He kissed back, lifting his hand to palm the side of my face. "Don't ever leave me?" he breathed against my mouth.
"I'm the one who's supposed to say that."
"Mm." His eyes opened lazily, proving he was well and truly satisfied. "Then I guess we're going to stay together forever. I do look good in a tux."
"Then you'll have to be the one to propose," I decided. "I mean, since I'm the bitch in this relationship."
"Nah, that's Luke. Violet wears the pants. We're just the eye candy." He sighed. "I was so stupid. I never should've left. I never should've let you push me away. I should've fought for you, Cy, because you are so worth it."
"I love you too, Ash," I told him, because that, more than anything else, was what he really meant.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When I left the house Monday morning to head up to the little office that served as "City Hall" in town, I noticed the blue car driving by a little too slowly. The driver was looking to the side like he was completely and totally lost. That was pretty hard to do out here in the country, so it stood out. But when he kept going, I turned onto the road heading in the opposite direction and quickly forgot about it.
At City Hall, I filled out the paperwork to get our utilities upgraded and for a general construction permit for the camp area. The woman took the paperwork, looked at me as if she smelled something foul, and then walked into the other room. I stood there, unsure what the hell I was supposed to do now, but a few seconds later, a man came back out.
"Miss Dawson?" he asked, carrying my papers.
"That's me," I assured him.
"Uh huh. Well, we're not going to be able to put in another utility box for this area. City's at the limit." He offered the papers back.
"I see. So, the general construction permit then? I'll still want that."
"Why?" he asked, sounding like he thought I was simple. "Ma'am, no offense, but if you can't power that place, there's no use in wasting money on fixing it up."
"Because according to the county laws, a general construction permit will allow me to use renewable energy, and if the city can't provide - and charge me for it - then I'll do it another way."
The man's eyes narrowed. "We don't do that out here."
"Is there a law against it?" I asked. "Because solar shingles are all the rage, I hear. I mean, with as much square footage as we have, I could probably power the house and feed back into the city at the same time. Free electricity for Cats Peak to sell on, right?" So I tore off the front page with the upgrade request and handed him back the rest.
He clearly didn't want to take the paperwork. "I'm not sure you understand..."
"I'll be hiring manual laborers from the area," I added. "And once the property's complete, we'll need laundry service, and would prefer it's local. Catering or a food service contract - also local. Then there will be the full-time employees that we'll need. You see, sir, Southwind is a job creator, but before that can happen, I need to have a general construction permit approved so we can resume our contract with the state."
"You'll need a business license before you open as well," he added, but he did take the papers.
I just smiled. "Then you have the chance to make a little money off me and still make sure this process is done properly."
He grunted, unimpressed. "This is nothing against you."
"I know Mr. Simmons has it out for me," I assured him. "And I don't blame anyone in town for being worried about that. A lot of people's lives are tied to his farm, and I have no intention of causing problems for anyone."
"You don't understand how things work out here," he admitted, his voice dropping a bit. "Ma'am, this is Paul Simmons' town. Either he owns it or he owns the people who do."
"And he's no longer the biggest fish in this pond," I assured him. "Southwind is going to make sure this town is doing just fine."
He turned, bent, and scrawled his name at the bottom of the paperwork, then passed it to the woman who'd returned to her desk. "Get that finalized, and make sure Miss Dawson has everything she needs. We'll have to approve the work before people are allowed to move in, though."
I offered him my hand. "I appreciate the help, sir."
Then I got the bill. Nine hundred and eighty-seven dollars. I just pulled out my tablet case, flipping it open to reveal the wallet inside. "Would you prefer a debit card or a check?"
"Check," she told me. "If it bounces, though, the police next door will come pick you up."
"It won't bounce," I assured her.
