Page 14 of The Kiss Keeper
A muscle ticked in Jake’s jaw as he worked to keep the sentiment from his voice. “I spent a summer there when I was a kid.”
Charlie’s face lit up with an odd, gleeful expression, bordering on a mad scientist level of excitement. “You’ve been there? On the property?”
Jake glanced away. “I haven’t been there since I was thirteen. But yes, I remember a few things about it.”
That was a lie.
He remembered more than a few things.
He remembered a well, surrounded by the forest and cast in darkness, where he’d held the hand of the first girl he’d kissed. He didn’t even know her name or what she looked like. That kiss keeper bullshit and his blindfolded trek through the woods had turned out to be the last happy memory of his childhood.
He could still feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he and his kiss keeper held hands and dodged the camp night patrol. And then he’d done it. He’d kissed her outside her cabin. They were supposed to lock lips at the well to offer a kiss as some way to thwart his balls falling off or some crazy campfire folktale. But that night, he knew he couldn’t leave without kissing the most enchanting girl he’d ever met.
Where was she now?
Even with all the money and the one-night stands he’d accumulated over the years, he couldn’t think of anything he’d desired more than when he’d wanted to kiss that young girl with her face obscured by a damn bandana blindfold.
But he knew one thing for sure. He couldn’t go back to Maine and risk the wounds of his past ripping open. He’d spent too much time fortifying himself from feeling anything to risk having all his defenses crumble once he set foot in that place.
Charlie clapped his hands with a hard slap, pulling Jake back from the past. “This is excellent, Jake. You already have a grasp of the place.”
Jake shook his head, a minute movement to get himself back on track.
“Is it still owned by Mr. and Mrs. Woolwich? I think their names were Hal and Betty.”
“Hal and Beverly. She goes by Bev,” Charlie corrected with that odd, sharp edge.
“That’s right, Hal and Bev,” he repeated, treading carefully.
It was surprising to see Charlie so agitated over something as mundane as him forgetting a name. Charlie never cared about the lives of the players in a deal—only that it went his way.
“Have you had anyone reach out to them and see if they were interested in selling?” he asked, steering the conversation in a more business-oriented direction.
From what he remembered, the camp founders loved the place. They’d built their lives there. Raised their family there. There were so many Woolwich grandchildren, nieces, and nephews, he was never able to figure out who was who.
Charlie made a face as if he’d sucked a lemon. “I’ve had a handful of my nephews look into it quietly, never mentioning the Linton name, but damn old Hal Woolwich will barely speak a word to them, let alone allow them on the property.”
“What makes you think they’d even consider selling?” Jake pressed.
“Two things. They’re not running the camp program this summer, which leads me to believe that there may be some financial constraints, making them more vulnerable and amenable to selling,” Charlie answered, the edge in his voice replaced with his usual cool detachment.
“And the other thing?” Jake asked.
Charlie gave him a hint of a smile. “Just a little information shared with me privately.”
Jake crossed his arms. “What makes you think they’ll talk to me?”
“For one thing, you’re a former camper. I don’t know if that’ll be enough to get you in the door, but you may be able to make that work for you. Plus, if they do give you the chance to pitch to them, we’re golden.”
“But if they’ve shot all your other guys down, why wouldn’t they do the same to me?”
“Because of Dubai, Jake. You can walk into a room the equivalent of a minefield and walk out unscathed with the keys to the kingdom in your hand.”
He appreciated the compliment, but it still didn’t make sense. Why would a billionaire developer want this small piece of land?
Jake ran his hand through his hair. “So, you want me to convince a couple of old people to sell a scrap of land? But there’s got to be plenty of open real estate in that area. If you want property on the New England coastline, there are many more choices. Especially ones not as remote as Woolwich Cove.”
Charlie leaned in, gaze darkening. “I don’t think you’re hearing me, Jake. I wantthisland. And you’ve been with me long enough to know that I get what I want. Don’t mistake for a moment that because I’m in the AARP crowd that I’ve lost my edge. Let’s up the ante. How about I sweeten the deal? You get me Camp Woolwich, and I’ll make you a full partner. Do you know what that means?”
