Chapter Thirty-Two
There was a mile's difference between a polite conversation about her intentions with the property—if she should buy it, and what it was worth to the company, all while she was secretly hoping to find a way to get back together with the man on the other side of the table—and trying to figure out how much she was honestly willing to spend on it.
And there was an even bigger difference between asking him out to dinner and asking him to sell his property outright. Even if the dinner was supposedly to discuss it.
It's strange how nervous she is, as if someone's sitting on her chest and forcing all the air out of her lungs. She's not even calling him yet. She's just trying to figure out the math on her starting bid.
Making the bid can come later.
But she's got to come with a number in her head, even if she shouldn't come right out and say what that number is. And right now, she's drawing a total blank.
She's too close. It's not hard to realize it. She can't just get close to the guy, know everything about his life, know why he cares so much about the property, and then put that away whenever it's convenient.
She's going to feel for him. Sympathize with him. But that's not something that she can afford to just allow to control her perspective, either. She's got to make decisions that are right for her and for her father's company.
Which means, whether she likes it or not, she can't afford to high-ball him and get him with big numbers. Not if it's more than the property is worth for her and for Lowe.
And looking at the numbers… it's hard to say. If it were on the open market, and she were just buying any three or four acres of land, then she would only be looking at paying two hundred thousand.
Now, that's developed land. There's no way it would sell for two hundred. Not if he were selling to anyone else. They'd see the house, they'd see the barn, they'd see the stables. It's practically a ready-made horse ranch. The only work you'd need to do would be getting the horses.
Which means that she might be looking at… as many as double that, possibly. Is that too much? Four hundred? She's not sure.
The price ranges vary so wildly that it's not clear. More than that, though, he's still not looking to sell. Four hundred would be what he'd get if he were happy with selling, hired himself a realtor and got it sold.
What she's trying to do is to tempt him into selling in spite of that. Her lips pinch.
Normally, she'd say to double it again. Eight hundred thousand dollars is hard to turn down. Hard for anyone. It would be hard for her to turn it down, even if it were a matter of losing on of her locations.
But that raised serious questions of what the land was worth to her.
Eight hundred thousand… that's a lot of money. When you think about writing a check that large, you have to be sure before you put the pen on the paper.
Is it worth it to you? Do you have the money to spare? Can you go any lower anywhere?
And the answer is, as much as she can't stand it, no it's not worth eight. Six. It's worth six. If she stretched, she could justify seven.
The last hundred thousand is hard to justify, and it's hard because of the second question. With two new locations going up, which should be turning a profit within a year, cash flow won't be a problem—a year from now.
But by then it'll be too late. She'll be the lame duck who promised on the Callahan ranch and couldn't deliver. And she's going to need money to grease the wheels until she gets through that critical first year.
Eight hundred takes them dangerously close to the red. They'd survive it, but it would be a matter of tightening belts, of no Christmas bonuses, the boys waiting on their raises. Can she justify it?
She closes her eyes. It's worth a lot to her. It's worth her reputation. And eight hundred thousand dollars is barely a drop in the bucket to show the entire world that you're not to be messed with.
But it's not her job to think of things from the perspective of whether or not it's good for her. She has to think of things from a wider perspective. From the question of whether or not it's the right decision for the company.
And the reason that she keeps going through the numbers again, top to bottom, is that it's not.
She wants it to work. She doesn't want to low-ball, offer him something he'll never take in a million years.
But there's no question that he's not going to get eight. She looks down at the paper again. Tears it away from the rest of the notebook and starts again. She's got to find a way to make it work. She's got to.
Because she's not going to ask him to walk away from his family, his history, just for six hundred measly thousand. She can't do that to him. Not knowing what the land means to him.
Not knowing what the land is worth in terms of blood and sweat and tears.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It's only a matter of time until the hammer drops. It's impossible to say when it will be, this far in advance. It's even less possible to say what is going to happen.
But there's been talk about Glen Brand. Not polite talk, neither. Talk about what it means, in the long run, to owe him a debt.
He doesn't just let it sit. It's not a some-day proposition to owe him a favor. He'll call it in, sure as the sun will rise, and it won't be long. A day or a week, he's going to find someplace that you can help him out.
For people with plenty of money to spare, it might be a money question.
For others, it might be something else. But the other thing that they all agree on, nobody's ever once debated, is that by the time your debt's paid up, you don't want to take on more. It only takes the one time to learn your lesson.
He's all smiles, now, sure. That's how it's always been. The man's got a grin to launch a thousand ships, without a single doubt in the world. But it's not going to take long to figure out why he's positioning himself for a gimme, not when the dust finally settles.
Which is why he'd hoped to impress with the stallion to begin with. Maybe if he'd done it a year sooner, or two years sooner, then there could have been serious talk about twenty-five, thirty, maybe thirty-five. With a pedigree like the Black's, it's hard to say how high the number could go with a proper trainer.
But they hadn't sold him as a yearling. They hadn't sold him at two years. Three years and change, and the horse should be running races by now. Glen knows that, same as Philip does, and it puts him in the stronger position, regardless of what Callahan wants.
The rancher looks at his numbers. It's hard to say for sure. Very hard to say. But it's not hard to see that there's a risk.
He slips out of the truck and closes the door behind him. It's not supposed to rain tomorrow. He can afford to leave the rails in the bed of the truck and get started on them first thing.
Right now, he's got to go see Randy, got to see how the other boys are doing. Make sure they're eating right, make sure that everything's still on-track. That he's still making a full recovery as best as he can.
A nurse recognizes him. She must have, because she pulls him aside as he walks in. "Mr. Callahan?"
"Yes, miss?"
She blushes and looks down. Chews her lip a second. Callahan always thought of himself as a decent-looking man, but he doesn't generally have this kind of response from women.
Which means that in spite of his good looks and charm, there's something else that's not going well, because she's embarrassed to say what it is.
"There's a, uh, problem with your insurance?"
"I called them, there shouldn't be an issue. You're saying they're still holding up payment?"
"Yes, sir. I know that it's not an ideal time for you, but—"
"No, I understand. You need to get paid. Same as anybody."
Callahan runs his fingers through his hair. "So what's the damage?"
"Don't worry about that, Mr. Callahan. We're going to keep trying with your insurance, and if that doesn't work, then we'll set up a payment plan with Mr. Reed."
The idea of Randy being saddled wi
th upwards of a hundred grand in debt turns his stomach over. Injured on the ranch, and the insurance company won't pay. Refuses, even after he called and talked to his rep and they assured him that they were going to send payment through.
His teeth grit together, his jaw tightening nearly to the breaking point. "Thank you, miss."
Her face still shows every ounce of nervousness that she's no doubt feeling, but she nods and walks off.
Twenty thousand would do it for taxes. It'd do it easy. Fifteen would be cutting it a little close.
But God damn if it would cover a week-long hospital stay, plus the cost of x-rays, plus all that. If insurance wasn't going to pay, then there was no way he could help cover it.
And there was no way that Randy Reed was going to pay for it, neither. He didn't have that kind of money, and he didn't really have that kind of money coming in, neither.
Philip's jaw tightens. There's only one way he could possibly get that kind of money. A possibility that, up until now, he's barely even entertained. He's only got one thing worth that much.
Something he's never thought of selling before in his life.
But if it's going to make the world of difference to the only thing close to family that Callahan's got left…
His chest hurts, and he can feel the weight of the world crashing down on his shoulders. But there's no question what the right thing to do is.
He'll wait until tonight, but he has to call. He'll do it as soon as he leaves the hospital, but first, he's got to go see the boys. He's got to make sure they're doing alright.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Morgan noticed Brad's absence in the way that one notices that a chronic pain has gone away. It's not immediately obvious, because even though it has been a constant for years, it feels as if it's the natural state of things.
But once she noticed, sure enough, she couldn't remember seeing him in days. Almost four days had gone by since he'd decided to last come in for work, as far as she'd been able to tell.
Maybe he was at the other location. There was work to be done there, no doubt. But if he was, the man hadn't called her. She stands up and walks over to the punch-in cards. Sure enough, it shows that he's been punching himself in. And he's been punching himself out, too, at the end of every day.
So it's hard to believe, to say the least, that he's not coming in. And yet, she hasn't seen him. What that means, she's going to have to find time later to unpack. Right now isn't the time for it.
She takes a deep breath. There's a number on her desk with a circle around it. The circle goes around and around, three times, before crossing back across itself. Like if she circles it enough times, it'll be a number she's happy with.
There's a phone right by the pad of paper. She could call any time. But she won't, not today. Maybe not tomorrow, either. She hasn't decided yet. But she's going to have to decide at some point.
She's going to have to figure out what she's going to do with him. It wasn't supposed to have been a concern at all. She was there to buy his property. Nothing more. Then things had gotten a little more complicated. Then they'd gotten a lot more complicated.
Now it seemed like he was practically all she had time to think about. It was one thing to say that it wasn't effecting her work. She was a professional. Of course she wasn't letting it affect her work.
But that didn't mean that she could lie to herself about the situation. Her head hadn't been in her business for two weeks now. For two weeks, she hadn't been doing her job because she was too unsure about this god damn ranch, and about the guy who owns it.
Her father was fond of a saying—shit, or get off the pot.
Well, she'd been waffling for two weeks, and it was time to make the decision, before it up and walked away. There weren't going to be infinite chances to make this deal without hurting one or both of them.
In fact, she might already be past that point. It wasn't hard to imagine that he saw their relationship as more than just friendly. Morgan couldn't deny that she saw it in about the same way.
If she could make the deal, and she could do it without screwing him over, without spitting in his face, maybe that could continue. Maybe they'd have something together.
Which is why she's not calling.
Five-fifty is a screwjob. It's practically an outright attack. But she's looked at the numbers. She's looked hard. It's the only starting point she can offer. If the conversation pushes the number higher, she can offer more. Not much more.
Beyond that, she's hurting herself. She's hurting her company. But that's business.
Six wasn't what she wanted to offer. It was low of what she wanted.
Seven was low, and it would have hurt bad enough that she can't afford to have them come to that number. Not unless she really can't make the deal without it.
She takes a breath. Nothing to debate or decide any more. She's got to make the call, and she's got to do it before she gets in any deeper with Phil Callahan.
The ringer goes off right as she's trying to get her breathing slowed down, as she's trying to wrangle her twisting stomach into something resembling confidence.
She picks the phone up. It's Philip calling. A picture of him, his face surly and somehow looking just terribly like him, shows on her screen.
She wants just five more minutes. But she can't have five minutes. Her thumb flicks the button and she puts the phone to her ear.
"Hello?"
Chapter Thirty-Five
"I'm ready to talk about a potential offer on the ranch."
The words don't feel right coming out of his mouth. He should've found another way, or he shouldn't have let the boys get hurt, or… something. Anything. But instead, he's already decided that with this little bit of trouble that he's having, it's time to sell the ranch.
His stomach turns, but it's what he has to do. The boy's future is more important than the ranch, no matter how much she offers. As long as he can skim the extra off the top, it doesn't matter.
"Are you sure about this?"
Her response almost makes him feel worse.
"Don't ask me that, God damn it all. Just. Can we meet somewhere?"
"Okay." She offers to meet him at the ranch. It's as good a place as any, he supposes. And it's getting late, so he ought to be heading home in the first place. It'll be time for bed in only a couple of hours.
But first, he's got to finish business of the day, and today's been a busy day already. Callahan slides into the truck and starts it up. His body moves automatically, taking him home even as his brain is too tired for even one more thought.
He pulls up beside the red car that's already in his yard and clambers out of the truck. His head feels like someone drove a wedge right through it, but he keeps his head on straight as best as he can.
She's waiting for him by the door.
"Are you feeling alright?"
No, he's not. "I'm fine."
"You don't look so good. We can do this any time. It doesn't have to be tonight."
"Sure it does."
She stops arguing. It's the right decision to make, he thinks. Don't argue, just accept that he's going to do what he wants to. What he has to. And if she gets what she wants out of it, then that's good for her. Good for him, too, because he needs the payout.
"I need a number, Morgan." He's too tired for this negotiating stuff. The mood he's in, he could use something to get him cheered up. That, and a cup of coffee.
He undresses her with his eyes as he sits. And yet, his mood is sufficiently sour that it's almost hard to enjoy.
Almost.
"I was talking with some of my associates, and—"
"A number."
"We're prepared to offer you five-hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
"You have another plot, you could sell me? Right? You mentioned something about a plot a bit north of here."
"Um, let me just—"
"What's that change the total to?"
She closes her eyes a minute like
she's doing math, and then reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of paper.
"The land was valued by our surveyors at around five hundred thousand, but—" She takes a breath and closes her eyes again. Then she's straightened out again. "I could give it to you, plus a hundred fifty thousand, if you agree to let us have this property. We could move your wife's—"
His jaw gets tight. "What about my wife?"
She looks surprised, like she hadn't realized that she might be stepping on toes, and in all likelihood she hadn't realized it.
"I'm sorry, I just—your wife's marker—I saw it, on the hill—"
His eyes slide over, as if they're seeing through the walls. He hadn't forgotten about it, but damned if he wanted to discuss it right now. Least of all with her—either as a woman that he's seeing on the side, or as the owner of the business that's buying his property.
"Don't talk about my wife right now, Morgan. We'll sort out the details in the morning."
She nods. "But the number is fine?"
"Why, are you prepared to offer more?" He should have waited for the morning. He knew it, knew it before he'd even made the call. But he couldn't afford it.
"Not at this time."
"So I should wait a while?"
A smile worms its way onto his face, his amusement overcoming the pain of his splitting headache and his exhaustion.
She blinks, her eyes wide. "I should stop talking, shouldn't I?"
"Maybe, just this once."
"I'm serious, Philip. Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine," he says. And he will be. In the morning. "Especially once you've got that suit off."
Chapter Thirty-Six
It wasn't the first time that he'd seen her naked. It wouldn't even be the worst that he'd done to her. If she was going to get bashful all of a sudden… well, that ship had sailed.
And yet, as he sat down, his legs splayed out in a way that suggested getting down between them—even though it looked as natural as can be—something inside her burned. Was he really asking her to strip? Was she going to do it?
Nymphomania (Erotic Romance Bundle) Page 16