Roman slips from his hand and runs to the car while we keep a steady pace together. “And what is your type exactly?”
“Tall and ridiculously handsome hockey players that are too generous for their own good and have a wild jealous streak when it comes to local firemen slash paramedics talking to their summer landlord.” Feeling quite smug for coming up with that one, I grin up at him in challenge.
“Wow, what a coincidence.” His knuckles brush against the top of my hand, the electricity still present in the lightestof shared touches. “I happen to know a guy who fits that criteria.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.” When I stop on the driver’s side, he keeps walking around the car and opens the door. Looking back at me, he chuckles. “Guess it’s your lucky day.”
He gets in the car, leaning over the seat to check on his son, and leaves me on the sidewalk trying to catch the breath he stole right from my chest.
How is this my life? Surely, I’m dreaming, and if I am, I never want to wake up. “Lucky me, indeed.”
CHAPTER 18
SUMMER
“Mrs. Dover . . .” I take a quick breath to temper the panic in my voice and keep the words from rushing out of my mouth. Each cold drop of condensation rolling off the bottom of the glass of lemonade is a shock to the system when it lands on my bare leg. I shift to have it drip over the grass. “I understand the hassle. It’s a hurdle I’m ready to overcome. As I’ve said, you won’t have to do anything other than reconsider selling it out from under me.”
Taking a slow sip of her lemonade, she rests an arm on the fence. Her eyes haven’t left the field or Bessie grazing on the hill in the distance, giving me the distinct impression she’s not looking at me on purpose. It’s disconcerting to plead a case to someone who shows no interest. This is going south so fast that it causes my heart to sink. I came here feeling ready to take on the world, strong in my intentions and purpose after rehearsing what I needed to say. Now, my confidence is slipping away just like this opportunity is.Again.
Standing next to a bucket of carrots, she says, “It isn’t out from under you, Summer.” Shielded under a large sun hat, she finally journeys her gaze my way. “I never promised you the property.”
“You promised me a chance.”
“Thisisyour chance.” Her tone has never been firm with me until now, but it’s the chill that I find unsettling. She’s known me my whole life, but she’s choosing to side with strangers. The sting burns as the realization sets in. I may not win this battle. She says, “I’m giving you a chance right now. I haven’t signed any paperwork yet. Give it your best shot.”
“I can’t just throw out numbers. I wanted to put together a presentation. I’ve worked on it, but with the summer tenant and dealing with the water situation, I’ve been distracted.”
Angling toward me, she props her boot up on the bottom rail, paying no mind that it’s stretching the hem of her dress to the limits. “I heard you were walking around downtown yesterday with someone on your arm. Would that be my guest?”
My immediate response is that I should be insulted she’s insinuating I would mess around with her guests. She’s not wrong, but I don’t need it to thrown in my face. It’s the image of me hanging on Daniel’s arm like I’m a . . . a puck bunny that gets me. “I wasn’t on anyone’s arm.”
“I’ll take that as a yes to my question.” There’s no smile or friendliness when she looks me in the eyes. “Your hospitality ends when you hand the guests their key. I thought that was self-explanatory.” She digs the heel of her boot back into the dirt again. “I also expected a refund request from the guest since they have no water. Tell me . . .” She leans closer. “How are they making do over there?”
I could lie, but if she’s already heard about us being in town yesterday, the rumor might have gotten around about the arrangements Daniel and I made for him and Roman. Though I’m not sure how. My sisters would never spread gossip about each other and Dolly . . .Oh Dolly, I rub my temple, remembering how she ran errands yesterday. She’d never tell one of our secrets, but we didn’t tell her not to say anything about them staying with us either. No point in fibbing if the truth might already be out there. “They’re using our bathrooms.”
“That’s awfully courteous of you. And the sleeping arrangements?”
There is no way in Hades I’m sharing intimate details about Daniel and me. The act itself isn’t as illicit as it would sound when saying it out loud. Even last night, we could have amped things up another level, but we didn’t. It was nice and romantic to be held in his arms without feeling the pressure to go further.
I don’t know how he’s so patient with me. It’s so different from any other relationship I’ve been in, which seemed to be more about them getting sex than learning who I am. Daniel is the opposite. Our souls are growing closer as our bodies do. It’s a slower pace and just my speed. “We’re getting off track, Mrs. Dover?—”
Her laughter interrupts my train of thought. “Summer Season, I didn’t take you for a wild child like your grandma.” Dolly would flip if she heard Mrs. Dover call her that. I might have to tell her if this deal goes sour. “Listen, you lure that man in and hook ’em on a line. Not many come through this town, so when the gettin’s good, you better get you some.” She starts for the farmhouse, continuing like I’m right beside her. “Wouldn’t you rather settle down than mess with a house that most likely needs to be torn down?”
I hurry to catch up, not wanting to miss a word. “No. I wouldn’t rather that. I would rather we continue the traditions of this town and secure my family’s place in it.”
She stops on the second step leading to the front porch and turns, steadying herself with a hand on the railing. “A word of warning. Nothing lasts forever. I didn’t expect to be spending my golden years alone with a cow for company.” Her gaze drifts back to the pasture, and she laughs. “Bessie’s a good listener.” When her eyes return to mine, she says, “Change happens whether we like it or not. You might not be able to save your family and the town. It might be one or the other.”
“I’m going to try.”
“I like your moxie, dear.” She starts up the steps and lands on the porch. “It comes down to money and contingencies.”
“Contingencies?” It hadn’t occurred to me to look beyond the purchase price. Of course other things are in play. Those will make it more appealing for her to accept or whittle down an offer from the bid. Most likely mine, so what can I add that would give me an edge?
“The current offer comes with no contingencies or inspection needed. I wouldn’t have to fix the pipes. It would sell for above anything I could dream of asking around here and as-is.”
I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I would have to pay more than the offer and still invest money into getting it fixed. I feel ill, knowing that’s not possible.
