Chapter Five
There were only two seats left at the conference table. One was next to Tyler. And the other was next to Russ.
Tyler watched her deliberate for half a second, but even she couldn’t justify choosing Russ over him. Which was good, because Tyler had been getting death stares the entire time they’d been sitting there, and he really didn’t want to give the dickhead any reason to be feeling smug right now.
“Sorry I’m late,” Abbi said as she slid into the seat, not even looking at Tyler. But when she saw Russ eyeing them, she must have remembered she was supposed to not hate Tyler’s guts and tried for a smile.
It didn’t come off very well. Although even frazzled and ticked off, she still looked so damn hot when she flashed those streaks of blue in her hair.
They began with introductions. Walker Reynolds and Chip Fields were the two Forest Service representatives assigned to oversee the regulations. They’d hired Tyler and would be his most recent references for whatever his next job would be, so he had to stay on their good side. They were also the ones who had to field petitions raised against the firebreak—petitions Tyler knew didn’t hold any water, since the people who objected never understood how firebreaks worked.
Walker and Chip reviewed the specs and then asked Tyler to present the plan he’d developed. He’d do a walkthrough of the land before they started construction, but based on the research he’d done and the Forest Service’s preliminary request, he had a pretty good idea of what he was doing. He was pleased to see nods from the two men and even a grunt of approval from Russ.
After all, it was only because Tyler was making this happen that Russ had his contract. In a way that Tyler didn’t want to think about too hard, he and Russ were on the same side.
“We’re well within state laws regarding wildlife preservation,” Tyler added as a reminder to Abbi that he was not the asshole here. “And we’ll be able to use some of the natural barriers as part of our construction. I can assure you that nothing will be chopped down that doesn’t have to be.”
He looked over, hoping to see more of the woman who’d taken him to the gazebo and less of the woman who’d left him there. But her expression gave him nothing to work with. Was she seriously still mad just because she was wrong on this one little thing?
Walker noted that Washington’s laws were less strict than California’s when it came to fire suppression, so Tyler would have more leeway over where the firebreak should turn along the ridge. “Our priority is protecting homes and businesses in Gold Mountain,” he said. “Use your discretion and I’m sure we’ll be all set to approve whatever you plan.”
Beside him, Tyler heard Abbi make a noise in the back of her throat. A snort? A laugh?
He was sort of curious and sort of dreading it when she opened her mouth to speak.
“It’s great that everyone’s in agreement before seeing the final proposal,” she said, nicely enough that Walker and Chip nodded, still “Abbi” enough that Tyler was immediately on edge. “But before we assume this is a done deal, I have a few questions.”
“We know about the protests you’ve received, Miss Haas,” Chip interrupted, uselessly trying to get a piece of his wilting comb-over back into place. “I’m sure you understand that we all want what’s best for the Cascades and the communities that call this town home.”
“Please,” Abbi said, dripping with sweetness that made even bored Russ sit up in confusion. “Call me Abbi. And I know many of the petitions that come your way aren’t well founded—I’ve seen plenty of them cross my desk, too.” A pause for a shared titter before she plunged on. “But first, the homes and businesses you’re concerned about protecting in Gold Mountain—are they using fire resistant building materials? Have they considered where and how they’re building? What practices are they taking in the town to limit the damage caused by potential fire outbreaks before jumping to bulldozing as the easy solution?”
Walker and Chip glanced at each other. Walker’s hand went to his mustache, Chip’s to that infernal strand of hair.
“The buildings are up to code,” Russ said defensively.
“I’m sure they are. But being up to code and being in the best position to address the current fire risk aren’t the same thing. It seems like something our Forest Service representatives might want to be certain of before they sign off on any construction.”
A slight fidget between the two representatives, and then Abbi went on. She asked how the firebreak would work with the buffer zones already in place close to town. She asked for evidence the firebreak would add something to the precautions they’d already taken. When she requested a more thorough survey of the species that would be impacted by the loss of habitat brought about by construction, Tyler’s jaw clenched. Russ sank down in his chair with an audible groan. And Walker and Chip conceded that yes, they’d be willing to see more in order avoid a lengthy public hearing that could drag the project out indefinitely.
“I’m particularly concerned about endangered species like the spotted owl,” she said. “If we find evidence of nesting anywhere near the firebreak site, there’s no way construction can go forward.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Tyler said, trying to be as freaking polite as Abbi and failing miserably, “I thought you hired me to oversee this project.”
“We just need to make sure everything is covered before we go in with that bulldozer,” Walker said, visibly starting to sweat at the mention of the word “endangered.”
Russ shot up. “Are you telling me we don’t have a deal?”
Chip motioned for him to calm down. “We’ve accepted your bid. As soon as the firebreak is formally approved, our contract with you will be signed.”
“I put good work on hold to make sure I was available,” Russ said.
“Which is why I’m sure you’ll want to make sure this process is done right.” Abbi stared him down across the table. Tyler was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of that look—at least for right now.
He’d thought he was so smooth, walking up to her at the bar and pretending to be her boyfriend. He’d imagined she’d be nothing but grateful. He hadn’t given a second thought to her life here, her job, her own messy complications.
He wished she’d told him who she was so he could have found a way to reassure her beforehand that this wasn’t going to go as badly as she’d feared.
But he knew that wouldn’t have changed anything. He couldn’t talk her out of her position.
And he couldn’t agree with her—not if he hoped to keep this job and still have options come August nineteenth. There was no way he’d get hired for a full-time gig anywhere if all his resume showed were mistakes.
Somehow in the course of his first weekend here, he’d managed to take a done deal and fuck it all up. He’d thought the Forest Service was set to move forward. Any objections that had been raised so far hadn’t been enough to slow down the project, let alone stop it altogether.
But Abbi had come to the meeting stocked with everything she had. Fire codes. State regulations. Anything she could find to make Walker and Chip pause.
What would Scotty do—besides laugh at him for choosing the exact wrong woman to pick up? Probably tell him to push harder and not shy away.
From the job, Scott would mean. Not the woman. For Scott’s priorities, work always came first.
Tyler turned away from the sparkle of Abbi’s hair. He owed it to his friend not to get off track.
…
Abbi’s legs were shaking when she left the meeting, but she walked fast enough down the hallway and toward her office that she didn’t think anyone would notice. Even if she hadn’t stopped the whole project outright, she’d at least managed to buy herself time.
She was thinking so furiously about what to do with that time that she wasn’t watching where she was going and walked right into Russ.
“Watch it,” she said, flustered, even though it was her fault.
He whirled on her and even before he said anything, she flinched.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he snarled, cigarette breath hot in her face. “Even Romeo’s not going to want to put up with you after a stunt like that.”
“Someone who wants to be with me doesn’t put up with me,” Abbi snapped. “I’m not some child.”
“Then stop acting like one. I need this contract.”
“I’m sorry, Russ.” She held up her palms, trying to be conciliatory. At least they were in public. He wouldn’t do anything in the hallway—would he? “I’m not trying to hurt your business. But I have to worry about my job, too, and my responsibilities to the land here.”
“And your boyfriend’s job?” he asked with a sneer, loading that word until it made Abbi cringe. “Cut the crap. How are you still pretending you even know the guy when it was obvious in that meeting that he just got here this weekend?”
For a second Abbi felt relief. This was her chance to let it go and admit that she and Tyler only met on Saturday night—and were never doing anything again. They could stop the lie and everything would go back to normal.
But no matter how much she wanted to put this behind her, she knew it was too late to come clean. If Russ found out he’d been played, he’d really be after her—and not just to soothe his bruised ego after being dumped. Could he take it out on her via the firebreak? His construction company? She didn’t want to find out.
“We met a couple of months ago, when he came up here to see about the job,” she said, thinking fast. “We’ve been long distance since then. And, well, now that he’s here—” She held up her palms, hoping she didn’t need to spell it out any further.
But to continue with the lie felt unbearable—especially when she’d barely been able to look at Tyler in the conference room. It wasn’t only because she was mad at him. That at least she could handle. But freshly shaven, in a Henley shirt and jeans, his eyes on every move she made, she’d wanted him even more than when he was still a stranger across the bar.
She had to stop thinking about him that way. What happened at the gazebo could never happen again. Anyway, it wasn’t like Tyler was going to put up with her anymore, as Russ had so charmingly put it.
“As far as the job, Tyler and I are able to work together and make our own choices,” she went on diplomatically. She was sure Russ was going to laugh in her face at what obvious bullshit that was.
But instead he took a step forward so she was backed against the wall.
“I don’t give a shit about you and Tyler. I’m telling you—” His palm hit the plaster by her head, hard enough to make her flinch. “Fuck this up for me, and you’ll be sorry.”