One Cup of Daddy and a Dash of Love - Victoria Sue Page 0,1

way someone’s life was being torn apart like on some reality TV show.

“And he never recovered. Lived in Jean’s cottage right up to it having to be sold. I closed on that yesterday.”

“I have a board meeting, Miss O’Hare, but I would like to have a second visit,” Jensen interrupted. “Alone.”

Miss O’Hare’s eyebrows lifted, and he swore Eric was going to roll his eyes before Jensen caught his expression, but Eric was used to his quirks and stepped forward with all the business contacts, references, and sureties she needed. Hell, Jensen could buy the entire block the store was set on—cash—and not bat an eyelid. All his purchases had been made in the same manner. Even if they stood outside, Jensen had to have the last look himself, and on his own. It was weird, he guessed, but businesses either spoke to him or they didn’t, and it had made him rich.

All of Jensen’s assistants over the years had called him a control freak. At least Eric seemed to think that Jensen’s quirks were a small price to pay for a very healthy salary.

Mentally, Jensen quickly went over the schedule of what he had to do for the rest of the day. The Greenbay project wanted rubber-stamping.

He knew the store had been empty for months, but news traveled fast. All the Realtor had to do was mention his visit and the price would hike immediately.

In fact, it had been a long time since he had visited Boone’s on the corner of Main Street. A small Irish pub that did one of the best fish and chips outside of Westport, Co. Galway, he had ever tasted. Ellie—much to her chagrin—had never been able to come close to replicating it, and the batter apparently was a closely guarded secret recipe straight from Ireland itself. The last thing Jensen suddenly wanted to do was go to a board meeting.

He couldn’t say what made him look up right at that second, but one minute Jensen was staring at a face in the window upstairs and the next second it had gone. For another moment Jensen questioned if he needed glasses.

But he didn’t think so. Jensen ought to warn Miss O’Hare she had someone trespassing, or even call the cops. He had been upstairs himself.

And noticed how clean it was compared to the rest of the store.

Squatters didn’t usually clean. He glanced at Eric. “Eric, can you put all the legals in motion, please,” he said and immediately offered the asking price which was peanuts to be honest. You could tell they were eager to sell. “Eric, the board meeting is all yours. They just want the Greenbay project approved, and you know everything we discussed. Call for a cab.” Eric spluttered as Jensen turned to the Realtor. “What do you need me to sign to have the keys for two hours? You could meet me back here.”

Jensen eagerly turned around, leaving Eric and Miss O’Hare discussing terms, and let himself back in the empty store. He closed the door quietly and let the atmosphere roll over him. Closing his eyes, he could almost see his aunt up to her elbows in bread dough. She’d be laughing. The radio would be on. Ellie would be singing badly. He would be making pastry soldiers and insisting they belonged in the oven along with the apple pie.

Jensen opened them and walked to the stairs. He didn’t try and keep silent. If his gut instinct was correct, he didn’t want to scare him. The area was as empty as the first time he had looked, and he cautiously opened the first door to see a small bathroom. Nowhere anyone could hide. He calmly walked to the second door and opened that one. Jensen frowned. Unless his need for glasses was a lot more serious than he thought, there was no one in here either. A few chairs, an old cabinet, and nothing else. He walked to the cabinet. Surely not? Swinging the door open wide, he heard the terrified cry from the curled-up body in the corner and for a second just stared.

Thankfully, Jensen’s instincts kicked in and he crouched down. “Hey?” He reached out to touch a thin, sweater-covered arm, but the figure shrank away from him. Jensen took a gamble. “Dashael? My name’s Jensen.”

He counted to five while he patiently waited until the mop of black curls lifted, and he caught sight of a tearstained face, huge blue eyes, and a gorgeous pair of pink lips,