Page 85 of Savannah Sweethearts

Linaya: Daddy really liked the guys.

Amaya: Linny, I think I love Orlando.

Linaya: I know that, silly. It’s obvious.

It was obvious? To who? Was it obvious to Orlando?

Linaya: Don’t worry, he’s just as clueless as you.

Amaya: How do you always know what I’m thinking?

Linaya: Sister power.

Amaya: Sister power is awesome. Goodnight.

Linaya: Goodnight Amy May.

Orlando

I might be in love with Amaya. I wanted nothing more than to be with her. And meeting her parents was the icing on the cake. I knew I would end up tired of their over the top presentation eventually, but at the moment it was a breath of fresh air after growing up in a very structured home and maintaining that into adulthood.

The feelings I had also led to a firmer decision on my part. I wanted to stay in Savannah. I wanted to give up the stringent way I had been living up to this point and actually enjoy life. With Amaya, preferably. While The Promenade had never been officially on the market, I had certainly shown it off to potential buyers. Thankfully none had bitten so far. There was one last company I was waiting to hear from—Worthy.

What nobody else knew was that I had shown The Promenade to one of Worthy’s people. Honestly, I tried to downplay the place to the woman who did the walk through. I pointed out every uneven stone, every tiny flaw. I hadn’t meant to do that, but I had taken an instant dislike to the dour-faced woman and I didn’t want her in my family’s sanctuary.

I no longer wanted to sell. Sure I could have cancelled that appointment, but I wanted to see what was offered—if it was offered.

The second the phone rang I grabbed it up. This was the call I had been waiting for. The question was, what would be said? “Daniels.”

“Mr. Daniels, James Worthy here.” The voice was low and gruff.

“A pleasure, Mr. Worthy.” I turned my chair backwards so I faced the wall.

“I’ve looked over the numbers several times,” he said. “Your little venture there does quite well.”

I nodded in agreement, though he couldn’t see me. “It really does. It’s been in my family for generations.”

“Why do you want to sell?”

I scratched my head. “To be honest, I was looking to sell just to get out. I wanted to help my mother retire in style and get myself back to Atlanta as quickly as possible when I came here. This is a treasure and anybody would be lucky to own it.” I was lucky to own it.

It might not pay what I made in Atlanta, but wasn’t a high-stress corporate job either. I could relax, maybe even take a vacation now and then. Being near the ocean, my mother, and Amaya were all icing on the cake. I felt like I was punched in the gut.

“It’s not what we’re looking for at the moment. While it performs well, it’s not big enough to entice me, I’m afraid.”

Thankful for his answer, I sighed. “I appreciate your time, Mr. Worthy.” He hung up and I swung back around to face my computer.

And I swung directly into the gaze of Amaya who stood stock still with her hands balled at her sides. Her face was tight and her color was more red than usual. I opened my mouth, unsure what I would say, but I closed it again. I had to do something. She was staring.

“You’re selling The Promenade?” She blinked, but otherwise remained unmoved.

“Um…”

“You are selling The Promenade?” Her hands squeezed tighter. “After you bring me on, telling me how amazing it is here. After you told your sweet, caring mother that you would carry on your family’s legacy.” She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, I felt sure fire would shoot forth from them. “You’re selling?”

A string of expletives ran through my head, but those wouldn’t get me out of this predicament. “Amaya,” I started. “That was someone who was interested, but he’s not buying. So nothing to worry about.” I made a show of smiling and relaxing my shoulders.

I did not think the expression on my face conveyed that everything was fine. I think it conveyed absolute terror at her reaction. I had seen her with her game face on. I had seen her a little agitated. That paled in comparison to how she was looking at me. A look that would send any man to his knees, begging for mercy.

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