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Vi sucked in a breath, swooshing it out again. “Not whole?” She seemed confused. “What are you talking about?”
Defeat snaked up his spine, spilling out. “I’ve found out the hard way women don’t want a man with scarred legs and no foot.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Is this about the massage? Rory, you’ve got more character than any man I know. And I didn’t fall in love with your foot.” Her mouth snapped shut as if she’d said too much.
Which didn’t lessen his need to know. “Do you mean it?” The rawness of his voice unnerved him further.
Before he could respond, Vi stepped around the table, placing her hands on his shoulders. Her nearness proved his undoing. Still sitting, he lifted his face to hers, then slowly wound his arms around her waist. She cupped his chin, her eyes deep amethyst. When she ran her fingers through his beard, a different kind of shiver curled his spine. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Let me show you exactly what I mean.”
She entwined her arms around his neck, touching her lips to his. Vi initiating a kiss sent his world spinning. He pulled her to his chest, kissing her soundly. Completely. Without reserve. When she returned his passion, a bright healing flowed between them. It covered their scars and hurts from the past and created a new life. Together.
The overhead fluorescent lights switched on, illuminating the room. Their kiss ended on a startled note, leaving Rory hungry for more. He tucked her head into his chest, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden white glow. Emilio sauntered into the kitchen, whistling. A minute later, he left with a broom, leaving the lights on.
“Do you think he saw us?” Vi leaned away, running a hand through her loose hair.
“Mm-hmm. He did it on purpose.” Rory reached for her hair, rolling the silky texture between his fingers.
His arms stayed around her, and she snuggled back into his chest. Her lavender scent wove around his unsettled emotions, holding him steady. She acted the same way she always did—no repulsion, no condescension, nothing but Vi.
When she exhaled a warm breath, he nudged her. “What are you thinking?”
An amused expression lit her face, and her eyes glowed with tenderness. “I think it’s a good thing we met in the deli.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Rory slipped his phone into his pocket, puzzled as to why Dad needed to see him so soon. He had barely enough time to drop by the office before his first appointment.
As he passed Becca’s office, she gave him a disgruntled look. “He’s waitin’ for you.” Paige sat in a chair next to Becca’s desk, a hint of mischief in her eyes.
Taking in the situation, one corner of Rory’s lip lifted. Paige would hold her own in getting the info she needed. Probably the reason Becca looked as if she’d stapled her tongue. She’d been Dad’s secretary for so long she’d grown quite possessive about Spence Enterprises.
Overhead, the fan blades turned steadily as Rory entered the office, blowing the scent of furniture polish around the room. “What’s going on, Dad?” he asked.
The older man threw down a manila folder. “I don’t know how many times Becca’s given me the wrong folder. The woman’s getting dementia. Did you hear me? Dementia.” His face and neck had turned a radish-red color. He yanked on the collar of his white shirt.
Rory was aghast. Dad rarely said an unkind word about anyone. In the last conversation they’d had, though, Dad had been impatient with Howell. Rory didn’t know how to navigate this version of his father.
“You took your time getting here.” The older man grumped his way to the small seating area where they met. They both stood as if facing off. “I wanted to let you know I’ve got a man meeting with the owner of the other tract of land you want for the gym.”
On any other day, Rory would consider this odd. “That happened fast. What’s he going to offer?”
Dad kept talking as if Rory hadn’t said anything. “It’s one of those sweet deals. The estate’s recently changed hands. Always an opportune time to propose a sale.” His breath came in short bursts.
“Dad, are you alright?” Rory asked, his voice rising.
The older man plopped in a chair, waving him away. “I’m fine. It’s hot in here is all.” He picked up a brochure from the table and fanned himself. “Becca keeps this room a furnace.”
Rory sat, observing him. This room stayed cool. Dad’s coloring now had an ashy tinge.
Dad pulled his phone from his pocket. “Marvin sent me the info. He’s going out there this morning to see if he can’t rustle up business. He wanted to do the polite preliminary thing, but it takes too long. I told him to come back with an appointment. I’ll meet with—confounded strange name. Oh, here it is. A woman. Violet Summers.”
Rory’s world unhinged and swung crazily. Only one person had that name. “No, Dad. I know her—she won’t sell.” His hands rubbed together hard enough to kindle a fire.
“What are you talking about? If you know her, it ought to make it easier.” A sheen of perspiration covered Dad’s face.
Rory jerked his head. “No! Not Vi. The deal’s off, Dad. She won’t want to sell.” Realization crashed through him. The land they wanted for Peeps belonged to Vi? He’d have known if he and Jesse had followed through and checked. It all made sense though—the drive to her place from the gym didn’t take long. She’d inherited all the surrounding acreage, but this—she’d think he’d—he had to fix this. Immediately. He stood and paced.
“I have to stop Marvin. He’s headed to her place?” Rory grabbed his phone, punched his contact list, and scanned the contents. “Why don’t I have Marvin’s number? I need his number right now. This meeting can’t happen.”
