Page 45 of Recklessly in Love

Unfortunately, at this point, it is what it is.

On the bright side, while we’re working, Nate drops by with a progress update. “So good news and bad news,” he hedges, arms crossed over his massive chest.

I raise a brow. “Well, out with it, muscles.”

Nate smirks. “The bad news is that my surveyor doesn’t handle town-level boundary definition. The good news is he put me in touch with someone in Seattle who’s handled multiple cases like that in the Pacific Northwest. He books up quickly, but he just had a cancellation for next week. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to meet with him, and I didn’t want to volunteer your time without checking with you first.” He hands me a small square of paper with a name and phone number scribbled on it. “I’d advise you to call him ASAP.”

“Thanks, Nate. I’ll reach out to him,” I promise, taking the slip.

He nods, then turns to go but stops short. “One more thing. I tried to talk Mia out of it, but she’s insisting on making cookies for the meetings. Like thousands of cookies. And she plans to set up a coffee and water station.”

I laugh. “That’s Mia for you. Always trying to feed everyone.”

“We’ll put some tables in the entryway,” Greg assures him. “Fuck knows I’ll need plenty of coffee and a cookie or ten by the time this is all done. Let her know I’ll pay her for it too.”

Nate huffs a laugh. “You know she won’t let you do that. At least I convinced her not to do pastries, hot chocolate, or anything else too fancy.”

“Cookies are fancy enough, in my book,” Greg returns. “Tell her thanks.”

I hold up the slip of paper Nate gave me. “And thanks for this, hot stuff.” I give him a wink as he heads back out, and he waves as he goes.

I turn to find Greg giving me a look.

My brows pinch together. “What?”

He cocks an eyebrow and approaches slowly, slinging the hammer he’s holding through his belt loop before putting his hands on my hips and drawing me close.

“Do I have something to worry about?” he murmurs, looking down at me.

My brow furrows deeper until I realize he means me calling Nate “muscles” and “hot stuff,” and I burst out laughing. “Of course not. Nate just has a habit of being shirtless around the house. The nicknames came from me teasing him about it.” I leave off how much I enjoyed the sight and Nate’s reactions to my taunting. What can I say? I love making a grown man blush.

Greg looks understandably skeptical. “Yeah, I’ve seen him without a shirt plenty of times,” he says drily.

“Oh, baby, are you jealous?” I tease, running my hands down his dusty shirt. I lean in and lightly touch my lips to his. “I hope not because he’s got nothing on my mountain man.”

Greg narrows his eyes, but a grin pulls at his lips. “Still. I think I might need to find a way to wipe that image from your mind forever,” he murmurs, teasing his lips along the shell of my ear, sending shivers down that entire side of my body.

“Mmmm, you definitely need to do that,” I groan, my hand slipping over the front of his pants before I press him away. “Tonight. Because right now, I need to call the boundary definition guy.”

I step back and pull out my cell phone, waving teasingly at Greg as I head outside to make the call. He shakes his head and laughs before heading back to podium construction.

Chuckling, I place the call. A few minutes later, I’ve scheduled an in-person meeting for the following week, which is one more item checked off the to-do list.

* * *

By Saturday morning, the great room is stuffed with chairs, an elevated podium sits at the front, and the foyer is set up with Mia’s promised refreshments. Greg and I are ready to take the stage, with Rae, Mia, and Nate on hand to help field questions. It’s go time.

And before I know it, the first session is in swing. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s the first or due to the early hour, but it’s nowhere close to full, with only about a hundred and fifty people in attendance. There are very few questions, which I’m unsure whether to be grateful for or nervous about. It’s hard to get a feel for whether they’ll support the incorporation if they don’t speak up. And just as I feared, when we ask for a show of hands on the mayor versus manager issue, only a smattering of people vote, all for mayor.

But then, as we’re about to wind down, an older woman with a short grey bob and a purple pantsuit stands up. She identifies herself as Betty McDonald, then asks, “Why are we even bothering with this? Nobody here wants to pay more taxes to make a few small business owners feel important when the town was just fine before they showed up.” She lifts her chin, and her too-familiar words have me seeing red. And I know, based on Nate throwing a hand up to hold Mia back, that I’m not the only one.

Greg shoots me a sympathetic look that still clearly tells me to stand down. He’s far more diplomatic than I would’ve been as he calmly reiterates the benefits of incorporation: improved infrastructure, essential services, increased property values, protection for local businesses, etc.

And the more Betty parrots what are obviously Jerry’s words, the more advantages Greg is able to highlight. It’s annoying that Jerry has influenced some of the other townspeople. But by the end, the rest of the attendees seem more convinced of our position, given the questions they finally start to ask. There’s more curiousness and openness than there was at the beginning of the session, that’s for damn sure. And when Betty finally retakes her seat with a “harumph,” I can feel the smugness rolling off my bestie. Me? I’m ready to rip Greg’s clothes off right here. His calm and masterful handling of the situation was hot.

“Ever thought about being a lawyer?” I murmur to him as the crowd breaks up.

He turns to face me with a smirk. “Not really.”

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