AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Most times, the key to cracking the code on small towns was making sure the check I offered was big enough to get them to throw their principles away. Everybody waved around their morals until you shook a bag of money at them. But when that failed, my job was to convince them I wasn’t the enemy. To earn their trust, I had to relate to them and make them feel like I was on their side. They didn’t need to know the only side I was on was my own.
If that didn’t work, subterfuge would. All I had to do was find the chink in the armor and exploit it. Like turning brothers on each other. Or a couple’s divorce, which was one of the instances here in Lindenbach. Seduction was always an easy one, and sometimes there were ways to squeeze a farm into a situation they couldn’t get themselves out of.
To my credit, I’d never done anything illegal. But I’d done plenty of manipulating to achieve my goals, motivated by a lack of subjectivity and a very, very large bonus on clearing a town of resistance.
But Lindenbach was different. I knew the second I drove into town that this would be hard, maybe the hardest job I’d ever done. They were going to make me work for it.
And I had to be ready for anything.
I took another sip of the brackish coffee and made a face, heading inside to dump it in the sink, daydreaming about that imaginary hotel in San Antonio. I hadn’t unpacked anything, leaving the window open on my commitment. But I sighed, turning for the bedroom, resigned. If I was going to convince this town I had their best interest in mind, refusing to stay here wouldn’t earn me any points. I could already hear Jo Blum ranting in the diner about it.
And I wasn’t going to hand her ammunition.
Of the six farms I was here to acquire rights to, the Blum farm would be the hardest, and thanks to the size of its shale deposit, it was also my top priority. Leaving here without it would mean leaving with nothing, if my father had anything to say about it. Which he would.
The easy paths to their shale had been blocked. Charm was useless—the Blums valued honesty, and they didn’t believe a word I said. Money seemed to be no object—anyone who turned their noses at seven figures was probably beyond the reach of my checkbook.
The way I saw it, there was only one way in. One of the sisters.
And only one of them held the keys to the kingdom.
Jo.
She was the smartest shot—if I took any other angle, she’d bar me with the ferocity of a cornered animal. But if I could figure out how to disarm her … well, that was another story altogether.
I realized I was smirking as I pulled a pair of khakis and a navy Flexion button-down out of my garment bag.
Because taming Jo Blum was going to be a damn good time.
Khaki was as close as I got to casual, and paired with rolled-up sleeves and my lack of tie, I almost pulled it off. I’d work the festival booth today, turn on the smile, and see if I could win over a few townies. Flexion had sent a few people over to smile and hand out pamphlets and merchandise, so we could be seen and be seen as something safe.
Appearances were everything, and this was my second shot at giving an impression. In the first, I’d ended up with actual egg on my face, and though I handled it, I could use an egg-free day.
Hopefully, the Blum girls didn’t have any produce up their sleeves.
Once groomed, I gathered my things and headed out. The day was warm already—September was just an extension of August, after all—but showing up to the fair in my Audi wouldn’t have impressed anybody. My father didn’t understand why I’d driven it here from Georgetown, enjoying the open road, the days of solitude, the radio and the rumble of the engine carrying me across the country. He’d suggested I take a Flexion jet and rent an Escalade when I got here, but in this, I didn’t care if he understood.
In everything else…well, that was another story.
Hand in my pocket, I walked toward downtown, staying in the shade as best I could. When I reached Main Street, eyes followed me to the coffee shop, nearly suffocating me once I was inside. They were curious and suspicious—not only was I an outsider, but culturally, I couldn’t fit in any better than they could at dinner at the yacht club.
I smiled. Nodded. Used my best Yes Ma’am/Sir. Held the door open for a mother with two squiggling children in tow. Let the crowd look unimpeded and hoped they noted what I’d done and that it was to their satisfaction. But I knew they’d never see me as one of them. I was imposing by default, though I didn’t know if it was genetic or learned. My father called it charisma, and though he insisted I was lacking, I could hypnotize a room just as well as he could.
