We stood there in silence before his dad made a low, disappointed sound. “Avery Lindor made an incredible offer on that property, and I’ve already accepted.”
I gasped, the buzz of the cider burning away.
“You had no right,” Davis replied, his tone cold and flat.
“You sure about that?”
My stomach tightened, and my heart rate rose. Had Carter sold Hearthstone Manor? To an investor? Why?
As if on cue, Davis’s father spoke again. “One old house and a bookstore isn’t enough reason to tie up all that land. Not with a multimillion-dollar deal at stake. Another set of condominiums will bring more money into this community than you can imagine, andit will continue to do so for decades to come. Don’t be childish and sentimental. Be reasonable and realistic.”
“The property is in a trust,” Davis said. “It’s intended for me.”
Carter’s brows rose. “Is it?”
My mind ping-ponged with the conversation. How could this be true? And why hadn’t Davis mentioned the possibility of his father selling the property before?
His dad wanted to turn his childhood home, where all his memories of his mother still lived, into condos.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Dad.” Davis turned and urged me forward. “Now’s not the time.”
He dropped his hand from my hip, and the inches between us felt like a chasm.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I set a lidded container of muffins inside the manor’s official work zone the next morning, before starting my day. Davis had removed a portion of the wall separating the previously locked section of the home and the larger downstairs, where I rattled around. He’d built new frames with two-by-fours, the drywall only beginning to go up. He’d hung heavy plastic sheeting for the meanwhile, meant to prevent dust and debris from slipping into the main areas. The sheeting made it easy to stretch an arm inside and leave the treats. I’d found recipes for pet-friendly baked goods online while looking for ideas I could implement at a pet-friendly bookstore, and I knew just the doggo to taste test them. I left a letter on top explaining as much. I also thanked Davis for a fun night, hoping to defuse any awkwardness he felt following his father’s roadside ambush.
After his father drove away, Davis had dutifully walked me to my door, but we’d barely spoken all the way home. I’d pressed a kiss to his cheek, certain he needed it, and he’d nodded thoughtfully in return, saying goodbye only with his eyes.
Hopefully the letter and muffins would remind him nothing had changed between us. If he needed a friend, I was available, even if that meant more time spent in companionable silence.
I paired a fuzzy peach-colored sweater and socks with jeans and sneakers for the gorgeous autumn day, then opted for glasses over contacts and used a headband to keep my hair away from my face. I stepped into the sun and spotted Davis, still in his truck, halfway up the lane.
He slowed and lowered his window.
I smiled and waved.
“Sorry about last night,” he began, looking ashamed for nothing that was his fault.
“What do you mean?” I asked pleasantly. “I had a great time.” I had, but I’d never look at his father the same again.
I recalled the strange familiarity I’d felt the day I’d met Carter at Village Books. I didn’t understand it then, but I could see the similarities in his eyes and Davis’s now. Not in the color but the shape. The set of their jaws. The broad build of their shoulders. But Carter was a wolf in sheep’s clothing—or in his case, designer clothing and a Mercedes. I wondered how many people in this town had seen him smile while he took advantage of them. I couldn’t imagine how it would feel if one of my parents tore me down for my passion or sold my childhood home for money no one needed. The idea of this town without Hearthstone Manor and Village Books hurt me deeply.
Now that I’d seen behind the Carter Sommers veil, I wouldn’t be fooled again.
Davis scraped a hand through his hair, then nodded, presumably understanding what I was doing. We didn’t have to talk about his dad’s poor behavior, or his own response, unless he truly wanted to. If he did, this wasn’t the best time. I had letters to write, and he had work to do.
“I should’ve stuck around a little when I brought you home,” he said.
I tipped a hand to my forehead, shielding my eyes from the sun. “Rain check,” I said. “You name the day. Right now I’m off to letter-writing class.”
“All right. Still interested in seeing the progress I’ve made?”
“Of course!”
“I can stop back with Violet this afternoon,” he said. “I’m cleaning up today in preparation for the photographer. I’ll bring Violet over. I know she’d love to see you.”
My heart lightened at the mention of that fluffy girl. “When?”
