by Gaelen Foley
“Completely.” Harry smiled, as if it were obvious.
That smile had probably won the trust of many suckers, Bea thought, still skeptical. Chloe and Jack were entranced now, watching the conversation like it was some sort of tennis match.
“Listen, Bea, I understand your hesitation. But it’s a good system,” he reassured her with a warmth she refused to let herself trust. “It works. If the businesses we fund do well, Curt does well. That means he just gets to keep going golfing, while I do all the work. And if Curt does well, then I do well. And all of our investors do well. But if the businesses tank, then Curt tanks, and I tank, and the investors tank, too.”
“And that’s bad,” she said with a smirk.
“Very. So, you see, I don’t take my responsibilities in this matter lightly.”
“Then why offer two hundred frigging thousand dollars over the asking price? Seems a little loose with Culpeper’s cash.”
He tilted his head and lifted his broad shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “Simply to expedite the process. Ms. Reese informed my boss there had been some reluctance to sell, so I was authorized to sweeten the pot. Plus, when I saw your grandfather had been ill…” He hesitated. “I felt bad.”
Ah, so he does have a soul. She still wasn’t convinced, but Chloe nudged her, sending a sympathetic look toward the man.
“Speaking of Tammy Reese,” Bea continued, “perhaps you could explain how your company is hooked up with her.”
“She’s…partnering with my boss on this.” Harry seemed to be biting his lip. “I understand she was the agent of record while the farm was fully on the market a while back, and that things…didn’t go so well between you.”
“No, they didn’t,” Bea archly agreed.
Harry nodded. “That’s why Mr. Culpeper and Ms. Reese both felt it might be helpful to see if I could intervene. Basically, I’ve just been sent here to get the ball rolling.”
“Well, I can’t imagine why.” Bea studied him in suspicion, convinced there were important details he hadn’t told her yet. “We’re not pitching anything to anyone. We didn’t come to your firm looking for any funding.”
“Unfortunately,” Harry remarked, and took a sip.
Bea let out an indignant huff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he said with an innocent glance. “It just looks like you’ve really got your work cut out for you there. Your grandfather mentioned you’re switching over his field corn operation to organic vegetables?”
“Yeah. So?”
Harry shrugged. “Well, I don’t know much about farming—”
“I don’t imagine that you do.”
“But I understand it’s a long, grueling, not to mention expensive process to become a certified organic grower. Maybe you ought to think about leasing some of your acreage or, I dunno, building on it to earn income until your business actually starts to turn a real profit,” he suggested matter-of-factly. “But I assume you’ve worked all that out in a formal, written business plan?”
Bea’s jaw dropped at his outrageous presumption. She didn’t even know how to respond. He’d just insulted her in more ways than she could count.
Chloe laid a calming hand on her forearm, but Bea paid no attention, rising to her feet. “I turn plenty of profits, thank you very much. Not enough to buy a Porsche, maybe, but then, I’m no soulless corporate henchman in need of an ego boost from some shallow status symbol!”
“Bea!” Chloe whispered, horrified.
“And of course I have a written business plan!” Bea barked. Though it wasn’t very good, admittedly.
Harry had raised both eyebrows at her vehement response. He, too, stood up and looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Ms. Palmer. I meant no offense—”
“No offense?”
Jack quietly put a shot of whiskey down in front of Bea. She downed it without thinking, wiped her lips on the back of her wrist, and continued, “As if you know the first damned thing about farming.”
“I don’t. I already told you that—but I do know about making new businesses viable. I’m just saying, it sure seems like your grandparents have the travel bug. I saw the postcards in their kitchen. And your grandma told me about her dream of seeing the national parks. Let’s be honest. People their age don’t have a lot of years left to undertake some big, long road trip. Diamond Enterprises is simply offering your grandparents that opportunity right now.”
Bea’s head was about to explode. “Listen. Harry. Mr. Riley. In case you haven’t caught on to the big picture here, I’m offering my grandparents the very same opportunity. It’s obvious I can’t compete with your boss’s money. I get that. But this farm has been in my family since Kennedy was in office. They’re my flesh and blood, and frankly, I’ve been killing myself to buy them out. But here you come with your million dollars and I…”
A sudden wave of despair washed over her. Her sense of futility, failure, and choking guilt at holding her grandparents back from their dream suddenly overwhelmed her. Oh, God, she was in the most impossible position: damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.
Chloe sat wide-eyed beside her, watching in tense silence.
“I see,” Harry said at last, sitting back down again slowly.
What? That I’m a selfish bitch, basically robbing two elderly people who’ve been better to me than anyone else in the world out of a small fortune?
But she didn’t say it aloud. She just looked at him, shoulders slumping.
Harry’s dark blue eyes searched hers, then he leaned closer. “Was there another figure you had in mind?” he asked softly.
She blinked. What, he was offering even more money now? She threw up her hands and looked away, at a loss.
Deep down, though, Bea was starting to panic. She could feel her dream slipping through her fingers. This rich guy was going to buy her farm right out from under her. Man, he was good.
She couldn’t believe she was letting this blue-eyed devil get to her with his big red apple of temptation.
Jack sent her a subtle you okay? sort of glance, and she nodded absently in reply. Doing her best to stay strong, she shook her head wearily at Harry. “Just tell me what’s it’s going to take to make you go away, Mr. Riley.”
“Well, that’s just it, Ms. Palmer. I never ‘go away’ until I’ve accomplished what I was sent to do.”
“You can’t force me to agree to this.”
“Of course not. And I realize your grandfather has made you the ultimate decider here.”
“Well, then, it’s settled.”
“Is it?” he asked.
“I’m not selling. You’re just going to have go back to the city and tell Boss Hogg and the lavender queen that nobody’s getting their hands on my damn farm. It’s staying in the family.”
To her surprise and annoyance, Harry grinned at her pronouncement. Was he even listening? “Boss Hogg and the lavender queen?” he echoed, clearly savoring the joke. “You mean my boss…and Tammy Reese? Why do you call her that?”
Bea scoffed. “What, you haven’t smelled her?”
“I haven’t met her in person yet.”
“Well, aren’t you in for a real treat,” she muttered.
“Seriously, though,” he said. “Won’t you at least consider our offer? Maybe sleep on it?”
“I don’t need to. My mind’s already made up. I’ve worked too hard. Where else am I gonna find acreage that’s sat long enough to be planted organically? That’s the one good thing that came out of my grandfather’s pullback on planting for the past few years. Those fields have sat fallow for at least five years, long enough for all the pesticides and chemicals to break down. The soil’s clean. Do you know how rare that is to find these days?”
“Hmm.” Harry took a drink, paused for a thoughtful moment; Bea felt his thigh brush hers as he leaned closer. He lowered his voice to a murmur. “Tell you what. We’ll up the offer, and I’ll tack on an extra hundred thousand earmarked specifically for you. That
’ll not only take care of your grandparents, but also give you a head start to pursue the organic route someplace else. I mean, come on, do you really need three hundred acres? I’ll bet you could do it on twenty to start, and then grow at your own pace from there.”
Bea dropped her head back to gaze at the ceiling in exasperation. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“To you? Beatrice, I’m doing this for you.”
“You haven’t even told me yet what your boss intends to do with the place.”
“Sorry, I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at this stage of the game. But rest assured, Mr. Culpeper recognizes the property as a pristine location. It’ll be treated with great care…and environmental sensitivity.”
“Oh, really? From an oilman who’s only here for the fracking?”
“That’s just business, Ms. Palmer. And even you must realize that overreliance on foreign energy puts our national security at risk.”
Jack nodded with a been there, done that look.
“Anyway, it may comfort you to know that in his personal life, Mr. Culpeper grew up on a farm himself, and currently owns a ranch raising grass-fed cattle down in Texas.” But Harry waved a hand. “Aside from all that, what does it matter to you what he does with the land, if the price is right?”
She stared at him. He simply didn’t get it.
How could she make him understand that she knew every foot of those fields like the back of her hand? “It’s my home,” she finally said.
Harry studied her for a long moment, softening. “Okay. You win, Bea. I can see I’m not going to change your mind. It seems clear you can’t be persuaded, so I’ll just go away like you said, and you can forget this ever happened.”
Yes, please do, she thought, though this sudden surrender didn’t jibe with his claim a moment ago that he never went away. Just another strategy? she wondered. Her head was starting to spin from all his slick verbal bobbing and weaving.
But he wasn’t done with her yet.
He sighed and continued in an idle tone, “You can go back to struggling and working like a dog from sunup till dark for the rest of your life, if that’s what you really want. I don’t know what you think you have to prove, but—”
“I’m not trying to prove anything. For your information, this is what makes me happy.”
He arched a brow, then a chuckle escaped him. “Boy, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what entrepreneurs always say.” His glance oozed worldly charm, self-assurance. “It’s all about what makes them happy. Pretty impractical breed, in my experience.”
“Ripe for the plucking by guys like you?” she parried.
He just smiled, unflappable. “I mean, you do know that, statistically, over ninety percent of new businesses fail within the first five years, right? But so be it. I can see I’m wasting my time here. It’s your life, your call.”
“My farm,” she reminded him.
“Exactly.” He gave her an inscrutable smile, playing gracious in defeat. “And I wish you the best of luck with it. Truly. I have a feeling you’ll do fine, actually. Those statistics, you know, they don’t apply to the stubborn folks who just won’t take no for an answer. Guess that’s you. Well, look at the time.” Harry glanced at his fine gold watch. “I should probably get going. Don’t want to wear out my welcome here any more than I already have.”
Yeah, don’t let the door hit you in your cute little ass, she thought, simmering.
Harry took one last swig of his beer and set it down half empty. He pushed his plate away and reached for his wallet. He pulled out a credit card, let it slap on the bar. “Jack, great burger, and the Alpine Ale—tremendous.”
“Glad you liked it.” Jack grabbed his card, and while he stepped away to swipe it, Harry turned to her once more.
“I hope you won’t hold a grudge, Ms. Palmer. Just doing my job here. And I still wouldn’t mind taking you out.”
“I don’t think so,” she said coldly.
“Okay.” He seemed amused. “But if you change your mind—on either point—give me a call. I’ll be in town for another couple of days. Guess I’ll be scouting other possible locations for my boss to consider.”
When Jack returned, he beckoned Finn over and the three guys firmed up their plans for the whitewater rafting trip tomorrow.
Meanwhile, Chloe tapped Bea on the arm and leaned to murmur in her ear. “So he wants to buy the farm?”
“Yeah. But we’re not selling it to him.”
“No, no, of course not.” Chloe paused. “It’s just…”
Bea leaned closer. “What?”
Her best friend searched her eyes. “You know that old Chinese proverb about turning a crisis into an opportunity?”
“Yeah,” Bea said slowly, “what about it?”
Chloe dropped her voice to a tactful whisper. “Well, it’s just—if this guy’s a capital investor, shouldn’t you be trying to butter him up a little bit?”
“Why?”
“Because he might be able to help you. You don’t have to sell to him, of course,” she added hastily, “but if you’re nice to him, you might be able to pick his brain about your situation.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s called networking, Bea. I know you’re ticked off right now—I would be, too, totally—” Bea scoffed at that claim; Chloe didn’t even know how to get properly mad about stuff.
Her friend ignored the arched eyebrow and continued. “If you step back for a second and think about this, it could be a fabulous opportunity for you. I mean—putting on my old, corporate HR hat here—Harry might have helpful connections you could use. Probably not within his own company, since it’s his boss that wants to buy your place. But maybe he could put you in touch with some other angel investor who’d want to work with you. Maybe someone specializing in women’s startups, or female-owned agribusiness.”
“I already tried that avenue, Chlo—and the farm bureau. They all blew me off because of my dad’s money. And the bank nearly laughed in my face when they saw my credit score.”
“Yes, but if Harry has personal connections with someone in that field… Everybody knows a referral from a friend or colleague is always a different story than just a cold-call application. Well, it can’t hurt to ask. He obviously knows his stuff. Honey, I know things have been tight, but—just from a business sense—there might be other, more obscure sources of private funding for you out there that Harry might know about. After all, investing is his business.”
Bea stared at her, absorbing this for a long moment. She hated to admit it, but Chloe might be onto something here. “Well, that’s great, considering I just told him off. Even if he did know someone, he’s not going to want to help me now.”
“Sure he will. Men love a challenge. And besides, he’s totally into you. It’s obvious.”
“You think?” Bea asked, startled.
“Duh,” Chloe said, giving her a knowing look. “And from what I see, it goes both ways.”
“Falsely accused!” Bea whispered with a telltale blush.
“Hmm? Say something—he’s about to leave. But don’t be too obvious,” Chloe warned.
“What am I supposed to say?”
“Don’t ask me.” Chloe grinned. “You’re the one that went to that charm school. Use your feminine wiles.”
Bea snorted. “I knew I never should’ve admitted that to you people. It was only for twelve weeks, and Mom made me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up.” Chloe looked past her, watching Harry concede to another “rad” fist bump from Finn.
“If I crash and burn here, it’s on you, girl.”
“Don’t worry,” Chloe murmured, patting her arm, “you won’t. It’s like I tell my yoga students: you gotta believe in yourself.”
“Fine,” Bea muttered. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself and ignored the giddy flutter inside as she turned back to the ne
wcomer. “Umm, Harry?”
“Yes, Beatrice?” He turned slowly, a knowing flash of victory in his eyes—as if he’d been expecting her to call him back.
Brief as it was, that look made her want to clobber him with the nearest chair. Resisting the urge, she crooked a finger at him and he returned. Feminine wiles, activate.
Oy.
It was a bold move, and probably futile, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, so what the hell? True, playing the temptress was definitely not in her wheelhouse—especially not when she was a sweaty mess from working all day in the sun. But the forthright approach had gotten her nowhere. Trying to be a bitch hadn’t scared him off at all.
Leave it to Chloe to remind her you could catch more flies with honey.
But wouldn’t it be something if she really could turn the tables on him somehow? Instead of letting Harry snap up her farm for his boss, maybe she could sweet-talk him into putting his connections and know-how to work for her in some fashion.
She had no intention of taking his offer, but if he could hook her up with some other angel investor, wow, a hefty chunk of cash like he’d mentioned would sure solve a lot of problems for her right now… Let her hire more employees so she could make the farm more productive, and thus more profitable. Let her grandparents follow their hearts without restraint. All while buying her more time to get her vision for the farm more solidly established.
Chloe—clearheaded as usual—was right. No matter how you looked at it, a savvy capital investor was an excellent friend for any struggling young entrepreneur to have. Plus, Bea had to admit the guy was hot, hot, hot, and that didn’t hurt, either. Not one little bit.
He slid his hands into his pockets and waited to hear what she had to say.
Bea silently gulped down a large bite of crow. Here goes nothing.
“Maybe you’re right,” she forced out. “Maybe I’ve been…a little hasty. This offer just came out of left field today, so, you know…”
He nodded slowly, kindly, loving every minute of it. “Sure. I understand.”
“Good. Thanks.” It chagrined her to have to be nice to him, but she chose her words with delicate care. “Perhaps it would be possible to continue this discussion after I…sleep on it. Like you said. Tomorrow, maybe?”