Let’s do this.”
So I can move on with my life.
Ethan returned to his truck for a flashlight, and Delaney let him even though there was no need for one. She needed to sort things out in her head. She needed a moment to separate business and pleasure, to get herself on solid ground.
Man, this sucks.
When he was just out of earshot, Phoebe turned to her, but before she could say anything, her phone rang.
“Saved by the bell.” Delaney sighed, then told her aunt, “It’s time for you to take care of your business and let me take care of mine.” She gestured toward Phoebe’s car with a sweet, “Go on now. Move along.”
Phoebe’s scowl was filled with solemn warnings and preemptive scoldings, but she answered her phone and wandered away, giving Delaney room to breathe.
She turned and approached the bar with Phoebe’s earlier words echoing in her head.
“Stop running, Delaney. Stop running long enough to show these people, show this whole goddamned town, who you really are and what you’re really made of.”
She’d never thought of leaving all those years ago as running. Not exactly. Sure, she’d wanted to get the hell away from here, but not because she’d been afraid of anyone. Certainly not because she’d cared what they thought of her. She’d hated the power games and the double standards and the false fronts she’d run into. But mostly she’d just gotten sick of dealing with her father’s drunken bullshit. Gotten sick of keeping the bar running when he was passed out in the back room so she and Avery and Chloe would have grocery money and cash for school supplies. Phoebe always helped where she could, but back then she’d been cash poor, too.
The crunch of gravel behind her signaled Ethan’s approach. She pulled from those heavy old memories with awareness prickling all along her body, as if she could feel his eyes scanning her. Seeing her as naked as she’d been with him less than five hours ago.
In hindsight, sleeping with him without learning more beforehand had been really stupid. Mind-b
ending, amazing, and unforgettable, but stupid. Now she had to face her mistake and deal with the fallout.
She secured the best mental shields she could under the circumstances and turned. She remained silent, deciding to let him set the tone for this situation.