A Town Called Valentine(7)

“Let me check in front,” Nate said. “Wait here.”

Offended by his peremptory attitude, she reached to take the flashlight, but he didn’t see her as he walked away. She gritted her teeth, put her hands on her hips, and waited in the dark until he returned a minute later.

“No sign of a break-in. The restaurant owners were your tenants?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Guess they were mad at you.”

“I had to raise the rent after my mother died.” She didn’t owe him any explanations, especially not since he seemed angry with her over their mistake earlier in the evening.

“They weren’t from here,” he said.

Maybe he was thinking Outsiders, and that she was one, too.

“What did you plan to do here?” he continued. “Open another business?”

“God, no. I need to sell it, but I certainly won’t get a good offer like this. I won’t be leaving as quickly as I’d hoped.”

He remained silent, probably disappointed.

“You can go, Mr.—Nate.”

“Thalberg. Nate Thalberg.”

“Emily Murphy,” she said, knowing their formal introduction was a bit too late.

He hesitated, then said, “I can’t leave you like this.”

At last she turned to him. His face was in shadows, since the flashlight beam was aimed away from him, but she could see the gleam of his eyes.

“Of course you can leave.” She spoke more sharply than she’d intended.

“You’re going to stay here?” he demanded.

“It’s mine.” The last thing I own, she thought. But it was hers. “There’s an apartment upstairs.”

“And you think it will look any better?”

“Guess I’ll go see. Can I use the flashlight?”

He handed it over, then crossed his arms over his chest, obviously planning to wait.

“If I could borrow this until morning . . .” she began.

“The apartment won’t look better, Emily, but go ahead and check. I’ll wait here.”

She went back to the hallway off the alley, used another key while holding the flashlight under her arm, and went upstairs. The smell alone already convinced her, and the debris was just as bad, if not worse. Piles of furniture and boxes were toppled around her, and she couldn’t even get a sense of the apartment. It felt like a horror-movie set, where she didn’t know what she’d find when the lights were eventually turned on. What am I supposed to do now?

Without answers, she trudged back down and found Nate in the hall, waiting for her. She couldn’t see his face, with that cowboy hat hiding everything.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly.

She frowned and opened her mouth to protest.

He took the flashlight back. “I shut off the water. There’s nothing else for you here tonight. You can come back tomorrow and see the rest of the damage.”

She felt exposed, vulnerable, and suddenly so weary. He’d seen the mess in the restaurant, just as if he’d seen the mess in her life. She couldn’t waste the last of her money when she was going to need every dime to fix this place.

“Listen, cowboy,” she said firmly, “I know this looks bad, but it isn’t up to you to make my decisions for me.”

“Is that right?” He tipped up his hat to look her in the eyes.

She suddenly noticed that his drawl had disappeared, and he spoke in crisp, cool tones.

“Well, it’s a shame you didn’t tell me what you were doing here from the beginning because I could have saved us all this hassle. I do have a say in your decisions”—he briefly looked past her—“or at least my father does, because you don’t own this property outright. My dad lent your mother money, and he has a lien on the place. She’d been paying him back over time.”

Emily gaped at him, still standing a step up so he couldn’t crowd her in the tiny hallway. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was. I’ll tell my father about your arrival and word of your mother’s death.”

“She died last year!”

“We’ve been receiving regular payment through a lawyer. If you don’t believe me, I’ll bring the papers to show you.” He sighed. “He would never stand in the way of you selling the building—to an appropriate business, of course.”