Timber Creek
Page 20

“Speaking of which, where is Hope?” Laura had put their new employee to work immediately, especially when she found out the woman had spent the past few years working in the state capitol. “She said she’d make some calls for me.”
Hope was still learning the ropes, but she was smart and a quick study. Besides, she’d practically grown up under their roof, having been Sorrow’s bosom buddy through childhood. Laura had been away at college, so she’d never gotten to know her, though she did remember the two girls griping about the other kids’ teasing. But seriously, a pair of pimple-faced besties with the names Hope and Sorrow? In ninth grade, it’d just been asking for it.
“She’s at the tavern,” Sorrow said, “which is where I’d hoped you’d join us.”
“I need to take a pass. Can’t you manage without me? Those History Network people are coming”—she slid her cell from her purse to check the time—“and between that and this ranch thing, there’s a ton that needs to get done.”
“We need to go over menus.”
“Cook whatever you want.” She passed her on the way to the front door. “You rock, sis. Thanks.”
She swept out and just about crashed into Hope on the porch. “There you are!”
The woman had become Laura’s favorite person the moment she’d let on what she used to do for a living.
“I work for CalEPA,” Hope had said quietly. “In the governor’s office. On the Air Resources Board.” She’d been a soft-spoken thing in high school, too. Good at her studies, not super popular, though not unpretty, either. “I oversaw the Fine Particulate Matter Monitoring Program.”
Laura had tried not to gape. So that was what bookish girls did when they grew up. “Fascinating.” Not. “Why’d you leave? To work here?” She’d looked at her sister, fighting a growing panic. “She knows she’ll be making beds and stuff like that, right?”
But Hope had laughed it off, apparently eager to do exactly stuff like take reservations and make beds if it meant she could get her environmental journalism blog up and running.
From there, it hadn’t taken Laura long to put two and two together: people who once worked in the governor’s office were people with connections.
Laura gave a tug to her jeans skirt. She’d been in a rush but was anxious to hear what their new employee had found out. “Did you call Sacramento? Can they do anything about the permit?” She turned to her sister, explaining, “Stupid Eddie is now going to build a stupid pool. Apparently, Fairview is adding kickboards and waterslides to their death blow.”
“They can’t do that,” Hope said.
“Yeah! Right?” Laura nodded in vehement agreement.
“No,” Hope said, “I mean it’s possible they really can’t do that.”
Sorrow frowned. “As in, they’re not allowed to do it?”
“I couldn’t make headway on the permit issue, but I did find out that El Dorado County just approved a ten-million-dollar bond for watershed protection purposes.”
“What the heck does that mean?” asked Sorrow.
Laura grinned. “It means Eddie is doing something illegal.”
Hope backpedaled, looking panicked. “I didn’t say that. I only spoke with a friend who worked on the legislation. I don’t how it’s enforced or what it means.”
Laura headed to her car, ready to storm his job site, and the women followed her into the lot. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, that creek might be protected. Might. I don’t know for sure. You could ask Eddie. Does he know anything about it?”
“Believe me. I’m about to find out.”
Sixteen
Eddie sat on a boulder on the bank of the creek and checked his watch. Eleven thirty was early for a lunch break—he knew by late afternoon he’d regret having scarfed down his ham and cheese so soon—but he couldn’t focus.
Something about this project still didn’t smell right, and he’d been dragging his feet. But he’d looked and looked and couldn’t find anything to back up his suspicions. He’d analyzed the property, and while the creek was on conservancy land, the ranch wasn’t, and rules about preexisting structures protected him anyhow.
He’d also double-checked the historic register and that adaptive reuse paperwork, too, but it all seemed to add up.
“Eddie.” It was Laura, and by the sound of her voice, she’d come with guns blazing. “We have something to discuss.”
He grinned. The day was looking up.
Turning, he sized her up, and his grin turned dark. She wore an outfit that should’ve been on a deadly weapons list. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite ray of sunshine.” He didn’t know where to look, and his eyes eagerly grazed up a sleek pair of legs, to a tight little skirt, up to her flimsy yellow top. Her shirt didn’t have sleeves, and he wondered if her bra straps might be peeking out—hell, maybe she wasn’t even wearing a bra. A man could hope. “You look all healed. You here for some afternoon delight?”
“What do you think?” She was a little spitfire, and man how he loved to goad her. “Come closer and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”
“You’re just in time for lunch.” He smiled wide as he held up his sandwich. “Join me. If you’re good, I’ll give you half.”
“Just come here.” Scowling, she scanned the field between her and the creek bank. “You know I’m not stepping one foot closer to you.”
He held a hand to his ear. “Can’t hear you.”
“Liar. You can hear every word I’m saying, so listen up. Guess who’s doing construction on watershed protected land? You need to stop what you’re doing.” She waved a bunch of papers in the air. “I have signatures from members of the community who agree. This isn’t just about your stupid hotel—it’s the whole ecology of the Sacramento River Basin we’re talking about. This is something we need to look into.”
We…we. He liked the sound of that.
“I can’t hear a word you’re saying,” he lied. What color bra strap would be peeking out from under that little tank top? He patted the rock beside him. “You’ve gotta come closer, darlin’.”
She scanned the distance between them, and suddenly she looked so lost and forlorn. He knew a pang of pity followed by a great stab of affection for the pain-in-the-butt city girl. He made a show of putting down his sandwich. “Best hope the bugs don’t eat this by the time I come fetch you.”
She took a step back, on the defensive. “Bring your sandwich, I don’t care. We can talk by the house.”
“Nah, it’s too pretty out here,” he said, making his way back to her. “Plus there’s door-to-door service.” He scooped her up, and she slammed her hand—hard—into his chest. He laughed, rubbing where she’d hit him. “You’re strong.”
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying you to the creek.”
“Put me down.”
He gave her a look like he might drop her if she dared him.
“No. Wait.” She had a firm grip on his shoulders now, and he could feel how she didn’t want him to carry her, but she didn’t want to fall, either. “What about the poison oak?”
“I cleaned it up.” He gave a little hoist to his arms, readjusting her. Damn, but she felt good.
“Seriously?”
“Of course.” He shook his head—what did she take him for? “I tore out every last bit.”
“Thank you,” she said reluctantly.
“I have an interest in the health and well-being of those legs of yours.” He gave her his broadest smile, cutting her off before she could protest. “Besides, I can’t have you getting a rash every time you visit me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Trust me. This is the last visit, if I can help it.”
“Promises, promises.”
She swatted him, and as she did, some girly scent wafted up to him. “Well?” she demanded.
“Well, what?” He nestled her closer, stealing a look at her shoulder. The bra strap was lacy and light pink.
“Are you going to put me down?”
“Sure thing, sugar.” He reached his goal and put her down. “Just be sure to mind the rattlesnakes.”
She grabbed his arm with a squeal, and he laughed, fighting the urge to slide his arm around her and give that tanned shoulder a nip. He’d just bet Laura tasted as good as she smelled.
She shoved him. “You’re a jerk.”
“I do my best.” He sat down, plucking his sandwich from the rock. “I’ll trade you,” he said, offering her half.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Come on. You give me a kiss, I’ll give you a bite.”
She scowled at him. “I can’t believe you’re already hacking apart the roof.”
“Though I can’t decide which I’d rather take. A kiss, or a bite…?”
“Be serious, Neanderthal.”
“Ah, I was waiting for that one. You sure you’re okay sitting with Stone Age Man here? I mean, I might chew with my mouth open or something.”
“Whatever you need to do, Jessup.”
He took a jaw-crackingly big bite of his sandwich and assessed her as he chewed. The scrutiny made her look uncomfortable, which made him chew slower. Finally he swallowed and asked, “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I told you.” She brandished those papers she’d been clutching since her arrival. “I have signatures.”
“The petition.” He’d seen it posted on the bulletin board at the grocery store. “You’re convincing people in Sierra Falls that I’m the bad guy.”
She only shrugged, letting him fill in the blanks.
“Nice,” he said, nodding. “You do realize I’ll be employing a good number of local men on this project.”