Page 3 of The First Spark

I toss a glare in her direction, and she returns my greeting with one of her own. That’s the extent of our relationship, and even those moments are few and far between.

Trust me, I do my damnedest to ensure I’m never in the same space with Oriana, but now, oursharedreal estate space is my biggest headache.

My plan, long before Oriana arrived in Sparkwood, was to open a speakeasy establishment beneath the tattoo parlor. It was perfect, considering itwasa speakeasy during Prohibition. Hell, the original oak bar still stands along one wall, and there are piles of memorabilia from back in the day sitting in boxes on dust-laden shelves.

I want to recapture the glitz of the Roaring '20s, complete with a historically accurate food and drink menu. There will be music, dancing, the works. Although I may not look it, I’m a huge fan of the Gatsby era.

Bonus: it’s prime real estate, right on Main Street. That alone carries clout for any new venture, and I have the funds at the ready for the renovations. Top of the line everything.

Do it right or don’t do it at all.

Myonlyissue?

The pint-sized priss standing between me and my dream. You see, the space that both her bookstore, One More Page, and my tattoo parlor occupy used to be one unit. The owners divided the space decades ago, but only on the street-level. The basement area was to remain a shared space between the tenants.

Until now, it’s never been an issue. Black Lotus stores extra supplies and equipment down there, and from what I can tell, so does Oriana.

But I need her consent before I can commence with the renovation of the space. Without her signature, I’m going nowhere fast.

Now you see why I’d rather hike the Mojave at high noon.

I huff out another groan as I crack my knuckles in frustration, my booted feet drumming against the floor. “Fuck my life. Come on, Kiki—there must be a way around this.”

As owner of the strip mall, Kiki also owns the power to change the rules. Hell, justbendthem a bit—in my favor, of course.

Kiki shakes her head as she closes her briefcase. “Ash, you knew the stipulation when you signed the lease. I evenasked if you thought it would be an issue, and if you recall, you said it wouldnotbe a problem.”

“That was when the space next door was empty.”

Kiki fixes her dark gray gaze on me. “You’re going to have to do better than that lame excuse.”

“Can’t you make an exception for me?” I shoot her my most charming smile, the one which makes the women of Sparkwood melt.

Hey, when you’ve got it, flaunt it, right?

I’ve lost count of how many women fuss over my looks. According to them, I’m the perfect combination—a muscled bad boy with the face of an angel. Throw in a plethora of ink, a neatly trimmed beard, and my Harley Road King, and you’ve got the perfect storm.

I didn’t coin the expression, but I’ve heard it murmured plenty of times where I’m concerned. Let’s just say I don’t pine for female affection.

Not any night of the week.

Am I an arrogant bastard? Sometimes, but if the ladies are looking for the ride of their life—both on and off my hog—you’d better believe that’s what they get.

Under promise and over deliver. My personal credo.

Kiki, the woman currently sitting across the desk from me, used to be one of those women. We had a fun fling about a million years ago, before she shacked up with our chief of police, Drake Briggs.

“Please, Kiki. I’ll make it up to you. Any way you prefer.” Leaning back in the chair, I toss my booted legs on the desk, pinning her with my golden-green stare.

I’d never move in on my buddy’s old lady. She knows it and I know it, but judging by the flush climbing Kiki’scheeks, I can still press her hot buttons. For this scenario, believe me, I’m pushingallof them.

“Don’t give me that look, Ash. It only worked when we were sleeping together,” Kiki scoffs, shooting me a crooked smirk. “If I bend the rules for you, I have to do it for everyone. Although, I have an idea that might work.”

My ears perk up. Maybe Kiki will offer to speak to the Frost Witch on my behalf. After all, she claims Oriana is lovely.

To me, that’s like calling a piranha friendly, but if she’s willing to take one for the team, I’m sure as hell going to allow it.

“I’m listening.”

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