Page 9 of Hollywood

“Except we’re not landscape architects,” I pointed out.

Dad huffed. “You’ve got no vision.”

I had a vision of that shower. And I had twenty-twenty hindsight about what running a business with my father meant. Been there, done that. Had the prison conviction to show for it.

Not that it was Dad’s fault I’d gone to prison. That’d been my stupid attempt to save a failing business. Dad was a dreamer, though. He got big ideas and he ran with them, whether or not they were realistic. He overpromised and under-delivered; did favors for his buddies; and generally had no clue how to keep a business in the black.

I shouldered my shovel and tossed a stray hand tiller into the wheelbarrow, hoping to move him along. He walked alongside me while I gathered tools.

“You never could see the big picture.” He tugged off his gloves and tucked them in his back pocket. “Back when we had Larsen’s Greenhouse & Nursery, you never understood where it was going. You didn’t believe, Jed. That’s what got you into trouble. It was the downfall of us both. If you want to be part of this business, you have to bring a different attitude.”

I threw the shovel into the back of the pickup with more force than necessary. Who said I wanted to be part of his business? This was temporary. Ithadto be temporary. I couldn’t go through the cycle of Dad’s excitement, followed by his recklessness, and then the inevitable failure again.

The pressure had gotten to me last time. I’d tried so damn hard to be the son he deserved. To make up for hurting my knee and losing my college scholarship. Of being nothing but a fuckup and disappointment.

For a while it had worked, too. I’d started growing marijuana in the greenhouse. Dad was so oblivious he didn’t even notice. He liked to leave a lot of the day-to-day plant-handling to me while he chatted up customers. I’d quietly sold weed out our back door to those who knew to inquire—and it had given us the financial buffer we’dneeded.

Until I got busted.

Then Dad lost the business, anyway.

And his reputation, as he liked to remind me.

Because as usual, my brilliant idea had made everything worse. I went to prison for three years, and the greenhouse went bankrupt.

Dad’s blue eyes were bright as he looked at me. “This is your chance to make it up to me, Jed. Be a good business partner this time, and we can really do something special.”

My chest tightened. “I’m on parole, Dad. I don’t think making me a business partner is going to help you.”

He frowned. “Maybe you’re right. Especially if I want more jobs like this one. College deans don’t want to hire criminals.”

My jaw clenched. I was no longer a criminal, but it wasn’t the type of label that was easy to shake. Even with my father. “Guess not.”

“Oh, son, don’t look so down. When the parole is up, you can be my partner.” He patted my back. “There are consequences to your actions. You’ve got to pay them, that’s all.”

Hadn’t I paid them with the three years in prison? Where did it end?

I lifted the wheelbarrow into the truck, enjoying the strain on my body because it meant I didn’t have to answer. I grunted an affirmative, which was all Dad needed.

“It sure is good you came back when you did,” he mused.

I closed the tailgate. “Why’s that? Is Luke giving Chastity trouble again?”

My sister’s toxic ex-husband had backed off, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t resurface.

“That pissant?” Dad laughed. “Nah, he crosses the street whenever he sees any of us. Fucking lost his balls and turned into one of them pansies.”

“Oh.” I could do without Dad’s latent homophobia, and it would probably blow his mind to know a gay man—a badass former biker, no less—had put that scare into Luke.

Still, I was glad the scare tactic had worked. Knight might have intimidated the asshole, but he wouldn’t risk his parole by beating the shit out of him.

If anyone did that, it would be me.

“So why is it good I came back then?” I asked Dad as I rounded to the driver’s side of the truck.

He opened the passenger door and slid in. “Because we get to work together again! I missed that, Jed.”

“Oh.” He’d never asked me back here out of concern for Chastity, had he? But I’d taken the bait, anyway, and nearly threw away my parole to beat up that shithead Luke. I figured I didn’t have anything to lose after I fucked up the best friendship I’d ever had.