Date Monsters Shifter Agency Paranormal Boxset, page 13
“What do you mean?” she’d asked, confused, heat building up in her like the fuse to a bomb.
As if throwing caution to the winds, Matthew took a deep breath and said, “Actually, let’s be blunt. He’s a raging chauvinistic bastard that would probably refuse to work on this property if he was aware it meant allowing a woman to run a business.”
After processing the words, Alice felt that same, tight feeling she got whenever her sister jabbed at her with cruel words, or when her former boyfriend pressured her into losing her virginity. Outrage seemed too small a word to describe it. “He’s not that bad, is he?” she’d asked, simply out of morbid curiosity to hear the hit list on the man and give her outrage substance.
“Let’s see...” Matthew had raised his hand and began to tick off with his fingers for each statement. “He’s anti-abortion—thinks the man should have control over the woman’s body when it comes to a baby, even if the woman doesn’t want the child. Homophobic, religious but contradicts his own belief system. Thinks it’s wrong to educate a woman. And will also probably ask about your husband, and outright dismiss your opinions and input with a sneer.”
Yep, this sounded like the kind of person who deserved to die in a fire. “Why hire him? Why give someone like that money? I don’t want him anywhere near my ranch.”
“Because he is extremely good, and extremely cheap, and you need all the help you can get with this if we’re going to manage within your budget.”
She’d blustered more, stomach churning at the thought of such a despicable creature potentially in charge of her ranch’s future, but Matthew’s apologetic sincerity had been what reluctantly led her to concede.
She just hoped the man didn’t come into the kitchen, where she was now working on scrubbing out the pantry, because she didn’t trust herself to keep her mouth shut if he said something demeaning and idiotic.
Pausing in her rigorous scrubbing, still burning with anger, hating the fact that people like the swarthy-faced, pot-bellied woman-hater were allowed to even exist in this world, she stared at the blue chalk picture on the wooden walls. The picture showed the image of three stick figure girls (discernible by their triangle skirts and long hair lines), and her own art signature next to it. She used to hide in the pantry sometimes, as it was big and there used to be bags of grain for her to tuck behind. Great for playing hide and seek, great for hiding from her father if he came back a little too drunk.
The picture sent a little stab of loneliness in her stomach. She contemplated it for a moment, before raising her scrubbing sponge to it, stopping herself just shy of wiping the drawing away.
No. Remember that speech you gave to Matthew? About not hiding from the past? This is hiding. Alternatively, it could be scrubbing it clean. Like Regina claimed. Removing all negative memories until she started off fresh, on a clean slate. Though was deliberate memory avoidance really a clean slate?
Hell if she knew. Eventually, with a sigh, she chose to leave the blue pastel, the physical evidence of a six-year-old child hiding in the pantry with a flashlight, etching the picture onto the wall. She continued her work, scrubbing, flushing out any spiders that had dared to make their home in such a place, and sweeping out a few cockroaches from the homestead basement when she ventured down there.
Hearing voices from upstairs, she froze in her blitzing of the basement, straining to catch what the men were saying. She only caught parts of sentences, not enough to understand the topics mentioned, and she waited like a statue until the sounds died away.
Cautiously, she continued scrubbing, feeling like a prisoner in her own home. It was also strange to be down here, because her father didn’t like anyone but himself visiting the basement. It still had his dust-covered desk, a rickety old chair, an ashtray with a few stubs in it, and a blackened patch on the ceiling where some of the smoke had stained. There was a paper holder, but nothing that remained, and some old, worn-down pencils and pens in a metal cylinder. Their father spent hours down here, smoking, drinking, working.
It was hard to reconcile the image of her father back in his healthier days, sitting at this fabled desk, compared to the vision of him on his sickbed, snapping at her when she tried to help him write out a grocery list he wanted sorted, because his hand shook too much to hold the pen himself.
Tucked in her bottom drawer was that shopping list, with his shaky writing, as it was one of the last things he ever wrote. Not even an important, meaningful thing her father left behind, but she kept it anyway.
“Hey. You here?”
Alice glanced up to see Matthew coming down the stairs, appearing slightly relieved. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah. Hashed out some of the details. And it’s looking… it’s looking pretty good. I’m confident we’ll be able to get some serious deals out of it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and his yellow eyes held apology in them. “I’m sorry about keeping you out of the way in your own home, though. It’s not ideal, I know…”
“No, it’s not,” Alice said flatly, fingers tracing lines through the layer of dust on her father’s desk. “It makes me feel like a fugitive. So this better work out.”
“It will. I promise you.” He stepped close, and his eyes held hers. “You won’t regret hiring me.”
“I better not.” She smiled then, and her free hand reached to straighten his tie automatically. “But I do expect to be compensated for hiding out. Maybe… we can get some drinks together, sometime?”
Not a good idea, Alice. Business before pleasure. Don’t mix the two. Her tongue acted contrary to her thoughts with an almost stubborn insistence, however.
“Perhaps.” He glanced down as she finished straightening his tie, and his eyes roamed up the bare skin of her arm, to the tender flesh at her throat. She felt exposed, somehow. Thrilled, even. She swallowed thickly. His wolfish gaze was freighted with hunger and restraint all in one, and too quickly, too soon, her mind began exploring, wondering, anticipating…
“I wouldn’t want to impose on you in the end,” she said.
“This isn’t imposing at all. I’d be more than happy to have a drink with a vision like you.” Her heart skipped a beat at the announcement, before he added, “Though we need a rain check on it for now. I’ve got to go and sort out another fire my family have set.” He patted his pant pocket, and Alice heard the faint, angry vibrating of his phone.
“Another time, then,” she sighed, though now aware of an annoying throb between her legs. Which was probably going to get worse the more and more she interacted with this guy. She needed to find a good moment to get him alone.
She followed him to the door, where he explained a little more of Obadiah’s expectations, from planning potential new cabin rooms, getting connections for volunteers, and investing in a play park as a new shining attraction for the locals to go to on the weekends. Matthew left her with a quick kiss on the back of her knuckles, his eyes flicking up to her with a promise, and she swore she could feel the kiss there for hours afterward.
* * *
Again, Alice dreaded meeting up with both of her sisters, but it was their right to know what was happening to the ranch. Also, for all their bickering, both had agreed to meet up all the same. Boyd had asked to be excluded. He didn’t feel it was his right to be involved, but due to his love of horses, Matthew had promised to look into purchasing horses and helping Boyd to set up a mini business within the ranch involving them.
It was the best thing to do, really. Alice couldn’t change Boyd’s-beaten down personality, but she could at least throw him in somewhere where he felt comfortable and at his strongest. He deserved that much after all the shit their father, his half-brother, had flung at him.
She thought about her lonely uncle now, borne of an affair from her grandfather, whose existence barely was known until his mother died and he came into the ranch at the age of fifteen. Nobody gelled well, though he was good with his nieces and nephews when they were still young and didn’t see his softness to mean he was a doormat for anyone who wanted their way with him.
Regina entered first into the ranch, as usual. She was always punctual, and sometimes early. It always felt to Alice like her older sister had something to prove, with her constant backbiting, her determination to do everything alone, to cast aside her burdens when possible.
Yet, she always responded to Alice and Jasmin’s summons. Maybe some tiny part of her cold and hardened heart cared. Shame Alice was yet to see it on the outside. Regina hated phone calls as well. She preferred meeting people in person, and this was a thing all three sisters had ultimately adopted as their inside habit. Meet up; don’t hide behind technology. Experience their flaws in person.
“I see some changes are going on,” Regina remarked, clopping her high heels over the floor, pursing her dark red lips, her brown eyes huge due to the dark eyeshadow, mascara, and long lashes. Could be a damn model, Alice thought, jealousy wriggling in her guts.
“Yeah, you can practically see your reflection on the floor now,” Alice said, not bothering to hold out her hand for her sister to shake, or arms to hug. Regina did neither of those things. “Anyway, before I forget—I found some old drawings of yours.” Alice indicated a small cardboard box she’d left on the table, and Regina’s eyes darkened as she came over.
Will she rip them up? Alice watched as her sister picked up a yellow sheaf of paper, showing pictures of unicorns, of a surprisingly well-drawn ginger tabby, and a rather disturbing one of their father as a voodoo doll, red pins stuck in him to make him resemble a pincushion.
“Huh,” Regina said. “Should have continued with art. Bet I would have been in exhibitions now.”
“Probably,” Alice said. “Though I see you as more of an exhibitionist, myself.” Her sister’s lips twitched in a rare, almost genuine smile. “You want to keep them or burn them?”
“We’ll see. Depends on my mood. If I’ve had a little too much to drink… maybe a new year’s start by placing them on a bonfire… would be rather freeing, I think.”
“They’re yours, so you can do whatever you want with them,” Alice said, tapping the box. “I mean it.”
Jasmin pulled up a minute later, this time without Chloe, and she rapped as usual on the door, despite having a key. Alice let her in and went to sit with her sisters in the living room on one of the four armchairs on display. Their father’s chair collected dust in the corner next to the bookshelf, along with a box which used to contain his reading glasses. That box hadn’t been used for years.
“Shoot us with it,” Regina said. “Have you decided to stop your crazy and sell the farm? Or are you watching YouTube videos for how to run one?”
“I hired someone, with a little help from Jasmin and Chloe,” Alice said calmly, silently reminding herself that Regina was a product of her upbringing, and shouldn’t get punched in the face. “But I want to keep updating you both with what’s happening, since this was, once upon a time, our home. And if it works out, I do intend to share the profit with you both.”
“Hmm,” Regina said, not sounding particularly impressed, but not biting back. Jasmin threaded her fingers together, leaning intently on her knees, legs spread apart in a decidedly unfeminine way.
“And, well, maybe we should meet up a little more often.”
Jasmin flicked a cautious glance to Regina. “I’m up for meeting more… but Regina is… she's not really interested, is she?”
“‘She’ is in the room, Lesmin,” Regina said. “You don’t have to talk as if I’m some dying relative on the side.”
“Okay,” Alice said, drawing out the word, getting her older sister’s attention back on her. Seriously, she regretted every one of their meetings when they were caged together in this house, but she still kept going through it anyway. “Let me go through the details. I hired a consultant to help me budget and figure out how to improve the ranch through a trustworthy site. He’s a werewolf,” Alice added mildly, which caused Regina’s eyebrows to pop upward like caterpillars curled around a leaf.
Jasmin gave a rather knowing smile, though Regina hadn’t heard about Alice’s less than reputable use of the site.
“And… he seems to be good. I mean, when I listen to him speak, it makes sense. He says he’ll even show me how he’s doing things so I can learn as well.”
Regina idly picked at her red painted fingernails. “But…?” she prompted.
“But,” Alice said, “I don’t agree with some of his hires—the people he’s getting to turn this place from a wreck to something worth salvaging. He says… he says it’ll be worth it. But there’s one guy, get this—one guy who’s basically a homophobic, sexist pig who I have to literally hide in the basement from just so he won’t suddenly decide to help out with the ranch. Because he takes offense to women having jobs or something.”
“What the fuck?” Jasmin said, instantly outraged with her sister. “That can’t be true!”
“It is,” Alice said glumly. Regina’s expression in the meanwhile had slid from scrutiny to irritation. “I clashed with my consultant over it, and he said that I needed to trust him, and suck it up.”
“Fire him,” Regina supplied immediately. “Preferably after horse kicking that hired douchebag in the nuts. You shouldn’t have to put up with anything you don’t want.”
Jasmin was nodding along with Regina in rare agreement, which, contrary to reassuring Alice, now made her feel guilty. Now that she’d heard her sisters unified in outrage, she started doubting the veracity of her anger.
“It’s just… he really does seem like a good choice for consultant. I think he can really make things work out. And I’m getting a good deal for the nutjob. He owns a ranch chain or something and knows all about the business. I just don’t stomach the idea of paying for the services of a known misogynist.”
“Then don’t. Your house, your money, your rules. Don’t whine to us about it, do something if it upsets you so much.”
“Yeah...” Alice said this in a doubtful way, not entirely sure if she wanted to follow through with the suggestion. She didn’t want to doubt Matthew’s intentions. “But if he does help the ranch...”
Jasmin drummed her long fingers on the side of her leather armchair. “I’m all up for the irony of this man helping with the business without being aware of it. But I agree with Regina—maybe you shouldn’t hire him if it makes you feel like this.”
“Selling the ranch is always an option, too,” Regina smirked, and the brief camaraderie between them was broken. Alice fast wrapped up their meeting after that, leaving little room for Regina to make more stabs at Jasmin’s sexuality or hints about leaving the past behind, and for Alice to woman up and kick her consultant to the curb. Alice planned again to meet Regina another time, and Jasmin retreated to her assigned part of the house, staying out of sight for the rest of the day and night. Chloe never made it back, apparently staying over at her cousin’s house or something.
Fire him was her advice. No need to hide in the basement or pretend to be some meek servant, when all she wanted to do was bludgeon the man into a quivering mess with reason. And maybe a club.
It was always easy to imagine herself winning arguments with people when they weren’t around to actually talk to her.
Next day, Matthew showed up again, informing her the chauvinist man was going to check in later with his suggestions in person. But until then, if she wanted, she could come with him to a livestock auction twenty miles out. A farm had shut down, and the owner was selling off their livestock to an eager audience.
Matthew was so confident, so assured in his attitude. He smiled like a sunbeam when she looked him in the eye, and she felt carried away by his excitement, by his conviction that maybe things really could work out. That excitement soured, however, when his focus turned upon his hire.
“Everything’s in much better condition than we hoped. And there’s even an old well buried in rose bush—dried out, but we think digging a little deeper will hit the water reserves again. It’s not too expensive to make the land arable again, the ranch owner knows a great method and will even lend his sowing machines to till, fertilize, and seed the fields. That’s thousands saved. He’s happy to go out of his way to help—”
“—Unless you’re a woman,” Alice interrupted, folding her arms, cutting off Matthew’s unbridled enthusiasm as if she’d doused his fire in a bucket of cold water. “He wouldn’t nearly be so helpful then, would he?”
“No,” Matthew replied cautiously, his yellow eyes narrowed, “but we agreed that this was a necessary sacrifice, yes?”
“Who are you saying owns this ranch, actually? Because I don’t think Boyd will hold up to inspection.”
Matthew sighed, raising his eyes to the heavens. “Me.” Before Alice had time to explode in anger, he added, “He owes me one big favor. I’ve called it in. To help you. I’m not sure why, really. I shouldn’t. But maybe I liked your post. Maybe I like the idea that you want to make something good out of this place.”
The anger died in her throat, and she deflated, feeling oddly conflicted. “You called in a favor for me?”
“Yeah.” He stood there, a little awkward, his cheeks pinked, though not nearly as flushed as hers.
She opened and closed her mouth several times, wrestling with her annoyance, the knowledge of what he’d done for her hitting every cell inside. “You… you didn’t have to do that.”
“I know I didn’t. But I did anyway. It is in my contract to help you succeed. And, well… I admire that you don’t want to throw all this history in a swamp. It’s brave, I think, to accept your past, good and bad.”
Guilt crept in, mixing with the cocktail of emotions inside. The wind of fury had completely expelled itself from her lungs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“I don’t like the man, either, if I’m honest with you,” Matthew continued, placing one soft hand on her shoulder. She shivered at the touch, not expecting it at all. “But sometimes, I think it is necessary to swallow your own pride to get the results you want.”
