Strictly Pretend (The Salinger Brothers #6)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER

FOUR

EMMA

I’m searching through a shelf of our most expensive books at the back of the shop, looking for a first edition we have of Of Mice And Men . It’s worth five thousand dollars and I love it because underneath John Steinbeck’s name it has the words ‘the author of Tortilla Flat ’ a book most people have never heard of. I find it halfway down the shelf, and carefully unzip it from its protective clear packaging.

The cover is old and pretty. There’s a big tree on the left and two men walking halfway down a road that’s yellow with dust. One big, one small.

I put it on the desk and switch on my laptop so I can reply to the enquiry we had from a library in Australia. If they buy it, it’ll give our cash flow a nice boost.

As the laptop screen flickers to life, the bell above the shop door rings and Mark the therapist walks in, along with Rita who owns the dress shop on the other side. She goes through fashion phases. Or rather decades. Right now she’s in her seventies era and she’s wearing the most impressive kaftan, with a psychedelic print. Her dark hair is curled in Farrah Fawcett like waves and her lipstick is bright red.

Mark wears chinos and a blue-collared shirt every day. He says his clients like the familiarity, but I suspect he just doesn’t enjoy shopping. Two years ago, Rita tried to make him over and he hid away for a week.

“Hi,” I say, pushing the laptop screen down again. “You two okay?”

We get together sometimes. Usually when it’s one of our birthdays, or at Christmastime when we hold a party in Mark’s office, because there are no products to damage in there. Last year we played Twister – Grandpa spun the wheel – and Mark pulled a muscle in his back.

“Yeah, didn’t you get the email?” Mark asks. “We have a meeting in half an hour.”

“What email?” I frown. The only email I’m interested in is the one I need to reply to so I can secure the sale of the Steinbeck.

“From Salinger Estates. They’re coming to meet us here. They want to discuss the future of the building.”

My stomach immediately twists. “There’s nothing to discuss. We’re not moving.” I look at them. “None of us. If we refuse to accept their terms, they can’t throw you out either. I’ll speak to them and send them on their way.”

Rita lets out a sigh. “If we need to move, I’d rather do it sooner than later. It’s my quiet season. I could be up and running for the fall boost if we took the money now.”

“I’m thinking of building a therapy room in my backyard,” Marks says. “The money they’ve offered should cover the construction costs. And I would never have to worry about a landlord again.”

“But what about this building?” I ask him. “What about our community?”

He presses his lips together, avoiding my eyes. “We can still have Christmas parties,” he mutters. “I won’t let them take away Twister.”

There’s a thickness in my throat. “We can’t let them win.”

“What does your granddad think?” Mark asks. “Wait, where is he?”

“He’s not feeling well, so I told him he’s taking the week off whether or not he likes it.” Truth is, he’s exhausted. He spent the entire weekend at estate sales. I tried to get him to slow down but he’s getting more obsessed with finding my grandmother’s poetry book. So I went with him, keeping him hydrated and searching through all the bookshelves in each old home, trying not to feel sad at the emptiness of the rooms.

Somebody once lived in these houses. They laughed, cried, and loved hard and now they’re gone. I hate estate sales.

“They probably emailed him,” Rita says. “About the meeting, I mean.”

“Probably.” I nod. And now I’m remembering the annoyed letter I sent to their office and I’m squirming because it’s easy to be rude to somebody by letter. But now I have to look them in the eyes.

“Anyway, Rita and I have been talking,” Mark says. “And we think it’s best that you take the lead. As the tenant that’s been here the longest.”

I blink and look at Rita. She shrugs.

“Why me?”

“I have a client coming in an hour. His wife wants custody of his cat. I can’t turn him away,” Mark says.

“And I have a delivery coming in twenty minutes.” Rita grins at me.

My stomach twists.

“Wait.” I panic. Because this huge corporation is coming to steamroll us. And yes, I’m strong but I’m also only one person. “I need some kind of proof that I’m entitled to speak on your behalf.”

Mark holds out a piece of paper. “Here you go. We both signed it.”

I take it, swallowing hard. Maybe it’s better this way. It’s not Rita and Mark’s fault I sent a rude letter.

Before I can say anything else, they’re both scurrying away and I’m left holding the piece of paper in one hand and trying to ignore the sinus headache forming along the bridge of my nose.

I’ll apologize for my rudeness, explain that we’re not leaving the building, and then the representative from Salinger Estates can be on their way.

It’ll be fine. I’ve faced worse. Or at least I think I have right until the moment the door opens at eleven o’clock on the dot and he walks in.

“You?” I whisper, my throat tight as my eyes clash with his. They’re as blue as I remember. Piercing. Perfectly set in a face that’s stupidly handsome in a way that makes my heart race.

“E. Robbins?” he asks, frowning at me. Because he obviously remembers me, too. I take a deep breath and all I can smell is the low notes of his cologne.

My body reacts to it.

“Please tell me your last name isn’t Salinger.”

Dammit, I really didn’t think my day could get any worse.

brOOKS

She looks like she’s trying not to hyperventilate. I’m a little damn dazed myself. Mostly because the last person I expected to be confronting was the she-wolf I helped at a wedding last year.

Her lips are parted, her eyes are wide. And my traitorous gaze dips down to take in the smooth skin along her neck, the way her dress clings to every curve. I pull my gaze back up to her face, but that’s no better. The way her lashes are flecked with gold is way too fascinating.

She lets out a long breath as we stare at each other. If my brothers ever find out about this they’re going to laugh their heads off.

Which is precisely why I won’t be telling them.

I remind myself why I’m here. And it’s not to flirt with pretty girls. I tighten my jaw and narrow my eyes until I’m back to being the asshole landlord. Because I have a job to do.

“If you’re E. Robbins, then who is Walter K. Robbins?” I ask her. Because that’s the name on the lease.

She swallows hard. “That’s my grandad. And you? I thought you said your name was Brooks.”

“It is. Brooks Salinger.”

“So you are the owner of Salinger Estates?” She looks like she’s about to hurl.

“Part owner,” I tell her, pulling a piece of paper from my pocket. As I unfold it she stares at it for a moment and grimaces as she looks at the letter she sent.

“I assume this was from you?” I say.

Her face flushes. “Um, yes. But in my defense I didn’t know you were Mr. Salinger.”

“And if you had?” I ask, my eyes on hers.

“I’d have said please,” she offers.

And fuck if that doesn’t make me want to laugh. Now I’m remembering how she made me laugh by the lake. Damn, I don’t like being attracted to her.

Business and pleasure should never, ever mix.

“Is your grandfather here?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “He isn’t, but I have full authority to speak on his behalf.”

“And the other business owners? I emailed them about this meeting. Are they coming?”

“I have their authority to speak on their behalf, too.” She picks up two letters and shows them to me. They’re signed by the other tenants, saying Emma may speak for them.

“But honestly,” she says. “You’re wasting your time. We have an ironclad lease. And we don’t intend to give it up.”

“Everything’s negotiable,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “This isn’t. I’m sorry.” Her eyes dip to my neck, and she lets out a breath. Her eyes are dilated.

And for a minute all I can think about is how primal she looked howling at the moon.

“How have you been?” I ask.

She blinks at the abrupt change in direction of conversation, like I’m trying to disarm her.

“I’m fine,” she mutters.

“Did you get home safely after the wedding?” I ask. “I looked for you in the morning but you were gone.”

“There were no buses running on Sunday morning so I hitchhiked,” she admits. “Took a while but I got here.”

I wince at the thought of it. “You hitchhiked? Seriously? Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

“To me or the driver?” she asks.

“To you. You should have woken me. I would’ve driven you home.”

“I didn’t know you either,” she points out. “You could have been just as dangerous.”

For a moment neither of us say anything. Because the fact I’m here, trying to break a lease, proves that I probably am. I hate the way she looks disappointed with me. And maybe she is, because there’s this weird tug in my stomach.

“Can you just get out whatever it is you have to say,” she says. “I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.”

I take a pointed look around the empty shop and then bring my eyes back to hers. I hate the way I like them. “I can see how busy you are.”

She frowns. “We’re a high value business. Not a high volume business.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. When we sell a book it can pay the rent for a month, sometimes multiple months. And I have an enquiry about a Steinbeck, so I’d really like to get back to work.”

“That’s because your rent is too low.”

She swallows.

“And I’ve seen your finances. You’re neither high value nor high volume. Your business is failing. For the last god knows how many years you’ve been in the red.”

“There’s more to life than money,” she says, looking even more annoyed. Even frowning she’s attractive.

“Not when it comes to business.” I pull my mind out of the gutter.

Hot blood pumps to her face. “We pay our rent on time every month. That’s all you need to know. Anything else has nothing to do with you.”

“It’s in every landlord’s best interest that his tenants have a long-term profit plan,” I point out.

“We’ve been here for fifty years. We plan to be here for fifty more.”

“That’s a shame,” I tell her. “I was hoping we could do this nicely. For your sake.”

“For my sake?” she repeats. “What does that mean?”

My eyes narrow. I just want this whole thing to be over. “It means that we can do this one of two ways, Miss Robbins. The easy way or the hard way. And either way, I’ll get what I want, I always do.”

She laughs. “Does that kind of talk usually work?” she asks. “Because Hollywood called and they want their Wolf of Wall Street back.”

Christ, she’s pretty. For a minute I want to laugh with her.

“You wasted your time coming here,” she tells me. “Nothing will persuade us to break the lease.”

Our eyes meet again and I feel a thrill rush through my body. The memory of her mouth against mine makes me feel alive for the first time in months.

“Everybody has a price, Emma,” I say, my gaze not leaving hers. “I just need to find out what yours is.”

EMMA

Mia bursts out laughing as I tell her about the contents of the letter I sent to Salinger Estates. “Seriously, just those words? Nothing else?”

“No.” I let out a sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me his last name was Salinger?”

I close my eyes for a moment, the memory of today all too vivid. My heart rate didn’t come down for at least an hour after he left. I swear I could still smell the woody notes of his cologne for another hour after that.

I’m not attracted to him. Sure, I kissed him once, but I was going through a traumatic event.

And this is another one. That’s why I can’t stop thinking about him. Not because he’s the handsomest man I’ve ever seen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t sleep in your own bungalow on my wedding night and had to be saved by him?” Mia retorts. “And come to that, why didn’t you tell me about seeing Will and my disgusting cousin in the bathroom as soon as you bleached your eyes? I would have thrown them both out. You know that. And you could have stayed in my room if you didn’t want to be anywhere near him.”

“It was your wedding night,” I point out, glad for the distraction. “I don’t think you needed a third person there.

She chuckles. “We were so exhausted we consummated nothing that night. Grant ended up giving me a foot rub and then I tried to give him a back massage but I passed out on top of him. When I woke up in the morning I’d drooled all over his head.”

“You’re the last of the old romantics.” I smile, because it’s always good to talk to Mia. She and Grant are living in New York City now, in a condo that belongs to his parents. In my mind they’re Big and Carrie, looking beautiful and rich as they waft through the city. “Anyway, how’s married life treating you?” I ask her.

“It’s sublime.” She lets out a contented sigh. “Grant cooks for me every night. He says it’s his way of winding down.”

Now that I could get behind. Last night I got home and the only thing in my refrigerator was a furry chicken breast, which definitely wasn’t supposed to be furry, and a shrivelled up lemon that I can’t even remember buying. I ended up eating toast for dinner, which I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be doing at my age.

“Do you see any of the old gang around the city?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

“I haven’t seen Will if that’s what you mean.” She spits out his name like it tastes bad. “I think Grant has. It’s the one bone of contention.”

“Boner of contention,” I say and she coughs out a laugh. “But seriously, don’t let him come between you. Both figuratively and literally. He’s not worth it.”

“But you’re my friend and he hurt you.” There’s a moment’s pause. “Did you get the invitation to Cassie’s wedding?” she asks. And now I know why she called.

“Yes.” Cassie was the third of our little group when we were in school. I’ve seen her a few times since Mia and I reconnected. She’s lovely but she lives an entirely different life to me, and even to Mia. Her dad is so rich he doesn’t know what to do with his money. He owns the biggest ranch in Montana where I imagine him playing at being a billionaire cowboy all day.

I wasn’t expecting to be invited to the wedding, but Cassie is kind and I know she’d worry about leaving me out. “I’m going to decline it though.”

“Decline it? Why?” There’s a frown in Mia’s voice.

“You know why.” Because Will will almost certainly be there. His family is friends with Cassie’s. And as much as I’ve moved on from him, I certainly don’t want to come face to face with him. Especially at another wedding.

“Don’t let him come between us,” Mia says. I wince at the way she almost echoes my words. She’s right, I shouldn’t, but maybe I’m tired of rich boys throwing their weight around.

And now I’m thinking about Brooks Salinger again and the way he fills out his suit just right. The way he kisses.

God, I need to get a life.

“It’s in Montana,” I point out. “I can’t be away from the shop for that long.”

“It’s for a long weekend. If you get to the city you can travel with us.”

“Won’t Will come with you?” I ask her, because I’d like to avoid that, thank you very much.

“I already asked. He’s going down early.” Mia sounds smug. “Please come. It’ll show him you’ve moved on.” She pauses. “I miss you. We haven’t seen each other since my wedding. It’s four days, we can spend a lot of time together. Please?”

“I’ll think about it,” I tell her, though I’m absolutely certain I won’t go. I don’t feel part of their world anymore. And my world is falling apart. I need to be here, at the shop, because god only knows what Salinger Estates will do if I’m away.

Not Salinger Estates. Brooks Salinger. The devil in a designer suit.

Mark would take their money in a heartbeat. Rita would be swayed by Brooks’ warm smile and promises of a bright future.

As for Granddad, he’s so busy looking for a book written by the woman he loved that nothing else seems to matter anymore. I’m the only one left fighting.

And it’s exhausting.