Page 72 of Trick or Tease

“The news segment about your family’s farm. It’s all over social media. People are sharing it like crazy, talking about driving up from the city for this haunted hill thing. You’ve got something special there.”

My brain was sludge because there was no way my boss was talking to me about a corn maze. “Ron, it’s just a small-town event. Pumpkin chunking and a corn maze.”

“Small town?” Ron laughed. “Kid, you’re sitting on a potential goldmine and you don’t even know it. Rural tourism, agritourism, and haunted attractions are huge. These are multi-million-dollar industries. And you’ve got the perfect setup.”

Sabrina had her shirt on now and was avoiding my eyes completely. I could see her shutting down. It was the weird aftermath and I should be there kissing and doing the whole aftercare thing. I did just fuck her on the floor in a house that’s probably five minutes from falling down.

I was a dick, but not that big of a dick. She mattered and I needed to make sure she knew that.

“I’m not following,” I said into the phone, though part of me was starting to understand where Ron was going with this.

“When I told you to go out and look for work, I didn’t expect the property we’d be selling was yours,” he said with a laugh.

I shook my head. I felt drunk. I got laid—not drunk. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Selling?” I repeated.

“I’ve looked into it and I think I know a few buyers who would be interested in something like that,” Ron continued. “They could build it up even more, make it a cash cow. You could make a lot of money. The firm can bring you on as a client and we all stand to benefit.”

I rubbed my hand over my face in an attempt to clear the last of the lust haze I’d been dunked in. “I don’t want to be a client. I want to be a partner.”

I heard him sigh. Like I was being difficult. I was still trying to figure out how he knew about the farm and on what planet he thought I wanted to sell.

It was like I jumped in right in the action scene of a movie. I had no idea what the fuck was going on. Or who the players were. But apparently, Ron thought he and I were players.

Why? What would make him think I was remotely interested in giving up my farm or becoming a client? Was he trying to push me out?

“Look, I wanted you to bring something to the table,” Ron said. “I need to see you make moves. This is something. This would be a big move. We can branch out. Widen the net so to speak. I know there are all kinds of rural properties that could bring in big money. We’ve focused on the commercial side, but I think you are onto something. Ten smaller deals can provide more profit than one big deal if we play it right.”

“I can appreciate that, but I’m not looking to sell my family’s farm,” I said, making sure to keep my voice down.

Sabrina has gone downstairs, but I didn’t want her to hear my conversation. Unfortunately, even to my own ears I didn’t sound convinced. I had left room in there for an offer.

And Ron heard it.

Fuck.

Money was important. My family could pretend they were happy just making it and they didn’t need much, but that was bullshit. Money could buy them airline tickets to go where their RV wouldn’t. Money could buy them cruises and nice hotel stays. If there was a possible opportunity for my family to be setup, I needed to know. I needed the details before I gave the hard no.

I walked to the top of the stairs and spotted Sabrina’s legs. She was exploring the rest of the house. I went back into the room where my clothes were still on the floor and closed the door.

“Give me a ballpark figure on how much you think this place would be worth,” I said.

It felt dirty, like I was betraying my family, but in reality, I was looking out for them. I was set up. I would keep making damn good money, but Billy and my parents weren’t going anywhere. Billy wanted to marry Lucy. If he had that kind of money, he could buy her a nice ring and a big house. They could start a family.

Ron’s laugh in my ear brought me back to the moment. “Millions. I pulled the county records and did some quick research, but maybe it could be even more.”

Holy shit.

I was thinking maybe a million. Not several million. Millions were worth a lot more than nostalgia and sentiment. My family could make new memories.

“No kidding,” I said. I did my best to sound cool, like I knew it was worth that much. I could play hardball. It was what I did, and if Ron guessed millions, it meant that was a jumping-off point. I could get more. I was that good.

“Let me send out an appraiser,” Ron said. “She can tell us exactly what you’ve got on your hands when it comes to a potential sale. You know the drill.”

“Okay,” I said. “Have her reach out. We’ll see if it’s worth it.”

“I’ll shoot you an email as soon as I get the date.”