Page 7 of Big Dog (Lonesome Garage #2)

Chapter Seven

A fter twenty-four hours of radio silence, Violet invites me to coffee at the Halfway Café on Sunday to feel me out about what I’m doing with Bishop.

I have no answers for her beyond “I like him” and “It feels right.” Considering how she started with Bishop’s brother, there’s not too much she can say to warn me off a Dobermann.

When I tell her that I’d like her support on this, she swallows all trepidation and promises to have my back when it comes to Deacon.

I expect nothing less. She also promises to gut Bishop like a fish if he hurts me, but I’m willing to risk it.

I can distract myself from thoughts of Bishop during the day, especially when I have a shitty night’s sleep.

I need to be on my game with contractors showing up daily.

The arts and crafts cabin is starting to take shape.

I clear a space for work permits to be displayed in the new window, next to the security surveillance notices and “Coming Soon” signs.

Thankfully when the roofing crew and the plumber do arrive, they work at different locations and keep out of each other’s way.

I don’t expect a third car to pull up on Tuesday.

Curtis Cort steps out of a bronze BMW that costs more than my downpayment and saunters toward the front door, carrying a bouquet of grocery store flowers.

I am not impressed. If me, politely but definitely turning him down at the bar and grill wasn’t enough of a no, Bishop’s barbarian impression should have made it clear that I wasn’t on the market.

“Rosemary, I’m glad to find you here today.”

“I’m here every day. I work here. But why are you here if you thought I wouldn’t be?” I ask. My voice is a fraction more friendly than cool.

“I was hoping to take a look around the property.”

“Why? It’s not for sale.” I’m getting a bad feeling.

Camp Sunny-Lu had been on the market for two months before I got to town, with zero interest according to the real estate representative I used.

Then, suddenly, after I arranged a second viewing, the owners received a lowball offer from someone else.

Since it was the best place I’d found, I made a better offer and got the property in a quick sale.

There’s no reason for anybody to be checking out the place, especially before I’m open for business.

“I represent another party who was interested in this place,” Curtis says.

“Their initial offer was rejected, and you snapped it up before they could counteroffer. They are still interested and are hoping to make a deal with you. They’re good people, Rosemary.

I’ve met with them again, and they really regret not being able to reopen this place as a camp for local children.

They’re offering whatever you paid including legal fees, plus whatever you’ve invested in renovations to date, and five thousand dollars for your trouble so you can support yourself while you find a new location. ”

I can smell the bullshit from ten feet away.

His clients were desperate to refurbish a decades old campground to reopen it for its original purpose in the middle of a recession?

Curtis probably also has a listing for some nice South Dakota ocean view properties in his briefcase.

“I’m not interested in selling, Curtis. The Sunny-Lu Salon and Spa has found its permanent home.

But you’ll be welcome back as a client once we’re open. ”

“I strongly encourage you to reconsider, Rosemary.” I wasn’t surprised at how fast the nice guy demeanor melted away.

“I’ve made myself clear, Curtis. You have a good day. Don’t pick up any nails in your tires on the way out. This is an active construction site, you know.”

“I’ll pass that on.” As he drives away, I make a mental note to call Katrina to verify that there hadn’t been any hiccups with the property transfer. Curtis gives me the feeling that he’ll be reviewing the purchase agreement with a magnifying glass.

When I taught self-defence at the community center after I resigned from the navy, I stressed two rules to all my students.

The second was that running away is a smart defence move.

The first was recognizing when a situation had the potential to turn dangerous. This feels like that kind of situation.

The plumber has a bucket and is thrilled to take home a bouquet for his wife. I’m about to text Bishop to find out more about Curtis Cort but before I can call up his contact, I see his truck pulling down the lane. I wave my phone at him, then wait for him to park. “I was about to call you,” I say.

“About anything in particular?”

“Curtis Cort came by and made me an offer.” When clouds roll across Bishop’s face, I realize he’s not over the scene at the bar. “He’s got a hard-on for my property, not for me.”

“Oh, he definitely has one for you too,” Bishop mutters barely loud enough for me to hear. “What did he want?”

“To buy Camp Sunny-Lu. Not only will he cover the original price and fees, but his clients will also reimburse me for all contractor fees and kick in a cash bonus to help till I find a new place because they really, really want to reopen it as a summer camp.” I start to smile at the beginning of my explanation.

By the time I finish, it’s a full-fledged grin.

“Have you ever heard a lamer explanation?”

“No.”

He's not smiling back. I feel a pinprick of hurt on my heart. Isn’t this something that we should be able to laugh about together? “What’s wrong?”

Bishop steps forward, hooks his finger under my jaw, and tips my face up for a kiss.

“Nothing with you,” he says, and the pain fades.

“I’m having a flashback of an unwelcome guest showing up for Violet when she arrived.

I have no desire to repeat that night. Especially considering how it turned out for you the last time. ”

I wince in understanding. We got lucky. “Exactly. We weren’t expecting trouble, and we got blindsided. This time I’m telling you what’s happening so we can be on guard for it.”

Bishop flexes those big paws of his. He takes and holds a deep breath before he asks, “Do you think he got the hint this time?”

Look at him, fighting his instinct to pound Curtis into paste because he doesn’t want to overstep with the woman who he called fully competent on the weekend.

I’m so proud. I let him off the hook because I was going to ask him for help anyway.

“I thought I spoke plainly on Friday night before you carried me off. The fact he showed up again and was uncomfortably insistent makes me think that there is more to this than I understand. Any suggestions?”

“I could have a quiet word with him.”

“It doesn’t have to be quiet. He seems pretty tone-deaf.” Worryingly so. “But nothing that could result in him pressing charges.”

Bishop grins adorably at me for giving him permission to beat the shit out of someone showing interest in his woman.

I anticipate good things as a reward after our date.

This big man, instinct-driven bullshit from my new book club is a lot more endearing than I first argued against. “I’ll take care of it. Any tips?”

I know he can handle Curtis. There is no doubt in my mind. But forewarned is forearmed, so I give it serious thought. “He’s working with somebody. He’s not the buyer, or I think he would have upped the offer instead of saying he would pass my decision on when I told him that I wasn’t interested.”

I move closer. “I am, however, very interested in you. Any chance of a pre-date tonight?” I want to see what else those hands can do besides flex.

His groan is real. “I can’t. Deke finally agreed to have a beer with me, so I’d like to make sure we’re good before I rub it in that I’ll be taking his future sister-in-law home with me on Thursday night.”

“Ugh. Common sense ruins another good night of wild sex and debauchery,” I tease. I give him a shoulder bump as I steer him back to his car. I’m glad they’re working it out. It’ll make family dinners much easier.

“Wild sex and debauchery? I can shotgun a can and be home by quarter after seven,” Bishop offers.

“Too bad. We’ll just have to wait until Thursday.”