The Firefighter's Appeal. Elizabeth Otto
another company’s bid, and then it didn’t matter what she did. Some contracts just couldn’t be won, as was the case more than ever lately with so much competition between companies to secure jobs.
“Doug...” Her voice was tight, thanks to the lump in her throat. The men who worked for them all had families, obligations. They’d never had to lay anyone off before, and Lily had no intention of doing so now.
“Bolstom backed out. Postponed the project for three years in hopes the economy rebounds more.” Doug’s eyes narrowed, making the effect of his words that much stronger.
Lily let out a slow breath. Grant Bolstom was a land developer who had worked closely with Ashden Construction for almost ten years. He’d brought them in to build town houses in new development areas both here and in Nashville, where they each had secondary offices. They’d had a multimillion-dollar, four-year contract in the works—work that would have carried Ashden Construction for years.
“Jesus, Doug. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Doug uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips. “It was my deal, my business. Look, Brad Mateo is expecting you. Take good care of him. Give him what he wants.”
Lily crossed the office as her dad rattled off a list of things he wanted her to do. She stopped by the peaked windows that overlooked the Greenway golf course. When they’d scouted buildings to convert into an office, the windows of this old brick house had sold it. The foundation needed work and the masonry cried out for some TLC, but it was nothing her father couldn’t handle when he finally got some time to tackle it. Carpenters’ houses were always falling down, or something like that.
“Okay,” Lily interjected at what she hoped was the right time. In twenty-seven years, she’d gotten good at blocking him out without him realizing it.
The heavy silence made Lily realize her father had stopped talking. She turned to him, shocked to see an almost sweet expression of...what was that? Affection? Whatever it was, it seemed foreign on his stone-cut face and it disappeared like frosty breath in the sun.
“You secure this contract for me, Lil, and then get yourself to Nashville. It’s time you took a break.”
Her spine tingled. She wanted to run her brother’s architectural-salvage showroom. The designer inside her craved it. All those rescued vintage and antique building materials and decorative fixtures just waiting to find new homes called to her.
Since Katja’s death, every time the subject of her leaving to work with Lincoln had come up, Doug had pointed out all the reasons she shouldn’t go. That plus guilt kept her firmly grounded in Kansas. She couldn’t leave Doug alone. With Katja gone now, he’d have no one. No family around him. They might not get along that well, but Lily was all he had.
“You’re serious?” Her chest tightened. Doug acted as though he didn’t care one way or the other, but the string of excuses he repeatedly blathered on about lent some suspicion that he cared a little. Even if he didn’t show it.
“Secure the contract and you’ll have my blessing.” He knew that was what she wanted—needed. His approval, his love, his support and acceptance. All things he rarely gave. “I need you to do this for us, Lily.”
He raked one big hand through his close-cropped silver hair and eyed her steadily. Lily’s heartbeat seemed to pause, hovering like a leaf on a strong breeze. Then it started again as the leaf began to float down, down...down. He always needed her when it benefited him. This time, it was more than just them. Their employees’ security was on the line.
Katja’s image came to mind—expressive chocolate-brown eyes, full lips curved into an enigmatic smile. He’d loved Katja all the time, just because. But he loved Lily when he needed something.
She was a grown woman, for crying out loud. She shouldn’t need her father’s affection, but she did. The desire for his acceptance had grown even stronger since Katja’s death. She needed some sign, some reason to believe that their father-daughter bond was still important.
Her palms grew damp, her fingers chilly, as panic took root. Lily drew in a breath, shook back her hair and grappled with the tremors rocking her. It would pass. It always did. She tried to focus on the possibility of finally going to Nashville—it offered the change she desperately wanted after all—and she felt the panic start to recede. No sense in relaxing too much just yet, though. Dealing with the Throwing Aces was a huge obstacle she had to manage before she could start packing her bags.
“Text me when you’re done at the bar. I don’t care how late it is, in case you decide to hang out or whatever.” Doug gathered up her case containing a company laptop and held it out to her without meeting her eye. She took it, some of the steel she relied on so much back in her veins. Returning to her office, Lily set the laptop down and sat at her desk to try to focus on work.
She’d already done whatever and his name was Garrett. Never. Again. Too bad he owned the bar, too, because he’d probably be around at some point during the planning phase. That was okay. She’d play nice and do what was required to seal the deal. Beyond that, Garrett would mean nothing to her. Because Garrett wasn’t just a hot man. He was like the best possible vintage in a wineglass rimmed in poison.
* * *
GARRETT TRIED TO stop bouncing his left leg as he sat and waited, but it didn’t last long. He hated that habit, but he could never get it to stop. As a kid, he was always moving, even in his sleep. He’d frequently ended up on the floor in a mess of blankets from rolling around too much. Now he recognized the leg movement as an outlet for a different kind of energy—the restless kind. The Frasier Realty building was quiet with just the barest of sounds coming from the back room. He was grateful for the quiet. It made a soothing background for the chaos in his mind.
He’d been extra restless since his uncle Brad had gone into the hospital last week with a fever and flu-like symptoms. Since Brad was in remission from bone cancer, any sign of illness had the potential to go south in a hurry.
Seeing him back in a hospital bed gave Garrett a hefty dose of anxiety. Last year they’d almost lost him to the cancer, but Brad had managed to pull through. He’d come out a much weaker man, though he tried to pretend otherwise. After being in remission just a couple of months, Brad had returned to work at the bar a few hours at a time. He’d been adamant that Garrett get a crew together to get started on their plans to expand. It was something they’d been talking about for a long time, but with Brad’s questionable health, it had become more of a priority.
When Garrett had visited the hospital that morning, Brad had grabbed his wrist and pulled him close to the bed.
“I’m a time bomb, Garrett. Promise you’ll get started on the bar as fast as possible.” His uncle’s dull eyes were pleading.
Garrett understood. They’d decided to upgrade the bar and expand it to increase the overall value. The bar sat in a prime location and made a profit every year. Selling it wouldn’t be a problem, and with the upgrades, the increased price they could get would pay out Garrett’s initial investment and sustain Brad’s family for a long time. They thought of it as extra life insurance for Brad’s girls—enough to put them through college, buy them each a good car. All the things a father worried about, especially if he didn’t think he’d be around to watch them grow.
Garrett rubbed a hand over his forehead. He hated watching his uncle’s family go through this. Brad had been a pillar for Garrett when his father was killed after a roof collapsed during a structure fire. Determined to be there for Garrett’s family, Brad had hung up his own fireman’s hat and quit the department.
The firefighting gene ran strong, bonding them in a way other people couldn’t understand. Brad had been proud to see Garrett and his brothers, Cash and Sawyer, go into firefighting careers like their grandfather, father and uncle before them. Following in his father’s footsteps wasn’t a decision Garrett took lightly, especially when the pain of how his father died was always a raw and festering memory. But being a fireman was a part of who he was—a big enough piece that if it were to be taken away, he’d be pretty