He smirked, and she knew she’d chosen the wrong words. “I own the place, little lady, I don’t live here.”

“Hudson. My name is Miss Hudson. Not little lady.” He was dancing on her last nerve.

“Right.” He moved past her toward his car and tapped the hood. “You can spread them here.”

Let it go, Grace.

She unrolled the plans. “Would you mind holding that end?” she asked both of them since neither had moved to do so.

Reluctantly, Mr. Sokolov’s companion, who they failed to introduce her to, did so.

All three of them peered down at the drawings and calculations.

The sketches were minimal, but the dimensions were precise. The only reason they were looking at the city drawings instead of her looking at his was because if he didn’t cooperate and do the job himself, the city was going in to do it for him and charge him accordingly. This was a public safety issue, and the warnings had gone out months ago and were ignored. This meeting was the last attempt to get the man to cooperate before they took action.

“As we pointed out when we met last month, the road has to significantly increase in size to accommodate the use and efficiency of the location.”

“Which is bullshit. The road has been the same size since I bought the place,” he argued.

“And had the road been maintained with the right material, it may have withstood last year’s storms and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

He glared at her. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing.” She made her point before placing a finger on the drawing. She explained the depth of the excavation, the amount of rebar that needed to be placed, and the weight of concrete or asphalt needed.

He asked where exactly the crossing needed to start.

She walked over to the approximate point and stopped.

Mr. Sokolov sputtered something she didn’t quite hear, and his friend finally spoke. “Isn’t that excessive?”

“Not when you have to get emergency response vehicles in and out of here in bad weather.”

“Last year was an anomaly.”

“And when years like the last one happen, the city is forced to go back to the drawing board and make sure we’re prepared for the next one.”

“Stick it to the little guy.”

As she saw it, there was nothing little about Mr. Sokolov.

“You have thirty-three residents in this community. Many are retired and elderly. First responders are called here no less than four times a month. The fire department needs access.”

“This is going to cost a fortune.”

The man sang the same tune he did the first time she was on-site.

“It will cost more if you don’t hire someone yourself,” she assured him. “We don’t shop contractors. We hire big crews to come in, do the job, and hand you a bill.” And considering the lack of respect he was showing, she’d have no problem suggesting overtime to get things done faster. After all, it did smell like rain was on its way.

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused her.

“I’m doing my job.” Between the cold and the adrenaline the conversation was pumping in her system, Grace shivered. She walked back to the car, rolled up the plans, and handed them to Mr. Sokolov.

He slapped them against his thigh and said something to his friend in a language she didn’t understand.

When the other man laughed, she assumed an insult had ensued.

“You have a week.” She gathered her papers.

“What the hell?”

“You’ve had months, Mr. Sokolov. The first letter was written to you in May and every four weeks after that—”

“I told your office I didn’t receive any letters.”

“Yet you managed to get the one where we told you action was imminent.”

He glared and leaned forward. “You’re calling me a liar.”

She held her ground, lifted her chin. “Just stating facts, Mr. Sokolov. If you fail to meet the timeline we’ve laid out, the city will expedite a crew and begin right after the New Year. Weather permitting.”

“I need more time.”

“We’re already into our rainy season.” She held her hand up as if catching raindrops. “The city will not be held responsible for a lack of action. One week. We’ll expedite permits since Evan and I have already been on-site and know what needs to happen. Keep in mind our holiday hours.” Grace looked between the two of them and hiked her purse higher on her shoulder.

Mr. Sokolov moaned.

“Gentlemen,” she said with a nod before turning and walking away.

Grace’s hands shook as she left Sokolov and his leering friend. A mile down the road she pulled over to catch her breath.

No matter how hard she tried to stick her chin in the air and put on a brave face, sometimes the indignant and sexist behavior of the men she had to deal with got to her.

This was one of those moments.

She knew this would be a fact of life when she entered the engineering field. Dealing with the Sokolovs of the world who didn’t take her seriously, and probably called her a raging bitch behind her back the moment she left their sight, was a fact of life.

But damn it to hell, it sucked. Her male counterparts didn’t suffer the same behavior.

She’d lay down money that no one ever stared at Evan’s crotch while he was trying to talk to them.

She needed backup.

In cases like Sokolov, where the disrespect was a 9.5 on the Richter scale, Grace needed a little help from her friends—or in this case—her family.

She picked up her phone and called her brother.

“Well, good afternoon,” Colin greeted her with way too much cheer for what she’d just gone through.

“Hey.” She took a deep breath and tried to collect her thoughts.

“I’ve been home twelve hours. What took you so long?”

That had her smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. What’s wrong?” Her brother knew her.

“When are you back to work?” Colin was a supervisor of the public works department for the county. And even though this particular issue didn’t fall into his department, some of his crew would be called on to build the crossing the city was forcing Sokolov to comply with.

“Wednesday.”

“Okay . . . good—” Her phone rang through with another call. Since she was on the company phone, she needed to take it. “Hold on. I have another call.”

“Kay . . .”

She switched the call over. “This is Hudson.”

“Grace?”

She blew out a breath. “Dameon.” His voice gave him away.

“You don’t sound good.”

“Well, thank you, Captain Obvious.” For whatever reason she had no issue putting Dameon in his place. “Hold on.”

She clicked back to her brother. “Sorry . . . I need you to stop by the mobile home park on Sierra Highway. The one that flooded out last year . . .”

“Is there a problem?” Colin asked.

“You have no idea—” Her phone buzzed, reminding her she had Dameon on hold. “Damn it. Wait.”

She clicked over. “Can I call you back?”

“Is that your way of asking me for my phone number?” Dameon asked.