Page 83 of One Bossy Offer


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I wonder if the sky just came loose and dropped on my head.

I draw in a deep breath as the news sinks in.

“Me? I’m Lottie’s preferred buyer?”

She nods like she’s just gotten a terminal diagnosis.

“That kind, chaotic, wonderful woman,” I say, laughing. “I give you my word I never asked to be included in her will. She knew I was interested in the land, of course. I made her a generous offer once, about a year before she passed. She told me she thought you’d be interested in selling if I could hold on a little while longer. I certainly wasn’t planning on displacing her.”

“Because you’re such a gentleman, right?” She huffs out a breath.

I smile. “If she put that in the will, there must be a reason. Lottie knew I’m the only one who’d offer you a small fortune for Bee Harbor—the only buyer without an ulterior motive,” I add, fighting back the harshness trying to creep into my tone when I remember Simone. “Your grandmother was simply trying to do what she always did best. Take care of you.”

She looks down, too crestfallen for more venom.

“Then why, Miles? Why put a three-year moratorium on the sale?”

I mull it over before saying, “Three years is a long time, kitten. She might have thought you’d decide against selling it at all, or that you’d have it up and running in that time if you wanted to stay.”

“Well, if I sink more into it with upgrades, that’s less profit no matter how much I ever sell it for. Wouldn’t she be more worried about me getting a good offer?”

I shrug.

“Once people invest sweat equity, they’re less likely to take a bad deal. I want the land, sure, but I’m done trying to charm it away from you. You’re content there. I damn sure wouldn’t be if you decided to give it up without putting in your best effort there first. If I ever buy it from you now, it’ll be a legitimate offer that you want. Wholeheartedly.”

She stares at me. “I want to believe you, but this doesn’t sound like the Miles Cromwell I know.”

“Because I’m admitting defeat? You don’t know me, kitten.”

“Because you’re finally being real with me,” she whispers, adding, “I hope.”

“My dumbassery reached new heights this week, I’ll admit,” I tell her. “I think I owe you an explanation about everything that went down this week, and the real reason I wanted you to stay the hell away from any offer from Simone Niehaus.”

“You owed me that before I went hunting on Google.”

“You found the hit pieces. It runs deeper than that,” I say darkly.

The edge in my voice softens her gaze.

“I have to tell you now. Everything. Will you come to my place for a nightcap?”

“You could just tell me here.”

I look over my shoulder at the back door of the house, making sure there’s no one in earshot. “I could, but I’d rather do it alone.”

“Liar. We’re alone now.” She draws a tired breath. “I’m twenty-six, Miles, and it’s not Victorian England. My parents won’t surprise us. You think they’ll pop in to check on me?”

“They’ve left you outside with a bloodthirsty beast who wants to drag you back to his lair. Frankly, they should check on you, kitten.”

That wins me a wan smile.

“You said it this time. Not me.” She leans in with a longing glance. “If I come to your place, will you make me regret it again?”

I lean forward, my nostrils flaring as lemon sweetness invades my nose.

“Hell no. You’ve made your point, and this old dog can learn a few new tricks.”

Smiling warmly now, she tilts her face back.

An open invitation.

I grab her chin gently, meeting her lips with my own, pressing my tongue softly into her mouth.

Goddamn, I’ve missed this.

She matches my urgency, my passion, gasping before she pulls away and takes a worn breath. “You’re making this hard. Now I wonder if I’ll regret it if I don’t go.”

I chuckle and kiss her forehead. “So, you’ll come?”

“Only if the dogs are with us. The more I can keep them out of Mom’s hair, the better.”

“They’re well behaved. It’s not a chore.”

She shrugs. “I don’t think they’ve dealt with this much change before coming here. Strange homes, the city smells, the noise... it’s all new and it upsets them. Especially poor Coffee.”

“He’s a growing boy, aren’t you, Coffee?” I pitch my voice up and slap my leg loudly.

He and Cream come running over.

“Jenn says we have to go inside. You guys ready for a sleepover?” I scratch between his ears, then lean over and pet Cream the same way.

Jenn’s smile lingers, and she finally looks at me again like I’m not debris stuck to her shoe.

“You too.” I look at her sharply. “I don’t know why you think they’re such a struggle. They do exactly what they’re told.”

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