It Started with a Snap by Piper James

Chapter Seven

Ember

Belle: Ethan will be at the shop tomorrow morning at eight.

Me: What? Why him?

Belle: He volunteered. With Noah out of town and Chase getting Daniel ready for his tonsillectomy, he and Ryder were the only ones available to do the work. But Ethan insisted Ryder continue on with his plans to stay home with the baby for the next couple of weeks so I can have a break. So he’s coming alone.

Me: No. Nope. Tell him never mind. I’ll figure out a way to hire someone else.

Belle: Stop being stubborn, Em. If you could manage on your own, you already would have. Suck it up, accept the help, and try not to kill the man before it’s finished.

Me: I can’t make any promises about the murder part.

I tossed my phone onto the bed beside me and buried my face in my pillow with a groan. I knew there was a chance Ethan would be with Ryder when he came to start the repairs, and I’d reconciled myself to the fact. But Ethan coming alone? Fuck.

He was already a judgmental prick when it came to me, but now? The sorry state I’d let my building fall into was going to give him fresh ammunition to use against me.

Add irresponsible and reckless to obnoxious and slutty. Fuck me.

But what was I supposed to do? Belle was right. I couldn’t afford to pay for the overhaul this place needed, and I definitely couldn’t afford to let this shit go on unchecked. The whole termite-riddled board busting through the ceiling had been the wake-up call I needed. Someone could get hurt. Or the whole building could come crashing down. And without insurance…

Shit. When everything was said and done, I was going to have to reinstate my policy. I couldn’t go through this again.

My phone chimed again, and I picked it up to see another text message.

Belle: Your only other option is to hire someone else. I’d be more than happy to pay for the repairs, if you’d let me.

Me: Absolutely not.

Belle: Ember, I love you. We’ve been best friends for two decades. I have billions of dollars in my bank account. A few thousand dollars means nothing next to your safety and comfort.

Me: Way to rub your money in my face, bitch.

I chuckled despite the seriousness of our conversation. Belle and her brothers had always been the rich kids growing up. Her father owned Parker Industries, a multi-billion dollar conglomerate that pretty much kept the economy in Red River going. The man was pure scum, but he did know how to make money.

When their trust funds matured, they each inherited billions. Belle was seriously fucking rich with more money than she’d be able to spend in several lifetimes, and marrying Ryder, who was a millionaire in his own right, only expanded her household’s wealth.

But she never acted like she was better than anyone else. She never flaunted her money, and she never, ever rubbed it in anyone’s face. But anytime it was actually needed, like now, I always accused her of doing just that. It was kind of a running joke between us.

Belle: Shut up, slut. If you don’t like it, let Ethan do his job. Or can’t you handle him? You always brag about how no man can get the better of you. Where’s that confidence now?

Me: He’s a dick.

Belle: He is no such thing. He had one bad moment, for which he apologized. More than once.

Me: He called me slutty, Belle. Slutty. Only my friends are allowed to call me that. He’s a fucking asshole and doesn’t deserve my forgiveness.

Belle: Did you ever stop to wonder why he said that?

Me: Because he’s a pompous, patronizing douchebag?

Belle: Ethan is not a douchebag. He’s kind and generous, always offering to help others, and he does more work for the foundation than any of his brothers, including my husband. No. There’s a reason he got drunk and said those things about you. And if you opened your damn eyes, you’d see it for what it is.

Me: What’s that?

She was full of shit, but I felt a little spike in my heart rate as I wondered what she thought Ethan’s motives were for saying those things about me to his brother. But, of course, she wasn’t going to tell me.

Belle: Be up and ready at eight. Ethan is a punctual guy. Call me tomorrow after he leaves.

I sent back an affirmative response and tossed my phone back down. Rolling off the bed, I padded into my small kitchenette. I found myself keeping my footsteps as light as possible, a small trickle of fear racing through me that one wrong step would end up with my foot crashing through the termite-eaten wood below.

I poured myself a glass of wine and threw a handful of pizza rolls into the microwave. I pondered my situation as I waited for the food to heat, sipping my wine as I stared into space.

Ethan was coming here in the morning. I’d tried my best to avoid him whenever possible, and now I was going to have to endure his presence in my space for God knew how long. This was going to be catastrophic. Especially if he opened his mouth and insulted me again.

But Belle was right. The only choices I had were to let him help me or let her pay someone else to do it. I didn’t know how much all of the repairs would cost, but a few internet searches gave me a ballpark—and the number was well over ten thousand dollars. Maybe even fifteen.

I didn’t have that kind of money, and even though my best friend did, I couldn’t let her spend it on me. Money ruined friendships. Plus, I’d spend the rest of my life feeling indebted to her, which would eventually breed resentment. No. No fucking way. She was too important to risk it.

“I could become an exotic dancer,” I mumbled, shaking my head with a laugh.

There wasn’t a strip club in Red River, and the one in Oakley was a run-down dive that barely supported itself. Even if I was willing to go down that road—which I wasn’t—I’d probably only end up making a few dollars a night.

The microwave beeped, and I pulled out the paper plate of mouth-scorching pizza rolls and headed for the table. I let them cool for a few minutes, knowing I’d lose a few layers of skin from the roof of my mouth if I didn’t. My mind continued to analyze my predicament until I gave up with a sigh.

I had no other choice. And I needed to stop being such a bitter bitch and find some way to get over my issues with Ethan. Belle was right. He was being incredibly kind and generous, offering to help me get myself out of this crisis while expecting nothing in return.

Even if he was only doing it for Belle and Ryder. But the why didn’t matter. What mattered was that when he was done, I’d no longer feel like I was drowning. I’d have my feet back on solid ground, and I wouldn’t have to worry about my life literally tumbling down around me.

I was grateful for that. Grateful to Belle for insisting I accept the help. And grateful to Ethan for donating his time to do the work.

I could be nice to him. I would be nice, even if it killed me.