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Chapter Nine
Harper
I have a freshly baked French vanilla and caramel cheesecake sitting in the front seat and a smile on my face. No, I didn’t make the creamy, rich dessert, but Marissa did. I only had to promise to oversee the family bed and breakfast tomorrow so she and Rhenn can go sailing.
Easy peasy.
Plus, Marissa will make sure to take care of all the meal prep before she goes, so my job is literally the easiest ever. Check out a few guests, throw in a couple loads of laundry, and make a bed or two. Done. It’s not like I have big Sunday afternoon plans anyway.
That reminds me of my Saturday night plans.
My date.
With Skyler.
I mean, he seems nice. How bad can dinner at the Mexican restaurant in town be? I love their grilled shrimp enchilada, so that’s always a plus. Right now, I need to focus on the task at hand: seduce Mrs. Morton with delicious cheesecake so she sells the building to me.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
I really should have probably had a shot of Jack before coming over here. Why am I so nervous? I’ve known Mrs. Morton my entire life. Just because she’s judgmental and curt, grumpy on a good day, doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a few minutes of early afternoon time with her. Just as I turn onto her street, a big black Chevy truck pulls away from the curb in front of her house, heading in the opposite direction.
What. The. Hell. Is. He. Doing. There?
And then it hits me.
“Slimy rat bastard,” I holler as he drives away from me, heading in the opposite direction. This pretty much confirms my suspicions Latham is the other bidder on the building between his store and mine.
I throw my car in park and turn the key, angry Latham beat me to the punch. What else could he be doing here? Stopping by for a friendly afternoon visit? Hell no. He had ulterior motives.
Like me.
Grabbing the cheesecake from the front seat, I paste on my friendliest smile and head up the walk. The yard is freshly trimmed, the bushes manicured perfectly, and the flowers in full bloom. Definitely one of my brother’s jobs, I grin fondly, thinking about all the hard work and dedication my younger brother, Jensen, puts into his landscaping business.
When I approach the wooden door, I raise my hand to knock, only to have the door open before I can. “Can I help you?” Mrs. Morton asks as if she has no idea who I am.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Morton, I’m Harper Grayson. You may remember me. I am friends with your granddaughter, Mandy.” My smile is so wide, it’s starting to hurt my face.
“Oh, yes, of course,” she grumbles, stepping out onto the front porch. “You were the one who convinced my sweet little Mandy to sneak out of her house in high school, only to be picked up by the sheriff later that night after curfew.”
Well, hell. Of all my accomplishments and accolades, that’s what she remembers of me?
“Umm, yeah, sometimes we all do silly things when we’re younger,” I try to reason, starting to feel a little hot under the collar where Mrs. Morton is concerned. “Anyway,” I start again, pasting back on that smile, “I was in the neighborhood and wanted to drop off this homemade cheesecake! It’s French vanilla and caramel,” I beam.
She glances down at it, looking it over with a critical eye, before taking the dessert from my hand. “Thank you, dear. I do enjoy a good cheesecake,” she says, dropping the dish on the porch swing with a thump. I watch as the cheesecake smashes onto the clear plastic cover that helps keep it fresh.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, waving my hand casually, glancing down at the poor, mangled dessert. “By the way, your yard looks amazing! You obviously take exceptional care of it,” I boost, not above getting in a few positive comments about my brother.
“Yes, well, this nice young man stopped by earlier and helped me. I usually have your brother take care it, but he’s been so busy lately.”
Wait, what?
“Yes, he is very sought-after this time of year, but what do you mean nice young man?” My blood runs cold.
Mrs. Morton beams widely, a smile I’ve probably never seen grace her face in all the years I’ve known her. “That handsome Latham Douglas. He stopped by to lend me a helping hand a while ago. Brought me some of his momma’s delicious baked goods, and then offered to trim my grass, hedge the shrubs, and water and prune the gardens. He’s just such a delight, that sweet boy,” she croons, gushing over the Devil himself.
“Yeah, he’s something,” I mumble.
“He even had all the tools and items in the back of his truck. I don’t have any of that stuff anymore, since I just hire someone to do it. Ever since Stanley passed away and my old bones don’t work the way they used to.”
