“Forever,” Michael answered. When she folded her arms and tilted her head, he realized she was looking for an actual numeral.
I guess accountants are always serious about their numbers.
“He’s been here since before I was born.” It was true. Michael didn’t know who the town accountant was before Mr. Montgomery.
“To be in business that long, he must have been good at what he did and trusted by his clients.”
“He’s still good at what he does. The town is definitely gonna suffer with him leaving. You know, it really isn’t a bad idea to consider buying his business. It could be a good thing for you.”
She didn’t answer, just stared at him with her brows pinched together as she tried to figure what he was getting at.
“You said you’ve been restless, looking for that next thing you’re supposed to do with your life. You even talked about starting up a small accounting business. If you bought Mr. Montgomery’s place, you’d have built-in clientele, and you wouldn’t have to start from nothing. You should definitely look into it.”
Her brain was still turning; he could tell from the way she kept glancing back at the building. Watching her like this, distracted, not worried about anything in particular, it was somehow refreshing. Not that he’d known her long enough to truly be able to name her expressions; he was still working on that. Right now, though, she looked almost whimsical, as if she were in another world unconcerned with the troubles of today.
He reached out and tucked the sleek lock of hair behind her ear, bringing her out of her musings. When she turned her gaze to him, he cupped her cheek.
“Everything okay?”
She blinked. When her dark eyes were clear, she zeroed in on him. “Yeah,” she answered. “I was just thinking accounting has become such a corporate thing lately, it’s kinda nice to see an old-fashioned place like this made for real people. In New York and New Jersey, you have these pop-up businesses that work from about January toApril doing taxes. Regrettably, there aren’t very many accounting and bookkeeping places that work year-round helping their clients build lasting financial stability. We’ve lost that personal touch.”
“Have you ever worked in a place like this?” He dropped his hand to her arm. He would’ve loved to keep his palm against the smooth skin of her face. Considering they were standing on the street, however, he thought it might seem a bit odd.
Yeah, as if standing in the middle of the sidewalk rubbing her arm isn’t weird. Who do you think you’re fooling?
“I told you my grandfather came from a family of jewelers, right?” He nodded, and she continued. “Well, my grandfather started his small accounting firm and hired my grandmother as a secretary. Soon, he realized she had an affinity for accounting too, and he promoted her, eventually making her a partner in the business. Not long after that, they married and had my dad.
“I used to go to their shop all the time and watch the two of them with their old-fashioned counting machines. I always wanted one. When my father took over the company, he didn’t share their vision of a small family business. Instead, he worked tirelessly to turn their mom-and-pop operation into this impersonal conglomerate.”
“So you still run it?”
She shook her head. “No. It was too much like what I had at Karl’s company, and I just didn’t want to commit to some soulless entity. I let his partners buy me out instead.”
He let his hand slide down to her hand, taking one, then the other into his. “Do you regret it?”
She looked back at Mr. Montgomery’s shop before meeting his gaze. “No,” she answered. “It was nothing like I remember my grandparents’ shop being. It lost the thing I loved about it.”
“What’s that?”
She took a breath, sadness filling her eyes. “Heart.”
“Yet another reason for you to talk to Montgomery. You’d be perfect at running your own firm.”
“Michael.” His name was a labored sigh, drawing his concern as he stepped closer to her. “I know you’re just trying to help. But please, stop trying to sell me Mr. Montgomery’s business. I’m not interested, and if I were, I’m more than capable of doing it without being nudged by a man I’ve only recently become acquainted with.”
Her shoulders slumped with an invisible burden and he fought against the voice in his head, telling him not to let himself get pulled in any further. He wasn’t strong enough for that. The need building in him overtook good sense, and he pulled her into his arms, hoping she’d take whatever she needed from him in that moment.
“I’m sorry, Vanessa.” He hoped his voice conveyed his sincerity. He was sorry he’d somehow offended her, even if he couldn’t figure out what was so terrible about helping her see what he was fast becoming aware of: Vanessa could definitely fit into Monroe Hills. After all, she fit right in with him. Especially as he pulled her into the cove of his arms.
“Hi, Michael, fancy seeing you here.”
The familiar voice made his entire body tense. Even Vanessa noticed it, because she pulled her head from where it rested against his shoulder and looked up at him with unanswered questions floating in her eyes.
He turned to the voice, and when Vanessa attempted to step away from him, he kept one arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.
“Amanda Sayers.” He pasted on his friendly but professional smile and greeted her. “It wouldn’t look right for the sheriff to miss the biggest event this town holds all year. How’ve you been?”
Amanda, a tall, slender woman with blond hair and blue eyes, stood directly in front of them. Although she was talking to Michael, she was staring directly at Vanessa.
