Page 100 of Trick or Tease

“I’m not. I care about her, too.”

“You haven’t been around in a long time,” he said. “You might have cared about her back then, but things are different. You’re stepping into uncharted territory. She’s not a fling. You better not treat her like one.”

“I’m not and I really don’t need you in my business,” I said.

“Don’t let her fall in love with you if you’re just going to leave again,” he said. “You owe her that much.”

I walked to the office and closed the door. I knew it was only a matter of time before he got all righteous and protective. I wanted that for Sabrina, but it was also not necessary.

Not really. I had been honest with her the whole time. Neither one of us had exchanged any promises we didn’t plan on keeping.

An hour later, my phone buzzed with a text from Ron. Appraiser heading your way. Should be there in 20.

Twenty minutes? “Shit!”

The last thing I needed was Billy or Sabrina running into some stranger with a clipboard who’d start talking about property values and sale potential.

I grabbed my jacket and headed out, my stomach twisting with guilt. I’d been putting off thinking about this whole appraisal situation, letting myself get caught up in pumpkin chunking and haunted hayrides like I actually belonged here. But reality had a way of catching up, and now I had to face what I’d set in motion.

I started down the long driveway, hoping to catch the appraiser before she made it on the property. Halfway there, that same damn black cat darted across the path in front of me, disappearing into the corn maze like a bad omen.

“Okay, what the hell?” I muttered, stopping in my tracks. “Why does that keep happening?”

It had to be the fourth or fifth time I’d seen that cat since I’d been back. Always crossing my path like some kind of warning. If I believed in that sort of thing, I’d be seriously concerned about what kind of luck it was supposed to bring.

I was still staring at the spot where the cat had vanished when a silver sedan pulled up to the gate. A middle-aged woman in a navy blazer got out, checking something on her phone before looking around with the practiced eye of someone who appraised property for a living.

“Mr. Hogan?” she called out as I approached.

“That’s me. You must be Janet Morrison.”

“The one and only.”

I opened the gate and gestured for her to enter the property. She shook my hand with a firm grip, her smile professional and all business. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I know Ron said this was somewhat time sensitive.”

Time sensitive. Right. Because I’d told Ron I needed the appraisal done quickly, before Billy got too attached to his expansion plans. Before I got too attached to anything here.

“No problem,” I said, forcing my voice to sound casual. “Where would you like to start?”

“Usually I like to walk the perimeter first, get a sense of the overall property boundaries and any structures. Then we can discuss the specifics of what you’re looking to do.”

I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral. What I was looking to do. As if I had any clear idea anymore.

We started walking toward the back fields, Janet making notes on her tablet as we went. She asked questions about acreage, soil quality, and zoning restrictions—all things I should have known better but found myself estimating. I’d been so focused on the immediate business of running the festival that I’d barely thought about the underlying land value.

“This is prime agricultural land,” she noted, stopping to examine a section of the pumpkin field. “But given the proximity to the main road and the recent development trends in this area, I would imagine a buyer would want to develop the land instead of growing anything.”

That had me cringing. I was about to respond when I heard footsteps on the gravel behind us. I turned to see Sabrina walking up the path. She was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt that hung open to reveal a Poison T-shirt. Damn, just seeing her had my cock jumping.

But her expression said she was not happy.

“Hi,” she said, her eyes flicking between me and Janet with barely concealed curiosity. “I didn’t realize we were expecting anyone this morning. Are you here to clean out the porta potties, ma’am?”

Sabrina’s tone made my chest tighten with an unexpected surge of satisfaction. Was she jealous? The thought shouldn’t have pleased me as much as it did, but I couldn’t deny the possessive thrill that shot through me at the implied insult in her seemingly polite greeting.

Sabrina was naturally a nice person, but her expression reminded me of an angry cat. Like she was sharpening her claws in her mind.

“Sabrina, this is Janet Morrison,” I said, stepping closer to Sabrina almost unconsciously. “She’s here to do some consulting work for me. Janet, this is Sabrina Lamb. She’s been instrumental in getting our festival up and running.”