Chapter 13 #2
Finally, Mike broke the silence. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” He started to turn away, then paused. “See you at home I guess.”
The word home hit me harder than I expected. “Yeah. Sure.”
Mike climbed back into the church van, turned the engine over, and with a small wave, he was gone in a cloud of dust. I tossed my bagged lunch into the seat of my truck before heading over to Vivian, trying to figure out why my stomach suddenly felt so… fluttery.
I watched the dust settle from Mike’s departure, feeling strangely hollow as the church van disappeared down the road. What the hell was that about? Why would he drive all the way out here just to bring me lunch and apologize? Nobody did shit like that, especially not for someone like me.
“Mr. Callahan?” Vivian called again, her voice tinged with impatience. “If you have a moment?”
I shook my head, trying to clear it of thoughts about Mike’s blue eyes and the way he lit up when I looked at him. Focus, Cash. This was what I’d been waiting for, someone with deep pockets who could take this property off my hands.
“Coming,” I called back, striding over to where she stood by her SUV, tablet in hand.
“I’ve completed my preliminary assessment,” she said, all business. “The land has potential, though there are some concerns about drainage in the southeastern section. Nothing insurmountable, but something we’ll need to factor into our offer.”
“And when might that offer be coming?” I asked, cutting to the chase.
She smiled that practiced smile again. “I’ll need to consult with my partners and run the soil samples, but I should have something for you within the next forty-eight hours.”
I didn’t want to spend another night in Sagebrush much less two days. Then there was the closing process that could take a month or more. I bit back a sigh. “Yeah, that works.”
“Excellent.” She handed me a business card. “My direct line is on there. Feel free to call if you have any questions before then.”
I pocketed the card without looking at it. “So what’s the ballpark figure we’re talking here? I don’t want to waste even a couple of days just to hear some lowball offer.”
Vivian’s smile tightened slightly. “I assure you, Mr. Callahan, we don’t make lowball offers. But I can’t give you a number until we’ve completed our analysis.”
I knew a brush-off when I heard one, but I also knew pushing wouldn’t get me anywhere. “Fine. I’ll wait for your call.”
She nodded, extending her hand again. “It’s been a pleasure. I look forward to our next meeting.”
I shook her hand briefly, and she climbed into her SUV, backing carefully around the debris before driving away. I watched her go, wondering if this was finally my ticket out of here or just another dead end.
With both my visitors gone, the property felt eerily quiet. Just me and the ruins of a life I’d never wanted to revisit. I walked back to my truck, eyeing the paper bag Mike had brought. Despite my plan to ignore his peace offering, my stomach growled again.
I opened the bag and pulled out the sandwich. It wasn’t from Dolly’s or any other place in town I recognized. The bread was freshly baked, the bacon perfectly crisp. I took a bite and couldn’t help the small groan of appreciation that escaped me. Homemade. Definitely homemade.
Had Mike made this himself? He’d claimed he couldn’t cook much beyond that taco salad, but this wasn’t just thrown together. This was made with care.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, taking another bite. Why did he have to go and do something nice? It was easier when I could just write him off as another do-gooder who thought he could save my soul with Bible verses and platitudes. It was easier just to hate him.
I finished the sandwich, then dug out one of the cookies. Chocolate chip, still slightly soft in the middle. Perfect, just like everything else about Pastor Mike seemed to be. It pissed me off how good they were.
I ate two more before forcing myself to put the rest away.
The last thing I needed was to start thinking fondly of Mike and his goddamn domestic skills.
This was exactly the kind of shit that led to complications, and complications led to disappointments, and disappointments led to me getting hurt again.
No. Better to keep things simple. Fuck him if the opportunity arose again, because let’s face it, the sex had been phenomenal, but keep my distance otherwise. I wasn’t staying in Sagebrush a second longer than necessary.
I climbed into my truck and started the engine, the lockbox still rattling around in the bed.
I’d need to find some tools to pry it open.
Maybe Brooks had something I could borrow.
The thought of asking him for help made me grimace, but I was curious about what was inside that box.
My father had kept it locked for a reason.
For now though, it would have to wait. I didn’t think I could handle another conversation with damn near anyone today.
As I drove back toward town, I couldn’t help replaying Mike’s visit in my head. The way he’d looked at me, like he was trying to see something beneath all my anger and bitterness. The way he’d almost seemed disappointed when I confirmed I was still planning to leave.
What did he expect? That I’d suddenly decide to stay in this town where my own father had thrown me away like garbage? Where no one had bothered to look for me or check if I was okay?
“Fuck this place,” I muttered, pressing harder on the accelerator. And fuck Mike for making me think, even for a second, that there might be something worth staying for.
But as I passed the church on my way back to the parsonage, I caught myself slowing down, wondering if he’d gone back there after dropping off my lunch. Wondering what he was doing right now.
Wondering if he was thinking about me too.