Page 18 of Booked for Summer

Flo narrowed her eyes. ‘And her work in the shop? Surely you can let her continue while you decide what to do with it.’

There was no deciding– not when the decision was obvious. ‘You sell to me, and the shop and the wharf are mine to do what I want with.’

The older woman shook her head at him and he didn’t like how that felt, like he was being chastised. ‘I’m not talking about the legalities of the situation. I’m asking you to have a heart. To think about the wide-eyed, eager young lady who’s travelled all the way out here to run a bookstore on Nantucket.’

And now he was getting pissed off. ‘Maybe you should have thought about her before you agreed to let her come over.’

Flo nodded, her smile sad. ‘I fully intended to sell after her three months were up, but my sons need the money now, so I don’t have a choice.’

He’d like to bet her sons weren’t destitute, queuing up at food banks for their next meal. They didn’t need it, they wanted it. Jade was right, money didn’t automatically make a person important, but by God, not having it, made you powerless. ‘There’s always a choice, Flo. I’m not forcing you to sell to me.’

‘No, I know, but?—’

‘Are we doing this deal or not?’ he interrupted.

With a deep sigh she handed over the envelope. ‘Here. But try not to be a bastard about it. You could crush a young woman’s dreams.’

‘I’m not the one doing the crushing. You’re the one breaking your contract with her.’

Flo’s expression became pinched. ‘I wanted it written into our agreement that the current contract for Little Bay Book Shack remained until her time was up. Your lawyers wouldn’t do it.’

Because the wharf and the waterfront were all part of a carefully worked through plan that had already taken far longer than he’d wanted to come to fruition. ‘Maybe you should have got yourself a better lawyer.’Or told your sons to stand on their own two feet for three months.

She looked daggers at him for a moment– again, water off a duck’s back– before turning sharply and marching out.

Immediately, he tore open the envelope, allowing himself a satisfied smile when he saw it had been signed. Before he got down to business, though, he pressed call on the first saved number in his contacts, Grandma. When her voice echoed back to him after three rings, he eased onto the chair behind his desk, muscles he hadn’t realised were tight, slowly beginning to loosen.

‘I wondered where you’d got to.’ Her tone was warm but gently reprimanding. ‘Thought you might have called last night.’

He took a second to close his eyes, to recall the image of him lying with Jade on the foredeck. ‘I got tied up in something.’

‘Um, must have been a good something.’

He frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘I can hear the smile in your voice. Not often I get that. You’re usually in such a rush, dashing from one deal to the next.’

His smile– and fuck, he had been smiling– slipped. ‘I’m never in too much of a rush to talk to you. I’m sorry if it’s ever sounded like I am.’

‘You don’t need to apologise, you silly goose. I know you’re busy. Now tell me how you are.’

‘You realise nobody else on this planet would dare to call me a silly goose?’

‘Which is a shame, because that’s what you need more of, people standing up to you. Now answer the question.’

He had a sudden image of Jade, taking him to task over his poor chat-up line. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Really fine, orI’m saying this to shut my old grandma up, fine?’

A bark of laughter escaped him. ‘I know better than to lie to you, but I am okay. Just tired. The deal I was trying to make in Cape Cod hasn’t come off yet, but there are issues here I need to address so I couldn’t stay.’ He smiled, for the first time seeing the silver lining to his current problem. ‘In fact you’re going to be seeing a bit more of me over the next few weeks because I’m down a resort manager.’

‘Oh, no. Ashley?’

‘Yes.’ Because he didn’t want to get into a discussion about why she’d left, he moved the conversation on. ‘How’s Bardot? Keeping out of trouble I hope.’ Aware his schedule was becoming more and more manic, he’d bought her the beautiful Persian feline several years ago. She had friends and a housekeeper who popped in most days but he’d wanted– no he’d needed– to make sure she always had company. In common with the fifties sex kitten, Bardot had long blonde hair, a slinky walk and oozed style.

Immediately, the image of another knock-out blonde sex bomb filled his head.

‘Oh, she’s good as gold.’ His grandma gatecrashed his thoughts and with a flash of guilt, he forced his mind to focus on the woman he was talking to. ‘She’s curled up next to me right now. I swear she can hear your voice because her ears have perked up and she’s listening in.’

---