Page 14 of Hard as Stone
POPPY
“Idon’t understand.” I lean against the counter at the permits office, trying not to show my frustration since I know it won’t get me anywhere. “We submitted these forms last week for the funds we need to complete the Iron Way reconstruction. The clerk double checked them for me and said they’d be processed by now.”
Ethel, who’s probably been working at town hall since before roads existed, peers at me through glasses that magnify her eyes to owl-like proportions. “I’m sorry, dear, but there seems to be some... confusion about your paperwork. Perhaps you could resubmit?”
I bite back a groan. I’m so tired of this paperwork game the city keeps playing. They hired us to do a job and they make it almost impossible to get anything done. We can’t start the next phase of repairs until these permits clear, the materials are on order, but we can’t even pay for them if these funds don’t come through. “What kind of confusion, exactly?”
“Well...” She shuffles through papers with painful slowness. “It seems some of the required signatures are... missing.”
“Missing?” I force my voice to stay pleasant. “But I watched the mayor sign them myself. We need to start on that storm drain system before the end of the month or we won’t make the scheduleyouroffice set for us.”
Ethel shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I understand, dear. But these things take time. And with the recent... changes to our approval process, well...” She trails off, avoiding my gaze.
My eyes narrow. “What changes?”
“Oh, nothing for you to worry about.” Ethel waves a dismissive hand. “Just some new oversight procedures. To ensure everything’s up to code, you understand?”
I don’t understand. At all. But I can smell bullshit when it’s being served, even if it’s coming from a sweet old lady who probably knits sweaters for her cats.
“You’ll have to fill these out.” She pushes the exact forms I already submitted across the counter.
“That’s what I already gave you.”
“No, dear. Section fourteen is now a three-part question.”
“Can I just re-do section fourteen?”
“No, dear.” She nudges the forms closer, giving me a sweet smile.
“Fine,” I say, gritting my teeth and suddenly hating being called ‘dear’. “I’ll fill these forms out. Again. And get them signed. Also again. Is there anything else we need to do to make sure they’re processed this time?”
Ethel leans close to her computer screen and squints. “I don’t think so…” she says slowly, but I don’t think either one of us is convinced she knows a thing about what’s going on.
Two men in expensive suits exit a back office, their hushed conversation catching my attention.
“Summit wants this wrapped up by—” The speaker cuts off when he spots me, offering a thin smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Miss Bennett.” He nods my way before quickly moving on.
I give a similar nod as I clutch my papers tighter, remembering similar suits at our road sites whenever they want something done ‘quickly’. Generally when we’re working on the east—aka the wealthy—side of town. They give me the creeps.
“See you around, Ethel,” I say, backing away and leaving town hall with nothing but a headache and a fresh stack of forms to fill out. The morning sun is already baking the sidewalk, and I’m debating between coffee or something stronger when a familiar rumble has me freezing mid-step.
The man of my dirty dreams pulls up to the curb, cutting his engine. Even with his sunglasses on, I can feel the weight of his stare.
“You again? And you accused me of stalking when I literally have to drive past your clubhouse to get home,” I tease when he tilts his chin to acknowledge me.
“You’re the one standing there staring at me, sweetheart.”
“Please.” I roll my eyes. “You’re the one who keeps showing up wherever I am. A month of riding by me every time I’m working on the roads. Then you’re at the bar, then the trailer park, now here?”
His lips quirk up. “It’s a small town, sweetheart. Besides, Devil’s is a biker bar and you know it.”
“Maybe.” I bounce a shoulder, unable to help returning his smile. There’s something about him that has me always wanting more from our interactions, even when I know I should keep my distance—those one percent patches aren’t talking about the kind of milk they like to drink. “So, what brings the Road Captain to city hall? Getting permits for a bake sale? Though maybe you should have someone proofread those first.”
He chuckles, swinging off his bike. “You offering up your services?”
“Depends.” I clutch my stack of papers closer. “What’s the pay like?”
Axel raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features. “Pay?” His eyes drop to my chest, then lower before returning to my face. “We could work something out.”
