Page 12 of Tattered Edges

Archie Blackstone was thirty years old and already in possession of a debilitating gambling problem. Horse betting was his vice. It was so bad, the trust fund he’d been granted access to only five years prior was already gone. The only wealth he could boast of now was tied up in businesses he didn’t have the right to sell.

At least that had been the case, until two and a half months ago.

Archie was the epitome of desperation. If Rory didn’t find him to be so pathetic, he might have felt bad for the man—but he’d squandered his inheritance like a child. Worse, his father hadn’t been buried a day before he approached Rory with the offer he thought would never come.

Much like Sawyer had inherited Tattered Edges, Archie was sure the same would be gifted to him. At worst, he anticipated the business would be left to him and his sister, Eloise. Convinced he could talk the woman into selling the place, he’d promised Rory first right of refusal.

There was a greater than likely chance, whatever profit he gained from selling Rory his property would be gambled away; but that wasn’t Rory’s concern. He didn’t consider it his moral obligation to save Archie from himself. They weren’t friends. He hoped their relationship would soon be strictly business.

Except, while the offer had been made in late October, it was now the beginning of a new year, and nothing had been put to paper. Archie claimed there was a bit of a complication with the will—a complication that was to be cleared up that very morning. As Rory got dressed, he did so with a sense of cautious optimism. He was itching to get his hands on the building’s blueprints. He already had an architect and contractor in mind to help him with the renovations. If all went well, the restaurant extension of The King’s Steed could open that summer.

He was dressed and ready to go at twenty to nine. The sky looked like rain, so Rory tucked his umbrella underneath his arm as he descended the stairs from his third story flat above the pub. After he locked up, he popped the collar of his wool coat, shielding his neck from the breeze, and set out toward his destination. He would be early, but he preferred it that way. The sooner he dealt with Archie, the better. He was tired of the lack of clarity.

Rory was nearly there when it began to rain. Having been instructed to meet Archie outside the building, he made use of his umbrella as he approached his destination. No sooner had he turned onto Kingsway than he saw her. He knit his eyebrows together as he did a double take, but she was inside before he could tell for sure.

He stared at the door behind which she’d disappeared.

He must have been imagining it.

There was no way that could have been her.

His mind was playing tricks on him.

Perhaps he regretted not bedding the American, after all.

Sawyer

Ithoughtanightwith a hot stranger would ensure I slept like a baby.

Turned out, two and a half martinis, a day and a half of no sleep, an unexpected crying fit, and the overwhelming reality of moving to a new country was all I needed. Even relegated to the couch with a towel serving as my makeshift blanket, I crashed hard and slept until my alarm clock sounded at seven-thirty.

For oneblipof a moment upon waking, I remembered how I’d kissed the scowling ginger at the pub next door. I thought about the way he’d tilted his head before he tasted my lips, and the nonchalant manner in which he’d pulled away.

But just as fast as he’d entered my mind, he was gone again—replaced by the memory of a photograph.

I glanced toward the desk and the framed image of the family of four I’d seen yesterday.

Myfamily.

The family I would meet in less than two hours.

I didn’t have room in my head to think about a handsome, brooding stranger. I had someplace to be, and I needed to get moving.

Still not nearly settled in, there was a lot of rummaging through suitcases in an effort to make myself presentable that morning, but I managed. Wishing to be my most put-together self, I even donned a bit of makeup. A touch of concealer, a kiss of blush, some eyeshadow, a generous amount of mascara, my favorite ChapStick, and I was all set.

On a normal morning, coffee would have been a necessity—but this was not a normal morning. I was not dragging in the slightest. My nerves had my stomach twisted in knots. Even thinking about the acidic nature of my favorite morning beverage made me a little nauseous. Certain I’d rather risk a growling belly than a churning one when I met my siblings for the first time, I bundled up, grabbed my purse, and prepared to make my way to Mr. Johnson’s office.

My phone assured me it was only a twenty-minute walk, and I was grateful for the chance to be out in the crisp, early morning air. I left thirty minutes before our scheduled meeting time, just in case, and tried my best not to get worked up along the way.

I’d been thinking about this moment forweeks.Now, I was minutes away from one of the most significant introductions of my life.

There was no real way to prepare oneself for days like this. There were too many variables. Too much that was out of my control. Really, all I could do was show up, be myself, and hope for the best.

When I arrived at my destination a few minutes early, rather than go inside, I strode right past the front entrance and walked a little way down the street. I then paced back and forth, wishing it wasn’t nearly one in the morning in Palo Alto. A pep-talk from Diane would have been outstanding.

I felt a single rain drop and peered up into the gray sky. In spite of the cold, my walk coupled with my nervous anxiety were enough to have me sweating—but I couldn’t stand outside forever. With a sigh, I accepted the fact that I was going to have to be my own cheerleader.

I planted my feet, pulled in a deep breath, closed my eyes, and reminded myself who I was.

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