Trent Hawkins guilt her into selling Wild Rose Cottage. It wasn’t her fault that he hadn’t known it was for sale, and considering the state of the place, she could hardly have expected someone else to be interested.
“So what do you want with it?” she asked.
“That’s my concern,” he answered in clipped tones.
Her eyebrows shot up at the bald response. Then all at once he took a deep breath and smiled, except his smile looked more like a dog lifting its lip to snarl.
“I beg your pardon,” he continued, “that was rude. It’s simply that my reasons are personal and I’d rather not discuss them.”
While his explanation had begun in a more genial voice, it ended in the same tight tone as before. Oddly, Emily didn’t think he realized how he sounded.
The intensity of his gaze bothered her, so she dropped her attention to the proposal and started going through it, page by page. It was thorough and organized. The prices were higher than the other estimates she’d received, though not ridiculously so. She’d had more costly work done on her home in California.
“Are you saying that you aren’t interested in renovating Wild Rose Cottage if it belongs to me?” she asked finally.
“You can see how expensive it will be.”
“I’m not an idiot. I expected it to run high.”
Trent shook his head gravely. “Housing values in Schuyler will never escalate enough to make it a feasible investment, not if you have to pay a contractor to do it.”
Plainly he was suggesting that fixing up the house made sense for him, and not for her, since he wouldn’t have to pay himself for the work. But she couldn’t shake the conviction that he had another agenda altogether.
“I’m not interested in selling,” Emily said, her obstinate nature kicking into high gear. “I like this house and want to fix it the way it should be fixed.”
His jaw went tight and hard. “It isn’t worth the investment,” he repeated.
“This isn’t an investment, it’s a home. For me. And I don’t want to live on the west end of town. I enjoy being able to walk to my store in a few minutes and still feel as if I’m living in a nice neighborhood.”
He seemed to be breathing very carefully, perhaps controlling a deeper reaction. Anger? Exasperation? Hope? What was it about this particular house that interested him?
Since moving to Schuyler she’d heard a fair amount of gossip about the McGregors. They had piles of old money, some coming from Texas and Oklahoma oil. On top of that, Trent Hawkins was the most successful contractor in the area. He’d been in business for over fifteen years and had gone from a small operation in Schuyler to having numerous branch offices. 320 Meadowlark Lane could only be a blip on his radar.
Emily squared her shoulders. “Are you interested in the job or not?”
He paused a long moment before answering. “Yes.”
“In that case, I’ll let you know tomorrow whether I’ve chosen your company to do the work,” she informed him coolly. “Is there anything else you need for your estimate?”
“No, that’s complete.”
She conducted him to the door and shut it behind him with relief. Trent Hawkins might be near perfection in the appearance department—the perfect image of a rugged Western male—but he was also rude and pushy. She wasn’t sure she liked him, and was definitely sure he made her nervous.
Before he’d come, she had made up her mind that if the estimate was reasonable, she’d go with Big Sky because of their reputation. They really were the best. But now she needed to think it through again. It gave her a peculiar sensation to know Trent wanted the house for reasons he refused to explain.
But surely he would do a good job, regardless. Or rather, his employees would. It was just as well, because she’d rather not deal with the owner of the company in person again.
* * *
TRENT’S JAW ACHED with retraining his frustration as he drove back to Big Sky. He’d been certain Emily would sell the house to him. What kind of idiot hung on to a wreck when offered a profit after only six weeks of ownership?
It didn’t make sense.
By all accounts she was a successful businesswoman, and he’d offered her a sweetheart deal. She should have snapped it up, no questions asked.
Trent let out an impatient breath and tried to sort out his impressions of Emily George. Medium brown hair, and he thought her eyes were brown, as well. She was around thirty and attractive, albeit somewhat nondescript, with loose clothes that concealed her figure. A huge point in her favor was that she hadn’t come off as a single woman on the prowl.
She was stubborn, though. It was obvious from the way she’d reacted when urged to sell the house to him. He should have just told her that he’d lived there as a kid. She probably would have assumed he had a sentimental reason for wanting the place; she seemed the type to sympathize with that sort of thing.
On the other hand, she might have raised unholy Cain later, when she saw what he really wanted to do with the property. Besides, he wasn’t good at subterfuge.
His thoughts continuing to churn, Trent walked into the office and saw his sister.
“Hey, what are you still doing here?” he asked, trying to sound normal.
“I’m taking care of some things for the Firefighters Auxiliary. You said it was all right to use the photocopier and office supplies.”
Trent shrugged. “Sure, just don’t ask me to get involved with that silly bachelor auction they hold every year.”
“It’s for a good cause.”
“No, thanks. I’ll make my usual donation and leave it at that.”
Alaina looked wistful. “You’d make such a wonderful bachelor for the fund-raiser.”
For some reason Trent thought of their new client and how poorly he’d handled his meeting with her. Granted, by a purely business standard she ought to have accepted his offer, but he hadn’t been at his best. The loud screech of the doorbell alone had evoked a flood of sensations, none of them positive. And it had been worse after he’d walked into the living room. Strange, how clearly the memories had come back. And he hadn’t been there since he was ten.
“You’re forgetting my terrible social skills,” Trent told his sister.
“Then it’s a good thing you have me to run your office,” Alaina told him brightly. “I’m great with people.”
“True.”
Alaina was another puzzle Trent hadn’t figured out. Why had she come back to Montana? After graduating with honors from Stanford with an MBA, she’d been recruited by a large New York firm and had risen rapidly in its ranks. Then a year ago, when his old office manager had announced she was retiring soon, Alaina had begged Trent for the job, saying she was homesick. He wasn’t sure he’d gotten the whole
