Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

DANI

T hings are going well—with me and Kyle, and with him and his family—so I should've known better than to let my guard down. That's when the universe likes to throw an Uno Reverse at you and ruin everything good you've got going. It's happened to me before, but I'm still surprised when I look out my kitchen window shortly before the Thursday lunch rush starts and see Kathy, Kyle, and a guy in a Polo shirt and jeans staring at the fence between my yard and Kathy's.

I'm outside, demanding to know what's going on before the screen door slams behind me.

"We're measuring and marking for the fence line," Kathy informs me. That'd seem innocuous enough except she has an evil smile on her lips and a hungry look in her eyes. "Nothing for you to be concerned about."

She waves me off, literally flicking her hand at me like I'm going to leave her to it, but I'm instantly on alert. If someone tells you not to worry about something, you should absolutely get all up in that shit. Immediately. Most likely, they, like Kathy, are trying to pull a fast one on you.

"Ma'am," Mr. Polo says, holding his hand out to me over the chain link, "Zach Rollins. I've been hired to do an official survey of Mrs. Wilson's property."

I look at his hand but don't shake it. Partially because I'm feeling suspicious of this whole thing, and partially because I'm in food service mode and not risking any contamination.

He narrows his eyes at the rebuff but isn't too put off, continuing, "I need to come on the other side of the fence to confirm the lot boundaries, if that's okay?"

"I'm not doing anything to help her." I cut my eyes to Kathy, glaring nastily. "I wouldn't piss on her if she was on fire, so I'm sure as shit not letting some guy she hired come onto my property."

Zach looks to Kyle like he's going to help, but Kyle's standing with his feet planted firmly in the dirt, his arms crossed over his chest, and his jaw set in stone. He has on sunglasses so I can't see his eyes, but I don't miss the tiny upward tick of his lip like he's fighting off a smile at my crudeness.

"Well, that's just it, I'm afraid," Zach says, leaning over the fence and staring back and forth at it from the front yard to the back fence line. "I'm not sure it is your property until I complete my survey."

"Excuse me?" I snap, stepping closer to the fence in question, and he jerks back.

"It's on my land, so it's mine." Kathy sounds like a selfish kid on the playground who's claiming it's their ball, so you have to follow their rules. "But my property actually extends several inches that way." She makes a shoving motion like she's moving the entire fence toward me.

"Like hell it does," I hiss. "This thing was here when I bought my house and when you bought yours. It's been surveyed at least twice, if not more times, and signed off by the city."

"Be that as it may," Kathy says airily, lifting a shoulder, "it might be inaccurate. And I do want to make sure the fence is done precisely so we don't have any further issues between us." Her smile is reminiscent of the cat that ate the canary.

This is another one of her ploys. It has to be.

"Mr. Rollins, are you a licensed surveyor? Experienced? Receiving any bribes from Kathy for doing her dirty work? Because we all know she wouldn't dare get her claws muddy." I'm looking for her angle. She always has one, so this time won't be any different. And I can beat her at her own game. I have before. I just need to catch up to her, quickly, which I can also do.

He recoils, looking insulted. "No, of course not! To the bribe part. To the rest, yes. I've been licensed for ten years and have done hundreds of surveys. You can look me up if you'd like." He points to his left chest where his company name is embroidered. But anybody can do that to make themselves look official, so I'm still not convinced.

"He's legit, Dani. I've worked with him on other jobs," Kyle confirms, and his vouching for this guy only pisses me off more.

"So, what now?" I demand, mostly of Kyle.

"Now I confirm my findings," Zach answers, virtually running away toward the front of our lots. I notice for the first time that he has a tripod set up on the edge of the street, and he peers at something on it. He walks back toward us, carefully sticking to the fence, but on my side this time.

As he gets closer, he stares at me with hard eyes that say he's done this before and lived to tell the tale and he fully expects to do the same today. I'm not looking to get arrested for intimidation or assault, so I don't lunge his way how I'd like to, but I also don't move one of those precious inches he supposedly thinks belong to The Bitch Next Door, so he scoots between me and the chain link with his back to Kyle and Kathy like he considers me the bigger threat. Smart man.

At the back fence line, he looks at the device in his hand that's started beeping and then back at the tripod. He licks his lips and takes a big breath like he doesn't like what he's seeing. He walks all the way back to the tripod while I try to murder Kathy with my eyeballs and she ignores me, watching Zach in eager anticipation.

Back on Kathy's side, he says, "The fence is incorrectly placed."

"No, it's not."

Zach isn't talking to me, though, so he's sure not listening to me, and he keeps going, "The submission to city hall is electronic, so it'll hit their files today. I'll mark out the fence placement guides before I leave, Kyle. If there's nothing else?" He directs that to Kathy, who shakes her head, smiling like she's won the Mrs. Bitch America pageant, all innocence and appreciation.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Rollins. I want to make sure my grandbabies have all the play area they can because every bit is so precious."

I want to vomit at her sugary-sweet, loving grandma act.

He nods, gives Kyle a look of ‘good luck, man', and walks back toward his truck, which is parked in front of Kathy's house. Of course, she doesn't have a problem with that , I think spitefully.

Sounding more like her usual snobby self, Kathy says, "The fence will be up tomorrow, right, Kyle?"

"Yes," he grits out, sounding furious.

I get that he's stuck between a rock and a bitch, but it doesn't make me any less mad. Not at him, but at this fucked up situation. I growl as I spin on my toe, heading back inside where I start slamming everything I can. Lids hit the counter, spoons clang against sides of the pots, and boxes slam to the table. None of it helps.

I know it's only a few inches, but it's the principle of it. Kathy has tried to take everything away from me, and I've had to fight her off over and over, so those few inches feel like a victory she doesn't deserve.

I watch through the window over the sink, glaring at Kathy and Kyle while they talk and cursing under my breath as Zach walks back along the fence line, spraying neon paint on the grass. On my grass.

I burst out the front door, hauling two huge bags of Styrofoam boxes in my hands for the truck in front of my house. But when I hand them to Marco, he says, "Thanks, Dani, but who's the city guy?"

I look behind me to where he's pointing to find another Polo-wearing guy in Kathy's yard. Are they multiplying or something? Is she cloning them in her garage?

Kathy's pointing at the fence and then toward my house while the new guy writes something on a clipboard. Is the clipboard supposed to make this guy look official? Newsflash, it doesn't. Anybody can slap on a high-visibility vest and grab a dollar-store clipboard, so it doesn't make you officially anything other than a pain in my ass.

"You can't be serious," Kyle barks. His gaze finds me, and I realize that the shit's hitting the fan. Again.

His sunglasses are off, so I can see the fury bright as day in his blue eyes. It doesn't dim when he looks at me, but if that anger is for me, then we've got even bigger issues than whatever's going on in Kathy's yard.

"I don't know," I tell Marco.

"Maybe the asshole's getting shut down," he suggests, his brows climbing his forehead and a smile growing beneath his mustache.

He means Kyle, not Kathy. Marco has no reason to know that I've been seeing Kyle. It's none of his business and he's backing me up from the first day when Kyle's guys screwed up my delivery system. It's appreciated, but not as warranted now.

"I'll see. Have a good day." I wave to Marco and his truckful of guys as they pull away and then march right back to my yard to see what the hell's going on now.

"You can see the new fence line markings there," Kathy is telling the Polo guy, but when I get close enough, she turns her focus to me. "This is Mr. Gardener from the city Code Enforcement office."

"You haven't pulled permits for your pool?" I question, even though I know Kyle's definitely done that. He's too good to skip an important thing like that. Plus, Code Enforcement doesn't have anything to do with permits, but it takes the wind out of Kathy's sails exactly the way I hoped it would.

"Of course I have." She stands taller, offended at the implication that she might be cutting corners. "He's not here for me. He's here for you," Kathy sneers. "Right, Mr. Gardener?"

He seems tired of Kathy's bullshit already, or maybe his job in general—which is logical since I can't imagine code enforcement is a laughs-a-minute gig—because when his eyes tick from his clipboard to me, he sighs. "There's been a complaint. Apparently, the property line adjustment means that your patio is too close to where the new fencing will be."

I look at the patio behind me, where my smoker and huge grill—the backbones of my business and primary method for cooking huge quantities of meat every day—are located. "What do you mean, ‘too close'?" I question carefully.

"Well, technically, it's not the concrete pad itself that's the issue. That has to be three feet from the fence, and you'll be close, but probably just squeak by, though we can measure once the fence is up." He glances to Kyle, who seems to be silently screaming and ready to rip someone limb from limb, though I'm not sure if it's me, Kathy, or Mr. Gardener. Kyle grunts, not giving him the agreement he seemed to be hoping for. "But because you have a cottage operation filed with the city?—"

He looks up, wanting me to confirm, but I simply arch a brow, not answering directly.

He cocks his head, assuming he's correct, and continues, "The fire code for the grill comes into play. You won't be able to have it between your house and the new fence because of both distance and fencing material."

"I won't be able to have my equipment here?" I echo, sure I must've misheard. I mean, patios are made for grills.

He shakes his head coldly. "No, and as soon as the fence is up?—"

Kathy interrupts to remind me, "Which is tomorrow!"

Mr. Gardener cuts his eyes toward her and gives a tiny, irritated shake of his head, "Once the fence is up," he repeats pointedly, "you won't be able to grill. Or smoke. Or any other heated cooking methods on the patio. Or the fire marshal will fine you."

I can see it now. If I light my grill, Kathy will be all too happy to call the fire department on me, tattling as fast as she can. Which means I'm stuck.

Except…

"It just has to be away from the fence," I clarify. "So in the back yard would be okay?"

"Fire code requires it to be on concrete for obvious fire risk."

"Looks like tomorrow's your last day of business," Kathy informs me with a victorious smirk. "Can't say I'm sorry. All those men and trucks coming up and down the street is so distasteful."

She doesn't seem to care that those ‘distasteful men and trucks' are the ones standing at her side and sitting in her yard, watching this whole thing play out like it's Saturday night at the movies. Wayne, Frogger, and Zeus just need popcorn and a Coke to complete their viewing party of the afternoon matinee, ‘ Kathy's a Kuntcake, Part XVII .'

"I'll figure something out," I spit out, not to anyone in particular, but because putting that out into the universe seems prudent.

"Dani," Kyle says, and I glare at him.

It's not his fault. Logically, I know that. But I'm too mad right now. At Kathy… at the damn pool that's never going to get used anyway… at myself… and yeah, at Kyle, too. If he hadn't been such a conscientious pool installer, he wouldn't have gotten the fence line resurveyed. He would've thrown up Kathy's new fence right where the old one stands, and none of this would've mattered.

So I just need a minute to rage and then I'll figure out what the fuck I'm going to do.

Some people think anger is a waste of time, a useless destructive force that ultimately hurts the one feeling it the most. But I've fueled many a life change on anger, stubbornness, and a dangerous amount of caffeine. And I can do it again.

I will do it again.

"This isn't over," I vow to Kathy.

Her answering smirk is as devious and sly as her scheming is, and she drags Kyle away by his arm, saying, "Kyle, let's walk through the flower bed design again."

He looks back at me over his shoulder, his anger not quite matching mine but damn close to the nuclear-fallout level coursing through my veins. I don't have time to worry about his apologies and ‘I didn't mean to cause problems', though, because I have to figure out what I'm going to do.