“And that shit ton of money he left is how you plan to pay for it.”
She swallowed again. “Maybe.”
“Well, I’ll tell you right there, banks don’t love that.” Dell scratched at his beard. “Big gifts of money might be nice for a cash offer or a down payment, but if you need a loan, they’ll need to see your credit, make sure you have savings beyond a lucky windfall.”
Mae’s eyes narrowed.
“One, my credit is excellent. Two, I would be able to figure out exactly how I’ll swing it if you just tell me the asking price. Being as that was all I was ever looking for here.”
And Dell could have told her. Could have thrown out a number. Couldn’t explain why exactly he didn’t.
Except for the fact that Mae Kellerman—with her eyelashes still clumped together from her tears, the pastel sweetness of her hair almost matching the splotches of color that had appeared on the tops of her pale breasts, visible under her half-zipped sweatshirt, the pink inching toward her neck as they’d talked—was, inexplicably and against Dell’s will, making his belly stir.
He decided to blame it on today being a Luca day. That the light in those blue-gray eyes, the dimple that’d appeared in her plump left cheek when she’d smiled only pulled at his skin because he already had sex on the brain. Sure, Mae’s body type was one that always pleased him, that largely matched his own—wide, soft, ample—except even wider, even softer in all the curves he lacked, in the swell of her breasts, the ellipses of her hips.
It was the opposite of Luca’s. But Dell had always had a plethora of types. When he allowed himself to look.
He cleared his throat.
“Listen—”
“Aren’t there legal rules here? Isn’t it discrimination if you refuse to sell to me without legitimate cause?”
“Well.” Dell couldn’t help his grin. “As a real estate agent, yes. But owners of property can really do whatever the hell they want if they choose to sell on their own.” He stuck his hands in his back pockets, shrugged his shoulders. “And I happen to be the owner of this establishment.”
“This establishment,” Mae repeated, deadpan. “That you’ve clearly been letting languish. Collecting cobwebs. Marring the downtown of the place you purport to care about.”
Dell frowned. Sure, he didn’t give Cara’s old place a sparkling cleaning job every month or anything, but he wouldn’t say 12 Main Streetmarred?—
“Give me a price, Dell.”
And like that, Dell’s frown threatened to slip back into a grin. This was the voice he’d expected to hear on this porch. Free, now, of tears and wavers. Straightforward. A little pissed off. Using his first name like they knew each other, like they were on equal footing here.
All of which only made the hair on the back of his neck prickle even further.
But fuck it. He had places to be. Time to wrap this up.
“A million dollars.”
Mae’s eyes darted toward the storefront’s picture window, teeth biting her pillowy bottom lip. As if to say,for this?
He had a retort ready for whatever she was about to say. Sure, he’d purchased it from Cara for slightly less. But if anything, a million for a Main Street commercial property with an ocean view was an undersell in real estate these days, no matter how crumbling. Even in Greyfin Bay.
But to Mae’s credit, she didn’t flinch. Didn’t protest. Only looked back at Dell and said, “And you won’t let me see inside.”
“Got places to be today.”
She narrowed her eyes at him once more.
A silence stretched, during which the fallacy of lingering this long with Mae Kellerman settled good and deep in his bones. He’d meant to say no and leave. And he was going to do that. Now.
He’d just started to turn when she spoke.
“Give me a month.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I need to wrap up things back in Portland. But I assume we can handle any paperwork that’s needed over email.”
