Page 24 of Slow Burn
Abbott shrugged, unfazed. “Foundation’s in the wrong place. You’d have a better view up on the hill.”
Cole’s jaw tightened. He set the bottle down too hard; the thunk was loud in the quiet. “Would’ve had to clear out trees and carve a new drive.”
Daniel only nodded as he scanned the room, taking in every board, fixture, and antique Cole had piled up from auctions and shops. His gaze never landed on Cole, but that wasn’t because of nerves. He was just being nosy as hell.
“I’ll pay all the materials on top of the offer,” Abbott said smoothly. “Got clearance to offer you more than anyone else can.”
It was the same tired dance. Abbott had chased after the land for years before Cole inherited it, and now he was back at it again. Fifty acres that developers wanted to parcel into a subdivision. Cedar Hollow’s “future.”
Not if Cole had anything to say about it. The town did just fine without chain stores and traffic jams. Tourists came for the nostalgia, the waterfalls, the changing leaves. Growth was overrated.
“Stop wastin’ my time.” Cole’s voice dropped to a growl.
Daniel’s grin went from affable to shrewd. “You and Joe Murphy,” he muttered. Then, pointing like they were sharing a private joke, he said, “I’ll get you both somehow.”
Cole had heard enough. He shoved his goggles back on and fired up the saw as answer. The machine screamed to life, drowning Abbott out until the other man sighed and slunk away.
Cole cut through two more boards, slow and deliberate, rounding edges that didn’t need it. Anything to keep Abbott—and the name he’d dragged into Cole’s head—from lingering.
Damn Abbott for planting her in his thoughts when she’d already taken root deeper than Cole cared to admit. He hadn’t shaken the charge of her presence since she’d walked back into town, and it’d only gotten worse the more he’d interacted with her. Playing with fire.
When the saw finally went quiet again, another car crunched across the gravel. Cole’s tension eased this time as he recognized the white sedan.
Just as his mama got out of her car, he stepped onto the sagging porch. He leaned a shoulder against the old post, ready to dump the rest of his water bottle over his head to cool off. The temptation to wait until his mama had walked up the stairs andwas in the splash zone tugged strong. He’d been a respectable citizen for far too long, and it was high time she was reminded of the scoundrel she’d raised.
But her dress was mighty pretty, and the temptation passed quickly enough.
“Well, aren’t you a picture,” he said as she grinned up at him, her lips painted red.
“Oh.” She tutted and waved him off, stopping a few feet from the steps.
“What, no hug for your boy?” he teased.
She gave him a shrewd look. “I saw that glint of mischief in your eye, Cole Hauser.”
He laughed, the sound shaking loose the last of the bad mood Abbott had left on him.
“What are you doing all the way out here?” he asked, taking another swallow from his bottle.
“Checking in,” she said lightly, but her eyes betrayed her. Watching him, weighing him.
Cole grunted his skepticism.
She winced, caught. “Still mad at your daddy?”
He shrugged, the move painfully dismissive. “Why would I be mad?”
“Cole.” She started up the broken steps.
“I’m not mad, Ma.”
She froze at the snap in his tone.
He vented a heavy sigh and worked some calm into his voice. “I’m not.”
“Then why haven’t you been by?”
“Busy.”
