What Justin did for a living stole a building’s soul. But she was glad he was here. Pain and hunger must be softening her standards. “I appreciate the help.”
“I figured you needed to get inside. Not answer a lot of questions.”
Justin handed her the keys.
She pretended to unlock the door, not wanting another lecture from any man, brother or stranger, about forgetting to lock the front door, then opened it.
He carried her inside. “Is the couch okay?”
“Perfect.”
He set her down. Being horizontal felt good. If only her foot would stop hurting.
“Put your leg up on the back of the couch.” He eyed one of her paintings on the wall. “Nice artwork. You’re talented.”
Tingles filled her stomach like a flock of swallows. She wished his words didn’t mean as much as they did. “I love what I do.”
“You work here.”
She glanced at the paint-covered drop cloth and easel with an unfinished painting. All she’d wanted to do today was complete the piece, wash clothes and grocery shop. So much for plans. “Yes.”
Ellis set her yellow bag and lunch on the coffee table. He helped himself to some fries. “I’m Ellis Cole.”
“Justin McMillian.”
Ellis kneeled next to her. “How ya doing, sis?”
“My foot is killing me, but the inn is in one piece.” She smiled, proud she’d saved the structure from demolition, then grabbed more fries. “A good day.”
“Depends on your perspective,” Justin said.
Grady set a painting against the wall. “I texted Mom. She’s picking up Grandma. They’ll be right over to take you to the hospital.”
“Urgent Care will be fine.” Bailey eyed her brothers. “Why aren’t you guys at work?”
“Tyler called. He wanted me to find you,” Grady said in his no-nonsense police voice. A world away from the wild kid he’d once been.
“Tyler is my cousin,” she told Justin. “He’s the only lawyer in Haley’s Bay.” She looked at her two brothers. “If this is about me introducing him to one of the girls in my painting class—”
“It’s not.” Grady’s gaze ping-ponged from her to Justin. “I’m here on official business with news about the inn.”
Justin rocked back on his heels. His face tightened. “What news?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. McMillian, but your company is the victim of a fraudulent real estate transaction,” Grady said.
“Fraudulent?” Justin asked.
Ellis nodded. “You got conned.”
Bailey sat up. “What are you talking about?”
“Floyd Jeffries sold the inn to two buyers on the same day,” Grady said. “One buyer was McMillian Resorts. The other was represented by Tyler.”
Justin swore. “You’re joking, right?”
“I wish I was,” Grady said.
Justin’s face contorted, turned red. He started to speak, then stopped himself.
She didn’t know what to say to him. But the news made her dizzy. She leaned back against the sofa pillow. “That’s not the kind of person Floyd is. The man drives ten miles an hour below the speed limit. He’s no criminal.”
“Was,” Ellis said. “He changed after he met that girl on the internet. I heard he canceled all the upcoming events at the inn.”
Bailey’s body stiffened. “He didn’t cancel my paint night tomorrow.”
“You ran the art events, not Floyd,” Ellis said.
“I don’t know him as well as your sister does, but there must be a mistake.” Justin paced the length of the couch. The lines on his forehead deepened, more like canyons than wrinkles. “We have a top-notch team of lawyers. We might have misunderstood the permit process, but they’re professionals. They’d never fall for a scam deal.”
“Well, I heard Floyd gave the employees three days off with pay. Never told them the inn had been sold or they’d lost their jobs.” Ellis sat on the sofa arm. “That’s why no one was there last night or today.”
Oh, no. The staff. Bailey had been so worried about the inn itself she hadn’t thought about the employees. Floyd had worked with some of those people since he’d been a kid. None of this made sense. “That doesn’t sound like Floyd. He cares about those who work for him. He bought my senior prom dress when Dad wouldn’t pay for one without sleeves.”
“I know the guy was good to you.” Ellis’s voice softened, his tone compassionate. “Floyd bought fish from us for all these years, was often our biggest customer, but he’s not the same person. He’s changed.”
Justin shook his head. “Floyd might not have disclosed everything about the inn, but my sister negotiated a legal deal. She would never have paid cash otherwise.”
“Tyler’s client was a cash buyer, too. Part of Floyd’s requirements,” Grady said.
Ellis whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”
“No.” Bailey didn’t care what Grady said happened. “Floyd wouldn’t do that to me—to this town—and all the people who trusted him.”
“You’re right.” Ellis rolled his eyes. “Floyd headed to Belize with his twenty-five-year-old internet girlfriend and a suitcase of cash because of the good weather down there.”
“Floyd is fifty-five and he’s never married. He’s been lonely.” Bailey knew him better than her brothers did. “He’s been wanting to settle down for years.”
“With a woman less than half his age? The man has more money than common sense,” Ellis countered. “But now he’s added another zero or two to his net worth and he’s laughing all the way to some tropical island paradise with no extradition treaty.”
“Innocent until proven guilty,” Grady cautioned.
“Guilty, bro. You know it.” Ellis sounded convinced. “Tyler will prove Floyd is nothing more than a two-bit criminal. His parents and grandparents must be rolling in their graves.”
Justin stopped pacing, pulled out his cell phone and looked at Grady. “I have to speak to our attorneys. Is there anything you need from me right now?”
“No,” Grady said. “But don’t dispose of anything you took from the inn. I’ll need you to return everything.”
Justin’s face paled. “The truck’s here in town. I’ll have my crew unload the contents.”
The on-edge tone tugged at Bailey’s heart. The day had gone from bad to worse for him. Justin might want something completely different for the inn than her, but that didn’t matter right now. The guy looked as if he’d been knocked over with his own wrecking ball. She wanted to reach out to him, but she didn’t dare in front of her brothers.
“Thanks for driving me home,” she said instead. “I’m sure Ellis or Grady can give you a ride back to the inn if you don’t want to walk.”
“I will,” Grady offered.
“Thanks,” Justin said, sounding anything but grateful.
Grady waved. “See you later.”
“Wait.” Bailey looked over the back of the sofa. “You never said who else bought the inn.”
Ellis and Grady exchanged a knowing glance. Both shifted their weight.
Uh-oh. “What?”
“We were hoping you wouldn’t ask,” Ellis said. “But since you did, AJ said it was okay to tell you.”
“What does AJ have to do with this?” she asked.
The lines on Justin’s forehead deepened. “AJ?”
“He’s our oldest brother,” she said.
“AJ Cole?” His voice matched the dumbstruck look on his face. “Your brother is the internet guy?”
Ellis nodded. “He’s the buyer Tyler represented in the second deal.”
She straightened, ignoring her foot. “Why would AJ want to buy the Broughton Inn? He’s never talked about owning a hotel.”
“AJ didn’t buy the inn for himself.” Grady looked as if he
was about to jump out of a cake and yell surprise. “He bought the inn for you. Happy early birthday, sis!”
Huh? She blinked, Grady’s words echoing in her head as if she were standing on the edge of a canyon. Bought. Inn. For. You. She tried to make sense of the words, but failed as if this were a precalculus test and not a simple conversation she was trying to understand.
“Say what?” she asked.
Ellis beamed. She hadn’t seen him smile so brightly since his son Maddox hit a home run at a T-ball game last week. “The inn is yours.”
“Not so fast.” Justin raised his hands. “McMillian Resorts purchased the inn.”
“There are two owners for now,” Grady said. “The lawyers and the court will have to decide the true owner.”
Her gaze met Justin’s and held it for a long moment.
He looked away.
Bailey rested her head back against the sofa. She wanted to be independent, make her own way, not rely on her billionaire brother, but he’d come through in a way she never could have expected. The last thing she wanted was anything to take her away from her art, but at least now she could save the inn and jobs of everyone who worked there. Way to go, AJ.
“What do you have to say?” Ellis asked.
Ideas swirled through her brain, but first things first. She looked at Justin. “I want my key back.”
Chapter 4
Two days later, Justin stood outside Tyler Cole’s law office on Bay Street. A breeze rustled the leaves in a nearby tree. The cool morning air made him want to walk back to the B and B where he was staying and crawl in bed. He yawned, stretching his arms overhead.
A horn honked. Kids in a passing car waved at him. He gave a mock salute. That was all he could manage at the moment.
Worry over gaining possession of the inn was messing with his sleep. Random thoughts about Bailey Cole in her rain-soaked coveralls weren’t helping. This quaint little town and its residents could be his ruin.
Cell phone against his ear, he popped another breath mint into his mouth. Should have picked up antacid tablets instead. But he doubted anything in a bottle would lessen the unease in his gut.
The unanswered ringing plucked his patience. “Pick up, Paige.”
The line clicked.
“About time,” he said.
“Ready for the big meeting?” His sister sounded way too cheerful under the circumstances.
“I was about to ask you that question. You’re supposed to be here.” Justin had better lower his voice. Kent Warren, one of McMillian Resorts’ buttoned-down, Brooks Brothers–wearing lawyers who worked with Paige, was nearby. If Kent went running to Justin’s parents, this whole thing would turn into a bigger mess. “Where the hell are you?”
“The office.”
He pictured Paige sitting behind the impressive mahogany desk, her brown hair pulled up in a French twist, manicured nails tapping impatiently and her face puckered with an annoyed look. A hundred bucks said his annoyance level was higher.
“The meeting starts in five minutes.” He didn’t hide his anger. “Unless you’ve discovered a way to magically transport yourself, you’re going to be late.”
“I’m too busy. Mom and Dad have no idea what’s going on. I have to keep them in the dark. That means staying in Lincoln City.”
Paige acted as if she ran the company already. Not far from the truth. He and Rainey—their twenty-five-year-old younger sister—worked off-site much of the time. That left the hamster wheel of meetings, negotiations and fires needing extinguishing to Paige, but she thrived on pressure. Looked forward to it.
“You should be here in Haley’s Bay,” he said.
She clicked her tongue. “You don’t need me. Kent knows everything about the deal. All you need to do is represent the McMillian name and reputation while we try to fix this deal before Mom and Dad find out.”
She might be twenty-nine and the opposite gender, but her tone and word choice sounded exactly like their father. Too bad she hadn’t developed the same sixth sense their dad had to know that Floyd had been scamming them.
“You tried to make me the fall guy with the Seaside remodeling fiasco. I’m not going to let you do that again.” The misadventure with foundation issues had cost them big money and made their parents question their capabilities. If Justin and his sisters lost the company, he wasn’t going to be the only one they blamed.
“No reason to bring up the past.”
“It’s the perfect reason. Both places were your deals.” Justin wished he’d never supported buying the Broughton Inn, but the bay view from the inn had captured his imagination, and any issues they’d found in the inspection didn’t matter in a teardown. “You should be here cleaning up the mess.”
“One for all, bro. Suck it up and represent.” Her attempt at joking fell flat. “Stay in Haley’s Bay. Make sure we end up with the inn. Otherwise...”
“I know what’s at stake.” The big reason behind his sleepless nights. “If we lose the Broughton Inn, we lose McMillian Resorts. You, me and Rainey will be out.”
Out of the company. Out of a job.
Out of the one thing that mattered most to him.
The business was as much a member of his family as his parents and sisters. Without the company, they would never see each other, let alone talk. Everything would be different. His family would be forever changed. And not for the better.
A lump the size of the ugly, outdated chandelier hanging in the inn’s foyer formed in his throat. His entire life had revolved around McMillian Resorts. Working for their parents wasn’t easy, but the siblings’ dream had been to run the company themselves, to pass on their legacy to a future generation of McMillians. Not possible if their parents cashed out by selling the business and firing them.
“Don’t fail,” Paige said. “Rainey and I are counting on you.”
“Doing my best. We’re up against deep pockets.”
“AJ Cole doesn’t care about the inn. Focus on his sister. She’s the one we need to make give in.”
Bailey. He pictured her warm green eyes, the look of pure delight when she bit into a French fry.
“Use your infamous charm on her,” Paige continued. “You have a way with the ladies.”
Kent cleared his throat, flashed the time on his cell phone.
“Gotta go,” Justin said. “The meeting’s about to start.”
He disconnected from the call and entered the law office, located in a small, converted house and decorated with quilted chairs and black square tables. A metal magazine rack hung on the wall. The smell of coffee filled the air.
A thirty-something brunette with an easy smile greeted them, motioning down a hallway. “They’re in the conference room. First door on your left.”
“Thank you.” The carpet muted Justin’s footsteps.
“Smile,” Kent ordered in a courtroom defense attorney voice. “You look like your dog died.”
“I was never allowed to have a pet because we lived in hotels.”
Kent’s gaze hardened, making the lawyer look like a beady-eyed shark about to bite off a limb. “Those hotels will belong to someone else unless you pull yourself together. This morning, you’re the face of McMillian Resorts.”
Justin stopped at the conference room doorway, glanced back at Kent. “Fine. Sucking up on demand.”
Two people sat at an oval table—a man in his early thirties and a woman who looked as though she belonged in a Renaissance painting. Copper corkscrew curls. A closemouthed smile. Gorgeous face. Striking green eyes.
Justin smiled at her. Being stuck in this meeting didn’t seem like a chore now. Was she Tyler Cole’s paralegal or personal assistant? Another lawyer?
Justin searched for something witty and charming to say. He took a closer look. Familiar-looking. The laughter in her eyes matched her grin and reminded him
of...
“Looks like we’re all here now.” Her voice was instantly recognizable.
Bailey. His pulse accelerated like an electric drill switched to the fastest speed. Man, she cleaned up well.
“Hi.” Eloquent, no. But the two-letter word was safer than the others coming to mind. Sweat dampened the back of his neck. His collar shrank an inch, maybe two.
The man seated next to Bailey stood, then shook Justin’s hand. “I’m Tyler Cole. I represent Bailey and her brother AJ, who couldn’t be here today.”
“Justin McMillian.” The firm grip suggested the opposing counsel worked out. “This is Kent Warren, one of our company’s attorneys.”
Kent shook Tyler’s hand, then Bailey’s. “Nice to meet you.”
Justin tried to think of more than one or two words to say to Bailey. “How’s your foot?”
“Not broken. I got lucky.”
He wouldn’t mind getting lucky with her. His gaze met Bailey’s. Something churned, then settled, in the pit of his stomach. Too much breakfast or too little coffee? “Glad you didn’t break any bones.”
“Me, too.”
Kent cleared his throat.
Damn. Justin was staring. An artist or a siren? Right now he’d go with the latter. Not good. He couldn’t let himself be distracted. One of them would walk away from this situation empty-handed.
Not him.
He sat on the opposite side of the table.
She drummed her metallic-blue short fingernails on the table, drawing his attention once again. Cuts and scars marred her hands. Working hands, like his. But her life seemed to be a contradiction, given she’d received an inn for a birthday present.
“Let’s get started.” Tyler handed out half-inch-thick documents. “Police reports have been filed by both parties. According to an update this morning from Detective Hanson, Floyd left the United States on Tuesday evening, but he never entered Belize. His whereabouts are unknown. AJ Cole has hired a private investigator.”
“So has McMillian Resorts.” Kent scanned the documents.
Bailey leaned forward over the table. The gap in the neckline of her pink blouse provided a glimpse of lavender lace and creamy, soft skin.
Falling for Mr. Right: Still the One ; His Proposal, Their Forever Page 25