Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Rhett
H e’d barely made it back to the shop when a family of six walked in to hire gear for a camping trip. Their own had been destroyed in the storm, but they were determined to make the most of the rest of their vacation.
Rhett helped them make their selections and no sooner had they left than the phone rang. On it went, racing from one customer to the next. Taking bookings, sorting out hired gear that had been returned and needed checking and packing before being stored away, ready for the next rental.
By the time he was ready to turn the sign on the door to ‘closed’ it was approaching sunset and Rhett was exhausted, so he wasn’t particularly pleased to hear the bell jangle over the front door again.
He sighed, running his hand through his hair and forcing a smile on his face that he really didn’t feel. He just wanted to go home to Charlie. His heart kicked at the thought, a genuine smile lifting his lips.
When Rhett entered the front room, it was to see a man in a slightly rumpled suit running his finger over a table to inspect for dust. There was something about him that put Rhett on edge, so there was no hint of a smile in his voice when he greeted the newcomer.
“Can I help you?” He asked, habit forcing him to be polite.
The other man turned and smiled, his teeth far too white and even, his blond hair slicked back, not a strand out of place.
“Rhett West?”
“The same.” What did this guy want?
The man walked towards Rhett and held out his hand. Rhett gripped it automatically, not at all surprised when his hand was squeezed a little too hard for politeness.
“Prescott St Johns,” he said with a smile, as if expecting Rhett to know who he was.
Rhett looked down at Prescott, and squeezed his hand in return. Prescott’s face went a little pale before extracting his now slightly wrung hand.
“Can I help you?” Rhett repeated.
Prescott cleared his throat. He tuned his head and gestured to the front room. “It’s more like, can I help you?” His smile was far too wide to be authentic, a show of friendliness that reminded Rhett of a salesman with a limited time deal. There was something about the guy, like a child playing at being an adult. He couldn’t be over thirty years old, but the suit gave the impression he was older, and Rhett would bet that’s exactly why Prescott was wearing it.
“Whatever it is you’re selling, I’m not buying.”
Prescott laughed, but when Rhett didn’t join in, he stopped. “I’m not selling anything. I’m here to buy. I’m from Sinclair Properties and we have an offer?—”
Rhett sighed. “Not interested.”
“It’s an incredible offer.” He said, emphasizing the word incredible in a way that set Rhett’s teeth on edge.
“Still not interested.”
Prescott dropped all pretense of friendliness. “It’s for twice what the last offer was for. How much do you need to clean up this dump, huh?” He stared around the room, oblivious to the glower Rhett was delivering him. “It’s obvious you can’t afford to fix the place. Face it, you’re in over your head.”
Rhett’s hands were in such tight fists his knuckles began to ache. He took a step towards Prescott. “You drove all the way from New York to tell me that? What made you think that this time I’d accept the offer?”
“Oh, I was already in the area. Mr. Sinclair asked me to pop by to pick up his daughter, considering how close we are.”
“You’re friends with Charlie?” Jealousy flared to life at the thought of Charlie and this peacock being in any way more than friends. He fought to calm his breathing. Whatever she did before didn’t matter. Whoever she did it with didn’t matter either.
Prescott smiled like a cat who’d got the cream. “Oh, I wouldn’t say we’re just friends. Charlotte and I go way back.” He emphasized her name, picking an imaginary piece of lint from his suit jacket. He brushed his hand down the fabric with a frown. “Actually, I suppose I may as well give you a word of warning.”
Rhett didn’t trust this man as far as he could throw him, but the earlier doubt he had about Charlie and her motives roared to life like gas on a smoldering fire. “About what?”
“She’ll say whatever she needs to get you to sign. Do whatever she needs to. Her father has given her a challenge to prove herself. If she doesn’t get you to sell, she’s out. She doesn’t even have the authority to make a deal. She needs Mr. Sinclair to approve it, which he has not.”
That couldn’t be true. She would have said something, wouldn’t she?
Rhett barely heard Prescott as he left, the bell jangling in his wake. He locked up on autopilot and headed home.
He had to talk to Charlie. Now.