Chapter 19

After that day on the beach with Scott, Colten was slightly more open to tossing a football around than he had been before. I’d packed one on the off chance that we got around to using it, but I’d been surprised when Colt had left the chess board earlier to ask me if I’d come play outside with him for a while.

Wrapping my fingers around the ball, I let it fly. Colt dashed across the expansive lawn behind the house, his arms outstretched to catch it. I shielded my face from the sun with my hand as I looked up, following the ball as Colten leaped to grab it out of the air. It landed with a thwack in his arms, and pride surged through me.

“I got it,” he yelled.

My arms shot into the air and I rushed at him, grinning like a madman as I ran. “You did it! Great catch, bud. Wow!”

I didn’t stop when I reached him, wrapping my hands around his hips instead and hoisting him onto one of my shoulders. “Hold on tight!”

Colten squealed with laughter as I raced around the lawn with him, and with the sun sitting high in the sky and warmth washing over us, I wished there had been someone around to photograph this moment. It was a big one, considering that nothing like it had ever happened before.

When I finally reached the place I’d been standing, I set him back down on his feet and motioned at the tree line near the fence. “Do you want to try running that way and catching it while you’re on the move?”

He grinned. “Sure. This is pretty fun, huh? That’s why everyone’s always talking about football?”

I chuckled. “That’s one of the reasons. Okay, so go?—”

A red Ferrari tore through the gates then, burning rubber and coming in hot. Colten yelped, ducking in behind me, and I felt a rush of protectiveness over him, stepping in front of him as the car came to a stop.

What the fuck is this?

The gates had opened, so the well-dressed man climbing out of the car had to have legitimate access to the Manor, but whoever he was, I didn’t approve of his sudden, unannounced arrival, nor the way in which he’d come in here.

His front tires were on the lawn right where I’d been running a minute ago, and he held his hands up as he climbed out, grinning as he invited me to toss him the ball. I didn’t.

The man’s grin faded some and he slid his hands into his pockets. He nodded and took a few steps forward. “Hi there, folks. I’m Dallas Styles. The owner of this place. I hope you don’t mind me popping in. I just have to pick up some things inside.”

For the daily rate I was paying for the place, I hadn’t expected impromptu visits from the owner. In fact, I’d been guaranteed complete privacy, but the longer I took to let him get whatever he needed, the longer he would be here, interrupting what could be a pretty special day for Colten and me.

“Go ahead,” I said, my tone sharper than usual but not nearly as sharp as it could’ve been. “We’d sure appreciate a heads-up if you need to drop in again.”

The man chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. His slicked-back blond hair shimmered in the sunshine. Jesus, how much product does this guy use?

“Sure thing, Lando. I’ll just a be a few minutes. How are you enjoying your stay so far?”

“We were enjoying it just fine,” I said. “And it’s Landon.”

I emphasized the ‘n’ and turned back to Colten. “Maybe we wait a few before we try running, huh? Why don’t you just back up a bit and we’ll keep just tossing it around until he leaves?”

Colt nodded and Dallas must’ve caught the hint because he shrugged again and strode toward the front door. Pushing it open without breaking stride, he went inside and left it open behind him. More irritation rippled through me.

Were you raised in a barn?

It was hard to believe a slick dick like him could be related to the people who had built this house. Since we’d arrived, I’d heard quite a lot about the Styles family and I definitely didn’t expect one of them to be a forty-something wannabe cool guy with zero regard for his tenants.

Letting out a deep sigh, I scratched the back of my neck and convinced myself to let it go. The younger generation of families like his were never as classy or gracious as their predecessors. It was unfortunate, but generational money didn’t always breed generational refinement.

I was a prime example of that myself, going into criminal defense when my parents, grandparents, and all those who had come before me had built their empire in high-end real estate. Shaking my head, I waited until Colten had backed up enough. Then I passed the ball to him. He tossed it back and I caught it once more.

Dallas took much longer than the few minutes he’d promised, and by the time he emerged, I realized it was because he seemed to be carrying half the house away. He came out with what looked like an old wooden jewelry box and a few other knickknacks. He opened his trunk and set them inside before he headed back in.

I frowned, curiosity trickling through me. What are you up to, Dallas Styles?

Colten and I continued tossing the ball, but he fumbled it more often than he caught it, his own eyes darting from the man adding more things to his trunk and the trunk itself. Eventually, I waved him over. “Let’s take a break.”

“What is all of that?” he asked, peering past me with confusion furrowing his brow. “He’s not taking anything of ours, right?”

“I doubt it, but I don’t know what it is,” I said. “Maybe we should ask.”

When he came back outside again, I strode up to him, getting in his way between him and his car. “What is all of that?”

I glanced at the box of leather-bound journals he had in his hands. He gave me a cocky grin, stepping around me to deposit it in his trunk as well. Once he’d set it down inside, he dusted off his hands and turned back to me.

“It’s my grandmother’s old jewelry collection and her journals. She wrote in them almost every day of her life. Apparently, that means something to certain people.”

A trickle of discomfort slid down my spine. I imagined it would mean a lot to many people, but since he looked and acted the way he did and had phrased it the way he had, I assumed he wasn’t one of those people. “What do you mean?”

“An antique collector is interested in these items. He wants to buy ‘em off me. Can you believe that?”

What I couldn’t believe was that he’d rented out the house with his grandmother’s jewelry in it, and that he’d want to sell any of it at all. I lifted my chin. “How much has he offered you?”

“Half a million,” Dallas said, even cockier now than he had been before. A smirk appeared on his lips as he stared me down. “They’re not worth anything to her now, are they? I might as well get something out of it.”

I hadn’t suggested that he shouldn’t sell his grandmother’s things, yet he was defending himself for doing it as if I had said something. Assuming it meant he was feeling a little insecure about it despite the smirk, I decided to take my chances.

“How about I buy them off you here and now? Save you the trip to the collector. I’m willing to offer you six hundred thousand.”

Dallas’s muddy brown eyes widened and he sputtered. Then he stuck his hand out. “Let’s make the deal, Lando.”

I gritted my teeth but didn’t bother correcting him again. Instead, I slid my palm into his and made the damn deal. “Wait here. I’ll go write you a check.” Turning to my son, I nodded at the trunk. “Do you mind helping me take all this stuff back inside?”

He blinked a few times but then came over and lifted the jewelry box out first. As he carried it back in, I brought up the rear with the journals and another box of haphazardly packed stuff on top of it.

“Your check better be good,” Dallas called after me, trying to sound good-natured but he wasn’t fooling anyone—least of all me.

“It’s good. Don’t worry. Besides, you know where to find me if it’s not.”

He chuckled. “Good point!”

Instead of responding again, I kicked the front door shut behind me, not wanting him to follow us inside. Colt was ahead of me and he shot me a questioning look over his shoulder. “Where do you want it?”

“Kitchen,” I said since it was the first place that came to mind.

When we walked in, he set the jewelry box down carefully on the center island and immediately lifted the lid, peering inside and starting to pull things out. I was about to tell him to be careful when I realized he already was, running the items gently through his fingers as he examined them.

I wrote the check on the same island, distracted by the beauty of the jewelry I was about to own. I had absolutely nothing in mind for it and no one in my life to give it to, but I could appreciate it all the same.

Colten removed an oval-shaped locket engraved with what appeared to be initials, an ornate bracelet, and a ring that resembled the one that used to belong to the Princess of Wales. Glancing up at me, he frowned as he put it all back into the box and closed the lid.

“These are pretty, but why did you buy them?”

I shrugged. “It was a spur of the moment decision.”

After writing the check, I cracked open one of the journals, deciding on a whim that I probably needed to make sure at least that I wasn’t paying over half a million dollars for empty notebooks. Immediately, my gaze fell upon page after page filled with an elegant, feminine handwriting and I shut the journal again, feeling like I was intruding.

When I looked up, I found Colten eyeing me skeptically. “You made a spur of the moment decision to spend half a million on this junk, but you won’t buy me Nike sneakers?”

“It’s not junk.” I chuckled. “It’s history. The Styles family meant a lot to the people in this town and all this stuff used to belong to them, which makes it part of their history too, not just the family’s.”

His nose wrinkled as he shrugged. “It’s a lot of money for some jewelry and a few notebooks. You said the sneakers were too expensive.”

“I’ll buy you the sneakers for back to school in the fall,” I conceded. “I said they were too expensive for just another pair because you already had three pairs of sneakers, but by the time you go back to school, I’m sure those will be too tight anyway.”

He cocked his head at me. “The town already has history too. Why did we need this stuff?”

“Because it’s special,” I said emphatically.

“To who?”

I held up the journal in my hand and swiped the check into the other. “To Jewel. Let’s go give that man his money so we can get back to football and stop pouting. You’re getting the sneakers when we get home.”