Last Chance Rebel (Copper Ridge #6) - Maisey Yates Page 0,29

like beneath her hand.

She could only figure she had imagined that because she had felt his hands on her before. So it seemed like maybe someday she might have hers on him.

She blinked. That was ridiculous. She wasn’t making sense.

The door swung open and three older women walked into the shop, talking and laughing. Rebecca let out a long sigh of relief.

“Welcome to the Trading Post,” she said, “I’m Rebecca—if you need anything just ask.”

“That’s very nice, dear,” said one of the women, smiling brightly, before turning back to her friends and continuing to talk.

“You did not greet me like that when I walked into your store.”

“Yes, well, I don’t hate them.”

He moved over to the counter, leaning over the surface, and suddenly, it no longer felt like a safe haven back there. No, instead, she felt trapped. He was so very...tall. And broad. He filled up the space so completely, not just with his frame, but with his presence.

“I figure you know a lot of the people who have shops on this street. You might be able to advise me on how I should move forward.”

“A fire sale on all West properties? Everything must go?”

“I could definitely offer that up, though not everybody is going to be able to get a loan. And I’m not entirely sure I want to own anything here in Copper Ridge.”

“It wouldn’t be an issue for you at all if you had somebody managing the properties. Anyway, most of the people that are in their shops on Main Street have been in them for a few years. Everything kind of runs like a well-oiled machine, and none of the businesses are going anywhere.”

“And some of them are empty.”

She knew that he meant the small block of buildings on the very back end of the street, curving around to face the ocean and the wharf. “Yes, those have been empty for a long time.”

“I could sell those or, if I was interested in keeping investment properties, I could rent them out. What kinds of businesses aren’t represented here yet?”

“Why, are you thinking of starting one?”

“Just curious.”

“My friend Lane runs the mercantile, and she has specialty foods.”

He nodded once. “I know. We own that building.”

“My friend Alison has a bakery, there’s a secondhand store...”

“Alison owns the bakery, I believe, but the West family owns the thrift shop.”

“And you own empty buildings.”

He nodded. “Do you have any ideas about what they could be used for?”

“Something that you don’t have to stay around to oversee?”

A smile curved the left side of his mouth, and she wondered if she’d ever seen him smile before. She didn’t think she had. It was strange what it did to his face. Lightened everything up a little bit, like a cloud break in the middle of a storm.

“Okay, noted. You want to get rid of me.”

“Lane might really appreciate the opportunity to buy her building,” Rebecca said. Lane’s business had been extremely successful since the tourism in town had started picking up, so Rebecca imagined her friend had the financial ability to buy the building if she wanted to.

“Then I’ll have to have a talk with Lane. Maybe you could facilitate that?”

“Are you... Are you making busy work for me to do?”

He shrugged slightly. “Not necessarily.”

“You are. You’re making busy work for me to do so that you can pretend that I am working off what I owe you, when we all know that as it is I’m barely going to be able to do it without you allowing me to charge you an exorbitant sum for every hour I’m in your presence.”

“You want the impossible, Rebecca,” he said, his voice suddenly rough. “You want to be able to run your store and work enough for me so you’re going to somehow be able to pay back the thousands of dollars that I gave to you. You want to be able to do it without your physical limitations getting in the way. But, you want it to all be fair. You want to make sure that you’re not taking any kind of charity, and I’m not being easy on you, when we both damn well know you need me to be easy on you.”

Stupidly, horrifically, she felt tears stinging her eyes. Because it all felt so impossible. And her pride felt so small, and silly. But she didn’t cry. Crying was useless. It didn’t fix anything. All it did was show people that you were weak. That you were hurt. She refused to

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