The Deal Between Us Pt. 01

Chapter 1

Eden

The last few miles of the trip home to Elizabethton down the winding mountain roads is always the best part. When I know I'm close enough to smell Mama's homemade roast and potatoes, or the scent of Daddy's tobacco pipe. But this time is different. I was here only ten days ago for the service, but it didn't feel permanent, not until they put his body in the ground in the back pasture.

The trees have spring buds poking through shoots on their branches, and baby animals peek out now and then as I meander the slick mountain pass, but instead of being enamored with the beauty of it all like normal, I'm sullen, withdrawn into myself and grateful I don't have to see anyone for a few days. My heart squeezes in my chest just thinking about having to deal with all the overly personal questions people in this little town will ask when they learn I'm back for a while.

Not sure if I'll stick around, but I have Daddy's affairs to get in order, final expenses to figure out and all. If it's as bad as it looked when I stayed at the homestead for the service, I'll have my work cut out for me. At least I managed to keep the town busybodies off my back, or maybe they realized how painful it was for me to come back to this town full of dark memories and sadness.

I pull up the lane, winding between the old hickory and oak trees toward the house. The branches wave a welcome to me, their own sort of mourning evident. Leaf litter coats the blacktop driveway Daddy had paved only a few years back to combat loss of gravel when the snow gets bad in the winter. It makes the steep climb a little slippery and the wheels of my Camry slip and spin a bit, but I manage to roll up next to Daddy's old 80s model Ford pickup.

I smile at the sight. He refused to sell the thing because "I can't do repairs on fancy computer cars" was his excuse and favorite thing to say. I miss him and the scent of his pipe already and he's been gone less than two weeks, and I've lived in Johnson City, far away from this place and the painful memories for three years now, ever since Mama had that accident.

My smile fades at the thought and I put the car in park, setting the E-brake to make sure it doesn't roll backward. The house is in bad shape now, has been for a while. The paint is peeling off its wood siding and the porch sags desperately on the west corner. As I stand next to the car, listening to Luna's whimpers from the back seat, I wonder if it's even safe to stay here. The entire house leans on the foundation now, which Daddy called "Charm" but Mark Baker--fire chief--may consider a hazard. But it's home, and as long as I can tend to it, it will be. Or maybe I'll sell the whole place and pretend this part of my life never existed.

Luna paws a the window, whistling through her nose and leaving a fog on the glass. She acts pathetic, but she's really a very smart animal. I got her when I moved into Johnson City because I needed the protection, and she is definitely protective. I open the back door and lean down to unhook her from the safety harness installed in my backseat to keep her safe in the event of an accident. Her tongue laps at my cheek, probably tasting the salt from the tears I cried earlier in the drive. I slick my hand across her white-tan brindled coat and step back so she can jump out. Her long lanky legs carry her like lightning toward the front door. She'll be sad when she realizes Daddy isn't here this time.

Leaving my luggage in the car for now, I slide my keys into my pocket and head toward the house. It's still chilly, and the breeze bites down on my cheeks and the back of my neck as I side step the puddles. Mama would have called it "spring's hugs and kisses." She liked to compare weather to displays of emotion with spring being the season of love and passion. I pray this year spring stays loving and affection it, and refrains from any angry outbursts.

"Come on," I tell Luna, clapping my hand. She sniffs around the old ceramic flower pots long devoid any plant life. The colorful pots use to burst with foliage and blooms of all shapes and sizes, but Daddy never kept up with those either. There are a lot of things he let go when she passed.

Luna comes trotting up the porch steps on my heels and I pull the key out of my pocket to unlock the door. Before the key is all the way in the lock, I hear the rumbling of a large engine, a truck or Jeep. I press my forehead to the door for a second and sigh, then hear the rumble of warning start low in Luna's chest. She'll never hurt a flea, but the bark of a German shepherd-husky mix is something that makes people think twice before approaching me.

I hastily grab her collar as the first bark booms out of her muzzle. She tugs at my grip but so long as I've got a good hold on her, she'll obey me. I look over my shoulder to see a newer, large, Chevy pickup creaking up the drive way slowly. I recognize it instantly. The thick red stripe down the side gives it away before the words "Carter County Fire Chief" are even in focus. Mark Albers, fire chief and nosy neighbor, was Daddy's best friend, and I figured he'd be the first one to come calling. I just thought I'd have a bit more time to adjust to being home.

Luna tugs and barks even harder as Mark stops his truck and slides out. His boots drop in a puddle and send the water out of the divot and trickling down the hill. He lifts the hat off his head and nods at me as he calls out, "Afternoon, Eden."

I can barely hear him over Luna's insanity, so I turn back to the door, wrestling with her while I fumble to get the door open. It sticks a little, between the moisture of the storm and the way the house has settled, it's done that for a while. I shove her into the dark front room and pull the door shut, effectively trapping her inside for now. Then I turn and wipe the moisture from the front doorknob onto my jeans and slide my hands in my front pockets.

It's been so long since I lived here in Elizabethton, I forgot how backward this place is. My skinny jeans and Chuck Taylors probably look foreign to Mark. He's got that classic down-home look, boot-cut Levi's with a nice flannel tucked in. His beard is almost completely gray now too, not unlike Daddy's was. It's painful to compare them because they were the same age, same height, even similar body frame. But Mark lives on and Daddy's massive coronary ended their friendship forever.

"Hey, Mark." I wave at him with one hand then slide it back into my pocket. He ambles up toward the porch but stops short of the steps and looks up at me. There is a sparkle of emotion in his eye. I'm sure it's hard on him too.

"I reckon you'll be here a while to settle some things up." The wad of tobacco in his lip distorts his words, but I'm used to it.

"Uh, yeah." I shrug a shoulder and look down at my feet. Mark knows me well enough to know I'm not good with words in situations like this. I barely spoke the day of Daddy's funeral, and not at all when Mama died.

"If you want, I can give you a lift in to see the banker. Seems the sheriff may serve papers out here soon. There's a matter of back taxes..." As the fire chief Mark plays the role of law enforcement, political voice, and a bit of friendly neighborhood hero. If Daddy had back taxes, it's likely Mark was out here to gently nudge him toward making payments.

"Seriously?" I breathe out, not quite ready to jump right in to handling this sort of stuff.

"Sorry, Eden. There's nothin' I'd like more than to say things will be easy." He hooks his thumbs through his belt loops and spits into the grass.

Luna scratches on the door behind me and barks again, this time a whimper of sadness. She knows Mark, but out here she'd do nothing but put her muddy paws all over his nice jeans and I don't want to have to apologize for that. Besides, it seems like I have a bit of work to do today.

"It's Friday afternoon. Do you think they'll wait until Monday?" I'm not sure how much in back taxes Daddy owes, but a brief glace at his papers on his desk when I was here for his service revealed he has a bit of debt. No life insurance, and low property value means I may end up losing it all anyway, but at least I can try.

"Well, Eden, they've been breathin' down his neck for a while. I s'pose you oughta just make a cordial visit to let 'em know you'll be handlin' things now. It's the right thing to do." Mark takes off his hat and presses it to his chest. "Everyone in town knows how hard this is. We'll do our best to make it a bit easier."

I huff out a sigh and drop my chin to my chest. The last thing I want is anyone making anything easier for me. I can handle this on my own and that's the way I want it. I don't want nosy busybodies in my personal space prying around, and I definitely don't want help.

"I'll handle it, Mark. Thank you for stopping by."

I linger in the chilly breeze until he turns his truck around and heads back down the steep driveway. One day at a time, Eden, and you'll get through this. It'll be okay.

Chapter 2

Elizabethton is a lot like the small town of New Bremen where I started this crazy journey, but instead of small-town Ohio charm, I get the mountains and the twang of the southern accent. And I get to distance myself from Gloria and my former life. Starting over isn't my first choice, but I didn't really get to choose. At least not the part about starting over. Where I start over, however, was completely my choice and I did my research.

This small town has been struggling for some time, and just like the small village in west-central Ohio that I put on the map again, I plan to make something of this little burg that's tucked away in the mountains like a gem that has yet to be discovered.

Setting out on foot, I head south on foot from the Traveler's Inn. There aren't even any ritzy hotels here to speak of, though there is a bed and breakfast a bit farther north of town. But I like being in the thick of things, where I can watch the people and get to know them a bit better. I find that working with the vibe in a town this small is the best way to ensure success. No one wants a big real estate developer to come in and build the town up only to change the atmosphere and disrupt things, besides the fact that it would only fail then.

I breathe in deep. The smell of rain still hangs in the air. I figured mid-April in Tennessee would be a bit warmer than mid-April in Ohio, but I was wrong. At least at this elevation. It's just as chilly here for spring as it is back home, but I don't mind. Summer comes soon enough, and with it the swells of warm weather and high pressure that brings monstrous storms. If winter wants to linger a little longer, I'll welcome its fingers.

This place is so laid back even the wildlife seems to understand folks here take it easy. I've seen a few black bears roaming around but they smiled and waved just like the old man who sits on the bench outside the Tractor Supply store on Bemberg Road. Everything about this little town is ripe for the plucking; I just have to play my cards right.

I head toward the Elk Crossing shopping plaza. I drove past it the other day, but I want a closer look. It seems a little run down, not at all as promising as the plot of land just south and west of town. The plaza boasts seven shops, all rented out by local retailers at the moment, but the upkeep has been neglected for a while. Whoever owns it has a lot of work to do to get it back into shape and they don't seem interested in it at all.

After walking from one end of the plaza to the to the other, I to stop in for a donut at the little coffee shop that occupies the corner unit in the plaza. It's a cute little place with a homey feel, though the name doesn't do it justice. I walk into Hot Joe's and get blasted with the thick scent of sugar in the air and the pungent aroma of a dark brew of coffee. The bell overhead chimes, alerting the few folks having coffee this time of day that someone new walked in, which draws a few gazes.

Creaky wood floors whine under my weight. The walls, adorned with framed images of people I've never seen before, posters announcing town festivities, and other memorabilia that means nothing to me but everything to them lean inward, as if hovering over the conversations to soak them all in with nostalgia.

I nod at a few of the customers and walk over to the counter and wait, expecting to see a burly man with a full belly running things, but I'm surprised to see a sweet older woman with graying hair and warm hazel eyes cutting dough into cinnamon rolls ready to be baked.

It's quiet too, not too much chatter, at least since I walked in. I get this everywhere I go. I walk into a place and people get quiet, as if they don't want an outsider hearing their town secrets. This place, though, is made for secret sharing and maybe I'll do them a favor and let them in on my secrets so they're less suspicious or scared of me.

The menu board hung on the wall behind the counter has a selection of drinks to chose from, the letters worn and faded over time. When the woman looks up at me, I see a dab of flower on her cheek and a smile on her lips.

"Welcome to Hot Joe's. What can I get for ya?" She dusts her hands and then wipes them on her black apron as she walks toward me.

"Just a black coffee... Something to keep me going this afternoon. I have a few errands to run here in town." I reach into my wallet and pull out my debit card and she types into her cash register.

"Oh, sorry, sir. We don't take card. Cash only," she announces proudly as she spins around and grabs a paper cup and lid, then walks to the old school percolator and fills a cup with the hot brew. When she turns back around I have a few dollars in my hand and my debit card is back where it belongs in my leather bi-fold wallet.

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Joe," she says sliding the coffee cup into a brown cardboard sleeve to protect my hand. She sets it on the counter and takes my money. "Josephina Walters. I own Hot Joe's and I'm happy to make your acquaintance, Mr....?"

"Adrian Wolfe." I accept the coffee and then the change. "Say, you wouldn't be able to give me directions to Carter County bank, would you?" I learned yesterday that the bank in charge of the property south of town may be foreclosing due to back taxes. I want to pop in and see what sort of wheeling and dealing I can do to make my goals a reality.

"Ah, afternoon, Joe." A male voice booms out just as the bell jingles above the door and I turn to see a broad-chested man with a cowboy hat walk in. He wears a black button down shirt with what appears to be a fire house insignia on the breast pocket. His full beard is neatly kept but in a country sort of way.

"Mark, this is Adrian Wolfe. He's new in town, looking for directions to the Carter County Bank." The way Joe says the words makes me feel like an outsider. She raises an eyebrow and turns to collect another cup and lid, going on autopilot. I get eh feeling she knows Mark well and already understands what he wants before he places any order.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Wolfe. I heard rumors floatin' around that some ritzy real estate developer was lookin' at the plaza." He takes his hat off and squeezes it in his hand, nodding at Joe as she puts a cup of coffee on the counter. "That'd be you I reckon."

I sip the scalding liquid, sucking it in through my teeth. "Yeah, that's me. I'm looking to purchase some property here in town or on the outskirts."

"Well, you'll find the town awful nice to just about everyone--if they're nice in return. Just keep to yourself and give 'em space." Mark swigs his coffee and winces, then continues. "Banks a few blocks south of here, one block over. You can't miss it."

"Thank you, sir." I raise my glass to him and move toward the door casually. I'm not here to stir anyone up. I just want to build my shopping center and move on with my life. God knows I've had enough trouble over the past few years anyway.

"Oh, and Adrian?" Mark calls.

I turn over my shoulder. "If you need anything at all, just call the fire and rescue house."

Somehow I get the feeling that isn't a friendly gesture, but more of a warning, though I'm not sure why. I head out onto the sidewalk and down the street, following Mark's directions. The day is starting to warm up, puddles drying as the sun breaks through the cloud cover. In only a few minutes my coffee is gone and the bank appears in view. One good thing about small towns is being able to walk where you need to go but feeling safe doing it.

I drop my cup into the trash can outside the bank entrance and wipe my hands together as I walk in. Large windows line the entire front of the building, decorated with soap chalk pictures of flowers and small houses. There is a poster on the wall announcing lower interest rates and encouraging people to get their mortgage refinanced right away. I see a few occupied desks to the right, a redheaded woman talking in earnest with a middle-aged, balding man in a brown suit.

To the left is a high counter with a few tellers waiting on customers. I meander over and wait in line, hoping to speak with the person in charge. The discussion behind me between the woman and the banker is a bit heated. I hear bits of her protesting some bill owed and I feel compelled to step in, but I hold my peace. I'm not about to get sucked into another damsel in distress situation like I did with Wren. I'm a kind person, but not an idiot.

"Sir, you're next." The polite woman behind the counter is nearly six foot tall, stunning blue eyes, and wild hair. She gestures with her finger and I move up to the counter.

"I'm looking for the person in charge of the property south of town. I believe it's Sneed Hill Road. I'm not sure the number. It's several acres, sort of run down. It looks deserted. Squat blue house."

"Ah, you mean the Hartley property." Her eyes flash with recognition then she looks over my shoulder at the scene unfolding. "You'll have better luck when Ms. Hartley is finished with the banker. If you wait over there in one of those chairs, I'll let Mr. Eckert know you're here to see him."

"Hartley? Like that woman owns the place?" I turn and take her in. Petite in stature, a little on the thin side, but beautifully so. I can't see her face fully, but she is well dressed. She looks like she's not from around here.

"Her late father, yes. She's probably here for final expenses and such. Go on, have a seat."

The teller shoos me away, but rather than having a seat, I move toward the commotion. I'm nothing if not a sucker for someone in need of help. If Ms. Hartley is here to settle up from her father's estate, I'll gladly help her and take things right off her plate.

I approach slowly, listening as I do. She's flustered and red in the face; bits of her hair hang in her eyes and it appears she's fighting back tears.

"I will never be able to pay that today. I haven't even gone through Mama's things, Billy. And now Daddy too? You want to lock me off the property before I can even get any family heirlooms?"

"Eden, my hands are tied. This is a bank matter. Your Daddy hasn't paid taxes in three years. We've been fightin' him ever since your Mama passed and if things aren't settled up, we have to seize the property. It's the law." The man, Mr. Eckert, seems like a piece of work. He looks to be only a few years older than her too, maybe they know each other from back in the day.

"Excuse me," I say, clearing my throat. Both of them look up at me in surprise and the woman's eyes flash with anger.

"Yes, sir, can you give us just a moment?" The banker's tight smile irritates me and suddenly I want to help this poor woman more just because of it.

"I couldn't help but overhear how Ms. Hartley here was unable to pay her back taxes." I reach for my wallet without thinking. I'm not as well off as I used to be, what with Wren taking me for just about everything I'm worth, but I have more than enough to get the ball rolling on this property. "How much?"

"Cuh..." she gasps, shaking her head. Her eyes grow wide in shock and she mutters something under her breath.

"Well, sir, that's a private matter. We were just discussing--"

"How much," I repeat firmly, pulling my card out. I place it on the desk and he squares his shoulders, his eyes now wide.

"Well, she needs four thousand dollars today to keep the county off her back. But the total bill is over sixteen thousand and it's due by July twentieth or she'll be evicted from the property."

The woman is strangely silent, except a squeak of protest as I push the card across his desk with my single finger. "Pay what she owes now... You said four thousand?" I stare at him as he squirms and backs away as if my card is diseased. "And get me a receipt."

I leave the card lay there as I reach my hand out to Ms. Hartley. "My name is Adrian Wolfe, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms..."

"Uh, Eden," she says bolting upward. She puts her delicate hand in mine and squeezes as her cheeks warm to a vibrant rose color. I bring her fingers to my lips and press them gently before letting her go.

"Very nice to meet you."

She sputters out a few odd sounds and hugs her purse to her stomach. "Uh, Mr. Wolfe, I--"

"Call me Adrian, please."

"Uh, Mr. Adrian..." She winces and presses her hand to her forehead then starts over. "Adrian, I can't thank you enough. I have so much to get done and they want me out tomorrow, and I have to go through my parents' things, and--"

"Speak nothing of it," I tell her interrupting her rambling.

"I have to pay you back."

"Wouldn't hear of it." I watch the banker scurry away with my card and then turn back to her, noticing her deep green eyes. They're dotted with gold flecks that catch the light, mesmerizing me for a second.

"Around here, people pay their debts." Eden is firm, and I like that. She wants to repay me which means she's less likely to be the sort who sucks me dry. I'll take that as a good sign this place is different than the last one.

"Alright, have it your way. Dinner at Dino's this evening and we'll call it even."

Eden stiffens and offers a confused expression but the banker returns and interrupts her as he gives my card back. I get the receipt, pocket them both, and turn back to her.

"See you this evening? Seven o'clock?"

"Uh, sure," she mutters, glancing at Eckert. She dashes out like she's embarrassed, and I watch her tight little ass sway with each step. I've done my good deed so far and now word will spread. Adrian Wolfe is a benevolent man here to do good for the town. It's the cornerstone of my relationship with Elizabethton laid. Now comes the real work of gaining their trust.

I'll start with Eden...

Chapter 3

Not only did Mr. Adrian Wolfe bail me out of that massive debt so I can breathe again, at least for a month or two, but he is ridiculously hot. And judging by the Rolex on his wrist, he's wealthy too. Elizabethton doesn't get handsome, wealthy, benevolent strangers very often and I am just lucky enough to be the one he graces with his kind gesture?

I can't help but grin as I turn on the bath water and add a dollop of bubble bath. I could use Daddy and Mama's shower, but I still can't bring myself to enter their bedroom yet, so I stick to what I know. My bathroom and a broken showerhead, yet another thing Daddy never fixed since I moved away.

The bathroom is small and cluttered. Everything is exactly how I left it when I moved to Johnson City, including the old makeup pallets that should have been thrown out ages ago. I sweep my arm across the sink and drag them off into the trash can below, then focus on my appearance in the mirror as I undress. I look tired, likely from worrying about all the muss and fuss. And my fiery hair, which reminds me of my mother, is frazzled a little.

Blanching, I smooth it down around my face and realize Adrian must have thought I was a mess of a human being. No makeup, puffy eyes from crying, and this rat's nest--what a great first impression. But he didn't seem to be chased away by it.

I strip off and leave my clothes on the floor, then step into the steamy water to soak and wash up. Sinking beneath the bubbles, I think about dinner tonight. I agreed to dine with our new town stranger without knowing anything about him. Maybe I'm a fool, but after twenty-three years of living in Elizabethton, I know the only way the town will grow is if we welcome the outsiders who visit and take interest. God knows the place isn't going to step into the twenty-first century without outside help.

I shut the water off and close my eyes, enjoying the warmth for a few minutes. I have a while before I have to be back in town at Dino's so I try to relax, but my body is all worked up. Not only is stress eating me alive--thinking of how much time I'm missing from work and how to pay rent on my apartment on top of how to deal with Daddy's final expenses--but I got all flustered seeing that hunk of a man this afternoon. I can't even think about going to dinner feeling this way.

When I'm worked up like this I end up stumbling over my words, feeling backward and foolish, and I'm socially awkward on a whole new level. I need to chill out, but the only thing I know will help is alcohol or a great orgasm, and I have no beer. Plus I have to drive tonight, so that's out of the question.

My fingers slip between my thighs, touching lightly at my sensitive nub which responds immediately. My parents never talked to me about sex or even the "birds and the bees." It was something I had to figure out alone, just like everything else in life. But a good friend in Johnson City told me once that she rubbed off before a hot date in order to squash the hormones that would inevitably rise up during the date and distract her.

I rubbed a little, not really knowing if she was right. I stood there with Adrian at that bank feeling hot flushes through my entire body at the simple idea that a man that good looking would even look at me. And he did way more. He paid off a huge sum for me, then invited me to dinner. How much more "knight in shining armor" could he be?

The soft touches turn to harder touches, working myself up more as I picture Adrian seated across from me at dinner. His bold smile, bright blue eyes captivate me. I'm so turned on by just the thought of him, it's got my pussy clenching and my core aching for release.

My fingers dip in, the heel of my palm rubbing over the hood of my clit, grinding. He knew my name before I even spoke, called me Ms. Hartley, like he was one of us. New men never come to Elizabethton--never. Not any who are attractive and available anyway, and Adrian is both. No ring on his finger means he's single and hopefully ready to mingle like my fingers and my entrance as I thrust in again.

"God," I pant, rubbing harder. It's been a long time since I had real sex and thinking of Adrian and this date makes that possibility so real my insides are quivering in anticipation. I imagine him over me, driving into me and using those massive hands to stimulate me to climax. I can almost feel his touch on me, feel his mouth on my breasts, pulling and flicking my nipples. The sensation is so intense, I'm shaking as I rub, my orgasm so close, so close.

I moan as the orgasm rips through me, thinking of Adrian and his hands, his eyes, his body. I come hard and fast, moaning, panting, and rocking my hips. I'm so wet, the sticky thick moisture very different than the bath water around me, and I bask in the moment, wanting to savor the pleasure.

Maybe I'm wrong and this dinner with Adrian will be nothing special, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. And as I pull my fingers out of my body and they slide across my clit, the satisfying jolt shows me I've done my job well enough that hopefully I won't get aroused again later when I'm seated across from him.

After I wash up I dress and dry my hair. I choose to leave it down for tonight, though any other time I'd have it tied up. But it looks nice, reminds me again of my mother in some of the earlier pictures I have of her.

I walk Luna, get her some dinner, then kiss her on top of the head goodbye before I lock up and head into town. It's still dark by seven, and the evenings are chilly, but it's nothing a good hot meal won't fix. I pull up to Dino's and park out front. For a Friday it's dead, but it is the start of racing season and a lot of the regulars are probably off at the preliminaries for tomorrow's race in Johnson City.

There's a fancy BMW parked a few spots down, likely belonging to our newcomer. I smile as I pass by it and read the license plate that says "BUKTLST." I imagine he probably has a nice bucket list and I do too. Maybe I'll bring it up while we eat, that is if Gypsy leaves us alone long enough.

The bell jingles as I open the door and walk in. I've been here a million times and nothing has changed. Same read leather and black metal chairs, same wood paneling disguised as wainscotting. And the framed photos on the walls look like they haven't been dusted since the last time I was here.

"Howdy, Eden," Gypsy sings out, smacking her gum. Her bushy, curly hair frames in her face about as well as her large hoop earrings. She's a few years younger than my parents but always treated me like I was her child.

"Hey, Gyps. I'm meeting someone." My eyes scan the tables and booths and I spot Mr. Fancy Car with his back to me. He's hovering over the menu and I can't help but grin.

"Oh, the realtor guy? Oh, wow, honey. You oughta be careful. Men like him--"

"Thank you, Gypsy. I can seat myself." I cut her off before she can launch into some lecture about strangers in town or embarrass me by trying to parent me like I'm still a teen. And I walk away, heading over to the table he's at.

Adrian looks up as I stop near the table and turns the full force of his stubbled smile on me. "Eden, I've been waiting." He stands and sets the menu down. "Have a seat." He waits for me to sit and then joins me again.

Based on the way this place smells nothing on the menu has changed in three years either. Same old country diner with a tinge of Italian in the food. My mouth waters jus thinking of their roast and potatoes.

Before I'm even able to say a proper hello, Gypsy is hovering. "Well, I know it's so soon after your Daddy's death, but I just want you to know we're all here for you, dear. I think it would be nice to host a nice dinner. I bet Herb will let us use the diner for that, don't you think?"

I grit my teeth and force a smile. I don't want to think about Daddy's death at all, let alone plan some miserable gathering where I'll be forced into small talk with every person in town who ever met him.

"Uh, yeah," I manage, wincing at the sound of my own voice.

"And I think we could do a cake. Maybe Joe would whip one up for us and--"

"Excuse me." Adrian's polite interruption is exactly what I need. "I'm quite parched. Do you mind bringing us each a pop."

Gypsy narrows her eyes at me but turns to him and says, "That's soda around these parts, and yes, sir. I'll be right back."

The minute she's gone I sigh and shake my head. "Thanks. Sometimes this town is a bit overbearing."

"I understand completely. I lived in a small town growing up too." His stylish city-slicker hairdo, watch, and car would never have said that to me.

I can only blush as he lifts the menu again and hums. "It says Italian but this is a lot of down-home cookin' if you ask me." Adrian mimics the local accent and I snicker.

"If you want Italian, it's there. Try the spaghetti." I reach over and pull his menu down and point at the picture. "Herb does a fantastic job with it." As he lowers the menu my fingers brush across his and I get a pulse of electricity through my fingers.

"I appreciate that suggestion from one of the locals. I think that's what I'll try." His eyes flash with the same chemistry I feel and I pull my hands back and tuck them in my lap.

"So thank you... for earlier. You didn't have to do that." I bite the inside of my lip and look down at the checkered tablecloth. Those are new.

"I said, speak nothing of it. I'm happy to help out." He sets his menu on the edge of the table and folds his fingers in front of himself.

"I think you'll find that people in this town have a bit of pride. We like to do things ourselves and we stick together. Someone would have helped me out even if I eventually lose the place." Sadness hovers over me like a cloud as I talk about this little town. Growing up here had its ups and downs, but the people feel like family--especially nosy, bossy family, but family all the same.

"I gather from what I overheard at the bank that the land was your parents' before they passed. I'm very sorry to hear about that by the way."

"Uh, yeah," I breathe. "I grew up on the old farm, though it was never a large functional farm. We had a few horses for a while, but the town used the property for so many festivals and events we didn't have the space to do much more."

I smile at the memory. "In fact, Daddy used to say without the homestead Elizabethton would have no beating heart. Then..." My heart sinks and I can't finish the sentence.

"Well it's seen better days, that's for sure." Adrian looks up at Gypsy as she delivers our drinks and holds her order pad up, ready to write down our order, though I know she can remember everything without it.

"What're we havin'?" Poised and ready to write, she grins at me and smacks her gum again.

"Just give me a tenderloin special." I wonder what Adrian meant by "it's seen better days" for a few seconds, but I have to agree with him. The home is definitely in need of repair.

"I'll have the spaghetti and garlic bread on the recommendation of one very lovely local woman with bright green eyes." He winks at me and Gypsy's eyebrows go up.

"Tenderloin and spaghetti. Got it! I'll put this order in right away." She taps her pen on the pad without even writing anything. "Don't be givin' away all the town secrets now, Eden."

As she walks away I shrink into myself again, just when I felt like I was coming out of my shell a little. There are no "town secrets" except that the closer you get to people the nosier they seem.

Ignoring Gypsy's comment I say, "Yes, the house is a little rundown, but it's home for now and I can't imagine going elsewhere."

Adrian picks up his cup of soda and sips from it, then sets it back down. I have to remind myself that he doesn't know anything about me or the property. I can't take offense at him calling me out for the needed repairs.

"Yes, well, it happens to all properties that aren't kept up the way they should be." He spins the glass in a circle carefully, turning it until the emblem painted on it is facing himself.

"Yes, I suppose," I mutter, tamping down the bit of hometown pride I have left. He is right again, though it stings to hear that. It's like a smack to the proverbial face. Daddy lost his life partner, and then his daughter. He was older too, not able to do as much anymore. But Adrian doesn't know how things got bad for him.

I look up, ready to redirect the conversation to something less personal and Adrian's expression grows serious. "You know, Eden. I think there's a way I can help you out. You know, make that old decrepit property useful to the town again."

I sit here stunned--shocked to my core that he would outright insult this town and my parents' property in such a direct way. Tamping down my offense feels impossible at this point, and I'm beginning to see why everyone in this town acts like they have a chip on their shoulder. Outsiders walk in and insult us and don't even care.

"Excuse me..." I start to defend myself and my property but I realize that I will only sound exactly like everyone else who ever lived here, so I stop short of snapping at him.

"Yeah, you said, the town used to host gatherings there?" His eyes sparkle, and for a moment my breath hitches as I hope his previous comment was just ignorance and not truly rude and presumptuous, but he keeps talking and digging the hole for himself. "I bet we could tear down the old eyesore and build something the entire town can be proud of."

And that is the nail in his coffin. I stand abruptly, hands shaking in anger and narrow my eyes at him. "I'll have you know, Mr. Wolfe, that my parents' property is not an eyesore. It's not decrepit and it's not condemned, and it is very useful to this town." I am seething mad, stepping out of the small booth without even touching my soda, let alone the food I ordered. "And I don't need your help making something of it. I grew up there and I intend to stay there, and you can take your fancy dream of 'making something useful for the town' to some other location. Have a good day, sir."

I stomp off toward the door and Gypsy, who sits at the hostess stand once more, raises her eyebrows as I approach.

"Everything okay?"

"Just open a tab for me. I'll come by next week to pay it." I breeze past her and out the door, not looking back. If Adrian Wolfe thinks he waltz into town and insult people before taking over, he's got another think coming!

Chapter 4

I chuckle as Eden storms out, knowing how this will all play out. I've seen it before back home in New Bremen, and I fully understand how people like her think. I used to be one of them, until I realized the value of investing in what I have in order to prepare for the future.

The waitress glares at me too, the way Eden did, but I'm not moved. I drink my soda in peace. I have to bide my time and move a bit slower, and maybe the Hartley property won't end up being the right one for me, but I will build in this town and they'll see how things can change and improve, just like the towns I've built in previous to this one.

The waitress is pretty quiet as she brings my meal. She sets it on the table and huffs out a sigh. She wants to say something to me but she doesn't' have all the context to really let loose. I can see it in her eye as she hovers.

"Something wrong?"

"I'll just box Eden's dinner up and take it to her I guess," she snarks and the turns on her heel and walks off. The ties for her apron fling around and smack me in the back of the head and I chuckle again. I never mean to get women so worked up, but it seems to happen everywhere I go.

And I never meant to insult Eden either. My good deed of helping her could very well be negated by those simple words of truth I spoke about her property. I should have known better. As I plunge my fork into the spaghetti and begin to twirl some noodles onto the tines, guilt starts to creep in. She just lost her parents, and I insulted her property, albeit inadvertently. Sometimes I forget how sensitive smalltown folks are, and after a death, I should have known better.

The bell jingles and I look up to see the banker, Eckert?, walk in. He's alone, carrying his newsboy cap in hand. His balding head shines beneath the wisps of silvery hair, and his suit is a bit crumpled from a hard day of work Gypsy seats him at a table near the door and I turn back to my meal. He told me Eden's father owes sixteen thousand in back taxes. I wonder what else Mr. Hartley owes. Folks who don't pay their taxes often have other debts outstanding too.

I listen as Gypsy takes his drink order--plain water--and then his meal. The man is about as boring as they come. He orders a hamburger plain, with fries but no ketchup. Then Gypsy waddles back to the kitchen and he's alone. I glance at him again. He stares straight forward at the wall. I notice a poster there, maybe he's reading it. It's an advertisement for a dance Memorial Day weekend. Hopefully by then I have trucks out on the property breaking ground already. It's not inconceivable.

Curiosity gets the better of me, so I shovel the food into my mouth as fast as I can. I want to speak to Mr. Eckert before his food comes out and it's considered rude to interrupt him. With my plate half-empty and my stomach still screaming for more, I know it's now or never.

I wipe my mouth, have a slurp of my soda one more time, and then walk over to his table.

"Mr. Eckert, right?" I say, holding my hand out.

The man looks up at my towering form and nods. "Yes, that's right. Mr. Wolfe, what can I do for you." He glances at my hand and I wonder if everyone in this town has an aversion to handshakes. I retract my hand and nod at the chair.

"Mind if I sit?"

Eckert glances at the kitchen and his expression shifts but not to outright frustration or contempt. Just mild irritation creases his forehead as he says, "Of course."

I hold my tie against my chest as I sit down in the chair opposite him. The red leather squeaks and the table jostles a little. This place is as tired as every other building in this little town.

"So you handle the finances for Mr. Hartley?" Leaning in so my voice doesn't have to be so loud, I lean on the table with an elbow, though my core does most of the work of holding me up since the table wobbles.

"Yes, that's right."

"And he owes sixteen thousand in back taxes?"

"Just over twelve now." His eyebrows draw together closer. "I can't share anymore personal information."

"Can you tell me... Does Hartley have any other outstanding debt with the bank?" I don't want to come across as nosy, but I want to know how bad this situation with Eden's property is. I have the capital to swallow any bad debt and still build my shopping center, but she may not have what it takes to bail herself out if it's too large. That's what I'm counting on.

She doesn't see it now, but I'm helping her.

"Mr. Wolfe, I really can't--

"Eckert, listen to me. Her father just died and he was in debt. She's a young twenty-something college grad." God I should have asked how old she is. "She doesn't have the savings to bail him out. I bet she's still in debt with college loans. She'll lose it all if we don't help her, and I want to help her."

Eckert's worry lines creep all the way across his bald head, which he smooths with a nervous hand a few times, taming the fly aways. His tongue flicks over his lip and he glances around. If anyone can hear us, they haven't said a thing. I know I can squeeze this guy and get the information I want. I just have to be cautious and speak his language.

"You wouldn't want Eden to have to carry her father's debt on her shoulders, now would you?" I dip my chin and really press. "She deserves a fresh start."

The bell rings again, and Eckert jumps. His shoulders go square and then he looks over one at the door where the burly man I met earlier this afternoon stands gripping his belt on either side of his belt buckle. I lean back in my chair and watch him as he speaks with a couple seated in the booth by the window. The hostess is nowhere to be found.

Then the man's eyes lock on me and he stalks toward us. "Mr. Eckert, I see you've met our guest, Mr...?"

"Wolfe," I bite out, frustrated he's interrupting. I almost had Eckert in the palm of my hand. "Adrian Wolfe, nice to meet you again, sir."

"Mark, we were just chatting." Eckert's pink-tinged cheeks tell me I had him. He was about to spill the beans and this man's appearance ruined it. He is something special to these people, like the unofficial mayor or police chief, and if I'm not careful, he'll be a problem.

"Good to see you fitting in, Mr. Wolfe." He removes his hat and holds it against his chest. "It'll be nice having another strapping young man around town." He nods, but the look in his eye isn't friendly. He's the sheep dog herding his flock and I'm the predator. Fitting that my name is Wolfe. Maybe he feels it too.

Mark walks away and Eckert holds his chin erect. "I cannot give you any information. If you want to know, you'll have to ask Eden personally." His lips purse and he looks up behind me. "Now if you'll excuse me. My meal is here."

"Of course," I say, standing and making room for Gypsy to set his food down. I walk back over to my table, no longer hungry, and watch Mark make his rounds. He stops by another table to talk, but the way he side-eyes me sends his message loud and clear.

I drop a few twenties on the table, more than enough to cover the check, and finish my soda, then walk out. There's more than one way to skin a cat I suppose, but I like a challenge.

One thing I'm very grateful for, however, is that Eden isn't look at me like a hero. That will make this easier on me, just maybe no on her.

Chapter 5

Luna races from one window to the other in the front room, whining through her nose and whimpering. She's never liked storms, but the drafty old house doesn't make it any easier for her. The windows rattle with each gust and rain pelts the glass.

I sit on the old faded, plaid couch with my white velvet lap blanket wrapped tightly around my shoulder listening to Gloria--best friend since high school--tell me all her pregnancy woes. She leans back in the old rocker and props her feet on the rickety coffee table, stretching her legs. Her stomach is swollen with her fourth child and I have never been more thankful I left Elizabethton before I got sucked into marriage so young.

"Man it's really blowin' a gale out there, ain't it?" Her head and shoulders bob, pulling the chair forward every other second to keep it rocking. I'm not sure how she manages to balance that cup of tea on her belly without it sloshing. Mine sits on the coaster on the table next to me, which is comical because there are so many coffee rings on the thin wood, I shouldn't even care about a coaster.

But Mama loved the little ceramic disks I made in seventh grade and she used them even if Daddy cared less. I smile and breathe in the musty air of this old place. "Yeah, it's bad. I think I'm going to hire a tree trimming service to come out and knock down a few of the old oak branches. If we got a bad storm out here, I'm afraid they'd fall on the house."

Gloria yawns and rubs her belly on one side just as Luna leaps over her legs onto the couch and buries her nose in my crotch. "Woah!" she snickers, watching Luna forget how to be a German shepherd.

I laugh and scratch Luna's ears. "Poor baby. She's terrified of thunder. I call her thunder chicken, and she hates it." The room rumbles and shakes with another crack of thunder and Luna practically crawls onto my lap.

"Well I'm not here to talk about falling branches or scaredy dogs. Tell me about this hot new guy. I saw him at the shopping plaza and he is fine, phew boy!" Gloria's twang never gets old. She leans into it hard too, not ashamed at all of her country upbringing. I chose a long time ago to separate myself from it. I'm not sure why. Maybe because Mama grew up in Pittsburg and didn't have the accent and I always thought her voice was beautiful.

I blush for a second until I remember that Adrian isn't the sort of sexy stranger I thought he was. "Mr. Wolfe is very handsome, I'll admit--"

"Mr. Wolfe? Oh god, how dreamy is that?" She swoons with the back of her hand pressed to her forehead. "He's even got a sexy name."

"Yeah, but just like every other outsider who comes to town, he's trouble." I tug the blanket around my shoulders more tightly as Luna stands and climbs off the couch to resume her pacing. I sound just like Daddy or Mark Albers. I hate that I've become the person I disliked--that "us four and no more" stodgy small-town woman, who is leery of outsiders and mistrusting of everyone.

"I don't care if he's an outsider, he is mighty fine-lookin' and I enjoy eye candy now and then. It's not like Carl is ever gonna lose that beer gut. And marriage adds a few pounds to the waistline, if you know what I mean." Gloria sips her tea while I try to hide a snicker. "Besides no one like him will ever come around again. You may pass by your Mr. Right because he's an 'outsider.'"

Mr. Right definitely does not wear Armani and drive a BMW, at least not in my world. I want someone who understands and values my little home town as much as I do, even though I haven't exactly shown that lately. I chew my bottom lip as I ponder a response, but nothing surfaces immediately and the conversation falls into a lull. Adrian isn't my type at all, though neither is Carl the tow truck driver. He may be roughly my age but I want someone who understands the finer things of life, while appreciating my roots.

Luna, still stirred up by the storm, leaps back onto the couch and peeks out the picture window behind me. A low growl rumbles around her chest and I watch her ears go from scared to alert. This isn't the reaction she usually has to a storm, so I look over my shoulder out the window. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end too. I smooth it down as I turn on my knees and look into the storm.

"What is it, girl?"

"Looks like she's seen a ghost," Gloria chuckles, but I see a flash of light out in the barn and it's not lightning.

"What the...?" Narrowing my eyes, I cup my hands around the window and lean in, blocking the light behind me. My gut instinct says there's a fire, the flicker of light too fleeting to have been caused by anything else, but when it happens again, I see it's not from a flame.

"Something wrong?" The old rocker squeaks and Gloria joins me on the couch, looking out the window.

"I'm not sure." As I say the words, Luna lets out a loud bark that startles me. I jump and sit back from the window. "Christ's sake, Luna." I press my hand to my forehead and glance around the room. It's too bright in here to see anything outside, so I stand and hobble over to the light switch on the wall. My foot has gone numb and it takes me a second, but with the lights off, I return to the window and peer out.

This time I stand next to the curtains at the edge of the window and stare into the black night. I focus on the direction of the barn down the hill from the house and Luna starts to go nuts. It's even easier for her to see what's out there now too, and I am starting to get a strange feeling.

"You see something?" Gloria asks. I see her silhouette move away from the window and then I hear the rocker creak again as she begins rocking.

"I saw a light. I think someone is messing around out there." I can't pull my eyes away but I don't see any light anymore. "Daddy just has old tools and junk farm equipment that I know of. There's nothing of value."

"Wouldn't be so sure, Eddie..." Gloria uses my old high-school nick name and I scowl, though in the dark she can't see it. "Mark told us after his funeral that your Daddy had some old racing memorabilia out there. If someone got sticky fingers, they may be after it... I heard he was pretty in debt too."

I wince at the comment. I know he owes a bit to the bank in the form of back taxes and a bit more in the form of a personal loan taken out to cover Mama's doctor bills, but it's not that much. Honestly, if I use the property as collateral with my credit rating, I could take an equity loan against this place and bail myself out. It will take time, but I think it's doable. The state of the property, on the other hand, will take more work and more money than I have, but I have time.

"Well, they can have whatever they want." I let the curtain fall against the window, then reach for the strings and pull until both sides slide shut in the center. Luna whines and keeps her head buried between the two thick drapes as I move back to the switch and flip it to on.

The lights flicker and go out, and I have to flip them off and on a few times to get them to stay on. It's the old knob and tube wiring that's going out--yet another issue I have to deal with, bringing the old place up to code with new wiring and a circuit breaker box.

"I heard your Daddy might have some other outstanding debts." Gloria sips her tea, now long since cold, and the chair rolls back and forth. "I heard he made some bad bets at the tracks."

Refraining from a hard eyeroll, I avert my gaze and stare down at my mug of tea. I'm not sure what Daddy was into, and I'm not sure I want to know. I've heard things about those bookies in Johnson City and how they operate. Daddy was an honest man though, so if he did something like that there is a very good reason for it. For now I have no reason to suspect anything, and I have a lot on my plate to deal with. I don't want to think about it.

And I don't want to think about why Adrian Wolfe wants to help me out with my personal debt or take the property off my hands. I have no intention of letting this place go anymore. It's mine and whoever wants to stake a claim to it will have to go through me.

Chapter 6

My car struggles to climb the hill toward the old house that's falling apart. The tires slip on the wet foliage, that has remained hidden away from the sun's drying fingers for days now, but I manage to make it to the top. I'm positive whoever designed the BMW did not intend for it to climb mountains the way a pickup truck does but I didn't buy it for that purpose, though if I'm sticking around this place, I may need to invest in a truck.

The squat blue house looming at the top of the hill has seen better days, and I can't imagine why Eden would want to hang onto it. The roof needs replaced; it probably needs new insulation and new wiring to bring it to code. I bet I could dump fifty grand into this place and it still would need more repairs and updates to be livable. Other than sentimental value, this place is worthless, and I will be doing her a favor when she sells to me.

But I've offended her right out of the gate, so I have to backtrack and make that right or I'll go nowhere fast. Which is why I am here now with some flowers I picked up at the market to apologize. I may not see things the way she does because I look at this place with objective eyes, but her heart is intricately connected to it. If I have any hope of freeing her from her self-imposed prison here, I have to go about it a different way. She is so young. She doesn't deserve to spend the rest of her life tied up to the mess her father left behind.

Taking the flowers, I climb out of my car and head toward the house, and the trees looming on either side of the paved drive catch my eye. Not only are they an eyesore badly in need of a trim, but branches dangle precariously, previously broken off the trees but tangled up in other branches. For a second I consider moving my car, but decide not to waste the time. I have insurance for things like that.

As I mount the stairs, more things catch my eye that need repairing: the gutter above the porch dangling at one end, chipped paint on the wood siding and windowsills, rotting boards on the porch, and a busted porch light hanging above the door. I feel sadness well up inside of me at the state of the place. Eden's father must have been in mental decline or suffering from depression to let the place go like this, especially if it was the community gathering place for so long the way Eden described.

I imagine how many memories were made right here on this porch when the property was in its hay day and understand Eden's reluctance to let it go. Maybe I'll be able to convince her of how much of a burden it is. This town can reclaim this property if not in the same manner as it was loved years ago, at least to move forward and turn the page. Death isn't the end; it's merely a new beginning waiting to be discovered.

I rap on the door and wait, hesitant to push the doorbell button for fear of electric shock or something. Who knows what technology exists within the withered walls. Judging by the appearance and condition, I'd say it has old tube and knob electric which is dangerous and expensive. That alone would run twenty-five grand or more to update the whole house, and another five grand for the new circuit breaker and power meters for outside.

From somewhere deep in the belly of the house I hear a large dog barking, a shepherd if I had to guess. It's a low bellowing bark that sounds angry and protective. Dog's don't scare me, but this one seems particularly agitated at the moment, and I'm thankful that there is a wall between me and it. The curtain rustles and I see it's pointed black ears before it leaps up onto some piece of furniture pushed against the wall inside and shows it's face. A large German shepherd with snarling lips and drool dripping from it's canines. Yes, definitely glad there is a wall there.

"Need something?"

Eden's mellow voice draws my attention away from the snapping beast out toward the corner of the house. She stands pulling gardening gloves off her hands. There's a big of dirt smudged on her cheek and her hair is tied up in a loose bun. Tendrils frame her cheekbones and curve around her jaw, framing her face in. I glance at the window to see the dog is gone now before cautiously stepping down the teetering steps.

"Hi, I, uh... I wanted to apologize." I tap the flowers in my hand crinkling the cellophane they came in. The blue sweatshirt she wears is pushed up at the elbow and hugs her curves. The logo for East Tennessee State University is emblazoned on the chest in thick yellow letters that seem to make the green of her eyes pop. She's beautiful even when she's a mess.

"For?" She slaps the gloves on one hand and crosses her arm, tucking them under her elbow and scowling.

"Well, for insulting you." I move toward her with the flowers extended and she looks at them wryly.

"You know orange lilies symbolize that the person you're giving them to is someone you hate, or think worthy of death?" Her left eyebrow rises as she purses her lips and I feel my chest tighten. She doesn't have to be so damn infuriating right off the bat when all I came here to do was say I am sorry.

"I'm sorry." I tuck my chin and cock my head, breathing calmly so I don't get too irritated by her. "I have learned my lesson and I will remember that."

"You seem to be sorry a lot, but I'm not sure you understand what you're sorry for." Her right hip juts out a little as she adjusts the way she stands and I find it odd that her dog has suddenly grown quiet.

"I clench my jaw and blink away my frustration. "I apologized for insulting you, and--"

"Do you know what you said or did that may have insulted me?" Both her eyebrows rise this time and I'm feeling less and less like apologizing. I look off in the distance behind her at the sprawling pasture that is overgrown with weeds and bushes. It's likely it used to be just grass but time has a way of changing even nature.

"Look, Eden, I--"

My frustrated retort is interrupted as the same black-eared monster from inside bounds around the corner of the house and comes at me at top speed. With no wall keeping that thing away from me, I instantly turn and bolt for my car. It may be the nicest little pup that ever lived, but I'm no fool. I drop the flowers and sprint for my car, barely inside with the door shut before the animal is pouncing.

"Fuck's sake," I grumble and look up at Eden through the passenger window. She's laughing and covering her mouth. The flowers lay in the dirt in front of her and the dog is clawing at my ceramic coating I just had put on. "Call it off!" I scream, and she continues laughing.

Her hand cups her ear and she pretends she can't hear me, but I know she can. "Call the dog off!" I shout again, this time letting my anger seep out.

I was supposed to stay calm and win her over today, not get angry and end up screaming at her.

"What's that? I can't hear you!"

The dog continues to bark and claw at my door. My window is covered in drool and I can only imagine the scratches on my paint job now. I turn the thing on and slowly turn around so I don't run over her mutt, then let my car roll down the driveway. As I look into the rearview mirror, I see the flowers in the dog's mouth being destroyed.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

Chapter 7

There is something to be said about buying groceries in this tiny community market as opposed to the giant chain stores in Johnson City. The melon I hold in my hand is fresher than any produce I've seen in months and smells like it came right out of Ethel Wagner's garden--which it likely has. This place stocks only the best of everything, and that means homegrown fresh produce year round thanks to Ethel and Vernon's greenhouse on the north side of town.

Mama used to buy her lettuce directly from them because she said it tasted sweeter when it been cut fresh. In exchange for the favor of buying direct, she'd share apples from the trees at the east end of the upper meadow at home.

The bittersweet memory stung while it warmed the corners of my mind, but not as much as the stinging voice of Mindy Cooper--town busybody and nosy as fuck PTO mom. Her cart nearly rams into me as she turns the corner into the produce section and screeches to a halt with a gasp of feigned surprise.

"Eden Hartley, is that you?" Her manicured claws swipe at the air as she shakes her head and smiles. "I thought it was you. Look just like your daddy. Shame he fell into all that gambling debt out at the tracks."

For a moment my heart pinches and I think of asking her what she means by that, but I roll my eyes and set the melon back on the stack, careful so it doesn't roll away like the last few fucks I have. Mindy is the sort of woman who you see coming from a mile away with a bright red flag waving around in the air as she hurries to tell her gossip. Everyone knows if there is anything juicy going on, Mindy knows about it and she'll fill you in. She smelled me coming before I even got to town.

"Hey, Mindy," I croon out and push my cart around hers. I have the few things I need to get and I want to move on to the dairy section so I can stock up on my favorite cheese.

"Oh, I heard you went to dinner with that snooty patootie real estate guy."

I'm already halfway past her when her words prickle my neck. Real estate guy? Is she talking about Adrian? And is that why he's here?

"Heard he moved to town to gentrify the whole place. It's ridiculous the way wealthy folks think we need their help to run a town properly. Don't you think? You're not really thinking of dating the man, are you?"

I grit my teeth and then smile. "No one is here to 'gentrify' the town." I have to fight not to chuckle at her obvious misunderstanding of the word. "And no, I'm not dating him." Feeling my cheeks heat up at the idea that I would ever be caught dead with Adrian Wolfe again, I keep walking past her. "It's good to see you Mindy."

She prattles on as I continue walking but soon her voice fades and my cart is full. With a bit of finagling I manage to get through the checkout lane with the only local I don't know running register--a young teenage boy--and head out to my car.

Though it's getting dusky already, the sun is still warm and a strong breeze makes it feel stifling. The hot air catches in my throat and I realize how parched I am. I push the heavy cart across the blacktop down the row of vehicles, looking down at my phone which peeks out of the pocket of my purse. I've got a new notification but I can't see who it's from.

My skin prickles and I get the feeling someone is watching me. It's the same feeling I had the other night during the storm when Gloria and I swore we saw someone in the barn. It makes me shiver and glance over my shoulder to make sure I'm not being followed.

"Woah!" The too-familiar male voice halts me, and his firm grip on my cart halts it. And that explains everything I need to know.

I look up to see Adrian leaning on the trunk of my car and scowl at him. "Let go." Relief washes over me that I'm not being followed, but it's replaced with mild irritation.

"You almost ran me over. Good thing I was here or you'd have scratched your car the way that dog of yours scratched my BMW. Don't worry. Nothing a good buff can't fix." He lets go of the car and folds his arms over his chest, standing there like he has something to prove.

I glance around. The parking lot is nearly full. There are folks everywhere; people who will certainly make up gossip about me and him. If Mindy thinks we went on a date already and she comes out and sees us chatting casually, the rumor mill will eat it up. I sigh and push the cart just past him, then use my fob to unlock the trunk.

"I need to get my frozens home. Do you need something?" I don't want to come across as rude, but this is the exact reason why outsiders aren't welcome. He came into this town and made it seem like we need something from him here. He insulted my family property too, like that was going to help him settle in.

"I want to apologize to you, Eden." His large hand press on the trunk, not allowing it to open as he stands and faces me. "I realize that I insulted you by saying your property was an eyesore, and I would like to make it up to you with dinner tonight."

"What?" I glance down at my phone, still lit up from the notification. "Are you crazy? It's after seven. Dino's closes at eight. I'll never get home, get these put away, then get back to town. Besides, I'm not sure I am--"

"Leave them in my hotel."

His words catch in my chest, hooking me with an irritating definitiveness. I should have just told him I'm not interested, and now I have no other excuse. If I say it now, he'll be offended and I'll be blight on his memory of Elizabethton when the locals finally run him away for being pushy and trying to rock the boat.

"I..." I want to protest, but I don't want to be rude to him. My shoulders sink and I bite back my frustration. "Fine."

"Good!" He leaps on the chance to swoop in an attempt to sweep me off my feet, which, let me tell you, will not work even though he's ruggedly handsome and charming. This man is a snake in the grass and I'm just the little rabbit he's after. I can accept a meal and an apology but no more. After all, he is the one who paid the first part of the back taxes for the house so I owe him at least the courtesy of a dinner without me storming out this time.

Adrian reaches into the cart and picks up all four sacks of groceries at once, hefting them in his arm as he nods at the back of the lot where his car sits running. It's parked at an angle too, which annoys me more. He's one of those sports-car drivers who parks near the back and takes up two spaces so no one can park next to him and scratch his car, and it makes me want to park so close he can't get in or out of his driver's door. But I, again, hold back my snarky comment and leave the cart in the cart return, following him to his fancy, expensive foreign model car.

"I was thinking of the pub this time, not Dino's. I haven't tried their onion tower yet, and it looks fantastic." Adrian's trunk pops open before we're even there and he puts the groceries in.

"Yeah, fine," I grumble and sit down in the luxury of his passenger seat. The climate-controlled air is perfect. Not too cold, and low humidity. There isn't a single button or dial on his dashboard either. It's all touch screen and high-tech, which intimidates me. My old Toyota is very old school. I don't even think it has a computer in it.

Adrian climbs in and pulls out, not even bothering with his seatbelt. Mine is secured across my lap but for the two-minute drive it's still necessary. Adrian's driving is about as safe as his parking job. I'd be safer in Johnson City at the tracks in a circuit car.

"This'll just take a sec..." He parks outside the dumpy motel and shuts the car off. "It'll go faster if you help though?" His eyebrows peak in the center and I sigh.

"Yeah..."

We both climb out and head for the trunk where my perishables are stowed away. He takes two bags and I take two, and I follow him to room eight. I'm not even sure what to say to him so I remain silent as he unlocks and pushes the door open. The musty smell of the old motel rolls outward and engulfs me as he enters. It's dark inside, all the lights off, and my eyes adjust slowly as I step into the small room.

I get the feeling his apology is more about convincing me to sell the property than actually saying he's sorry, but my damn small-town manners have me eating right out of his hand--literally. I can't pass up a free dinner either. With the amount I have to come up with in the next few months, I need to save as much as possible.

The door swings shut behind me and I notice immediately how he has open suitcases with clothing hanging out of them. Piles of clothes on the floor nearby makes it seem like he's just living out of the baggage and hasn't' even laundered anything. Trudy's laundromat is just around the corner, but maybe he is used to a cleaners or something?

"Here." Adrian takes the bags out of my hand and busies himself unpacking things onto what's left of the cluttered dresser top. There are empty pizza boxes stacked on the table in the corner of the room and the trash is overflowing. It's no way for anyone to live, but for someone like Adrian--with his BMW and Rolex--I get the feeling that he's living way below his typical standard of luxury.

I move closer to the fridge, listening to him rustle about with the groceries, but I'm not paying attention. All I can think about his how lonely it must be living in this tiny place all by himself. My apartment in Johnson City is small, but not this small, and I get lonely all the time. Not to mention being an outsider in a close-knit small town; Adrian must feel out of place and isolated.

"Don't you go to the laundromat?" I murmur before I realize it sounds rude to ask him that.

"What's that?"

"Uh..." Swallowing my pride, I clear my throat. Mama would be ashamed of me seeing this mess and not offering to help out a bit. And so, for Mama's sake, and everything she taught me--and in no way because he's the hottest man I've ever met and I find him very attractive--I say, "You know, I can do the laundry for you if you'd like."

I turn and look at him as he bends to put my cheese in his tiny fridge. His ass is so fine, perfectly curved and round and in my face as he bends over. I nearly trip on apair of shoes and catch. Myself by leaning on the dresser, but that sends a bottle of mayonnaise to the floor.

I bend abruptly to pick it up, but my head smacks into the open fridge door and I stumble backward holding my head, only to trip on the same damn shoe. My ass plants on the bed hard, and I grunt in surprise.

"Oh gosh..." Adrian slams the fridge shut and whips around, cupping my cheek and pushing the few strands of red hair not tied up in my messy bun out of my eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks, lightly touching the sore spot on my forehead.

He's so close. His cologne is intoxicating and the charming way his eyebrows dip in concern is dizzying. He's so close I can feel his hot breath on my cheeks and my body flushes with warmth starting in my chest and radiating outward, complete with a bit of an achy tingle in my groin.

"I ... uh," I mumble. My tongue swipes over my bottom lip and my gaze darts around his face.

I want to kiss him.

But why?

Chapter 8

I kneel in front of Eden cupping her cheek. I can't believe she would be so nice as to offer to launder my clothing for me. I've always known small-town folks are the epitome of down-home goodness and love, but she has every reason to be upset with me and hate me, yet she is still this sugary sweet woman I can't stop thinking about. And it's not just the house etiher.

As I kneel here looking into her eyes, watching her tongue swipe across her bottom lip as she looks down at my mouth, I realize I've never apologized to anyone for being insulting. I've backpeddaled and taken new routes to get to my end goal, but for some reason insulting this goddess of a woman screwed me up so badly I have to say I'm sorry and I can't let it go.

"Did you offer to do my laundry?"

The air crackles with electricity and I zero in on her ruby red lips, warmed with a tinge of blood that darkens her cheeks too. It's dim in here, but the tension is so palpable I don't need to see to know she's feeling it too.

"I, uh..." There goes her tongue again, darting out to moisten her lip and I fight an urge to bite it. I'm supposed to be apologizing to her, not fucking her, but i'll be damned if my dick isn't swelling and straining against the crotch of my jeans.

The intensity between us grows as I acknowledge the powerful connection pulsating in the room. A part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and give in to the primal desires coursing through my veins. But another part of me knows that I need to just apologize and move on. I can't have another Wren sweeping in and stealing my money right from beneath my nose.

But Eden's eyes blink slowly, and her head tilts up--or maybe I turn it up within my grasp--and I can't take it. Adrenaline surges through my body as I lean down to kiss her. Her lips are soft and supple, melting against mine in a pliable embrace. She parts them to allow me entrance and my tongue glides across hers. Our tongues dance in a passionate tango, a symphony of desire that drowns out the rational voice inside my head. I lose myself in the taste of her, the intoxicating sweetness that lingers on her lips. The world around us fades into nothingness as our bodies lean closer, hungering for more.

Her hand rests on my side, and I find myself lost in her so deeply I don't even realize she's unbuttoning my shirt until her fingers glide across my chest and it sends pops of heat through every muscle in my body.

I break away from the kiss, breathless and filled with a mixture of desire and guilt. The rational part of my brain screams at me to stop, to apologize and leave before things go any further. But the animalistic part of me, the one that craves her touch, her taste, refuses to let go.

Eden's fingers trail lower, unbuttoning one button at a time, each movement sending shivers down my spine. She looks up at me through half-lidded eyes, a hunger mirrored in her gaze. There's a rawness between us, a connection that defies reason and logic. A base instinct so compelling I can't fight it takes over, and I tear her shirt over her head and press my lips against hers again, pinning her to the mattress.

We roll and toss, fighting agianst buttons, zippers, and clasps until the heat of her core slides against my hardness. She's soaked and I'm hard, and this seems way to fast, and not fast enough at the same time. So I hesitate, not wanting to make her feel vulneralbe, and in that brief hesitation, she rolls me over and straddles me.

Eden's tits are crushed between us as she claims my mouth. I struggle and grope for my jeans. With my eyes closed, I fish my wallet out of my back pocket and slide the condom out of it. She's bolivious, devouring my lips as her hips grind on me. Her whimpers and moans, and hte frantic way she runs her fingers through my hair are wild and passionate. I could fuck her for hours but she's driving me so insane with arousal if I don't get this sleeve on my dick we'll have a mess soon.

"Shit," she hisses, rising up. Her hands grip my hip bones and she slides backward.

I fumble with the condom, so she takes control, rolling it out over my girth and stroking me. She's a vixen, taking charge, as if I don't know how to please her. She rises up and slides down around me enveloping me with her warmth. I grunt and grab her hips, begining a slow rocking and thrusting motion, but she grabs my hips again and hisses at me. "Stop!"

Obediently, I relax and let her work. Her body rolls in a serpentine motion, her movements fluid and sensual. The intensity of her gaze never wavers as she rides me, her walls clenching and releasing in perfect sync with each thrust. She is a goddess and an angel, her tits silhoutteed against the dim light filtering in through the drawn curtains as she takes control to pleasure herself.

I press my thumb into her clit and she groans and lets her head fall back, hair danging down her back as she rises and falls on me.

"God... you're incredible," i growl, gripping one hip harder as i massage her clit with my thumb.

"Oh.. I'm so close..." Her grinding becomes more frenetic, more impassioned, and I meet her body in the rhythm thrusting upward and feeling her grip me.

Her release comes hard, ripping through her like a storm, her cries of pleasure echoing in the room. I can feel the pulsating waves of ecstasy as they crash against my own desires. It's a beautiful chaos, a union of two souls consumed by an insatiable hunger. And my release is just as intense, pulsing aginst her core and filing the sleeve with hot mosiutre.

As her trembling subsides, she collapses against me, our bodies slick with sweat and our breaths ragged. I hold her tightly, savoring the weight of her against my chest, knowing that this moment could be fleeting. The rational part of me resurfaces, reminding me that this encounter is born from carnal urges rather than love. But in this heated embrace, it's easy to forget that.

I kiss her forehead and roll to the side, pulling out of her. The desire to lie with her is strong, but I don't need a mess. She lays with her eyes closed as I walk to the bathroom to remove the full condom. Her moisture glistens on my dick and makes it difficult to take the thing off.

I'm as confused as I am pleased with what just happened. I did not come to Elizabethton to hook up with any woman or find a new lover, and while Eden is just about the sexiest woman I've ever met, I have to keep my focus. I like her, but I am not marrying a damsel who needs my saving. I learned my lesson last time. This was just random sex that means nothing, and my priority has to be my job. I can't let her get in my head.

I toss the condom in the bin and wash my hands, noticing a smudge of her lipstick across my lips. I smile at that before wiping it away, then straighten my hair which is mussed, thanks to her frisky hands.

When I walk back into the room, she's standing next to the bed with the light on, stark naked, with my paperwork in her hands.

"What the fuck?" She looks up at me with a hurt and angry expression. "You went to the bank?"

Dread floods me, replacing the endorphins and sex-high that I should be enjoying. That paperwork is supposed to be my way of showing her how much I can help her. Over the next ten years alone she will sink more than a hundred grand into that property and I can buy it from her for more than three times that and still turn a profit.

"Eden, it's not what you think..." I move toward her, hoping to explain but she throws the paper onto the bed and glares at me, shaking her head.

"You sick jerk. You really are just being nice to me to get me to sell. I should have known!" She scurries around picking up her clothes, though she doesn't put on her panties or bra, only her jeans and t-shirt.

"Eden, please. Calm down. I was going to show you--"

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?" She picks up one of my shoes and throws it at me then picks up her own shoes. "You stay the hell away from me. You here that? I'm not selling..."

I hear the emotion in her voice but she turns abruptly and marches to the door and opens it.

"At least let me give you a ride home."

"Stay away from me," she snaps with her back to me, and I hear that she's crying. The door slams shut and I sink onto the end of the bed and ram my hands into my hair, resting my elbows on my knees.

I've done it again, only this time it's way worse. I had no idea how badly I wanted her until it happened, and now there is no going back. I'm a fool and an asshole, and she is this sweet amazing thing I should have taken more caution with.

"Fuck's sake!" I scream, kicking my shoe across the room. It strikes the fridge and I realize she's let all her groceries here, but before I can even dress to take them out to her, she'll be back at the grocery and in her car on the way home. What the hell do I do now?

Chapter 9

I've been moping around all day now, sick in the gut about having sex with that man after the things he said to me. And to think I was trying to be nice to him and even offered to do his laundry for him and the entire time he had plans to go behind my back to the bank. That letter head was real too--it wasn't just a plot to scare me.

I yank the plants up by the roots, feeling the moist soil give way beneath the earth. I'm so frustrated I'm probably tearing out some of Mama's flowers too but no matter how many times I attempt to calm myself and pull only the weeds out of this flower bed, I find myself angry and tearing at the leaves hastily. The knees of my jeans are soaked; the gloves I wear are caked in soil and god only knows what, and Luna my back hurts.

Tossing the weed over my shoulder, I take a break and look up at Luna's pouty face. She sits on the sofa with her muzzle resting on the back of the couch, staring out the window at me on my knees. If I knew she wouldn't run off I'd bring her out here with me, but she isn't well enough trained yet, and the fence in back is the only safe place for her. Daddy had it installed for when we visit, and now I wish I'd have just taught her to stay close.

Her ears perk up and she sits straighter just as I hear the crunch of a stray walnut being crushed beneath a car's tire. I can't see it yet, but I know someone is pulling up the steep driveway. I hear the rumble of the truck's engine now and marvel at how good Luna's hearing really is.

Rising slowly, I use the back of my gloved hand to wipe away some sweat. It's probably Mark or Carl coming to check in on me. The deep loud engine gives it away as too large to be Adrian's little sports car so I don't have to worry about that. I turn around to see the brand-new Ford climb the last few yards to stop just behind my little Toyota. I don't recognize the car at all, and that puts me on edge.

Breeze picks up, tossing the loose hairs not tucked into the braid I gave myself this morning, and I yank the gloves off as a stranger rounds the front of his truck and moves toward me. I've never seen him before, and I'm not even sure if he's from around here.

"Ms. Hartley?" he asks, as he clears the front of his truck.

"That's me..." I drop the gloves in the dirt and step out onto the cracked blacktop where the sun kisses the earth and warms it. It's hotter today, and I'm glad I'm wearing a tank top. This man, however, is not dressed for the weather. He wears a thick black leather coat with silver zippers in appropriate places. His black boots clunk on the pavement and he hooks a thumb in each front pocket.

"Now, I know you don't know me, and for the time being I'm gonna remain real patient with you, but we have some business to discuss." There's a bulge in his lip, just in front of his lower row of teeth. Chewing tobacco is a very gross habit, and this man--with his lip full of chaw--repulses me.

"What sort of business?" For a second I worry that this is Adrian's muscle. If he can't win me over with logic or manipulating my emotions by seducing me, he's sent his goon to scare me?

"There's a matter of about two hundred fifty grand at stake here, and your daddy--I'm assuming Augustus Hartley was your father..."

I nod, completely confused. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money. And what does this have to do with Daddy?

"Well he owed me a lot of money and I'm here to collect. I've already been more than patient with him, and since he's gone the burden falls to you."

"What?" My heard thuds against my ribcage as Luna goes nuts in the window behind me. I secretly hope she will bust through the back screen door the way she did when Adrian was here last and scare this jerk away. "What debt?" This man is not Eckert the banker, and he's not from the county office either. He may not even been from Tennessee at all.

"Daddy liked to run the tracks, baby doll, and I can't just let that slip. His bettin' days might be over but his debt is still very real." The man spits on the pavement, leaving a thick sloppy puddle of brown chewing tobacco spit near my feet.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave." I take a hesitant step backward and he shakes his head.

"I can't do that. You either cough up the money or we're going to have a problem." He takes a menacing step forward and fear tingles my entire frame, raising goosebumps on my arms and chest.

"I don't want to have to ask you again. Please get off my property; I don't know anything about this debt you claim to be owed." My voice cracks. Why the hell do I sound so weak? I take another step back and hear the crunch of another walnut, then realize it wasn't my foot that crushed one but yet another car tire--this engine so quiet I can't even hear it until the front of the shiny black BMW appears and pulls up alongside the truck.

Why do I feel relieved that that asshole is here? Why Adrian too? Why not Mark or Carl? I want to protest and scream at both of them, but right now Adrian Wolfe is my savior and he doesn't even know it. I move toward his car hastily as he climbs out and looks up at me.

"Everything okay?" he asks, and I know he sees the fear in my eyes as I rush up to him and tuck myself behind his back.

"I was just tellin' Ms. Hartley here that--"

"Make him leave... please," I whimper and Adrian doesn't' have to be told twice.

"It seems to me that Eden asked you to leave. So you should be going now." Adrian steps away from his car and squares off with the man who followed me as I fled toward him. I stand in the open door of his BMW and whimper as they posture, chests puffed out, eyes wide and scary.

"I won't be leaving until I get what I came for."

"I think you should go call Mark, Eden... Or better yet, let's see if Luna would like to meet this gentleman."

My eyes flick up to see Luna in the window, still going crazy, but her barks are muffled from this far away. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end and her ears are pointed at us. The snarl on her muzzle is enough to make the man think twice as he glances up at her then at me.

"This ain't the end of this, woman. I'll be back for my money." He turns and retreats but Adrian remains steadfast as a sentry guarding my property until the truck vanishes down the hill.

I blink away some tears and step away from his car, hand covering my mouth.

"Are you alright?" he asks, turning to me, but I dodge his grasp.

"I'm fine," I hiss, stutter stepping back toward the house. Luna is calm now, and with my back turned to Adrian, I let a tear escape. I hear his door shut and turn to see him carrying a white foam cooler.

"You left these at the motel." He nods at the cooler and his eyes narrow in concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again, and I sense the genuine compassion in his tone, but I can't fall for him. He's only here to manipulate me into selling, and he'll do whatever he can. I wouldn't put it past him to have sent that man only so he could come chase him off.

"I said, I'm fine." I mount the steps, leaving my gloves and trowel in the flower bed and Adrian sets the cooler on the step.

"I can stick around if you like." He straightens and backs up a step. "I am really sorry about last night. I really did just want to apologize."

I snatch the cooler up and spit out, "Save it, Adrian. Just leave." Then I barricaded myself in the house and pay no attention to whether he stays or leaves. My hands shake so badly I almost drop the cooler, and Luna follows me into the kitchen whining and nose whistling until I crouch by her and let her lick the tears streaming down my cheeks.

Who the hell was that? And why does he think Daddy owes that much money? My mind is a whir of very scary thoughts and all I can do is cling to Luna's neck and be thankful that Adrian showed up when he did, even if I do hate the jerk. And if that man was right and Daddy owes that much, I'll have to sell of plots of land a little at a time to pay him back, or risk losing more than just the property.

Chapter 10

There is nothing on television. I've been staring at the mountain of dirty laundry for days now and every time I see it I think of Eden in my bed taking what she wants from me after offering to do the washing. Twice I've thought bagging it all up and taking it to her place to take her up on the offer if for no other reason than to see her sweet smile again, but after chasing that tool off her property ten days ago, I haven't had the nerve or the time.

Days are filled with touring properties here and in neighboring Roan Mountain, and nights end with a few drinks and self-pleasuring to the memory of that goddess with the fiery hair, and all I can do is keep myself preoccupied because my demons are chipping away at my resolve, and she asked me not to contact her again.

It's looking more and more like my next business investment won't happen here or anywhere close either. Locals have shut me out of every other available property. It's either the rundown shopping plaza that needs totally bulldozed and reconstructed or Eden's land. And she isn't coming off it.

I close my eyes, thinking of pouring my first drink, but my phone buzzes. There aren't many people who would call me this time of night on a Saturday, so I pick up the phone to see it's Wren's image on the caller ID screen. Her number flashes as the phone buzzes and I have no desire to pick it up, but I've done it again--forgotten her alimony payment.

Hastily, I swipe the phone off the nightstand and swipe right to answer. "Yeah..." I don't even hide my grumpiness or irritation with her.

"Adrian, baby, you forgot my payment again. There is no transfer and you're three days late." Her nasally tone is grating and I can't believe I actually lived in the same home with her for two years.

"Yeah, I know. Just give me a minute." I switch the phone to speaker mode and open the banking app to start the transfer. This always happens, and she never lets me hang up until she sees the deposit in her account. "You know this would be easier if you just let me set up automatic transfers."

Ignoring my comment completely, she says, "My car broke down, Adrian." Now she's whining, great. If she can't berate me into giving her more money she pushes the metaphoric button inside my brain that makes me feel sorry for her. Since I was born I've had this compulsion to rescue strays. Unfortunately for her, she wore out her welcome.

"No."

"But, baby, I can't get to work or the gym with the car not working. It's going to cost a lot of money to repair and--"

"No, Wren. I'm not sending extra." I click the transfer button and the animation plays, showing an envelope of money seal shut and zip across the screen. "You should have it now."

I hear her phone chime and she huffs. "You should be more grateful, Adrian. I could have asked for more money per week."

"I gotta go." I swipe to hang up and think to myself how I really need to speak to my lawyer about getting autopay set up and enforced because talking to her every time this happens feels like wearing a lead jacket while swimming.

Rubbing my face, I stand and pace, feeling like a boxed-in predator. I need air. This little motel room is too small for these huge emotions and if I stay here I'll end up drinking myself into a stupor over something that happened a long time ago. So I put on my shoes and grab my phone and head out for a short walk.

For Memorial Day weekend, it's mild. The evening mountain air refreshes me almost instantly, but I keep walking anyway, lost in thought. This little town has so much charm and beauty and it's hidden away on the backside of a mountain where no one can find it. It's probably one of the reasons it has stayed so small over the years, because anyone who visits here remembers every little detail--guaranteed.

The town could really benefit from some renovations, updates to buildings and such. If my shopping center moves in, the other buildings will really look like an eyesore. It isn't my intention to make them look bad, but if it spurs a movement and they give the town a facelift, everyone will see what I see here.

Clouds are rolling in overhead as the sunlight fades, but I don't see lightning. Spring in the mountains is spectacular--the way the wind makes the trees bow as if worshipping the sky, and the lightning during a storm that seems to highlight the mountains for miles. It's a far cry from level ground where the most interesting thing you see in a storm is a streetlight shaking.

Music thumps inside the town hall, filtering out to the street as I near the steps. The front doors are propped open and I see a few guys standing around with cigarettes in their hand as I recall a poster hanging somewhere announcing a dance for tonight. With as many people as I've annoyed here in town already, I'm probably the last person they want to see at their little town dance, so I hang my head and keep moving, until I heard the shrill of a woman's voice.

"Oh! Yoohoo! Mr. Wolfe!"

I turn over my shoulder to see the waitress wiggling her fingers in the air. Her normal pleated skirt and white apron have been exchanged for a pair of slim-fit jeans and a silk blouse that billows as the breeze ahead of the storm picks up. Her hair is teased up into a bun and she grins at me.

"Why don't you come join us? You can get to know everyone if you intend to stick around a while." She clutches a small purse to her chest to hold her shirt down and I stop and sigh. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't in this situation.

Going in there will mean running a gauntlet of prying eyes and nosy questions, but not going after one of the residents invited me to join means remaining an outcast and widening the gulf that stand between every citizen and outsider who pass on the streets here. Reluctantly I nod and turn, and she squeals in delight.

Gypsy--I think her name is--curls her tiny arm around my bicep and practically drags me into the building telling me about how traditional this dance is and it's how she met her husband. I focus on the rhythmic beat of the song playing and letting my eyes adjust to the light as we ascend the stairs and enter the belly of the beast, and I'm greeted by mixed reactions, handshakes by a few men, glares from a few ladies.

The overprotective fire chief leans against a high top table holding a clear plastic cup with what looks like beer. His hat sits low over his eyes as he observes the entire room from his vantage point and I wonder if he is ex-military by the way he tracks my movements. The band plays an old country song I don't know the name of or any of the lyrics to, but it has a good beat, and it carries me across the weathered wood flooring of the town hall beneath the twirling mirrored ball to the refreshment table.

Gypsy pats my arm and says, "Have fun. I'm going to find Pete." Then she disappears into the crowd.

I nod at the younger woman, maybe only just a woman, who hands me a cup of punch. She blends right in to this mass of bodies dancing and hollering over the blaring music. Her pigtails and plaid shirt scream down-home country, and I feel a bit out of place with my Eddie Bauer button down and Dockers. I take the drink and sip it, and quickly learn it is rum punch and not just a cup of Kool-Aid.

"Thank you!" I shout over the music. I turn and step out of the way of a few ladies who stagger up for what is clearly not their first round of drinks, and I spot the most beautiful sight.

Eden stands alone near the far wall with a glass in her hand sipping on its contents. Her hair is swept to one side, gathered with a yellow hair clip, pinned so one ear is exposed where a long earring dangles. Her eyes sparkle like emeralds, matching the knee-length dress that hugs her curves--curve which I have felt with my own hands so I know how incredible they are. My dick stirs at the sight and I can't help myself. My feet move that direction without my consent but I'm not complaining.

She doesn't move away when our eyes meet, but instead, remains there, hiding behind her cup and avoiding eye contact with me. I sense the hot stare of the fire chief on my back, but it doesn't deter me.

"Good evening." Leaving a bit of distance for propriety's sake, I stop and have another drink of my punch. I see the faintest hint of irritation on Eden's forehead, but I'm not going to just walk away.

"Hello."

Her curt response both cuts me and amuses me. I realize she's still upset with me, but if she knew my intention, she would understand I only want to help her. Her body language--shoulders hunched and curled around a very guarded self-hug--tells me she wants nothing to do with me, so the only thing I can think to do is break down that wall.

"Care to dance?" The upbeat song poses no threat to her. There are people everywhere, and this is as good of a place as any I can think to hash out what happened. It's safe. There is no risk of things getting sexually charged--though someone should tell that to my dick. And she is surrounded by people who love her, who are watching over her.

Eden's eyes scan the room and her lips pucker into a pursed scowl. I'm banking on her southern manners to motivate her. I watch her chest rise and fall in a deep sigh and then she sets her cup on the table next to her and pushes off the wall.

"Fine."

A broad grin stretches across my face as I set my cup next to hers and offer her my hand. This hot and cold stuff is just the sort of thing I deal with in this business a lot, though I'm not normally physically attracted to the person I'm trying to schmooze into a sale, but I can temper my attraction if it means building my empire.

"But just one dance," she says, just as the music fades out and a more slow-tempo song takes its place. Her shoulders drop as I move toward the dance floor, keeping my back toward the nosy fire chief.

Eden hesitates as I rest a hand on her hip, but when I begin swaying, she steps closer and drapes her hands over my shoulders. There is enough space between us to fit my grandma and the baby Jesus, which is good for the half-chub in my pants, and keeps us firmly in the "business arrangement" territory.

"I need to apologize to you. You weren't supposed to see those papers."

Her lips tighten into a thin line and she stares across the room, one ear toward me.

"What I mean to say is, I wanted to talk to you about my thoughts, and those papers were just information gathering."

"So you're stalking me now too?" Her eyes are sharp like daggers as they meet my gaze and I have to take a breath to keep myself from snapping at her. My temper will be counterproductive to this discussion.

"No, I'm trying to help you. Eden, do you realize that someone your age with no savings and only a meager income like you have will never be able to afford the price of upkeep for a property that size, let alone the updates and repairs needed? And tack on the debt that's linked to the property in the form of a second mortgage and back taxes..."

Pain washes over her face briefly and her chin dips, but she meets my gaze again with determination. "I can handle it, Adrian. I don't need a savior."

"But I have the resources to help you." I wait for a moment as the creases in her forehead smooth out a little and her tongue flicks over her bottom lip, as if she's willing to hear me out. I don't even give her a chance to respond. "Let me help you, Eden. If you sell to me, you can keep all the fond memories of how your family home was, and see the future of what it could be."

With eyes of steel, she glares at me and the swaying stops. "I told you. I'm not selling, and I think this dance is over."

I keep a firm grip on her hip. "Please, I'm not trying to upset you, Eden. I really do want to help you."

Since the first moment I saw her I knew in my gut I needed to help her. Call it a sickness, but when I have the power to do something to help someone I have to do it. She is going to drown in that property and ruin her future trying to keep the last threads of dying memories alive. My plan will change all that for her, give her a new lease on life, enable her to be free to chase her dreams, whatever they are.

"No offense, Adrian, but screw you."

Eden turns abruptly and stomps across the room and out the door. This is infuriating. Even when I try to be the most amazing and gentle man to that I can be, she still refuses to allow me to help her. I've never met someone so insolent toward a sincere act of kindness and compassion. I have the opportunity to make life easier for her and she insists on struggling.

Rubbing my forehead, I go after her, but by the time I get to the sidewalk she's two blocks away to the west, heading toward her place. Thunder rolls over head now and I know she'll be soaked. If she won't even listen to reason about the property, I can at least make her get in my car to take her home. I head the opposite direction toward the motel knowing I will catch up to her before she's even made it to the outskirts of town, hopefully before the storm hits.