Double Wood_An MFM Billionaire Romance Page 3

  “What looks good?” Elliot says, scanning the menu.

  “You know what looks good,” I say, glancing over at the dirty blonde.

  “Holy shit,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “That’s Scarlett. I didn’t think she’d be here.”

  “Well fuck me,” I say, shaking my head and smiling, “and here I am, thinking I saw her first. You know this girl?”

  “I don’t really know her exactly,” he says, “She’s the owner. It was the family business and now she runs it. It just never occurred to me that she would actually be here, let alone tending the bar.”

  “It makes sense though,” I say, “if she’s thinking about selling, she probably needs the money. And if she needs the money, that means this place isn’t making much. So she’s saving money on staff by working the place herself.”

  “I guess that’s the tribulations of being a small business owner,” he says, rubbing the side of his face with an open palm, watching her on the other end of the bar as she moves gracefully and easily.

  “Damn buddy,” I say, “you’re almost making me feel bad for her.”

  “A girl like that? I don’t think we have anything to feel bad for.”

  “I know,” I say, “just look at her.”

  We keep watching from a respectful distance, and I feel myself getting hard as I watch her. She turns away from the bar and grabs a bottle of nice single-malt scotch from the top shelf of the mirrored case behind her, and as she reaches up, the edge of her shirt slides up her back a little, letting me have a perfect view of the luscious skin above the top of her jeans and her round, plump ass as she steps up on her tiptoes.

  “I’m seeing what you’re seeing man,” Elliot says, “now if we can just get her attention and have her come over to give us a drink.”

  “I don’t even want that drink anymore. I just want to get the fuck out of here with her.”

  Elliot rolls his eyes at me.

  “She’s at work right now. She can’t abandon her post. She’s a hard worker and a serious girl.”

  “Seriously fucking hot,” I say, adjusting myself subtly under the bar. “She can get someone else to cover her shift. And she has someone else working with her. Or are you just bitter that I’m gonna show this girl a good time tonight?”

  “Not bitter,” he says, laughing, “I think you just need to slow your roll a bit. Remember, this is the girl we are going to be in negotiations with for this place. You want to muddy the waters? Get things all complicated and shit?”

  “Nah,” I say, glancing over at my buddy, “nothing complicated about it.”

  Finally Scarlett finishes up pouring a few draughts for her customers and comes over to us, wiping her hands on her little apron.

  “Hey guys,” she says, smiling sweetly, catching both of our eyes and then looking away to grab a couple of cocktail napkins. She slides the napkins down in front of us on the bar. “What can I get for you?”

  “What’s good here?” I ask, flipping over my menu, but I already know what looks good. I already know what I want, what I need a taste of.

  “Well,” she says, “we have a few local beers on tap. One’s a light wheat, we have an IPA, a couple other ones too. What are you guys in the mood for?”

  “Listen,” Elliot says, “we have to be honest with you. We’re the investors you’re meeting tomorrow. I’m Elliot, and this is my partner, Mark. We’re from Mark-Elliot Investments. We wanted to stop by to check out the place, get a feel for it. We didn’t realize you’d be here.”

  “Oh,” she says, bemused. “I didn’t realize you guys would be here, either.”

  “The suits didn’t tip you off?” I say, flashing a smile at her. I know how damn good I look, and from the sparkle in her eye and the smile on her sexy lips, I can tell she agrees.

  “Hey, not every guy who comes in here in a suit is some fancy-pants guy from the City. We country people wear suits sometimes too. Ever heard of weddings?” she says, smirking.

  “You country people?” I say, “you mean you’ve worn a men’s suit before?”

  “Your friend here has a sense of humor,” she laughs, glancing over at Elliot.

  “That’s right,” he says, “Mark is the funny one. I’m the serious one.”

  “Serious?” she says, grabbing two glasses from behind the bar. When she turns, I swear she sticks her ass out for me to get a really fucking good look at her curves. “So you’re the one I spoke to on the phone, right?”

  “That’s right,” Elliot says, “and I have to say it is wonderful to finally meet you in person.”

  “You too,” she says, “now let me get you guys a drink on the house. This is one of my favorite beers from a local brewery just down the road. There’s hints of coriander and orange peel. It’s really good.”

  She expertly fills the two glasses and sets them down in front of us.

  I take a sip and watch Scarlett as she crosses her arms in front of her chest, and her breasts swell up a little as she moves her arms against her body.

  “You weren’t kidding,” I say, licking the cold froth off my lips. “That’s really freaking good.”

  “I don’t just support local businesses because it’s the right thing to do. I also do it because this brewery in particular happens to produce really, really good stuff. And my customers love it.”

  Elliot looks around the bar.

  “Is this what a typical night looks like for you? In terms of traffic?”

  She sighs, nodding her head.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Don’t get me wrong, the room fills up, and this is a decent crowd, but it’s not the same as it used to be. Back in the day, I remember this place just buzzing all night long.”

  “It’s been in your family for years,” Elliot says, taking a sip of his beer,” and by the way, this is really good.”

  “Thank you,” she says, “and yes, this was my parents’ place. I don’t know any young people who would choose to run a bowling alley unless if were something they just fell into.”

  “That’s not true,” I say, “look at us. We’re very interested.”

  “Sure,” she says, that dazzling smile lighting up her eyes, “but that’s different. I highly doubt you two would be back in the kitchen trying to jimmy a rusty door off a billion-year-old pizza oven, or getting into a physical altercation with an ice machine. Something tells me you two would actually understand how to make this place profitable and you’d just hire people to do all the dirty work for you.”

  “That’s why we’re here, Scarlett,” I say. “And you’re right. Hopefully, if it’s the right investment for us, we would be able to turn it around and restore it to its former glory.”

  “Well,” she sighs, “if that’s why you’re here, then I’m very interested. And who knows, maybe you might even want to hire me back.”

  “Really?” Elliot asks, putting his glass down. “Wouldn’t you like to try something else? You said you just kind of fell into this line of work.”

  “I don’t know if I could ever imagine myself doing anything else,” she says wistfully, “but that’s the tough part. At the rate I’m going, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stay afloat. I’ve had other buyers interested in the place, but I haven’t wanted to sell yet. But unfortunately, to keep the place open, I might have to let go of it. That’s kind of ironic in a sad way, isn’t it?”

  “It is, yeah,” I say. “You have to do what’s right for you, though. Sometimes it’s hard to know exactly what that is.”

  “Enough sad talk,” Scarlett says, filling a glass with beer for herself, “I propose a toast. To new opportunities.”

  “Here, here,” Elliot says as we raise our glasses.

  I watch as her lips come down on the edge of her glass slowly, and her dark, long eyelashes flutter as she looks from me to Elliot and back again.

  She seems so damn innocent and sweet, but she way she’s looking at me and the way she sweeps her tongue against the corner of her lip has me ha
rd in two seconds flat.

  This girl is incredible.

  Scarlett

  Yes,” I say into the phone in my tiny office. Puke girl from earlier is sitting in my desk chair, spinning around and humming. “Merrick. Okay.”

  “Thank you so much again,” the girl says as I hang up.

  “You’re welcome. It’s my pleasure. Now stop spinning around because you’re just gonna make yourself dizzy,” I say, grabbing the back of the chair gently to make her stay still. “Your cab should be here in about five minutes, so let’s go outside.”

  She squeezes out of the chair and stands up, and I’m a little embarrassed about the state of my office. Years of financial records and documents are spilling out of every filing cabinet, and there’s a stack of papers on my desk that’s higher than it should be - vendor contacts, payroll information that really should be locked up, receipts. I’d hire an assistant to get everything in order, but that’d be another salary so I have to be my own assistant, and I have to admit I’m not really that good at it.

  I get her outside the building and we chat for a few minutes. It turns out we did go to the same high school, although she was five years ahead of me. I wait until her cab comes and send her on her way. When I get back inside, Mark and Elliot are still sitting at my bar, talking business I’m sure, and drinking. Carlo is behind the bar doing something on his phone.

  It’s past closing time, but that doesn’t mean my work is over.

  If I’d known Mark and Elliot were going to be here tonight, I’d have made sure the place was tidier, made sure the salt and pepper shakers on the little tables in the concession area were filled up, though that costs money.

  They are not what I expected at all. I thought they’d be older, and certainly not as good looking.

  In fact, I’m not sure that these two actually qualify as simply good looking.

  They’re both downright gorgeous, though in different ways.

  Elliot is reserved and more quiet. He’s the one I spoke to on the phone initially. He’s a small-town boy from here, though I never knew him growing up. He sounded mature on the phone, and even though he is several years older than I, from the way he spoke and the amount of success he’s found, I was expecting someone decades older.

  It was only after meeting them tonight that I got down to looking into each of them individually in more depth. Turns out there’s no shortage of their pictures on the internet, and now I’m just relieved that I didn’t know how sexy they were before. If I’d known, I may have been too nervous to actually agree to meet them.

  Even though he’s quiet and reserved, there is this deep, dark intensity behind Elliot’s eyes, something that makes me so incredibly intrigued. It’s like he has a secret in there, and even if it’s nothing, that almost makes it sexier. He has this dark confidence in his eyes and he’s more hesitant to smile, like he is judging his surroundings at a million miles a minute.

  And then there’s Mark. He’s the more outgoing of the two, and he’s not afraid to say how he feels. I can tell. I haven’t met too many men quite like him. He’s a natural jokester, but there’s a gravity beneath it. He’s the kind of guy who will tell you you’ve been a bad girl on a first date and actually mean it, and be able to follow through on it.

  And would it be totally crazy to admit that there’s a little bit of both of them that I am intrigued by?

  Elliot’s more my type on the surface - the strong, silent type. But then, I secretly have always wanted a guy like Mark.

  I swallow thickly and pour myself a glass of water behind the bar as I look over at the guys. Carlo comes over to me and puts his elbows on the bar.

  “Dreamy One and Dreamy Two. Damn, you’re up to your eyeballs in men right now.”

  “What?” I say, putting my glass down. I feel my stomach flip over a little and my cheeks heat when I see Mark drumming his fingers on the bar and shooting a mischievous look over at me. “I don’t think they’re dreamy.”

  “Sure,” Carlo says, “and neither do I. No one would think those two are dreamy. No one would want to get lost in those swimming blue eyes, have two sets of strong, hard hands gliding over their body.”

  “Carlo!” I say, swatting him with a towel from the bar. “They are here on business only. And barely even that.”

  “Business?” Carlo says. “I didn’t know our tiny part of the island attracted titans of industry.”

  It’s now that I’m realizing I may have accidentally let the cat out of the bag about meeting with them.

  “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” I say, “but they’re here to meet with me. I have an appointment with them first thing tomorrow morning. They just kind of showed up here tonight. I should have told you earlier, but I didn’t want to worry you. I haven’t made any decisions yet, and I just want to hear what they have to say.”

  “It’s okay,” Carlo sighs, “no offense, but we all knew this day was coming. And really, it’d be better for you to sell than to just shut down. I hope they’re interested, for all our sake.”

  “Yeah, the absolute last thing I want is to shut down,” I say, “I want to see what my options are while there’s still hope to turn the ship around.”

  “I know you’ll make the right choice. Now,” Carlo says, “will you choose Dreamy One or Dreamy Two?”

  “Stop that,” I say, laughing.

  “Right, who says you have to choose?”

  “Okay smart guy, someone’s had too many beers for one night.”

  Carlo knocks me softly on the hip and grabs the towel from me.

  “Why don’t you get the hell out of here,” he says, starting to wipe down the bar. “Go home, and you’ll be fresh for your meeting.”

  “Really?” I say, “I could use the rest of the night off.”

  “You act like having two hours to yourself is a night off. That’s cute.”

  “Thank you, thank you. Their drinks are on the house,” I say, motioning to Mark and Elliot.

  Carlo nods and shoos me away, smiling as I thank him again.

  I go over to Mark and Elliot to say goodnight.

  “Please forgive me for cutting out early,” I say, “but you two stay until Carlo kicks you out. I have a meeting tomorrow and I have to be sharp. You two party animals can stay out all night if you want.”

  Mark puts his hand out to shake mine, and I feel a spark run straight through my body at his touch.

  “It was lovely to meet you,” he says, “and good luck with your meeting tomorrow. Don’t let anyone bend you over and screw you in your negotiations.”

  I feel my eyes widen at his joke, and my insides fill with butterflies. His voice is dark and smooth, and even though he is playing around with me, his words fill me with heat.

  “Don’t let him scare you,” Elliot says, taking a sip of his drink, “he talks to everyone like that. He thinks of it as a tactic for getting the upper hand.”

  “It was very nice to meet both of you,” I say, “and I look forward to our meeting tomorrow. If you need anything, please let Carlo know.”

  I turn to walk away from them, and when I’m a few steps away, I look back over my shoulder. I don’t know why, but I do, and when I look, they are both still watching me. They wave and I raise my hand in the air to wave back at them, and I feel myself bite my lip and smile as I turn back around.

  Carlo is right. I am in dangerous territory right now, and I have to keep the ship on course.

  I get outside, and the warm spring night envelopes me. It’s been a brutal winter, but it’s transitioned quickly to spring.

  I cross the parking lot and consider what I’m doing. Carlo didn’t seem at all upset about the prospect of my selling the alley, and he’s right - it’s obvious that we aren’t doing as well as we have in the past, or as well as we should be. I want to protect people too often, and the situation might be more out of my control than I initially wanted to admit to myself.

  I resolve to go into the meeting with Mark and Ellio
t tomorrow with open ears and an open mind. After all, I did agree to meet with them.

  I finally get to my car all the way on the other side of the parking lot, where I park every day next to the big old oak tree where my mom and dad installed a wooden swing. It was my spot, and even though it rotted and fell down years ago, you can still see where my feet dragged on the ground and where the grass never really grew back right. Even though the swing is gone, you can still see where it was from the way its surroundings changed, if just subtly.

  Getting my keys out, I look back at the bowling alley. There’s so much more we could do with it, but I feel tired and exasperated. I don’t have the energy or even the know-how to be able to turn it around. I know what I know - dealing with vendors, bookkeeping, customer service. I don’t know anything about advertising or licensing, and though I could have hired those tasks out, it just seems too late for that. It seems as though that ship has sailed, and now I don’t have enough lifeboats for everyone to escape the sinking boat we are on.

  The exterior is old and the big sign showing the name - The Gutter - is peeling and in need of a good power wash. Maybe I should just get a new sign and update the name while I’m at it. The name sounded better in the nineties and two-thousands; it was gritty and a little naughty sounding, and it brought to mind late nights of double entendres and inside jokes. Now, in the fully digital age, it just sounds old.

  Replacing the sign, though - that would cost money.

  Inside my car, I stick the key in the ignition and sigh, and the engine doesn’t turn over at first. That’s normal. It’s an old car, and after the winter we’ve had, it’s been working double duty to get me from point A to point B, and I’ve been very careful to not take it off the well-worn path. But as I keep turning the key carefully and with enough force to try to make something happen, it seems obvious something’s wrong. Whether the battery’s dead or the thing has simply outlived its normal lifespan, the fact is that it looks like I have to add “fix car” to my ever-growing list of expenses.