“Even if the demolition doesn’t start right away, you won’t incur any additional fees. We can firm up all the details then.”
By the time Delaney focused on the forms, she’d passed anger, skated through sadness, and was rounding numbness. Amazing how those old survival patterns kicked in whether you wanted them or not.
“It’s telling that you’d jump to the assumption I’m going to demolish.”
“Telling?” he asked.
“Or wishful, or denial, or whatever.” She met his gaze. “I’m going to renovate, Ethan.”
She was grateful for the detachment when he sat back in his chair as if he’d been pushed, with a mixture of disbelief and anger flashing over his face.
“You’re not going to renovate,” he told her in a flash of anger. “You’re going to throw all your hard-earned money—”
He cut himself off, pressed his lips together, and got that look of determination that sharpened all his features and turned him from simply hot to five-alarm-panty-melting.
“You can’t,” he ordered with absolute authority. “You don’t have time. We talked about this almost two weeks ago. You have to have—”
“The building plan application with all supporting documentation and the application fee,” she finished, dragging an inch-thick sheaf of paper from her bag and dropping it in front of him. “There you go.”
His mouth remained open as he stared down at the neat bundle with a check attached to the first page—a completed application.
His holy-shit expression pissed her off. Despite his past compliments on her accomplishments, he still hadn’t expected her to succeed or perform in this situation. And that both hurt and angered her.
“I can’t justify throwing away tens of thousands of dollars—really, everything I have in the world—when I have the knowledge and experience to renovate that place for a profit. I know this is going to be a problem for your family. And I know that is going to make your life uncomfortable, and I really wish there was another way I could do what I need to do without causing—”
“There might be.” He looked as surprised by his own words as she was.
“What?”
He licked his lips and sat forward, and just like that she was looking into Ethan’s eyes again. The Ethan she knew. The Ethan she craved. His eyes were warm, his expression open and real and vulnerable.
“I might know someone who’d be interested in buying your liquor license.”
“Where did that . . . ?” She shook her head, confused. “What?”
“I’m not sure how much you know about liquor licenses, but California only gives out so many, a certain number to each county based on their population. So, while yours is currently inactive, since you’ve been renewing it every year, you still own it, and you have the right to sell it to another qualified individual or company.”
Her brain stalled. Backtracked. Yes, she knew about the liquor license. Yes, she’d known about the limited supply. But after searching her mind, she realized that someone else at Pacific Coast’s Finest had dealt with procuring them for their restaurants, which was why she didn’t know anything about the ability to buy and sell them.
“I’d have to check into it some more,” he went on, “but I’m betting the license would sell for enough to cover demolition at Trace’s rate. They’re difficult to come by around here.”
Seventy-five grand? The license was worth at least seventy-five grand? Why hadn’t anyone told her this two weeks ago?
“And I’d be interested in buying your dad’s old stills out back. I could convert them into brewing kettles.” The more he talked, the more animated he became and the deeper Delaney got sucked back into those old feelings. “You could end up coming out of this in the short term with some cash in your pocket until the land sells, at which point you’ll be well in the black.”
He sat back, his face alight with the excitement. He was freaking adorable. And she was—dammit—she was crazy about him. Nothing was going to protect her from that.
Ethan laughed, his eyes shining. “You could actually see something good come of that place after all.”
That statement T-boned her thoughts.
See something good come of that place? That sounded exactly like Jack.
The warm spot inside her went cold. “Let me guess who you know offhand with a cool seventy, eighty grand in cash at their disposal to toss away on a liquor license. Specifically, the liquor license to The Bad Seed. Your uncle.”
Ethan looked as if he’d been hit with a bat. “What?”
As soon as that first puzzle piece had been placed, the rest fit together instantly. “And let me guess who suggested your uncle put up the money to buy the license. Your father.”