He held up his hand to stop Boyd’s stupidity from pouring out of his mouth. Ethan was here because his dad had asked him to squeeze Boyd into his schedule. Boyd had ripped out coded fire sprinklers because Jack had said Ethan would overlook it. All because Boyd was supporting Jack’s reelection campaign for mayor.
Ethan’s blood felt like it was boiling in his veins. He gathered the plans and paperwork, piled it on the clipboard, and turned for the front door. “We’re done.”
Boyd certainly wasn’t the first to cut corners, ignore codes, or expect special allowances. Ethan had experienced all that and more—lies, conspiracy, bribes. As the building planner, building inspector, and the mayor’s son, the dark side of business had become part of his everyday life—enter the moblike experience.
But Ethan was sick of it.
All of it.
“Call me when the sprinklers are back in,” he said, striding away.
“Whoa, wait. It’s just three sprinklers. I’ve got dozens throughout the house.”
“Yet not one in the room most susceptible to fire.” He continued through the wide marble-floored foyer toward the ornate double-doored glass entry. “The codes are written the way they’re written for good reason.”
“Okay, okay,” Boyd said, following. “I’ll have the guy back here tomorrow morning to fix it. Just sign off on the final inspection so I can get the occupancy paperwork in the morning.”
If Ethan had a nickel for every promise a client had made him over the years, he’d be standing in his own brewpub right now. “When they’re in, I’ll swing by between clients and sign you off.”
He pulled the front door open, but Boyd put a hand against the wood and closed it.
Ethan’s temper slipped. He turned his head and met Boyd’s gaze head-on. “Let go of that door. Right. Now.”
Boyd
obeyed, and Ethan shot him a glare as he swung it open.
“Ethan, my construction note is due tomorrow.” Boyd followed him onto the porch with worry and annoyance filling his voice. “If I don’t have your final, I’ll have to extend the loan another thirty days. I’m already going to eat it on replacing the sprinklers. Extending that loan is going to run me dry.”
“Then I suggest you get your contractor on the phone, because I’m not letting you skate. I’ve gone out of my way to accommodate you on this project.” He paused at his driver’s door and turned to face the other man. “For the record, I don’t appreciate you trying to put one over on me. And I don’t appreciate you and my father conspiring behind my back to circumvent the codes.”
“We weren’t conspiring—”
Ethan climbed into the driver’s seat, tossed his things onto the passenger’s side, slammed the door, and started the engine, drowning out any more of Boyd’s lies.
Once he was on the main country road headed toward town, he rolled down his window, letting the perfect eighty-degree country air blow through the cab. With anger still gnawing at the pit of his stomach, he touched the speed dial for his secretary.
She picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Bossman.”
“Jodi, would you call and reschedule every appointment I’ve made in off-hours as a favor to my father? Just put them in during my normal day whenever it’s convenient.” Silence extended over the line so long, Ethan said, “Hello?”
“Um . . . yeah. Still here.” Concern weighted Jodi’s voice, and computer keys clicked in the background. “Have you looked at your schedule lately?”
“I look at it every day.”
“Do you look at it a week out? Two weeks out? A month out? You’re booked, Ethan. That’s why these favors your father calls in always end up on your off-hours, because you don’t have any regular hours available.”
Ethan took a deep breath and did what he should have done years ago. “I understand, but I still want it done. Be prepared for pushback, and if they get rowdy, leave me a list of names and numbers. I’ll reschedule them myself.”
“Okay,” she said, trepidation in her voice. “I guess we can start with the one you’re supposed to be at now, over your lunch hour. That would give you a few minutes to eat and get you to the rest of your appointments on time today—for a change. And if I reschedule the favor you were supposed to do this evening, you might even get off work at a decent hour.”
“That sounds heavenly.”
He disconnected with his secretary and winced. He was pretty sure he’d be feeling the negative repercussions of this decision for a long time to come, but he couldn’t deny the giddy sense of freedom pulsing through his veins. Or the way his mind filled with all kinds of ways to spend his newfound hours. Yes, most included Delaney, but since that night he’d just about fucked her up against the wall without a second thought to what that might cost him in the long run, he’d convinced himself time with Delaney was nothing but a masochistic addiction he needed to break. And she hadn’t been lighting up his phone to tell him differently. So he turned his mind to the brewpub.
As soon as he turned onto Main Street, his phone rang. He glanced at the dash to see who was calling with plans of letting it go to voice mail, but he saw his mother’s number on the display and answered. “Hey, Mom. I’m on my way to an appointment. What’s up?”
“Hi, honey. Can you believe this weather? I’m going to ask your father to barbecue tonight. Do you think you could come over? I’ll make your favorite ribs with peach cobbler for dessert.”