“Who’s a good boy?” He rubbed the dog’s head and then laughed when the dog dropped to the grass and rolled over, showing his belly. Cole willingly knelt down and gave him a belly rub, chuckling at the obvious enjoyment of the pooch as he rolled his back this way and that, legs in the air. Dogs were just so pure in everything they did. No agendas. Unlike himself...
“Marvin, come.”
The female voice jolted him from his thoughts and he stood, leaving Marvin on his back with his paws up. A clap from the owner of the voice had the dog jumping up and shaking all over, then trotting back to his human’s side.
Cole’s brain momentarily emptied. All the opening lines he’d imagined flew straight out of his head and away on the ocean breeze. He’d expected someone middle-aged or older. A...spinster. Not a thirtyish woman with hair the color of peanut butter, wearing skinny jeans, boots, and a sweater that nipped in at her waist and hugged her hips.
This was Brooklyn Graves?
“You’re Mr. Abbott.”
He realized he’d been standing there for long seconds and saying absolutely nothing. He nodded, then moved forward and held out his hand. “Yes, Cole Abbott. It’s good to finally meet.”
More than good. Wow.
She didn’t smile as she shook his hand. As he got closer he noticed that a few freckles dotted her nose, and her eyes were a clear, clear blue. Her hand was warm and strong, and he felt a few rough spots at the base of her fingers. Calluses? Interesting.
She dropped his hand and stepped back. “What can I do for you, Mr. Abbott?”
“Please, call me Cole.” He tried a warm smile, but it didn’t appear to be getting him anywhere. “We’re neighbors, after all.”
She gave a shrug with one shoulder. “Well, I know you’d like to change that, so I’ll be as clear as I can. I’m not interested in selling my house or acreage.”
Cole took a few moments to gather himself before responding. In the end, he tried a small smile. “I got your reply, Ms. Graves. I truly did just come down to say hello. The island will be pretty small if we aren’t on speaking terms.”
“Tell me you don’t want to buy me out and we can be the best of friends.” She put her hands on her hips, and Marvin the dog sat at her feet, the soul of loyalty and obedience.
He couldn’t lie to her. For one, he got the sneaky suspicion she’d see right through it. For another, lying always came back to bite him in the butt.
Instead he put away his “let’s be friends” face, choosing instead a more businesslike manner. “I’ll be honest. I would like to buy your property.” He figured it wouldn’t hurt to sweeten the pot. “What I’m prepared to offer can set you up somewhere very nicely.”
His initial offer had been for three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The house would likely need renovations and the dock definitely needed work. It had been...reasonable.
“Would you pay me a million dollars?”
Her gaze was sharp and pinned him in place, but he’d been in business a long time. He knew how to hide his reactions, and right now he wanted to chuckle a little bit. He’d paid seven million for the rest of the land and house and considered it a steal. Her property accounted for maybe, at best, a sixth of the island. A million wasn’t that outrageous, really. Not considering the buildings on the property and the dock access.
“Yes.” Heck, if all it took was a million bucks to get her to sign away the deed, he’d do it happily. Jeremy had been the one to recommend lowballing. Cole didn’t mind upping the ante. “Yes, I’m prepared to offer you a million.”
She started at him a long moment and then turned away. “I don’t think so,” she said and started walking toward the house. “Come, Marvin.”
The dog jumped up and trotted at her heels. Meanwhile, Cole stood flummoxed on her front path, staring at her as she went in through the screen door, took Marvin with her and let the door fall shut with a loud snap behind them.
Huh. So, round one and two to Ms. Graves. But Cole wasn’t done yet. He had a history of getting what he wanted, and this was nothing more than a challenge.
CHAPTER TWO
BROOKLYN SAT IN her favorite chair, yarn trailing perfectly from her yarn bowl to the needles, and adjusted the weight of the shawl she was knitting. It was a simple pattern but incredibly lovely, both stylish and warm, and this was one item she was knitting for herself and not to sell.
The click of the needles in the silence gave her comfort, which was good. She’d come inside yesterday after talking to Cole Abbott and had shaken for a good thirty minutes. Confrontation was not her thing. She knew how to be strong but it had cost her, stealing her energy, prompting a near panic attack.
Marvin had stayed close all evening, soothing her and being steady and reliable with his company. At one point her therapist had asked if she wanted to get a service dog, but Brooklyn had declined. She had Marvin. And she’d come a very long way since she’d started counseling. She’d come to the island to escape and heal, but she’d stayed because she’d built a life she truly loved. And if she was occasionally lonely...oh, well. She’d learned that there were worse things in life than loneliness. She had everything just the way she wanted it here. No surprises.
Her needles slowed. Still, she’d coexisted with Ernest and his extended family without any trouble, and she’d admit—only to herself—that just knowing someone else was on the island had been a comfort. She wasn’t sure she could say the same about Cole Abbott. His very presence threatened the life she’d built for herself.
Maybe she should head over to the mainland tomorrow and get out for a bit. Pick up a few groceries, perhaps go for a coffee with Delilah or Jen, the sisters who ran the yarn and craft store in Liverpool. Hadn’t she just told herself that she needed to be patient? Mr. Fancy Man wouldn’t be on the island forever. It would be another plaything he’d tire of and move on. But her life...it would remain unchanged. Just the way she wanted it.
* * *