Page 23 of Wild Rivals

“How’s business over at the Wilde ranch?” Jim asks, gently tapping the end of his pen against a pad of paper in front of him.

“Good,” I reply, running a hand over my stubbled jaw. “I actually wanted to talk to you about lot fifty, your last lot.”

Jim leans back in his chair, a look of indifference on his face. “Is that so?”

Here goes nothing. Once I do this, there’s no backing out or undoing it. Maddie will be furious, but that isn’t my problem. She isn’t my problem. No matter how much she’s been feeling a whole lot like it.

“Yes, sir. We want to make sure—as I am sure you do too—that it goes to the right people. I don’t believe you’ll sell to some corporate company that will have no way of accessing that parcel so that means it’s the Harts and Wildes left in consideration.” I pause, waiting for him to confirm, but after a beat, he only continues to watch me so I carry on. “We’d like to offer five hundred thousand on top of what we stipulated in our pitch.”

His dark bushy brows, scattered with gray hairs, lift in surprise. “That’s a lot of money, and I’m an old man. I’m not sure I’ll have much use for it.”

“You could give it away to charity or set up a trust fund for five generations of your family. Either way, the offer is there for your consideration.” My tone is neutral, despite the weight of something akin to guilt that is sitting on my chest.

Ever the businessman, Jim asks, “And when I take this to the Harts and they offer more, what’s to stop me from picking them?”

A muscle ticks in my jaw. “You and I both know that isn’t what’s best for Coldwater or the people that have made this their home.”

“No?” Jim asks, a brow raised.

I open my mouth to respond before I catch the glint in his eyes and snap it shut. Biting back my frustration, certain that he’s looking for a reaction, I inhale, releasing the air and forcing my shoulders down, before replying, “No. The Harts are only concerned with how much money they can make and have no regard for the damage they’re doing to our great state or the people who call Coldwater their home. You have daughters, Jim, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of what happened to Autumn.”

He narrows his eyes, tilting his head to the side. “You don’t, but that was more than twenty years ago. Besides, are you and your family not doing the same thing?”

Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees, the muscle in my cheek ticking as I push down my annoyance at being compared to the Harts. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but no, my family has never made moves without considering what the impact will be. Everything we have ever done has been to preserve what was here long before us and will be here long after we’re gone.”

I expect him to question me further, maybe even to push back and deny that what I’m saying is true about the Harts. After all, Jim is friends with Arthur, just as he was friends with my father.

Instead, he exhales a heavy breath and replies, “I suspect you’re right. Selling to the Hart family will only bring more tourists into Coldwater, and while that will be brilliant for the other businesses, the people that come here seem to have a complete disregard for the preservation of the land. I’d even go so far as to say they have no respect for much of anything based on what I saw at my recent visit.”

Hope blooms in my chest and I latch onto it like a kid with their first taste of candy, ignoring the pang of guilt that quickly follows.

With a sharp incline of his chin, Jim holds out his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Wyatt. Have the contracts drawn up and sent over to my lawyer.”

That almost feels too easy, but adrenaline still rushes through me. I stand, sliding my hand into his, giving it a firm shake. I can celebrate tonight, maybe even lose myself in a woman and finally forget about the one who has been plaguing me for weeks.

16

MADDIE

It’s Sunday afternoon when the phone on my desk trills loudly, breaking through the silence as I’m reviewing the budget proposal for one of our upcoming weddings. The work around here never stops, especially when I’ve been so distracted lately. I don’t bother checking to see who it is. I never do. Very few people have the direct line to my office, which means whoever is calling is most likely in this building or Daddy calling from his house to make sure I’ll be there for dinner tonight.

“Hello,” I answer distractedly, tucking the handset between my shoulder and ear as I make a note on the quote from a new florist.

The line crackles as if whoever is on the other end is moving the handset and wasn’t quite ready for me to answer. “Maddie?”

My brows draw together as I try to place the voice. “Mr. Evergreen?” I question, sitting a little taller in my chair and making it squeak under my weight.

“Hello, Maddie. I’m calling to let you know my decision regarding the land sale.” His tone is so matter-of-fact. It’s more like he’s calling to tell me the stars do in fact live in the sky than that he’s made a decision that could change everything for my family’s business.

I suck in a breath, holding it as I wait for him to continue. Nerves assail my body before settling in my stomach like a lead weight. I swear to everything that is holy, if Wyatt has ripped this out from under me, I’m going to kill him. Literally and figuratively. I don’t even care at this point whether he had a hand in it, the fact he overheard my plan is enough. He’ll wish he was never born.

It feels like an eternity passes before Jim finally speaks. “Yesterday, Wyatt Wilde paid me a visit.” My throat tightens. I already know what he’s going to say. I’m going to kill Wyatt. I knew he’d do this. “He’s made an offer that I’d be a fool to turn down.”

My stomach drops to my feet, and I barely resist the temptation to set the handset back into the cradle. Anything not to have to listen to him tell me how I’ve lost the land and the chance to bring my mom’s memory back to life. In the years since she passed, it’s gotten harder and harder to remember the little things about her, but this was a chance to rekindle one of the memories she left us with. That’s not to say we can’t do it on our land, but this particular lot was special.

“You’re selling it to him?” I croak out, frustrated that my voice cracks and hot tears pool in my eyes, threatening to fall.

“It’s nothing personal, dear,” Jim soothes, a hint of sympathy in his tone that I want to scream at him to shove up his ass.