Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
She must sense the way I’m looking at her because she falls back a step.
“Wait, what? I’m a marketer, not a tour guide.”
“And I’m a CEO who only goes into town for supplies. It can’t be me.”
Her jaw drops. “That’s what you’re hiring me for? To be a glorified babysitter?”
“That certainly isn’t everything, but it’s a start,” I say carefully.
“I’m not available. Showcasing Pinnacle Pointe falls outside the scope of Odd Little Bee’s services.”
“It’s a package deal,” I say, seizing the opportunity. “Consider it a meet and greet with people you’ll be working with. You’ll be out with the creative team making sure they get started on authentic content. You can steer content production, and veto anything you don’t like. Where’s the problem, Miss Landers?”
“Cromwell, I am not some ‘feel-good’ reporter. And I don’t know the first thing about shooting good video.”
“That’s why I keep Smokey Dave around—grudgingly. And what do you think content marketing is? You know where those cameras should be pointed.”
She starts to turn around, huffing a breath.
“See, I knew this was a mistake.”
I shut the door behind her before she can walk out.
“No mistake. An opportunity. Here are the terms of my offer. You give me three months on this project, helping my team satisfy the tourism booster promise I made the mayor. You’ll walk away with a hundred thousand dollars and all the time in the world to fix up Bee Harbor. Plus, you’ll have a corporate card to cover any incidental expenses while you’re out with the team. By the end of this, if you happen to see me as a human being and not some soul-sucking demon aiming to buy off the world, I’d like the first option to buy your property—if and when you decide to sell.”
She stalls and stares at me, barely breathing.
Her brilliant green eyes gleam with uncertainty.
“Jeez, you really are a vampire. The property is never going up for sale. Even if you’re secretly immortal, you’ll be in for a long wait.”
“Forget the property then. I still need your expertise,” I growl.
What I actually need is to stroke her ego enough to close the real deal. I’m willing to bide my time.
“I don’t know. If giving you an exclusive option on the inn is one of your terms...”
I hold her gaze, drawing a breath, and give her an honest answer. “Miss Landers, I think eventually you’re going to wonder whether or not a bed and breakfast is a bigger project than you’re ready for right now. And even if you don’t, you might ask yourself if you really want to spend your best years in Pinnacle Pointe. Should you change your mind and sell, I hope I’m the buyer. I don’t want to see that gorgeous landscape turned into a parking lot or a suburban exclave packed with cookie-cutter houses. An option is all I ask. First dibs.”
“I’m not so convinced you’ll give up that easy if I don’t sell. My grandma isn’t even cold yet, and you’ve already tried to buy me out multiple times.”
My jaw sets.
“I didn’t mean it to come across callously. I assumed you had a life in Seattle you’d want to get back to and taking the property off your hands would help. Since that’s not the case, I’m willing to wait like a good boy for your scraps.”
Her eyes narrow as she places a hand on her hip. “You just don’t want my grandma’s house turned into a development, right?”
I nod.
“Awesome. Then if I promise you it never will be, you can give up, right? Completely remove that condition from your offer, and maybe we’ll have a deal.”
“Listen, the thought of Bee Harbor becoming another marina or tacky chain hotel makes me sick. And it’s not like I’ve asked you for price protection. I’m merely asking that if you think I’m not a vampire by the end of this experiment and you choose to pursue other plans, you consider selling the land at any asking price you decide.”
“One hundred and fifty,” she clips.
“What?”
“I want a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Not for the inn, but for this 'experiment,' as you put it. Give me that and I’ll agree to the other insane conditions.”
My blood heats.
“Are you mad, kitten?”
She crosses her arms in front of her chest, trying to stare me down. “Crazy enough to stand here considering this while you call me that, I guess.”
“A hundred thousand dollars is more than fair compensation for roughly three months of consulting work on a project of this scope. Hell, it’s practically charity. I’m running this venture at a financial loss.”
“We’ll call it a Cromwell premium. Fifty thousand dollars a month seems just barely tolerable for dealing with you. As for the property, if I decide to sell, I’ll think about it. No promises.”
The screaming sundress wrapped around her siren curves suddenly seems too fitting.