Her Unexpected Detour Read Free Page A

they’d harbored evaporated after that first brutal bidding war for Prairie Farms. Her team had come out on top then, and countless times since.
    “If that’s the case, then maybe it was someone who sits nearby and saw you leave.” Tommy’s features darkened. “Someone who had something to gain by you being fired. Or you getting sidelined at the very least.”
    “You’re probably right. But who?”
    Someone on another team. A coworker who had everything to gain by pulling a stunt like this, and absolutely nothing to lose—one of the perks of being the owner’s stepson. Kayla’s narrowed gaze met Tommy’s as they spoke the now obvious answer in unison.
    “ Joe Freimann .”
    “If I ever get my hands on that bastard…” Tommy’s hands balled into fists. “And after all the times you’ve bailed out his sorry ass for missed deadlines and crappy work.”
    “Yeah. Really paid off, didn’t it?”
    Kayla had complained about Joe to her brother before. What she’d left out of those conversations, though, were all the times she’d also deflected Joe’s romantic advances. Over, and over, and over. Maybe if she’d just caved in and gone on a date with the slimeball none of this would ever have happened?
    Doubtful. Joe had a heart of stone and didn’t care who he stepped on so long as he came out on top. He alone had transformed their office culture from a group of highly enthusiastic go-getters into a herd of downtrodden Eeyores. And all while her boss sat back and looked the other way.
    This time, though, Joe had made a serious mistake: he’d singled out the only employee his stepdad couldn’t feasibly fire. And if Joe thought she’d go down without a fight, well, he had another thing coming.

    T homas Granville set two cans of exterior, oil-based paint down on the counter with a grunt. “I hear there’s a nasty storm moving in.”
    Brent cast a glance out the front window of Granville Supplies. “Yeah, well, I hope the weatherman’s wrong. I hate freezing rain.” He turned back and smirked at the aging widower. “Too bad you’ve got such a long hike home.”
    Tom waved him off with a snort. Not many people knew the brick, two-story shop tucked neatly away in the historic part of town doubled as his abode. Brent could still remember trips upstairs with his late grandfather. He and Miles would drink lemonade and play checkers while the older men exchanged war stories.
    It felt like a lifetime ago.
    “You sure these are what you want, Brent?” Tom said, gesturing toward the paint.
    “Yeah, I’m sure.”
    The Checkerberry’s monster porch was in dire need of a paint job. Miles had done his damnedest to talk Brent out of buying the high-end stuff, but he’d stood his ground. He knew from experience that the rumors about cheaper paints only lasting half as long as the expensive brands were all too true. Since he hated painting, the less often he had to repaint anything the better.
    With a shrug, Tom turned and pulled two more cans of base color off a nearby shelf. “How’s your grandmother?”
    “Fine. She’s fine.”
    “Glad to hear. And glad to see she’s set to open the Checkerberry again in a few weeks. Was worried this weak economy might force her to close permanently.”
    “Oh, the inn’s not out of the woods yet. She had half the customers we usually do last season, Tom. Half. Enough to stay in the black, but not by much. This year’s gotta be better, or…” Brent shook his head. “It’d kill her to lose that place.”
    He felt a stab of guilt as Tom pried the lid off the first can. Maybe Brent should have gone with the cheaper paint. What if the inn didn’t do better this summer? Or the next? This was her savings he was spending here.
    Maybe Miles was right. Maybe she really should think about selling the inn. Get out of the bed-and-breakfast industry altogether, so she could move into one of those little retirement communities.
    He couldn’t help but smirk at that thought. Ruby