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“You don’t need to be there for that?”
“It’s a real estate deal, so everything on my end can be done over the phone and online.”
“Is that what you do for work?” I lock my gaze with his. “Real estate?” He lifts his chin in response, and I nod. “Maybe you can give me some advice.” I start shoving the wet sheets from the washer into the dryer. “My mom signed the deed for her property back in Wyoming over to me, and I’ve been trying to sell it to settle her debts before it’s taken by the state, and?—”
“They shouldn’t be able to take that property from you if she signed the deed over to you, regardless of her debts.” He cuts me off, his gaze locking on mine.
“You would be right.” I tug my eyes off his to continue what I was doing. “But she passed before she could go to a lawyer and file the proper paperwork, so her estate has to clear the debt she owes, which is significant between her medical bills and the taxes she hadn’t paid in years. Something I knew nothing about until after she passed.”
“What kind of property is it?”
“It’s a little over three hundred acres with a small house and barn.”
“That’s a lot of land.”
“I know.” I glance over at him as I shut the door to the dryer. “And I know that might be part of why I haven’t had anyone show any interest.”
“But?” He adds the single word I left out.
“My mom’s family still lives there and my ex-fiancé didn’t want me to sell, and they all have strong connections in that town.” I shake my head. “I know I could just be paranoid, but do you think it’s weird that not one person has even viewed it?”
“You were engaged?”
I frown at his tone and the look he’s giving me. “Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“Does that matter?” I deflect because discussing Tyler’s and my failed relationship with him is the last thing I want to do.
“No.” He shakes his head, scrubbing his fingers through his thick hair that looks so soft my fingers twitch with the urge to feel it for myself. “You don’t want to keep the land?” My muscles bunch, and he must notice, because his entire expression gentles. “There is no right or wrong answer.”
“If I answer no, I seem heartless. If I say yes, I’m stuck.”
“I’m not going to think you’re heartless.”
“You might not, but my mom’s family does.” I start loading my cart with fresh linens. “The property has been in that family for generations,” I tell him while the familiar feelings of guilt and anger land heavy in the center of my chest. “They were upset when I told them I would have to sell.”
“If they’re worried about the land staying in your family, they should purchase it from you or help you figure out how to keep it.”
“They don’t want it.”
“Then they don’t factor into any decision you make. It’s not your responsibility to make them happy.” He swings his hand back and tosses his empty coffee cup into the trash in the corner of the room. “Give me the address, and I’ll do some research. It might be a price-point issue or even a lack of exposure on the real estate agent’s part for why you haven’t gotten any inquiries.”
“You can see that?”
“Anyone with a license to sell real estate can see that.” He pushes off the counter and walks over to my cart. Taking one of the postcards we leave in the rooms from the stack on top, he hands it to me. “Jot down the address.”
Taking the pen I have stuck in the bun on top of my head, I write it quickly while he stands over me and watches.
“When did you last speak to your real estate agent?”
I look up at him. He’s so close that I can see the deep-blue ring around his eyes that now look almost green in the light coming in from the door. “I called a few days ago to see if he’s had any showings or any calls. He told me he hasn’t.”
With a nod that seems all business, he takes the card from me and shoves it into his pocket. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Thank you.”
“How much longer do you have here?” he asks, ignoring my thanks, which I’m starting to see is another habit of his.
