Thirty-Three and a Half Shenanigans Page 2

“I’m having to cover two locations with the same amount of income,” I said, a knot growing in the pit of my stomach. “We couldn’t afford anything fancy.”

Our new office was anything but fancy. The space had gone unused for a couple of years because it was too small to be an effective retail space, but mostly because Mr. Darby was a notoriously bad landlord. But we’d gotten it dirt-cheap, and it was tiny enough for the utilities to be affordable on our miniscule budget. It just needed a little TLC.

We’d painted the walls a soft off-white and scrubbed the dark wood floors. They were still a disaster, but the rustic desks made the old floors work, especially with the wool rug I’d found in the attic at my farmhouse. My other attic finds included a couple of stuffed chairs and an end table that we’d placed in front of the window. In the back of the room, we’d arranged a thrift-store-purchased small wooden kitchen table and four chairs, creating a designated space for client meetings. Photos of our landscaping jobs were framed on the wall. The end result was homey, and it felt comfortable.

“I wasn’t complaining,” Bruce Wayne said. “You know I don’t do fancy. I’m only pointing out that sometimes you get what you pay for. We’ll make it work.”

I sighed. “I guess we’ll have to call Mr. Darby. Again.”

“Which means the electricity will get fixed next week,” Bruce Wayne grumbled.

“Do you want me to call him?” Mason asked. “Nothing like a call from the Assistant DA to light a fire under someone’s ass.”

It would have made my life easier, but I was determined to stand on my own two feet when it came to the business. “No.”

“Yes!” Bruce Wayne countered. “Sorry, Rose, but I’m outvotin’ you on this one. He’s a lot more likely to respond to a county official capable of bringin’ charges against him for flakin’ out.”

“We don’t even know he’s goin’ to flake out,” I grumbled. “We don’t want to tick off our landlord before we even open up shop.”

“How about this,” Mason said in a good-natured tone. “Why don’t you call him now, and if he doesn’t have an electrician here by tomorrow to fix it, I’ll follow up?”

“Sounds great,” Bruce Wayne said before I could say anything.

I shot him a scowl, but he just laughed. What happened to the meek guy I’d hired? He’d become a different man since our meeting with Skeeter Malcolm three weeks ago. No, he’d become a different man since I’d offered to make him my partner.

“I do have an official reason for being here,” Mason said, lifting the leather satchel off his shoulder and moving to the table in the back. “Your business papers are ready for you to sign.”

I glanced at Bruce Wayne, and his smile fell, a serious look taking over his expression.

Mason pulled some papers out of his bag and laid them out on the table. “It’s all pretty cut and dry. You are both equal owners of the landscaping business, but Bruce Wayne’s ownership doesn’t extend to the nursery.” He glanced up at me. “As we’ve discussed, the ownership of the nursery is more complicated now.” He didn’t sound happy about that, not that I blamed him. The main complication was my ex-boyfriend Joe, who had managed to insinuate himself into a part-ownership. “But basically, there are three entities: an overseer corporation and two sub businesses—the landscaping business and the nursery. Right now, we’re dealing with just RBW Landscaping. The overseer corporation will be owned solely by Rose, but all profits will be returned to the two businesses.”

Bruce Wayne grabbed a pen off his desk and joined Mason at the table.

“Bruce Wayne.” Mason leveled his gaze with my new co-owner. “I know we’ve already discussed this, but I feel it necessary to reiterate that you have the option to have this contract reviewed by your own attorney before you sign it.”

“Mason,” Bruce Wayne said slowly, “I didn’t put nothing down on this place. I don’t have a right to any of this. It’s only because of Rose that I’m here at all.”

“You have to stop saying that, Bruce Wayne,” I protested. “We’ve been over this a half dozen times.”

“I trust you and Mason,” he continued. “The day I can’t trust either of you is the day I run off and join the militia group livin’ in the backwoods. Because if you two cook up some way to trick me, then the world is surely comin’ to an end.” He swallowed. “And anything I get from this business is way more than expected.”

Mason stepped to the side. “Okay. Then let’s sit down and have a look.” We all sat down around the table, and he went through the contract, explaining everything and telling Bruce Wayne and me where to initial and sign. When we were done, Mason turned to both of us with a grin. “Congratulations. RBW Landscaping is now official. I’ll have my secretary get the DBA paperwork sent to the state, and you should be ready for your new grand opening after the first of the year when you have your re-opening open house.”

Bruce Wayne stood and turned to me with a solemn expression and held out his hand.

I got up and looked him in the eyes. When I shook his hand, his grip was stronger than expected—another sign that this Bruce Wayne was a new man. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have as a business partner, Bruce Wayne. Here’s to a great beginning.”

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