One Bossy Offer (81)

I reach into my inner coat pocket. “Coffee, sit.”

He saunters over to me and sits next to my chair. Everyone stares in shock as I drop a treat on the ground. Cream noses in on my other side, her curly tail wagging, and I feed her one as well.

“He’s a dog whisperer too?” her mom says, leaning toward Jenn and whispering, “Hold on to this one.”

“He’s very good at bribes. Kind of his specialty.” She reluctantly meets my eyes.

“I prefer the term 'negotiator,' but touché. Dobermans are very cooperative if you offer them the right motivation,” I say, digging a few more treats from my pocket.

I had them stuffed into the side console of the town car for a reason and fetched them when Jenn wasn’t looking. If I can win over her dogs, maybe she won’t be far behind.

Mr. Landers looks at his daughter. “Nice touch, but, uh, should we give you two a minute?”

“Don’t bother, he’s just—”

“Would you?” I cut her off, giving her old man my best disarming you-can-trust-me grin.

Jenn rolls her eyes as her parents start picking up their plates and head for the kitchen. “You won’t charm him like Gram. He’s too much like you, and sooner or later, he’ll see right through your BS.”

“Let him. Every Landers deserves nothing less than total transparency going forward,” I say.

“A little late for that.” She sighs. “But the dogs need to go out. Are you coming?”

“Sure.” Maybe she’s ready to talk, though I won’t get my hopes up.

Five minutes later, we’re sitting on an outdoor sofa while Coffee and Cream run back and forth across the small well-tended lawn.

“Are you ready to tell me what atrocity I’ve supposedly committed with your grandmother’s will?”

She folds her arms. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Miles. Gram was a stubborn woman and her decisions only made sense to her sometimes. She wouldn’t have done anything she didn’t damn well want to. That doesn’t mean I’ll ever understand.”

“Neither do I, kitten. What did Lottie do?”

She meets my eyes. “She put a clause in her will. There’s only one buyer I can sell her land to for the first three years of my inheritance. Otherwise, it reverts back to the executor who will sell it to her one acceptable buyer and give me the funds.”

I wonder if the sky just came loose and dropped on my head.

I draw in a deep breath as the news sinks in.

“Me? I’m Lottie’s preferred buyer?”

She nods like she’s just gotten a terminal diagnosis.

“That kind, chaotic, wonderful woman,” I say, laughing. “I give you my word I never asked to be included in her will. She knew I was interested in the land, of course. I made her a generous offer once, about a year before she passed. She told me she thought you’d be interested in selling if I could hold on a little while longer. I certainly wasn’t planning on displacing her.”

“Because you’re such a gentleman, right?” She huffs out a breath.

I smile. “If she put that in the will, there must be a reason. Lottie knew I’m the only one who’d offer you a small fortune for Bee Harbor—the only buyer without an ulterior motive,” I add, fighting back the harshness trying to creep into my tone when I remember Simone. “Your grandmother was simply trying to do what she always did best. Take care of you.”

She looks down, too crestfallen for more venom.

“Then why, Miles? Why put a three-year moratorium on the sale?”

I mull it over before saying, “Three years is a long time, kitten. She might have thought you’d decide against selling it at all, or that you’d have it up and running in that time if you wanted to stay.”

“Well, if I sink more into it with upgrades, that’s less profit no matter how much I ever sell it for. Wouldn’t she be more worried about me getting a good offer?”

I shrug.

“Once people invest sweat equity, they’re less likely to take a bad deal. I want the land, sure, but I’m done trying to charm it away from you. You’re content there. I damn sure wouldn’t be if you decided to give it up without putting in your best effort there first. If I ever buy it from you now, it’ll be a legitimate offer that you want. Wholeheartedly.”

She stares at me. “I want to believe you, but this doesn’t sound like the Miles Cromwell I know.”

“Because I’m admitting defeat? You don’t know me, kitten.”

“Because you’re finally being real with me,” she whispers, adding, “I hope.”

“My dumbassery reached new heights this week, I’ll admit,” I tell her. “I think I owe you an explanation about everything that went down this week, and the real reason I wanted you to stay the hell away from any offer from Simone Niehaus.”

“You owed me that before I went hunting on Google.”

“You found the hit pieces. It runs deeper than that,” I say darkly.

The edge in my voice softens her gaze.

“I have to tell you now. Everything. Will you come to my place for a nightcap?”

“You could just tell me here.”

I look over my shoulder at the back door of the house, making sure there’s no one in earshot. “I could, but I’d rather do it alone.”