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“That’s not happening.”
That’s all it takes for me to lose my tenuous grip on diplomacy.
“Why the fuck not? Seriously? Why do you even care?”
“I don’t want crews of people coming up here so you can turn that house into some modernized monstrosity and flip it for a buck.”
“There’s not gonna be crews, it’s just me! And maybe an electrician,” I admit.
That gives him pause. He looks me up and down again, eyes lingering on the hole in my shirt.
“You’re going to do the whole renovation yourself?”
Disbelief I’m used to. I’m 5’4 with purple hair and piercings, and while I don’t look as young as Jude, I don’t exactly scream “responsible adult,” even though that’s exactly what I’ve been for longer than most.
“Yeah, I’m going to do it myself. Because I’m fucking spectacular with power tools.”
That draws a ghost of a smile from him. It doesn’t show any teeth, but it’s nicer than the one that came before—by a tiny margin.
“Congratulations,” he says. “I still don’t give a shit.”
“Please!” I’m truly desperate now. We need this fucking road. “What did my uncle give you for the easement?”
“Ten thousand a year.”
He says it flatly and casually, like that kind of money means nothing to him. It probably doesn’t.
Or he’s lying. How can I find out?
He’s not lying. This is exactly my luck.
My body’s made of lead. “I don’t have ten thousand.”
Dane gives as little fucks as ever. “Then how are you going to renovate the house?”
“I need every penny I’ve got, and it still won’t be enough. Please, it’s just me and my brother. I’m begging you! We need this.”
I’m pathetic and I don’t care. I’ll get down on my knees if I have to—I have no pride where Jude is concerned.
Dane looks like he’d enjoy it. In fact, I fucking know he’s getting a kick out of this. Why else did he string that chain across and watch me cut it loose before he said anything? Why is he standing there, hands in his pockets, like he’d love to draw this out all day?
Because he would.
Look at him, he’s enjoying it…
Don’t appeal to his better nature; he probably doesn’t have one.
Be smarter.
Offer him what he actually wants…
That’s the worst part of me talking, but this time I think it’s right.
Jude and I gambled everything we’ve got on this place—I have to make it work. Whatever it takes.
“I don’t have ten thousand, but there has to be something I can do to pay you—on your property? I don’t just do house repairs. I can cut your grass, haul trash, I can do anything…”
I’m deliberately listing degrading tasks because I feel like that’s what will appeal the most to this sadistic motherfucker. He’s loving holding this over my head.
