Designed for Love (Texas Nights) (6 page)

“I know you’re disappointed, but—”

“Already tapped out your allowance for the month?”

Her shoulders twitched, and she immediately gave him one of those smile-of-the-hour expressions he’d come to recognize. “I’m good for it, I just need a little more time.”

“I don’t mean to be an asshole, but I need that money to buy supplies for this place.”

Yeah, even she couldn’t hold that fake smile for long. “I’m sorry, Mac. But I don’t have it. Give me eight weeks, and I can—”

“Eight weeks? How the hell does it take an heiress two months to ask Daddy for a few grand?”

Definitely no smile now. He half expected her to go at him like her dog had earlier. Instead, she went toe-to-toe with him, forcing him to back up or risk crushing her feet with his size fourteens. When she had him through the door, she grabbed the knob to close it between them. “I wouldn’t know. I gave back my trust fund, which means I’m no longer an heiress.”

* * *

Ashton slumped against the closed door. Now he knew. That she was broke. And stupid enough to put herself at risk by giving up the family money. Oh yeah, she’d caught the way he stared at her, his mouth open and eyes bulging. His body language had all but shouted “How could you be such an idiot? Such a flake. Such a bobblehead.”

Excellent question
,
Mac.
For some reason
,
I
didn’t fully consider what giving up kagillions of bucks would mean for my life.
More important, for others in her life. Like the man she owed over ten grand, the kind of cash that used to be shopping money.

The way Mac had looked at her, as though he didn’t know whether to feel sorry for her or take her in for a mental checkup. It was a jack-slap to her pride.

One that made it clear he didn’t believe in her any more than her parents did.

Chapter Five

By the time Bill Cravens, the general contractor Gigi had hired, showed up at the end of another rutted track down by Lily Lake, Ashton had been tramping around the shore for well over an hour. Her clipboard was filled with page after page of little sketches and notes. And if she’d absentmindedly doodled a few hearts with Mac McLaughlin’s name inside them, no one had to know. Especially not him. Not after the way he’d looked at her a few days ago when she’d blurted out the state of her anemic bank account.

She ripped off the sheet where she’d sketched
MM
+
AD
surrounded by an art deco heart, crumpled it and stuffed it in the pocket of her pantsuit. Lily Lake was her priority. If she did this right, she could pay Mac back and maybe—just maybe—he would see her as something other than a screw-up. So many people to impress, so little time. Gigi, Jessup, Mac, the whole damn town of Shelbyville.

The lake’s road access might be crappy, but with the sunlight shimmering on the water and the trees protecting the shoreline, it was stunning. The general contractor lumbered toward where Ashton stood on the shore amid reeds and lily pads. “First damn thing needs to happen out here is some road grading. Pretty sure I left my transmission back there by the oil-top road.” He stopped, pulled a yellow bandana from his pocket and swiped at his sweating face, even though the temperature was in the sixties. “And who the hell’re you?”

Ashton arranged her face into her best let’s-work-together-for-a-win-win smile and held out her hand. “I’m Ashton Davenport, Adelaide Chappell’s granddaughter.”

“Where’s Mrs. Chappell?” He shook her hand in that catch-and-release way some older men thought women still liked. “She’s the one supposed to meet me out here.”

“Plans for Lily Lake have changed a bit. I’ll be managing this project instead.”

Cravens looked Ashton up and down. All assessment, no innuendo. Well, that was a relief. “What’re you, eighteen?”

“I can assure you I’m plenty old enough to handle this project.”

“Ever run a multimillion-dollar commercial construction job before?”

“No, but—”

“Butt’s right. Does Mrs. Chappell think I’m some half-assed GC who’ll work with someone so wet behind the ears her whole head needs to be wrung out?”

Obviously, polite “let’s work together” wouldn’t work with this man. This time, Ashton’s smile showed plenty of teeth even though her legs wanted to run and hide. “If that’s the case, then I’m sure there are other general contractors who would be more than happy to have a multimillion-dollar notch in their belts. Although it was nice to meet you, Mr. Cravens, I can see this might not be the project for you.”

“Whoa, whoa there, Miss Big Britches. You trying to fire me?”

“You obviously aren’t comfortable working with someone of my experience, so I assume you’re resigning. I’m sorry you drove all the way out here just to discover this project isn’t for you.”
Please
,
please don’t call my bluff.
I’m no better at poker than I am at blackjack.
“I’m happy to walk you back to your truck and—”

“Fine,” he snapped.

Her legs stopped their yellow-bellied shaking. “Fine, what?”

“Fine, I’ll work with you,” he huffed. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I’ve got a helluva lot more experience than you do. If I say we do something a certain way, then that’s the way we’re gonna do it.”

“You can’t expect me to just accept your judgment and decisions, no questions asked.”

His sausage-sized finger looked even bigger when he jabbed it close to her nose. “You can ask questions, but I’ve been doing this for going on forty years now. If I say we do something, it’s because I know it works. You, on the other hand, know jacksh—” He broke off and glanced down at his feet.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is
shit.
”

“Look, I don’t mean disrespect. But construction, it can be a rough business. If you’re gonna get your pretty little head all offended every time you hear a bad word, this isn’t gonna work.”

“You’re the one who censored your words.” She tapped her clipboard. “Now, why don’t we get down to business?”

“Follow me.” He took off walking, striding through the thick underbrush along the shore. “We’ll start with about fifty lakeside lots. If we keep them to under a half acre each, we can make the most of the lakefront available and—”

“No.” Ashton drew even with him.

“What did you say?”

“I said no.” She riffled through her notes. “I want to start by building something that can be used by the community as a whole. An outdoor facility for events and one other community-wide amenity. I’m thinking an over-water deck that could be used for fishing or small gatherings.”

“That doesn’t make sense. You need to sell off the lots so you have money to fund those fancy extras women always want.”

Ashton pulled a bundle of papers from her bag. “In my research, I’ve found that half the developments never make good on their promises for all those extras that attract homebuyers in the first place. Lots of developers make big promises about playgrounds, clubhouses, picnic pavilions. But not all of them deliver.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t make financial sense.”

“Even when home sites are sold because of the amenities the buyers believe will be coming in the future? That’s just wrong. I want to go at this a different way. If we build a few of those amenities first, that will be our good-faith promise to homeowners about what they can expect from the Community at Lily Lake. Additionally, these amenities won’t be gated. They’ll be open for use by anyone in the surrounding community.”

“That bullshit won’t fly.” Cravens’s face took on a red hue bordering on purple. “Folks don’t plunk down this kinda money so that every Tom, Dick and Harry can come tromping around on their
amenities.
A development of this scope? Land this valuable? People want it all to themselves, and they’re willing to pay damn well to get it.”

“So what about Shelbyville, the people who live in town?”

“They’ll get their economic benefit—weekenders shopping at the local stores and the like.”

Even if they descended on the Piggly Wiggly in droves, the manager wouldn’t forgive Ashton anytime soon. “You mean until they begin demanding gourmet grocery stores and high-end specialty shops.”

Cravens lifted a bushy eyebrow at Ashton’s designer pantsuit. “I’d think that’d be right up your alley.”

Might’ve been at one time. Seeing as she couldn’t afford the Piggly Wiggly even if she were allowed inside, she had no business shopping for
foie gras
or champagne or anything else she used to take for granted. “Look, this area has been hard hit by the economic downturn the past few years. They’re doing everything they can to pull themselves out of it. But a development like this? It could not only bring in new business from the weekenders, but it could also change the quality of lives around here. The last thing I want to do is foster an us-versus-them attitude between the townspeople and those who purchase lake property. That will only bring resentment. What I want is a development that the permanent residents embrace, that they feel a connection with. The way to do that is to consider them from the start, rather than as an afterthought.”

“You know, that’s a real nice gesture, but what those people want won’t matter a hill of beans when you go dead broke because you don’t have any money coming in.”

She understood what he was saying, but she’d also seen the amount of the financial draws Gigi had outlined for the project. If Ashton was careful, she could build an event pavilion and an over-water deck before she was forced to begin selling lots. “Oh, and the lakeside lots? I don’t want houses crammed together. So we’ll need to change the plat to show each home site at somewhere between one and three acres. But lot prices will only increase marginally.”

“The hell you say.” Cravens’s face had lost all tint of red and now matched the eggplant color of her suit. “You do that and you’ve effectively screwed the pooch on all your profit.”

She wasn’t as concerned with profit as she was with the well-being of Shelbyville and the surrounding county. If people loved the Lily Lake concept, felt they had a stake in it, they would not only get behind the construction, but would accept Ashton herself.

And that had become the most important thing to her. All her life, she’d been surrounded by people who were supposedly on her same social plane. People who accepted her because of the Davenport name, the River Oaks mansion, the assload of money in her bank account. Now she’d left everything but her last name behind and she wanted to be wanted, respected for herself and what she accomplished on her own.

The people around here wouldn’t let her near their insiders’ club if she didn’t do something for them. Put them ahead of a bunch of weekenders from Houston.

“I’ve worked out the numbers.” She flipped to another page on her clipboard. “No, the project won’t make money hand-over-fist at the beginning, but this way, we buy goodwill and long-term support. We give a little now and it will benefit everyone in the end.”

“That’s assuming the whole damn thing doesn’t tank within a year.”

“A chance I’m willing to take.”

“Well, have you thought about the people—including my company—you’ll be hiring to work on this project? What happens when you can’t pay your subcontractors? Your material bills? Believe me, that can ruin you in this business. You do that, and no one in Texas will touch you with a ten-foot pole. You’d have to bring people from out of state, and by that time, you won’t have two nickels to jangle together in your pocket.”

“My grandmother led me to believe you were a reasonable man.”

“Reasonable?” Yes, the color of his skin was decidedly unhealthy. “I’ll have you know that—” Cravens broke off, reached for the nearest tree branch. It snapped off in his hand, and the purplish color drained from his face.

Ashton reached out, touched his arm. “Mr. Cravens, are you all right? Maybe we should—”

Just that quickly, the light clicked off in his eyes, and the big man crumpled to the ground.

Ashton flung her clipboard aside and dropped to her knees beside him. She tapped his cheek, but his entire face was slack. His mouth hung open and his eyes were half-rolled back in his head.
Oh
,
God.
Oh
,
God.
She fumbled in her pocket for her phone, remembered she’d left it in her car so she and Cravens wouldn’t be disturbed during their meeting. Should she leave him to get her phone or stay here and try to revive him?

Pressure built in her chest, expanded until it burst from her throat as a scream. “Help! I need help!”

When Cravens didn’t flinch at the sharp, high sound, that told Ashton all she needed to know about getting to her phone. The man wasn’t conscious, and she sure had no experience with first aid. She scrambled up and crashed through the low branches until she hit the dirt track where she’d parked her car. Her keys heavy and awkward in her hand, she finally punched the unlock button and dug into her console for her phone. She was backing out of the driver’s side door when someone behind her said, “What the hell is going on?”

Ashton cracked her head against the car’s roof, but kept moving and turned to see Mac blocking her way.

“What was all that caterwauling about?” he demanded.

Her relief was so huge, she didn’t even question why Mac was wandering around on her grandmother’s property. “I need help. Mr. Cravens...he’s...hurry!” She elbowed her way back through the brush, uncaring at how the branches ripped at her jacket or whether or not Mac was getting whapped by them in her wake.

“Who’s Mr. Cravens?”

“He is—” was? “—the contractor for the Lily Lake project.”

“The what?”

“Later, dammit.” When they made it back to Cravens, he was the color of skim milk diluted with water. And even worse, his chest wasn’t moving. “Oh God, Mac.”

“What did you do to him?” His words were low, not particularly accusing, but Ashton swung around to attack. “Whoa, whoa.” Mac put his hands up and backed away a step. “I’m calling 911.”

Ashton went to her knees again and pressed her fingers to the man’s throat. Was that thump from his neck or her own pulse? With Mac’s words indistinct behind her, she threw a leg over Cravens’s midsection and pressed on his chest like the doctors did on every ER show she’d ever seen.

“You’re not doing it hard enough.” Mac nudged her aside and took over. But Cravens was like a rag doll under his hands.

Hot tears flooded Ashton’s eyes, but she swiped them away before they could fall. She didn’t know this man, but no one deserved to collapse in the middle of nowhere, especially with his only possibility at survival an incompetent woman like her. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

* * *

The Crockett County emergency services were on the ball, Mac would give them that. Couldn’t have been more than ten minutes after his call that they barreled through the trees, somehow shoving a backboard between them. Like a perfectly orchestrated football play, the paramedics had the man’s neck stabilized and him hefted onto the board. The female paramedic couldn’t have weighed more than a buck and a quarter soaking wet.

“Hey,” Mac said, “I can help carry him.”

The paramedic smiled but shook her head. “We’ve got it.”

Ashton shoved around Mac to follow the paramedics to the ambulance. “I’m riding with him.”

“Are you related to...?”

“His name is Bill Cravens.” How she jogged to keep up with them in that tight-skirted suit and those shoes, Mac couldn’t figure. “No, but I
will
ride with him.”

“You can follow behind the ambulance.”

“But—”

Mac grabbed Ashton’s arm, drew her back. “We’ll take your car.”

Her eyes, so blue and suspiciously bright, widened. “I have to go.”

Determination wrapped with compassion. Was she a blonde bit of self-involved fluff or wasn’t she?

They made it to the car, but Ashton just stood staring at the convertible as though she’d never seen it before, so Mac grabbed the keys and escorted her to the passenger side. “Why don’t I drive?”