Page 17 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

My phone vibrated silently in my pocket. Derek’s text was brief but concerning:Found something. Call ASAP.

I slipped out onto the deck, making sure I was alone before dialing. The night air carried the scent of pine and Mrs. Henderson’s roses—flowers that had been part of every anniversary celebration here for fifty years.

“Talk to me,” I said as soon as Derek answered.

“It’s worse than we thought,” Derek’s voice was grim. “Crystal Ridge has a pattern. They target family-owned resorts, usually ones with financial troubles. Then they mysteriously get fast-tracked permits for competing properties nearby.”

My stomach clenched. “Forcing the original properties into foreclosure?”

“Exactly. They’ve done it three times in the past two years. And Hunter? The same county official approved all their permits. A guy named James Wheeler.”

I wrote the name down, my hand tightening on the pen. The same predatory pattern that had destroyed Dad’s company. “Send me everything you’ve got.”

“Already done. But there’s more.” Derek paused—never a good sign. “Wheeler’s wife just bought a vacation home. Three times what they could afford on his salary.”

“Interesting timing,” I muttered, pieces falling into place like a nightmare I’d lived before.

“There’s something else. Crystal Ridge just filed paperwork for a new holding company. Guess who’s listed as a silent partner?”

Before he could answer, I heard voices approaching the deck. “Send me the details. I’ll call you back.”

I ended the call just as Arthur Horton stepped out, accompanied by a man I didn’t recognize—probably the John from earlier. They were deep in conversation, neither noticing me in the shadows.

“The bank won’t budge on the timeline,” the stranger said. “Thirty days, Arthur. Then they’ll start foreclosure proceedings.”

“Damn it, John,” Arthur’s voice was strained—a father’s voice, fighting for his family’s legacy. “There has to be another way. Amelia’s working miracles with that Miller boy—“

“It’s not enough.” John’s tone was sympathetic but firm. “Unless you can come up with two million in cash, Crystal Ridge’s offer might be your only option.”

“I’d rather burn it down,” Arthur growled, and I recognized that tone—the same one Dad had used before the end.

“Then you better pray Miller’s as good as his reputation.” John sighed. “Because right now, he’s all that stands between Pine Haven and foreclosure.”

They moved back inside, leaving me with the weight of their words. Two million. The number echoed in my head as I stared at the mountains, their peaks now dark against the evening sky.

“There you are.”

I turned to find Amelia in the doorway, silhouetted by the warm light from the inside. She looked softer somehow, more vulnerable in the evening light. The breeze caught strands of her hair, and something in my chest tightened at the sight. She belonged here, among these mountains, these memories.

“The Hendersons are asking for you,” she said, stepping onto the deck. Her heels clicked softly against the boards I’d helped replace. “Apparently, you promised to tell them about the time you pitched against the Yankees.”

“I’ll be right in.”

She moved to stand beside me, close enough that I could smell her light floral perfume. The mountain air had cooled, but her presence brought warmth.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For today. For everything.”

“Amelia—“

“No, let me finish.” She turned to face me, her eyes bright in the dim light. “You didn’t have to help with the staff or Mrs. Henderson’s air conditioning. You didn’t have to spend your day doing manual labor in a borrowed polo shirt.”

She stepped closer, and I caught the slight tremble in her hands as she straightened my collar—a gesture so like Mom’s I had to look away for a moment. “You didn’t have to care about the old photos in the lobby, learn everyone’s names, or remember how Mrs. Henderson takes her coffee.”

The simple touch of her fingers against my collar sent warmth through my entire body. Every instinct urged me to pull her closer, to confess everything—about Crystal Ridge, my investigation, how she’d haunted my thoughts long before her father called. “Actually, I do.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what partners do.” I met her gaze steadily, letting her see the truth there. “And because this place matters. These people matter. You—“

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