Page 4 of Love so Hot

"Your flippant attitude doesn't change the facts," he snaps, his fervor painting each word bright red.

"Maybe not," I retort, taking a casual step closer. "But unlike your protest signs, I deal in hard evidence. And the fact is, our pipeline is going to bring jobs to Greenwood Hollow and every town from here to Norfolk. Prosperity." I spread my hands wide as if presenting a gift. "I'm practically Santa Claus."

The reporters eat it up, scribbling furiously in their notepads. River looks like he has swallowed a bug—a big, crunchy one.

"Jobs built on environmental ruin are no cause for celebration," he hisses, the vein on his temple looking ready to audition for a role in a medical drama.

"Look," I sigh, feigning concern, "we're using the latest tech to minimize ecological impact. It's cleaner than most industries around here. Heck, we’re the good guys in this story, Riv."

"Good guys don't put profit over people," River counters, but his conviction is flickering like a candle in the wind.

"Profit? People?" I chuckle, shaking my head. "Why not both? They're not mutually exclusive, despite what your campfire kumbayas might say."

For a moment, River's stance wavers, his arguments deflating like a poorly made soufflé. I can almost hear his mental gears grinding against the inconvenient truth.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lawrence," he mutters, turning on his heel. His departure is hasty, leaving a scent of frustration in his wake.

"Always a pleasure, Riv," I call after him, my voice laced with a victory that feels as sweet as the mint juleps being served at the bar.

The journalists seem momentarily lost without their protagonist, but I leave them to figure out their next move.

I'm still riding the high of my verbal joust with River when I feel a pat on my shoulder, heavy enough to be laden with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. I turn around, my chuckle giving way to a broad grin.

"Lawrence! How's the blood pressure?" booms Billy Hargraves, his robust hand swallowing mine in what can only be described as a bear trap disguised as a handshake.

"Only slightly above normal, Billy," I reply, matching his volume. "Been trying to see you about that meeting. My calendar’s as open as an all-night diner."

"Ah, been tied up with family stuff," Billy says, his voice lowering to what I assume he thinks is a whisper but could pass for a shout in any other circumstances. "Have your people buzz my office again, will ya? We'll get something on the books."

"Sure thing, Billy." I nod, knowing full well the man's schedule is likely as clogged as the town's gutters after autumn leaves have their way.

As Billy lumbers away, probably off to schmooze or knock back another drink that costs more than most people's weekly groceries, Jason and Emily sidle up to me, ready to strategize.

"Lawrence, what happened?" Emily's voice is the auditory equivalent of silk—smooth and cool. Her eyes are sharp, missing nothing, always calculating.

"River's tail is between his legs, and Billy's singing the same old tune: 'Call me maybe,'" I quip, leaning back with the casual air of someone who has just won a minor skirmish in an ongoing war.

Emily's brow furrows. "But we've already?—"

"I know, I know," I cut her off. "Jason, make another call to Billy's office tomorrow."

Jason's eyes widen slightly. "Lawrence, we've tried at least a thousand times already. His assistant probably has our number blocked by now."

I fix him with a stern look. "Then unblock it. Hack the mainframe. Send a carrier pigeon. I don't care how, but make it happen. We need Billy on our side, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

As Jason nods reluctantly, I can't help but feel a twinge of frustration. Why is everything in this town so damn difficult? Between eco-warriors and elusive billionaires, it's like swimming through molasses. But I didn't come this far to give up now. One way or another, I'm going to make this pipeline happen. Even if I have to charm every last tree-hugger and good ol' boy in West Virginia to do it.

Emily clears her throat, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Lawrence, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but after your little tête-à-tête with River, the protesters are likely to be even more... spirited in their opposition."

I can't help but chuckle. "Oh, Emily, always the worrier. Trust me, I'm not losing sleep over a bunch of sign-waving hippies."

"But—" she starts, but I wave her off.

"Besides," I add with a smirk, "their precious number two didn't even bother to show up today. Some united front they've got going on."

I notice Emily and Jason exchange a look. What's that about?

"Actually," Emily says slowly, "it is rather odd that Willow wasn't here. She and River are usually joined at the hip."

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