Once Upon A Half-Time 2(150)

“I’m willing to deal now.”

“As am I, Josie.” Nolan grunted, a rutting sort of sound I never wanted to hear again. “I don’t conduct business over the phone.”

I anticipated that. “Fine.”

“You will meet me for dinner.”

A flash of goose bumps prickled my neck. “I’m not hungry.”

“Get hungry, Josie. You will meet me at Jackson’s in an hour, and we’ll discuss this arrangement.” His voice lowered. “Come alone.”

“Like I would trust you around Maddox.”

“You can trust this, Josie. If I wanted Maddox dead, he’d be buried by now.”

“I’m tired of your threats, Nolan.”

“Meet me at Jackson’s or it won’t be a threat any longer.” He paused. “And Josie? Wear that pretty pink dress for me.”

Nolan hung up. I wouldn’t give the creeper the satisfaction of getting under my skin.

Or under my clothes.

The pink dress looked good on me. I’d wear it tonight and then burn the damn thing. The material clung to my curves, and I hoped Nolan would be too preoccupied with the plunging neckline to refuse the offer.

Only one thing left to do. I texted Delta, pulling the best friend card.

If Maddox asks, I’m with you tonight.

The reply came instantly. Yeah right. What will he do if he knows I’m lying? What will he do to you?

I hesitated. He’ll understand. Eventually.

Delta was the type to talk me out of any bad idea—like a hyperactive conscience who refused to let me take a step without clearing the way first. I ignored her texts and shoved my phone in my purse. Maddox would be harder to deter. I scribbled a note and stuck it to the fridge.

Under his message.

Found a lead on a job—checking it out.

I wished I could give him that time. Maybe if he hadn’t gone to jail, maybe if we both had worked and made the money to ease Granddad’s debts…maybe if the shop was rebuilt. We might have already been married, had a baby, made a good life. Too many maybes and not enough certainty.

It wasn’t worth mourning a past we never had when I still struggled to build a future worth living. I grabbed my purse and hid the dress beneath a light shawl.

And then I left to sell a piece of my soul to the devil.

Nolan met me in the corner of Jackson’s, an intimate and familiar little booth in the best restaurant in Saint Christie. The same restaurant where we met a year ago, the night of the fire.

He ordered me red wine and gestured to toast as I sat down.

“You look lovelier than I imagined.” Nolan licked a droplet of wine from his lip. “And I have quite the imagination.”

Gross.

I let the glasses clink, but I didn’t drink. I wasn’t about to split an appetizer and chat about our favorite cuts of steak. My voice lowered, too humbled for my stubborn façade. “Nolan, I am willing to negotiate on prices, but—”

“Easy, Josie.” He opened his menu. “We have all the time in the world to discuss this.”

“I’d prefer to get this done quickly.”

“These things can’t be rushed.” He hummed over the specials. “This transaction might be fairly involved if we expect to sort all the details out.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.”

He met my stare. “If you want this sale, I foresee many, many long nights ahead of us.”

This wasn’t going the way I hoped. I anticipated it, but I would only agree to numbers on a page, not bodies between the sheets.

Nolan smiled like a true gentleman. I saw through it. “I’m ordering us both the Pasta Diablo.”

“I don’t like spicy food.”

“You’ll love this.”

“I’m really not hungry.”

I stilled as his gaze traced over my bare shoulders, the neckline of my dress, the secrets beneath.

“Josie, I’d prefer it if you were amenable.”

“This is business we’re talking about.”

“Business is my pleasure.” He arched an eyebrow. “And it could easily be yours.”

“I’m only interested in selling my property.”

“And I am very, very interested in what is on that property, what comes with it, what I might do to replace what was lost.”

“What you burned,” I said.

He sipped his wine and motioned for me to do the same, but I refused. “You still believe I set fire to your shop?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To frame Maddox. To punish me for refusing you.”

“Josie, Maddox is a momentary distraction in what will become our life.”

“Our life?”

“He’s a wild oat, something which will complicate our vetting when I run for a higher office.”