6. Victoria
6
VICTORIA
I have just managed to get my bags into the bedroom upstairs and change into jeans when I hear a vehicle approaching. Looking out the dusty window, it isn’t Jerry, but the vehicle has driven right up to the house, so clearly they are familiar with the place. The truck is luxurious, shiny and black, with a gold logo on the side doors that says Whiteman’s Whiskey . I know my only neighbor out here is the distillery, so maybe they came to say hello. It makes sense since everyone else has been super friendly so far. A big change from the city, and I already like it.
With a small smile on my face, I run my fingers through my hair to try to tame it as I walk down the beautiful hardwood staircase. These stairs are old but in great condition. Just a light sand will make a world of difference. I open the front door just as I hear two truck doors slam closed.
Barefooted, in just my jeans and a half-buttoned white shirt, I step out on the porch, watching two men approach. Well, one man and one… very large man . The first guy is dressed in a suit and looks like he belongs on Wall Street, and with that thought, my shoulders tense and my smile falters. I then look at the other man, although I am not sure I can describe him as just a man with how ridiculously big he is. Tall, broad, in dark denim jeans and a black button-down shirt that fits tight across his shoulders, showing me that he must work out. A lot. I take in a short breath as he looks right at me, his face striking, in a ruggedly good-looking kind of way, and I notice the black shirt has the same gold emblem on his chest pocket that matches the truck.
“Can I help you?” I ask, clearing my throat, trying to dismiss his handsome features. I know by the looks on their faces that they aren’t the welcoming committee I first thought they were. They seem serious, their eyes assessing me, and I am slightly intimidated as they come closer, but I push my shoulders back.
“Miss McArthur, I would like to intro—” the guy in the suit starts to say, but the other man cuts him off.
“I’m Tanner Whiteman, owner of Whiteman’s Whiskey and your neighbor.” The large man walks forward purposefully, putting out his hand. They clearly know exactly who I am. The small-town gossip grapevine in full effect. My eyes flick to his hand, and I spot a Rolex on his wrist before I look back at his face. Deep-brown eyes stare back at me, and like his branding, they have flecks of gold. His skin is tanned and lined from too much time in the sun, thick, dark hair sprinkled with hints of gray and a little ruffled. Once my gaze drifts down to his sharp jaw, then broad chest, I force myself to meet his eyes again, blinking as the sun beats down on us.
“Victoria McArthur, nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand, trying to sound professional, even though my guard is up. My hand gets completely lost in his, so much so, I gasp and look at where we join. His hands are roughened, hardworking, and huge, just like every other part of him. There is a lot to look at. I swallow quickly, and he clears his throat, which has my eyes snapping back to his. When I let go of his hand, his lingers a little longer than my own.
“Look, I am not going to waste your time. I would like to buy your aunt’s property from you,” he states as his hands find his hips. This guy clearly is wealthy. It isn’t just his expensive truck or the shiny watch. He has that well-put-together monied look about him. But I am not sure if this man is a businessman or a cowboy, as either would suit him right about now. I bring my mind back to the conversation, and it is then I understand he must be the “we” that Jerry mentioned earlier.
“Thank you for the offer, but I am not selling,” I say politely, trying to remain courteous. I don't want to get off on the wrong foot, since we are neighbors and all, but I am also not going to be a pushover.
“I will make it worth your while.” With a small smirk, he puts one foot up on the first step to my porch, seemingly relaxed, like this is a done deal in his mind. My back straightens a little more. I don’t like being played a fool, and since I have already had one man completely take me for an idiot this year, I don’t need another, regardless of how good-looking he is. They sure don’t make men like this in the city.
“I’m sorry, I am not interested,” I reiterate, stepping forward and crossing my arms over my chest, meeting him in defense. His eyes flick to my chest and back up to my eyes as I paste a small smile on my face, biting back my annoyance of having to tell him twice.
“Miss McArthur, we would be looking to offer you a sum of one million dollars, which as I am sure you know is well above market rate in this area,” the suited man chimes in, grabbing my attention. I turn my head and look at him, frowning. He clearly sees me as a dumb city girl who doesn’t know a thing about real estate. A few days ago, he would’ve been right, but too bad this city girl has had nothing better to do than research this town, this house, and the opportunities that could become available if I manage to renovate and turn it into a bed-and-breakfast. There is no other accommodation this close to both the town and the distillery. There is also no other accommodation that is so secluded and private, aside from large ranches, and they are farther out of town. I can make this something great, even with a small budget, and I at least want to try.
“Sorry, you are?” I ask, tilting my head with thinned eyes. I am not usually confrontational. Sassy is not a personality trait of mine. But ever since I found my fiancé balls deep in another woman, I seem to have grown a stronger backbone and now have an excellent bullshit radar. And these two are pinging off the charts. Again, more men turning up in my life who don’t like taking no for an answer .
“Sawyer Silvers, lawyer for Whiteman’s Whiskey,” he says with a large movie-star smile on his face, showcasing his pearly whites that tell me he is from the city. Tanner stands watching me closely, like he is trying to figure me out. I see his eyes roam down and back up my body. Is he checking me out? The thud in my chest tells me that my heart didn’t dry up and shrivel after Josh’s act of betrayal. Small creases form around his eyes in his assessment. I am not sure how old he is, but he is older than me by at least a decade, maybe two.
“Well, Sawyer the Lawyer , as I have said, I have no plans to sell, so you can throw all the money in the world my way, but my answer will remain the same,” I tell him, looking at Tanner. His lips thin, clearly frustrated.
“This is a large property. Too much for one person,” Tanner says. Arrogant much?
“I can handle it,” I throw back at him, moving my arms to my hips in defiance and watching his jaw tic. I truly have no idea what I am in for, but he is still not getting my property.
Tanner huffs a laugh. “I’ll give you a few days, a week tops. Then you will be begging me to buy it,” he says, his smirk making him even more attractive. I bet this man gets everything he wants.
“Is this how you greet all new residents of Whispers or just the single females? Do you make a habit of barging onto their property, demanding they sell, and when they decline, make fun of them?” I ask, pissed off now at his inability to actually hear what I am saying. His eyebrow quirks, like he is surprised that I’m calling him out on his bullshit welcome. “As I am sure you know, my aunt’s family built this property. She spent her entire life here in this town, and in her passing, she has given it to me to look after. So that’s my plan,” I tell him, strong in my stance.
“One million is a lot of money, Victoria. How ’bout you sleep on it?” His low rumble of a voice with a slight drawl of a country accent has my pussy pulsing, even though he is absolutely infuriating.
“Seems you are like every other man I have come across lately and don’t like to hear the word no , Mr. Whiteman, so let me just spell it out for you. N . O ,” I say, stepping back from him and his sidekick, both sporting furrowed brows. “But, of course, I appreciate your offer. If you will excuse me, I have some cleaning to do.”
Sawyer steps back to the truck, while Tanner takes a small step toward me. We are at eye level with him standing on the bottom step and me a few steps up on the porch. As he bends his head closer to mine, I don’t move. Holding my breath, his head dips to my ear, and his voice is deeper as he says, “I am not like any other man you have come across before, I can assure you that.”
My heart thuds dangerously loud as he pulls back, giving me a smirk before he says, “Welcome to Whispers, Victoria.” The sound of my name rolling off his tongue vibrates down my breasts, my traitorous nipples now peaking to attention like I am in an icebox. What is going on with me? Giving me a wink, he walks to his truck as I watch him go.
“Thanks, neighbor,” I say, not able to help the slight sarcasm. If they think they can come here and flash money around, trying to get my property, they are sorely mistaken. Not even if the man trying looks like he was God’s favorite. Renovating and designing a home like this has been a dream of mine for so long, and the universe put it straight in my lap. I am not going to give it up.
They were willing to pay me a million dollars, which is simply confirmation this property is worth keeping. Renewed enthusiasm fills my bones. It’s time to get to work.