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Jon is sitting at the long table wearing a smug expression, as if he's already got the deal in the bag. He stands and reaches out to shake everyone's hand but Harper's. My father and I sit, but Mother stays standing, arching a brow at the man.
"You're too good to shake my head of marketing's hand, are you?" she asks in her trademark tone. The one she saves specifically for employees who push her too far, when their jobs hang in the balance.
He opens and closes his mouth but nothing comes out, caught off guard by the question. My father merely grins. I have to hide my smile, because although I'm an adult now, I will always appreciate my mother putting arrogant people in their place.It should've been me doing this, I realize, but she's enjoying ruffling his feathers way too much for me to stop her now.
"Just because her last name isn't Reynolds doesn't mean Harper isn't as important to this family as we are," she continues, "so you will treat her with the respect she deserves."
Jon holds his arm out in surrender. Harper wrinkles her nose as if she's being offered a steaming pile of horse dung instead of a handshake but she takes his hand. "It’s my absolute pleasure to see you again Mr. Pritchard,” she says with a small curtsy. Her over the top sweet tone and theatrics make me stifle a laugh.
"So, I can assume this means you've made your decision, Mr. Reynolds?"
"Actually," I say, my voice getting stiff again, "I have. As you can probably imagine, my parents have given me an earful about everything. You failed to mention when you approached me the other night that you've made this proposal before."
Jon sighs, clearly exasperated. "As I understand it, Mr. Reynolds, you come from the business world. With your ability to see through the cloud of sentimental value, I assumed you would see the merits of what I am offering."
"I see the merits," I acknowledge, giving him a curt nod. "But you're asking me to walk away from a family tradition that's been going on for generations.”
I turn to smile at Harper. “And, as Miss. Clark has reminded me, the staff here have all become our family, our business partners, our own people. Selling them out for a bit of money is, to put it quite frankly, reprehensible."
"I would argue that eight and a half million dollars is a heck of a lot more than a 'bit of money,'" he shoots back.
"I'll give you that," I concede, "but while you may have caught me at a weak moment at my parents' retirement party, today I can say that you don't have a chance of buying this resort from me. I have come to my senses."
This time, it's Harper's turn to grin, but I keep my expression as neutral as possible, leaving him completely at a loss for words. My parents have done quite enough, I believe, and it's time for me to take the helm.
"Mr. Pritchard, thank you for showing interest in the resort. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the Reynolds Resort isn't on the market. And on behalf of my family, I can confidently tell you that it won't be any time in the near future."
He grumbles, shooting to his feet and gathering his belongings. “If you'll excuse me."
My father and I walk him to the door, thanking him for visiting and wishing him well on his endeavors. Once he's gone, I get Sasha from my office and renter the conference room. My daughter grabs my hand, grinning from ear to ear as though she knows what's about to happen.
"Bravo, my boy," Dad praises me, embracing me for just a second before letting me go. "Congratulations. I hope this will be the start of a whole new era."
“Thank you," I reply, patting his shoulder, "it will be. I have big plans, but first, there are some things Harper and I wish to discuss with you all. Please, won't you sit? You too, Sasha."
My daughter grabs a chair and pushes it closer to Harper, who ruffles her hair adoringly. Mom and Dad share a smile before he takes his seat next to her, and I close the door before joining them. All eyes are on me, and it suddenly feels as though my clothes are two sizes too small and my skin two sizes too big. I'm used to speaking in front of people worth millions, yet I've never been as nervous as I am now.
"Now that this was decided, there is another, more personal matter we wanted to share with you," I begin, gently placing my hand on top of Harper’s. My fingers instantly heat at her touch, and I see the subtle flinch of her shoulders as her body reacts to the connection we share.
Mom and Dad exchange glances, and I go on before they can say anything. "Ever since I came back to Greenwood, something was missing. Something I couldn't quite understand until just recently. Harper and I know how strange this must be for you, but we felt it was important you knew. In the interest of transparency, we thought this would be the best place to tell you."
"Deacon," Mom cuts me off, sitting forward in her chair. She raises her hand, silencing me as a smile breaks over her lips. "Do not think you have to break this news to us like we are a bunch of wallflowers at an old folks' home. We know all about your relationship with Harper."
Harper and I both freeze, unsure of how to respond. "You... do?" I ask.
My parents chuckle at our visible shock, nodding almost at the same time. Dad clears his throat and clasps his hands on the table, beaming at both of us. "We've suspected for a long time that you two might wind up together. Only a blind man wouldn't see the tension between you two, and it’s from much more than a difference of opinion.”
"Which is not to say that we aren't a bit shocked," Mom adds. "It's a little unexpected given how disagreeable the two of you can be with one another. But we'd be lying if we didn’t admit we saw the chemistry long ago."
It's true that Harper gets under my skin the way no other woman ever has, and I can't seem to stop myself from biting when she baits me into it. In an odd way, though, it works. We call one another out on our nonsense and sharpen each other up because we care. We always have. Our disagreements have always boiled down to one thing: wanting to be good enough for each other.
Sasha giggles and swings her legs back and forth, moving the chair from side to side. "Is that why I saw you guys smooching in the kitchen?" she blurts out.
I look sideways at Harper, and her cheeks and neck turn apple red. I burst out laughing, and the others follow suit. "And for not the last time either," I assure her.
"Can I be the flower girl at your wedding?" Sasha chimes, still tittering.
"The wedding?" Mom and Dad ask in unison.
