The Last Good Liar (Carolina Kisses #3) - Sylvie Stewart Page 0,16
about is leasing that property.”
Again with the furtive glances. “If the Fontaines really do live up to their reputation, she might be your only hope.”
“Why’s that?”
Bran puts a palm up, giving me an adamant shake of his head to go with it. “Nope. I’ve said more than I’m comfortable with. I like my dick too much to risk his life.”
“You’re quite the hero, aren’t you, Bran?” This conversation is going nowhere, so I pick up my bottle again and let the cold beer hit the back of my throat. I’ll have to resolve this on my own it seems.
“Don’t need to be a hero. Just need my dick.” Bran takes another healthy swig of his beer and I can’t help my laugh—despite my circumstances being no better than they were before I tore out of the Fontaines’ driveway an hour ago.
“Fair enough. I guess I’ll call the Fontaines again in the morning, and if they don’t answer, I’ll pay another visit.” Hopefully, I’ll be able to avoid the redhead with the wicked scowl this time. Bran had better be wrong about me needing Maria’s help because I suspect that woman would like nothing better than to see me go down in flames.
But it seems Bran isn’t done yet because he leans in one more time and mysteriously whispers, “You really should stop by Rayna’s restaurant and try some of her cooking tomorrow for lunch,” before delivering an overly exaggerated wink that has me wondering if the bartender slipped something into his beer.
On the way to find a motel an hour later, I decide to take a detour past the rental building just to torture myself. All but the exterior safety lights are off for the night, but the glow from the streetlights illuminates the interior enough for me to make out the space. From what I discovered in my research, it used to house a custom home interiors business, so it’s clean as a whistle and ready for Stroke’s shelving, inventory, and displays. Even the paint and flooring will transition seamlessly, and there’s a roomy storage area in the back as well as designating parking.
If I were a believer in fate, I’d say this space and I are destined to be together, but fate’s not something I deal in. I’m more a subscriber to the power of positivity and elbow grease. If I focus and work hard, I expect to achieve. Everything else can come and go and I won’t get worked up about it, but if I put my mind to something, you’d better believe I’ll do all I can to make it happen. And this store is definitely happening, even if I have to get on my knees and kiss the Fontaines’ rich snooty asses.
Time to pucker up.
“What the hell am I doing?” I mutter to myself as I roll to a stop and cut the Harley’s engine.
Ass still in the seat, I pause, half my brain telling me to pull right back out of the parking spot in front of a restaurant with a sign reading “Schnitzel With Noodles.” But the other half eventually wins as I unsnap my helmet and yank it off, not giving myself any more time for second thoughts on following Bran’s advice from last night.
Predictably, I struck out with the Fontaines again this morning, only managing to reach another employee named Rita who, if possible, was even less helpful than Maria had been yesterday. I could have sworn she stifled a laugh when I told her I’d been having trouble connecting with them.
With no more ideas, I let my bike steer its way to the address Bran had given me, and now here I am. As everyone knows, food is never a bad idea, so I figure I may as well grab a quick bite before heading back to Greensboro and Stroke. I’ll just have to wait until Justin gets back to town and hope the space is still available. Short of ripping all the rental signs off the building, what else can I do that I haven’t already done?
My stomach growls almost as loud as my bike, reminding me that I skipped breakfast—something I never do. Which means I’m quickly approaching a case of low blood sugar that’ll make me more than a little unpleasant to be around. Bran can hardly go ten minutes without mentioning his girlfriend, Rayna, so I’ve heard about her skills in the kitchen a time or ten, yet I’ve never had the pleasure of trying any