“Burnin’ daylight,” he said as he came out the door, sliding his arms into his slicker. “Let’s go see your new home.”
Vivi stuffed her arms into the sleeves of the rubber coat he’d given her the night before. It took three rolls before her fingers peeked out of the ends. The hood covered her face, and she had to hold it back with her hands, but she’d be dry.
The drive back to Leavenworth seemed shorter as they talked about inconsequential things that had happened to each of them since they’d become just friends. The old easiness they’d had was gone, but at least Byron was talking again.
She directed him to the address. The house sat back from the highway, hidden by a row of pine trees and the clapboard building. “I think it’s locked, but we can look through the windows. They dashed beneath the dripping cottonwood trees to the front porch. Dark woodwork was visible through the windows. Vivi found her first impression had been right on. She loved this house.
They made their way through tall grass to the backyard. The back porch ran the full length of the house and overlooked a pasture. Beyond that was a cornfield. There were no close neighbors, and the area was silent except for the sound of the rain. To the south, she could just see the first building of town.
Byron climbed the back steps and peered into the kitchen. “Kind of a big house for one person.”
“I’ve learned by now that you never know what changes your life will take, and, like the Boy Scouts, it’s better to be prepared.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
There was another damned email from Viola. He’d gone four years only hearing from the woman when he’d written her and now he was getting correspondence every other week.
He clicked on the message.
Dear Mr. Charters,
I’ve made an offer on a piece of property in Leavenworth, Washington. I’ve attached the real estate listing. As you’ll see, there is a log home, another old building, a shop and barn and three hundred acres. At this time, I don’t need anywhere near that much land, but it’s located near the town and in a prime tourist area. I think the extra land would be a good investment. I have enough to make the down payment, but will need to know the procedure for making the final payment.
Please let me know the next step in completing this transaction.
Thank you for your help and advice,
Viola Beckett
He opened the attachment.
What the hell! Two million dollars down the drain for a place so Charlie Beckett’s granddaughter could play with twigs? Ludicrous! Charlie’s distrust of Viola’s father was the reason he’d made Lester the trustee for his estate. Even when Viola’s father died, she’d left the management of the fortune to him. He’d had full control of old Charlie’s money all these years, and he wasn’t about to give up the fortune now.
Dear Viola,
After having looked into the real estate options the Northwest, I’ll have to recommend you put off buying anything right now. My sources say the price of land in that area is experiencing a bubble, and if you can have patience, much better bargains will be available in the near future.
Please feel free to call me with any questions you have and we’ll work out a plan of action together.
Best,
Lester Charters
The letter sounded reasonable to him, and Viola had been a reasonable girl for most of the time he’d known her, but the last two years, she’d become unpredictable. Understandable with the death of her family, but maybe it was time to put his foot down.
When she’d insisted on making stick figures, he’s thought it would be therapy. He’d never seen what she constructed, but sticks?
When she’d wanted to give more than three-quarters of the fortune away to The National Association of the Deaf, he’d convinced her to put it in a trust to be given to deserving non-profits each year. Of course, he managed the trust.
When she set off cross-country alone to find herself, he’d tried to stop her. But would she listen? No!
Now was not the time for Miss Viola Beckett to decide to take control of her fortune. He decided then and there to make a trip to East Hope, Oregon and talk to Viola face to face.
Someone had to inject reality into the fantasy she’d constructed.
~-~
It had been several days since he’d driven to Leavenworth with Vivi, and he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she could buy a two million dollar ranch.
Two million dollars cash.
The fact that his father would consider Vivi a catch had given him heartburn. Mother would be ecstatic at the thought of a rich daughter-in-law.
The house was located at least a half of a mile from the highway, which was great for privacy. The rambling log building seemed to have been crafted by a master carpenter, but it had seen years if not decades of neglect. Hand peeled beams and a stone fireplace that took up most of one wall added character to the rooms, but the interior walls needed repairs.
The original building by the road had reminded him of a smaller version of the Walton’s house.
He’d held his breath when Vivi had pushed the door to the smaller building open. Not a wall inside was salvageable, but the stained glass window on the front was still intact. Red fir floors seemed solid and had begged to be refinished. If it was salvageable, it was in the perfect location for her studio.
Remodeling an older place had been in the back of his mind for years, and he had a moment of excitement before reality slapped him alongside his head.
What the hell was he thinking? With all the money Vivi had, she could hire the best carpenters, plumbers and even a high-class designer if she wanted. She didn’t need him, and he didn’t want to be a rich woman’s husband.
As much as he’d wanted to prove to her that this was a wrong move, he couldn’t. She’d found what she’d been looking for, and she hadn’t asked his opinion on the move. She’d made it clear from earlier conversations, that she made her own decisions.
The down payment was sizeable, but she hadn’t hesitated. The only thing slowing down the purchase was the inspections, and from what Byron saw, everything was fixable if you had enough money. Looked to him like her decision had been made.
He’d just finished pulling the shoes off of a four-year-old gelding when he heard her talking to someone. For the first time ever, he heard Vivi raise her voice.
She stood by a rental car in the driveway. Her arms were wrapped around her body, whether to protect herself from the man or the wind, he wasn’t sure. Her short, wispy skirt danced around her thighs. The heavy knit sweater didn’t provide enough warmth for the chilly day.
The bald head of the older man standing beside her shone in the weak fall sunshine. His hands waved as if to reinforce what he said.
Vivi shook her head, walked a few steps away and then turned back. “I disagree.” Despite the mildness of her words, the tone was forceful.
He spoke again and whatever he said made Vivi’s face flush in anger.
Byron reached them just in time to hear her last words. “Do whatever you need to do. Just know I’ll fight you all the way.”
The little man climbed into the car and drove carefully away.
Vivi faced away from him, watching the car, but when he touched her shoulder, she whirled and fell into his arms. Her words were muffled by his shirt, but they made him chuckle. “There are times I think you are the only man on the face of the earth that I like. Sometimes I wonder about you, too.”
“Which is it today?” He reveled in the weight of her body against his and her sweet scent.
When she raised her head to look at him, her brows were drawn together and her eyes narrowed. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, her body relaxing a bit. “I don’t know.”
Byron took her hand and led her to the bungalow. Inside, he lowered her into the rocker, grabbed a bottle of Evan Williams Bourbon and poured her a shot. “Drink this and tell me what’s going on.”
She took a s
mall sip, made a face then took another. “It’s awful going down, but the after effects aren’t bad. What is this?”
“Whiskey. Now what did that little man do?” Vivi was smart and kind and if she was this upset, Byron had no doubt she had a valid reason.
Over the next twenty minutes and another shot of whiskey, Vivi filled him in on the trust fund and the man who’d run it for years. “He was a friend of my Grandy. I’ve always trusted him implicitly. Now he doesn’t want me to have any say in how I use my money. He’s treating me like I’m a little girl.” She tipped back her head and downed what was left in the glass.
When she reached for the bottle, Byron moved it out of her reach. “You’ve had enough.”
“Are you going to treat me like a child, too?”
“Remember the last time you drank? Want a repeat?”
“N-no.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and shudder ran through her body.
He put the bottle back in the cupboard and pulled a Coke from the refrigerator. He poured it over ice and handed it to her. “Drink this. It tastes better.”
“Thank you.” She took a sip and set the glass on the table. “Are there any good attorneys in East Hope, or any attorneys at all?”
He watched as she pushed her honeyed hair behind her ears. The last time she’d had anything to drink they’d ended up here, on the bed, in each other’s arms. She licked her lips, and he almost picked her up to begin where they’d left off. If Willa hadn’t interrupted them… He banished the thought.
She was moving and he was staying on at the Circle W.
The instant her thoughts turned in the same direction his had gone, her expression changed. Her irises dilated and her breathing quickened. She pushed the soda away and stood. “I should be going.” When he nodded, she smiled. “Or not.”
And there it was. She was leaving it up to him. For once, could he live in the present, enjoy this woman and have no regrets? Or was he going to let his past rob him of this moment, too?
“Okay, see you later then.” She hesitated then turned and started for the door. As her hand touched the knob, he stood.
“Wait. Do you want to stay for a while? We could cook up some steaks.” After looking him up and down, she smiled as she unbuttoned her heavy sweater and let it drop to the floor. Strolling to where he stood, she rested her hands against his abs.
He sucked in a breath at her touch. The tight tank top didn’t provide much warmth, but Byron had enough heat for both of them.
“I’d like to stay, but not for steaks.” Her hands slowly brushed up his torso. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’d like to stay for you.”
Blood pounded in his ears and lust raced through his veins. He wanted this woman more than he’d wanted anything in his life. She completed him in a way he hadn’t known he needed. But he couldn’t keep her, he knew that now.
“I think we’d better stick to steaks.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Vivi’s heart pounded and her cheeks flamed, but she had no one to blame but herself. She’d initiated this, and Byron had shut her down. He’d made it clear that for some reason, he wouldn’t take a chance on a long-term relationship. Was it her money that stood in the way?
She screwed up her courage. She’d never get an answer if she didn’t ask. “You seemed shocked when I said I could pay cash for the property. Does it bother you that I my grandfather left me some money?”
Byron studied her before he spoke. “It doesn’t bother me, but let’s be truthful here. It’s not some money. If you can pay two million cash for a place, you have a fucking fortune. Just makes me wonder why you’re wasting your time with a broke cowboy.” His brows knit in a frown, his lips thinned, and he turned his back on her to stir the soup.
“Money has never been a priority to me. It’s just a means to an end. If I can buy a place, I can make a home and do what makes me happy.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. The need to touch him, connect with him, was overwhelming.
“Easy to do what makes you happy when you have more money than Bill Gates.” He shrugged off her hand and walked to the cupboard, pulling out bowls and glasses. “My father taught me money can’t make you happy. It was all he ever thought about, and no matter how much he made, it was never enough.”
“A lot of good it does me to have money. I can’t get access to it from Mr. Charters.” She picked up the spatula and stirred the soup. “He acts like it’s his to spend the way he wants.”
Byron finally faced her. “How much money do you have?”
Now she blushed. “I’m not really sure. Grandfather made millions on an invention. This is the first time I’ve ever asked for a large amount. Foolish, I know.”
“Do you have statements?”
“Not here, but I have a post office box, and an agency picks up all my mail. They tell me about anything they think is important.” Hands on her hips, she stared at him. “I could get them to overnight them to me. Why?”
“Probably nothing, but it bothers me that your Mr. Charters would be this upset about you buying property. It’s not like you’re buying drugs or wasting it on something frivolous.”
She supposed people might look at Byron and see a broke cowboy as he’d called himself, but they’d be wrong. He was smart and savvy. She pulled her cell from her pocket and dialed. Within a few minutes, the agency had promised to send all the statements from Charters Asset Management Company to her by overnight mail.
“I’ll have them by tomorrow. You don’t really think he’s up to something, do you?”
“It doesn’t hurt to be sure. Soup’s ready.”
Vivi filled two bowls while Byron poured them each a coke. Before he sat down, he turned the small television to a Seahawks game. There was still an air of tension between them, but the noise of the crowd and commentary helped fill the silence.
Chunks of chicken floated in a savory broth beside homemade noodles. Vivi knew that because her grandmother had always made homemade noodles. “This is really good. I’ll have to have Cary teach me to make it.”
“Have her teach you how to make her cinnamon apple rolls instead. I could live on them. No wonder Micah married her.”
Vivi grinned. “I won’t have to wonder if a guy is marrying me for my cooking. He’ll be marrying me despite it.”
~-~
Lester had spent years taking care of Viola Beckett’s money, keeping her scheming father from getting his hands on it, and now she wanted to cut him loose. She wouldn’t have had a dime if he hadn’t protected her. With his finances the way they were, this was the worst possible time for her to gain some financial independence. If she’d just wait, he’d give her all of it back and then some.
He’d fumed on the drive from the ranch to the airport. But after several hours of looking at figures, he’d come up with a plan.
He could scrape together the two million she wanted. That would shut her up and buy him the time he needed to profit from the rest. He’d email her in the morning and let her know how soon she’d have a check. If he played this right, she’d back off and leave him alone. At least long enough for him to give a reasonable explanation for the losses on her investments.
Two million was a small price to pay for the rest. The interest alone would set him up for life. He was so certain this was the solution to his problems with Viola he couldn’t wait until he got to the office. As soon as he reached the airport, he powered up his laptop and began typing.
Dear Viola,
I’d like to apologize for our confrontation. I’m afraid I forgot you were a grown woman with the right to her own money. If you’ll let me know where you’re banking, I’ll have the two million transferred within the week.
After looking at the property you’ve chosen, I agree it’s a good value and has everything you need for your business. I wish you the best of luck with your first home. I think you’ve picked the right property.
Best wishes,
Lester Charters
As he
pushed send he was more sure than ever that he’d found the solution to his Viola Beckett problem.
~-~
Byron had spent the last two days going over the statements from Lester Charters. Not only was he absolutely stunned by the amount of money Vivi had, he was sure something was wrong with the way Charters was handling the fortune.
On the surface the statements spelled out where Charters had her money, but he’d done some searching and most of the funds were ones he was running himself.
If Vivi hadn’t claimed Charters was a close personal friend, he’d suspect a Ponzi scheme. He suspected it anyway. He’d put in a call to an old college buddy who was in the banking business and was waiting to hear back. He hadn’t said anything to Vivi yet. No use them both being upset, and he was upset.
In his gut, he had the feeling the old man was scamming her. He wondered if it was too late to get any of her money back.
Vivi knocked on the door and without waiting, barged into the room. “I got an email from Mr. Charters. He says he’ll wire me the money today if I’ll send my banking information. I guess I was wrong about him.” Her smile spread across her face, and she danced across the floor to him. “I’ve been making myself sick thinking Mr. Charters might be a crook.”
“What did he say exactly?” Byron stacked the statements into a neat pile and put them on the small desk in the corner.
Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she scrolled then handed it to him. The email sounded right, but again, there was something off. He read it again and again, but couldn’t pinpoint what was bothering him.
He forced a smile. “Guess we were wrong. I’m glad.”
She walked over to stand before him. “No you’re not glad. What’s wrong?”
Byron pulled her into a hug then set her back far enough to see her expression. “It’s probably nothing. He was so adamant about you not having control of your money. He’s reversed direction faster than a spooking colt. Just doesn’t make sense.”
Cowboy's Sweetheart (Sugar Coated Cowboys Book 3) Page 10