Page 53 of The Fixer

The “other one” was crafted of a length of braided leather threaded through four silver barrels the same size as the tip of her pinkie. Small knots evenly spaced in the leather kept the charms in place. Each one had lettering etched on its surface, though the writing was too small to make out.

“What do they say?”

“Each one has the name of a family member.” He pointed at the first barrel. “That’s my dad, this is my mom, and then my brothers. Kinda dumb. I made it a long time ago when I was practicing engraving.” He gave her a sheepish smile.

The man was full of surprises. “That’s not dumb at all.” In fact, it was so damn sweet she wanted to melt like an ice cream cone on Bowen Street’s sizzling sidewalk. Instead of telling him so, though, she kept that bit to herself.

His eyes ran over her chest, and an unexpected thrill coursed up her spine. He cocked an eyebrow. “A Miners Tavern T-shirt?”

The thrill went up in a puff of smoke the instant she realized his wasn’t an appreciative appraisal. What the hell was wrong with her that her mind was ziplining to nonexistent innuendos and flirtations?

“Hailey gave it to me.” Joy hadn’t brought anything suitable for the dirty work she’d been elbows-deep in, and the T-shirt had been the perfect alternative. Now she needed a suitable pair of jeans to replace the expensive capris. Later, if she ventured to Montrose for a coffeemaker, she could explore the city for an upscale boutique.

They sat at the table, where Charlie pulled out two of his original folders.

Joy peered at their contents. “Where’s the bare-bones option?”

“If we’re partnering on this project, there isn’t one. I’m not going to have Past Perfect’s reputation associated with bare bones. If you can’t come to grips with that, then partnering is off the table. But if you can, then you and I need to figure out whether we swing for the fence, and if we don’t, where that happy medium lies that we can both live with.”

Wow, bossy much?Where had the golden retriever gone? He was all business. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

He was taking charge, and for some reason she was letting him. For now. “Please go on.”

“Before we dig into the details, though, there’s one thing I’d like to know. What made you change your mind about partnering with me?

“It wasn’t a ‘what.’ It was a ‘who.’”

Charlie leaned back in the chair, and it creaked under his solid frame. “Hailey. I knew it.”

Joy shook her head. “Not Hailey. Bruno Keating.”

He sat up, his back ramrod straight. “Say what?”

“Bruno Keating paid me a visit and offered to buy my building.” She filled Charlie in on the snake’s unexpected visit.

He barked a mirthless laugh. “That son of a bitch! He did the same thing to Noah. He offered him a measly thirty cents on the dollar for the Miners Tavern, or something close to it.”

“Oh, if only I’d known I could talk him up from twenty-five to thirty, I would have held out.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

“He’s been dying to move Dell’s to Bowen Street ever since he landed in Fall River, but he doesn’t want to pay the price to do it. He pulled all kinds of crap on Noah when we were trying to remodel, questioning permits, filing complaints, being a general pain in everyone’s butt.”

“You know, for such a small town, you have more than your fair share of bad actors.”

Charlie shrugged, the motion tautening his T-shirt, molding it to hard muscle. “A few, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but on a percentage basis, it’s probably more per capita than a big city.”

“Well, at least you know who those players are in a small town.” He gave her a pointed look. “Ready to dive in?”

They pored over the estimates. Soon they were toe to toe, debating which was the best approach, him advocating for all the bells and whistles and her trying to rein in his grand plan. She didn’t necessarily disagree with his logic, which left her unsure exactly why she opposed him, other than the devil’s advocate inside her was stirred up and wanted to spar.

As they went through the proposals, he took time to educate her on construction nuances about which she had little or no clue. He was patient and persistent, she’d give him that. But with each line item, the discussion grew more heated.

Joy sat back and tossed her pen onto the table. “Too much. I want the number closer to this.” She tapped at the lower plan’s number.

“If you half-ass this thing, princess, it’s going to sit on the market longer and you’re going to end up taking less for it. Plus, a buyer will be suspicious about the work thatwasn’tdone and ask for extra during the inspection phase.” He tapped the bottom line on the other bid. “And remember, you’re in a small town, where your buyer pool is limited.”

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