CHAPTER FIVE
Strong hands clamped down on my thighs and lowered me to a position sandwiched tightly between Bash’s body and the ladder. Even in my terror-riddled state, I was aware of everything I moved against, as well as the arm held tightly around my middle.
“Put your feet down,” he said, his mouth just above my right ear. “Open your eyes and breathe. It’s all about perspective. You’ll see where you are.”
My eyes fluttered open, but breathing was a challenge with him pressed against me like that. There had been whole dreams with similar—
“You okay?” he asked. “You’re all sweaty.”
And that killed it.
“I’m fine,” I said, looking down. We were halfway. I could see the ground. “You can—you can go.”
Bash let go of me and stepped down, and I pushed my disgusting sweaty, shaky self down the rest of the way.
Concrete never felt so sweet. I sank to my knees and pressed my palms to the cold surface, letting that sink in.
“Allie.”
“I’m good.”
I tucked damp tendrils of hair behind my ears, realizing my standard messy bun was now probably a hot mess.
“The hell you are,” he said. “What were you doing up there?”
“There’s a leak,” I said, standing carefully.
One eyebrow rose in question. “And you decided to take that on by yourself at eight-thirty at night?”
“It’s eight-thirty?” My head was still spinning and I reached out for the brick and mortar wall. “Crap, y’all’s driving practice.”
“Already done,” he said. “We took my truck. But when we got back and you still weren’t home, I got worried.”
A little tingle went through my belly, but I quickly wrote it off to post-anxiety nausea.
“Well, you didn’t need to,” I said, one hand on my hip. I was desperately seeking my bad-assness and it had clearly stayed up on that roof. “I’ve been a big girl for some time now.”
“I didn’t need to?” Bash laughed. He headed three rungs back up the ladder before I could process it.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning out your grates,” he said, nearly to the top.
“My—my what?” I asked, peering up from the bottom. “Bash, you don’t have to do this—whatever you’re doing.”
“I don’t suppose there was a flashlight in this scenario?” he called down.
“There was,” I said indignantly. “I wasn’t going to climb around up there in the dark. It’s probably—still up there, though.”
My voice trailed off as he disappeared over the top like those imaginary rails showed up for him.
“God help me,” I muttered under my breath, leaning back against the brick.
After tonight, there was no reason for sex dreams to continue plaguing my nights. Except for his hands gripping my thighs as I straddled him, and then pinning me to a ladder, I had probably killed any sexual fantasy between us. Nothing screams hot like dangling off a building like a sweaty defeated rag doll.
I didn’t have long to ponder that, however, as a sudden rain of something gooey and slimy began to fall on me.
“Shit!” I yelped, recoiling in horror, batting at the foul-smelling, nasty-textured crap that was oozing down my neckline. “Ew!” I pushed off the wall and attacked my neck and hair like I was being invaded by snails. “Get it off me!”
“It’s leaves, Allie.”
I stopped and looked up toward the voice I couldn’t see.
“You threw this on me?”
“I’m sweeping leaves out of the grates,” he said.
“Grates.”
“Around the drains.”
I took a couple of breaths. “Drains.”
“This is a flat roof,” he said. “So there are drains in place to divert water to the gutters.”
I pulled a section of rotted goo out of my hair.
“Uh-huh.”
“When the drains and gutters get blocked up with leaves and shit, the water has nowhere to go but sit at the joints, and it being an old building, there are probably cracks letting it into the structure.”
Great.
“When’s the last time this was cleaned?” he asked.
I shook my head at no one and stared at the ground. It was like the day was hell bent on kicking my ass.
“Well, since I’m just hearing about it,” I said, letting that speak for itself.
“Probably your dad,” he surmised.
“Yeah.”
“Over a year ago,” he added.
“Most likely,” I said. “Where did you get a broom? And how did you know what it was?”
“Because he used to send me up here to do it when I worked here,” Bash said. “And we left the broom so we wouldn’t have to drag it up and down. I figured he might still do that.”
I nodded, although he couldn’t see it.
“So you might want to move,” Bash said. “There’s more.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. “Thank you, Bash. You didn’t have to do all this.”
Ten minutes later, we were standing in front of the door, the roof de-leaved and the ladder re-hooked. I was past the mortification of my behavior and the highly sexy look I had going on. He’d seen me worse. Bash once pulled a human out of my hoo-hah while I was contorted in pain and covered in more sweat and blood than should be possible. This was nothing.
“Get someone out to do that once a month and you’ll be good,” he said. “And you probably want to get your ceiling joists checked for damage. Just in case.”
Yeah. Someone like Landon Lange. Let him climb up in the attic and check that. He could get up on the roof and sweep rotted leaves. He owned more, it was his right.
The thought gave me a screaming headache, and I covered my eyes with my hands.
“That’s not that big of a deal, Al,” he said.
That wasn’t. But something else was.
“What were you doing with Landon Lange this morning?” I asked, dropping my hands and forcing my gaze to stay on his. I needed to see his eyes.
Surprise crossed his expression. “You know him?”
“You pointed me out to him,” I said. “I saw.”
“Yeah,” Bash said. “He asked me who owned the place, and I told him.”
“What else did he say?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
Bash’s brow furrowed. “About you?” He shook his head. “What’s going on?”
Distrust flooded my body, and that very fact made my heart hurt. There was no one on this earth that I trusted more than Bash, and to question that—
“Why were you having breakfast with him?” I asked, swallowing that thought down.
Bash studied me for another couple of seconds. “He’s investing in the apiary.”
I’ve recently made a couple of lucrative investments here in Charmed…
Nausea swirled in my gut.
Lange had done his homework. Bash’s business had taken a financial hit since the great summer bee heist, when a third of his bees didn’t reorient. His honey production fell in a big way. With a contract for the new building in the Lucky Charm complex already signed and new customers in the books, the timing could not be worse. I knew Bash had been looking for investors to help out with costs, or even a partner if it got bad enough, but—how did this bottom-feeder find that out?
“I’m excited about it,” he said. “I’ve been bleeding money for months. Lange’s willing to pour that money back in for a percentage without owning anything?” Bash held out his arms. “It’s a win-win.”
“Or too good to be true,” I said.
Bash dropped his arms with a frustrated breath. “Damn it, what’s going on, Allie?”
I opened my mouth to tell him, but then shook my head slowly. Bash wasn’t plotting against me, and he evidently didn’t know what Lange was up to, so why steal his hope?
Because his hope was a slimy crook. And Bash was still my friend, even if it didn’t totally feel like it right now.
“Just watch your back,” I said, brushing leaves off my clothes. “He’s not a nice guy.”
“Watch—” he laughed. “You’re telling me to watch my back.”
“Yes,” I said, holding up my chin. “You aren’t so badass that someone can’t fool you.”
“I don’t need a nice guy, Allie,” Bash said, leaning forward. “I don’t care if he kisses babies or pets dogs. I care if he’s ruthless with money.”
I scoffed. “That, he is.”
“How do you know this guy all of a sudden?” Bash said, crossing his arms.
Why couldn’t I tell him? Why couldn’t I say the words?
Because the words were horrible, and I couldn’t stand the taste of them in my mouth. And because I hadn’t actually said them out loud yet. Voicing them somehow made it all real and solid and I wasn’t ready for either.
“How did Angel do?” I asked, in the world’s most unsubtle changes of subject. Luckily it was dark, and he wouldn’t be able to see the fear and panic living in my eyes.
“Seriously?”
“Roll with it.”
Bash ran hands over his face and sighed with irritation. “Okay, in the spirit of that, is Angel allowed to have people over when you aren’t there?”
I blinked at the flip. “No, why?”
“Because there were two Coke cans on the bar,” he said. “On either side.”
I chuckled. “That’s your proof? Coke cans?”
“Well that,” he said. “And her saying ‘Be cool, Uncle Bash. Don’t tell Mom’ when I asked her about it.”
I hung my head. “That little shit.”
“Roll with it,” he said, patting my shoulder in passing.
Cute.
“Bash,” I said, cringing as I turned slowly.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I said, gesturing upward. “For rescuing me tonight. Being there for Angel.”
Bash walked a few steps back to me, and my heart skittered in my chest when he reached out and pulled a moldy leaf from my hair. That move probably wouldn’t make the naughty dream files, but it warmed my skin anyway.
“I told you a long time ago, Al,” he said. “You and Angel are family. I’ll always be there.”