CHAPTER TWO
Rebecca—
I drive down Main Street, my eyes scanning for a parking spot. I have to drive several blocks before I find a space. That’s wonderful. I smile to myself. I’ve always thought this town is so cute and unique, like I’ve walked right into a Christmas card. I’m glad it’s prospering.
As I climb out of the car, a chilly breeze whips by, carrying with it the earthy smells of autumn. Such a wonderful time of year, full of sweaters, beautiful warm colors, and of course, pumpkin spice. It’s second only to Christmas.
My ankle-high boots click as I make my way to the lawyer’s office. I’m thankful I chose to wear the long-sleeve sweater dress that’s been tucked away in my closet, making the brisk chill in the air more manageable.
I hear the chatter of a crowd as I cross another street and glance down the road to where the weekly farmer’s market is in full swing.
The smell of cinnamon and fresh-baked bread waft toward me, and I inhale deeply, letting out a sigh of longing.
Maybe I’ll have to swing by on my way to the car and find the cause of that scrumptious scent.
Carlyle and Carouthers’ Law Office comes into view, and my nerves rise.
I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing here.
Shock doesn’t begin to cover what I felt when Mr. Carlyle called to tell me Grandpa Jim had left me something in his will.
I racked my brain for what it could be, but all I could come up with was his wife Trudy’s beautiful serving dishes.
I always commented on how exquisite they looked every time David and I came for dinner, which wasn’t often, but I found it a treat anytime we got a chance.
The door swings open a little more forcibly than I intended with the wind at my back to assist. I trudge up the staircase until I reach the receptionist.
“You must be Mrs. Reardon.”
“Yes,” I smile.
“Great, the others are waiting for you. Follow me.”
I bite my lower lip as I follow behind her. Of course, I’m the last to arrive.
She opens another door and announces me as I step inside.
Quickly scanning the room, I spot the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
He’s leaning against a crackling fireplace, and the flickering light dances over him, adding to his sexy, dangerous look.
My eyes connect with his, and my breath catches.
His are the most beautiful slate-gray. I swear I see a flash of his lips curling up before his gaze travels down my body slowly and then back up, noticeably stopping at the curves I clearly have on display.
What was I thinking? I should never have worn something this provocative.
The burgundy dress hugs my every curve and stops mid-calf.
David always told me this dress showed the world what was meant for the bedroom.
I thought it made me look nice, sophisticated even, but the way this stranger just undressed me with his eyes has me shifting nervously.
Then he smirks. Smirks.
My eyes narrow, and I turn my attention to the other members in the room: David’s parents and—I assume—Mr. Carlyle.
“I’m so sorry I made everyone wait. Parking was atrocious, which of course is wonderful for the town, but not conducive to my arriving in a timely manner.”
Janet, David’s mother, smiles. “No need to apologize, dear. Now come sit by me.” She pats the empty chair on her left.
“Well, now that everyone is here,” Mr. Carlyle begins, “let’s get to it. You are all here because your names are listed in Mr. Anderson’s will.”
He works his way through several items, including the family car, which all go to his daughter, Janet.
“And now to the business property.”
I notice my father-in-law Tom shift forward.
“I leave Holly Jolly Christmas Tree Farm and its eighty acres along with all that resides upon those acres, including but not limited to the cabin, barn, and office, and any accounts associated with it to John Joseph Reardon—”
My head whips behind me, and I immediately jump at how close Mr. Tall, Blond, and Handsome has gotten.
He stands only a foot behind me. But now he isn’t this mysterious, sexy stranger; he’s JJ.
David’s infamous brother. The one in some kind of motorcycle gang.
Now that he stands closer, I see the tattoos peeking out from under his thermal shirt and the black leather vest he wears over it.
“And David and Rebecca Reardon.”
I fling my attention to Mr. Carlyle.
“Excuse me?” I mumble.
“Are you serious? He left that farm to him?” Tom gestures to JJ, his son. The veins bulge on his neck. “Instead of his own daughter?”
“Thanks for the glowing endorsement,” JJ drawls.
“So,” Mr. Carlyle continues as if Tom didn’t just have an outburst. “The two of you will split the farm, fifty-fifty.”
“Wait. What? That’s not how that works,” JJ interjects. “My brother died before my grandfather.”
“So, you knew your brother died?” Janet snips. “You didn’t come to the funeral. Of course, you didn’t come to Pawpaw’s either, and that didn’t stop him from leaving you the farm, so what do I know?”
JJ completely ignores his mother and addresses Mr. Carlyle. “My brother died first. It shouldn’t be going to his widow.”
Oh crap. He’s talking about me now. My gaze snaps to Mr. Carlyle, waiting for his response.
“Well, you would be right, but…” He draws out the word. “Mr. Anderson didn’t write his will to you and your brother; he wrote it to you and Mr. David and Mrs. Rebecca Reardon. So, you see, she is a named beneficiary.”
“He couldn’t possibly have meant that.” JJ shakes his head.
“It doesn’t matter what he meant; we have to go with what it says in this legally binding document.” He waves the stack of papers he’s been reading for the last twenty minutes.
“Honestly, James Joseph, I wish Rebecca was given the whole damn thing rather than you.”
I turn to see JJ’s jaw flex, and damn if it doesn’t turn me on. But otherwise, he has no outward reaction to what his mother just said to him.
I, on the other hand, need to get ahold of myself. I cannot be attracted to this man.
One. He’s my deceased husband’s brother.
Two. Everyone hates him, and there must be a reason why.
Three. Even the most dangerous of things come in pretty packages, and he is definitely dangerous. It practically pours off him.
Four. He is now my business partner.
I recite the list in my head again, but my eyes don’t get the message, and they trail over his body.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. We’re just going to sell the place,” JJ claims like it’s already decided.
I snap my wandering eyes to his face. Do I want to sell?
Hell no, I don’t. This is a gift that has just been dropped in my lap.
I used to fantasize about owning the Christmas Tree Farm and all the things I would do.
Now I can make it a reality. This is my chance to make something, to be someone separate from David’s widow.
I’ll be damned if some man is going to take that away, albeit a very hot, well-built, makes you want to sin—
No. Knock it off.
“I don’t want—”
“Actually,” Mr. Carlyle cuts me off. “The will states you must maintain the property for at least one year prior to selling it.”
“You have got to be kidding.” JJ crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, so we just let the property sit and then sell.”
“I want to run the place.” I finally find my voice.
“We can’t afford to run the place.” JJ returns barely acknowledging my existence. But at least he responded to me, which is more than I can say he’s done with his mother.
“Well, you have money in the account,” Mr. Carlyle says and slides the bank statement across the desk.
“See?” I pull the statement closer.
JJ leans over me to read the amount, and my heart quickens. Then he taps his finger on a line reading the balance with an embarrassingly small number. “See?” he chirps back at me.
“Oh.” I deflate at the sight but try to pull out my optimism. “Well, it’s still more than we thought.”
“Yeah, because we thought we were starting at zero.”
“So”—I gesture to the paper—“better.”
“Barely,” he concedes.
“You cannot honestly expect them”—Janet gestures between JJ and myself—“to work together. Surely there’s something to be done.”
Mr. Carlyle scratches his chin. “Not unless either wants to revoke their claim on the property.”
“No.” We chime at the same moment, then our eyes connect, clearly assessing each other and what kind of business partner we just got into bed with—no, don’t think about this man in bed, no matter it’s a metaphor.
“Well, that concludes our meeting. My secretary will be providing keys and any and all documents needed to show the new ownership.”
“There a reason this had to be done in person?” JJ asks.
Mr. Carlyle glances at Tom and Janet. “It was requested by your mother, sir.”
His gaze snaps to her. “Why?”
“Because I wanted to see you, but I had no idea this would be the outcome. This is lunacy, James Joseph. You can’t run that place. You should just cede your interest to Rebecca or to your father and me. You’re never even in the state anymore. What could you possibly want it for?”
“You’re right about most of that, Mom. This is the last place I want to be. I didn’t ask for any of this. To be honest, I’m as surprised as any of you he’d give me and David the place, but here we are. If you’re asking, do I want to run it? No, I plan to sell my share as soon as legally possible.”
“Apparently, that’s a year from now. What do you plan to do in the meantime?”
“That’s really none of your concern.”
“We’re concerned about Rebecca. She’s our only concern here,” my father-in-law cracks.
“Of course, she is. Why would I ever think you gave a damn about me?” JJ growls.
“Gentlemen, please…” Mr. Carlyle tries to step in.
“Want to go to lunch to discuss everything?” JJ asks from behind me, and something in me makes me feel sorry for the way they’re treating him.
“Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” I reply.
“We’re coming, too,” Tom announces.
“Absolutely not,” I object, standing. “You are not an owner and therefore not privy to business meetings.”
Tom’s brows hit his hairline. I’ve never once had the backbone to disagree with my father-in-law before, and the shock is written all over his face.
As much as I appreciate their concern, I have to do this on my own. I need to prove to myself that I can do this, and if I can’t have a lunch meeting with my new partner, I might as well throw in the towel right now.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you both soon.” I hug Janet. She barely returns it.
They storm past in a huff, glaring daggers at JJ. I just pissed off my in-laws for the first time in my life, but I can’t worry about that now. I have bigger problems to solve.