Page 29 of Well Played

“Yeah, of course.”

“You know Roland and I used to be together. We were a thing.”

“I didn’t know that, actually.”

“Yeah. Roland kicked me to the curb to go back with his ex-wife, and it took your gramps two years before he grew the balls to ask me out. He was too afraid of what Roland would think, even though Roland and I weren’t with each other anymore. I know that’s what’s going on here. You like Miss Presley, but she’s your brother’s ex girl. So you’re not making a move. You’re just taking your frustration out on her.”

“You know what I think? That you’re making shit up right now.” I shook my head. “You are right about one thing, Fern. I wouldn’t be pursuing any ex of my brother’s—but especially not Presley.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have to list the reasons. Plus, I don’t trust your big mouth—with all due respect.”

She flashed a mischievous smile. “How much are you gonna give me if I’m wrong, rich boy?”

I squinted. “Wrong about what, exactly?”

“About you two hooking up someday?”

“That’s a losing bet for you.”

“Ten grand,” she demanded.

This woman is out of her damn mind.“I don’t place bets.”

“Liar. You got one goin’ right now with Presley about whether she can book up this place.”

“That’s my one exception.” I scratched my head. “Anyway, what the hell wouldIget out of this?”

“Maybe I’ll consider leaving this place quietly so you don’t have to kick me out.”

“Now you’re tempting me.” I laughed. “Anyway, ten grand? You’re not asking for much, are you?”

“I know you’re good for it. Many times over.”

“I’m not gonna end up giving you shit, except maybe a few months’ rent after I have to kick your ass out when we sell this place,” I teased.

“If you’re so sure of yourself, why are you scared to bet me?”

She was starting to piss me off. Mainly because her challenge made me feel so on edge.

“You know what? You got it, Fern. Ten freaking grand. That’s how confident I am that you’re smoking crack right now.”

***

That afternoon, I brought over a realtor who’d been recommended to me to look at The Palm Inn. Even though Presley seemed determined to make a go of the bed and breakfast, I still needed to prepare for when she inevitably couldn’t since the Franklin Construction offer wouldn’t last forever.

I texted Presley to let her know Harry Germaine would be coming by around two that afternoon.

After I greeted him at the door, I let him in and began showing him around The Palm.

I suddenly heard loud music coming from the kitchen.

What the fuck?

I made my way over there, and Harry followed.

Fern and Presley were dancing—fucking dancing. And Fern was drumming a spoon against a pot. There was an ancient-looking tape recorder on the counter playing the music. After a few minutes, I realized what it was. The voice was all too familiar.

---