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“Well, how did he react when he showed up and you told him no to his face?”
I could still recall the overwhelming sense of confidence that man exuded. I liked to believe I was a confident woman—because I was—but Wyatt was on another level, even if he didn’t get what he came to my shop to get.
“Uh oh,” Emily said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What?” I asked.
Apparently, I was the only one who was oblivious to what was going on, because Brooke leaned forward and announced, “You like this guy.”
“What?” I gasped. “Are you kidding me? I spent all of ten minutes having a miserable, heated conversation with him.”
“Tell us what he looks like,” Emily demanded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I shook my head, feeling horrified they could have drawn such a conclusion. “I don’t know. He’s just a guy.”
My friends sent dubious looks my way. “You were just thinking about him and had this look on your face. We’ve known you practically our whole lives, Rhea. There’s something you’re not telling us.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “I swear, there’s nothing. The guy drove there in his flashy car, wearing his fancy suit, and he thought he was going to get his way. He honestly thought some money was going to make me consider having dinner with him.”
“Dinner? Who said anything about dinner?”
“Alright, here are your desserts,” our waitress declared, having returned to our table and breaking up the tension. I was grateful for the momentary reprieve. “Can I get you anything else?”
“We’re good for now,” Brooke assured her.
“Perfect. Enjoy.”
Once she was gone, I had two sets of expectant eyes on me.
Knowing I didn’t stand a chance of avoiding this conversation, I huffed, “He was willing to do just about anything to get me to give him an hour of my time.”
“And what did he intend to do with that hour?” Brooke questioned me, a hint of a knowing smile on her face.
I ignored that look. “Presumably, he wanted to tell me all the reasons why his family wanted to take my family’s land.”
Both of my friends winced, but Emily quickly recovered. “So, you don’t know how much of the land they want or why they want it?”
Shaking my head, I countered, “Does that matter? We aren’t looking to sell off any portion of the land, even if I’m convinced we could get a pretty penny for it from Westwood’s. I’d just be wasting my time by agreeing to go to dinner with him.”
That was the only thing that sucked about all of this. My family hadn’t exactly been making millions off our farm, but we survived. I grew up having everything I needed and loving the life I had. Two and a half years of legal battles had put us in a less-than-stellar financial position. We weren’t exactly in danger of losing the farm or anything—not yet, anyway—but things were certainly tight. Much tighter than they’d ever been.
“I’d take him up on it,” Brooke announced. “Not the selling of the land, but I’d go for the dinner.”
“No. I don’t think I want to sit across from him for an hour, having to stare at his stupidly handsome face, with his bright blue eyes, and hair that’s probably thicker and softer than mine.”
My friends grinned at me. “So, you do know how he looks.”
Shooting my eyes to Emily, I pointed out, “You’re supposed to be torn up over Ryan right now. Stop looking at me like that.”
“I know. I should be. And I guess, to some extent, I am. But you know what? Hearing about this guy you met, who’s got a handsome face and blue eyes and fancy suits, is making me happy. Because as horrible as Tristan and Ryan were to us, we know there’s got to be a good guy out there. Maybe Wyatt Westwood is that guy,” she suggested.
I lifted a brow, and was about to refute her point, when Brooke added, “And if he’s not, it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a nice night out for dinner with him. Who knows? Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s doubtful, Brooke. They’re all the same.”
She shrugged as Emily reasoned, “Well, at least you won’t be disappointed.”
Shaking my head, I asked, “Why did this even turn into anything about me dating this guy? He literally wants my family’s land.”
