Gillian continued to smile, waiting on his answer.
“Well?” She had the nerve to sound perky.
How was it that rich folks seemed to have a knack for morphing somebody else’s pain into their gain?
He settled down again on the patio step. She evidently took it as an encouraging sign, because she did the same.
“Say something. What’s your gut reaction?” The infernal woman was expecting a positive response.
He held in the rude scoff that threatened to spew. His gut reaction, as she’d put it, was to end this ridiculous conversation, get into his old Jeep and drive away.
And then what?
There was no way to reverse the clock. She’d be the new owner of Temple Territory, no matter how he and his three brothers felt about it. And, as Mac had said, her hotel was better than having the acres leveled for big box stores. And as the eldest brother, Mac had the ultimate say.
Hunt had no choice but to roll with the punches, and that included returning to his hometown, and once again without a place of his own.
“You’re always welcome to bunk with me,” Cullen had mentioned the night before. “But how long do you reckon you might be hanging around?”
That was an odd question coming from Hunt’s identical twin. Weren’t they supposed to have some weird compunction to be together? That was the conventional wisdom, but even as boys the two had had little in common. Things were no different today between him and his book-nerd twin. Cullen was perpetually over at the university working on another degree or traveling somewhere to lecture to his fellow history geeks. They wouldn’t see much of one another if Hunt stayed with him for a while, so that was a plus. But at thirty-two years old, he couldn’t move in with his brother indefinitely.
Gillian tapped the edge of her cup with the tip of one short nail, reminding him she expected a response. She was a decisive woman who’d made a multimillion-dollar purchase after a few hours of consideration. He was nothing more than a speed bump in the parking lot of her plans. He had to make up his mind before she moved on to a third choice. There were excellent chefs in Dallas and Houston who would jump at the chance to get out of the city.
Hunt leaned forward, an elbow on each knee, one hand gripping the other to brace himself for the counterproposal he was about to offer.
“I hate to fly. I’d rather have a root canal. Once during a flight from Greece to Costa Rica, I got vertigo. Those were the longest and most miserable hours of my life.” Hunt closed his eyes for a moment against the recollection. “There was nothing I could do but let the world spin around me while the plane thumped through one pocket of turbulence after another. Once the aircraft landed in San José, I still had to suffer a wild ride with a Nigerian taxi driver to the nearest clinica. When I finally got enough medication in me to calm the vertigo, I prayed I’d never be in such a vulnerable position again.”
Gillian listened with her sandy blond brows pulled together in concern, a “what’s your point?” question in her all-business eyes and a not-so-surreptitious glance at her wristwatch.
“I know.” He bobbed his head in respect for her busy schedule. “But I told you that story so I could tell you this story. When I sat down with my three brothers yesterday morning, and McCarthy gave us the news that Temple Territory had been purchased, it was like being on that awful flight. For the past twenty-four hours, the world has been spinning out of control.” Hunt smiled. He needed to appear and sound sincere. “I guess, in a way, you’ve given me some hope, and for that I should be grateful.”
Her shoulders relaxed and a glimmer of relief appeared on the face that he had to admit was Katherine Heigl beautiful.
“So, you’ll accept my offer?”
There was cautious expectation in her voice. Maybe she didn’t have a third option up her sleeve after all.
“It’s more complicated than that.” He squinted and pressed his molars together, trying to seem stressed, as if he had a big decision to make. “You’re not the only person who’s aware I’ve left the Four Seasons. I have several other opportunities on the table already, so staying here even temporarily could cost me a much bigger deal.”
It might have been true. There was no offer at the moment, but his agent was working on it. He’d had a steady stream of offers since winning a reality cooking show that had given him the nickname “the Cowboy Chef.” Something would come along soon. Sadly, that something would likely take him far away from his hometown. And this is where he needed to be, if he was ever to become as close to his brothers as he’d once been.
“I’ll make it worth your while financially.”
He held a palm outward and shook his head.
“If I hang around, it won’t be because of the money, it’ll be for my family’s sake. Dad would want one of his sons to keep an eye on what you’re doin’ with Pap’s place.”
Gillian crossed her arms, and lowered her pointed chin a bit, causing long strands of blond hair to fall across her shoulders. “You do understand you’d have no vote in my plans, correct?”
“I didn’t ask for a vote, just a voice. An astute businesswoman should be open-minded, willing to listen to another opinion.”
She nodded, seemed to accept his logic. “So, do we have an agreement?”
“Not yet. I do have one condition, and it’s a deal breaker.”
“Let me guess. You want an offer in writing.”
“Yeah, but I want the offer in writing to Alma and Felix. You make them part of your staff for as long as you own the property, and I’ll stick around for a while. Between the three of us, we can teach you the history of our neck of the woods.”
* * *
FINALLY. THE MAN got to the bottom line.
Fair enough. Gillian appreciated a rousing negotiation and admired his family loyalty. She’d benefit from Hunt’s ability to help her design a state-of-the-art kitchen, then cook fabulous food and charm her well-heeled patrons with his Cowboy Chef persona for as long as she could afford him. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the man’s opinions, and she definitely hadn’t asked for his historical mentoring.
“As I’ve mentioned, I do my homework, and I’m pretty confident that I’m up to speed on Texas history.” She lifted her cup and took another sip.
“Is that a fact? So you’ve heard all about the monster sea snake that lives in Lake Cherokee, have you?”
Gillian sloshed a few drops from her cup. The dark brew splashed on her scarlet bag, a treasure from her favorite resale shop in Old Town Alexandria.
“And you’re aware that this very parcel of land was farmed for hundreds of years by members of the Caddo Nation?” He pointed toward the ground beneath their feet. “What’s left of the Caddo tribe regularly tries to lay claim to Temple Territory, pointing to the well their ancestors dug as proof of their rights. Pap built the mansion around the well out of respect for the spirits they believe still abide here.”
She shook her head, wondering if she should speak to her lawyer concerning this nonsense about that nasty old well in the courtyard.
“And, of course, you’ve heard Temple Territory is cursed, right? In all these years, no honest business would touch it because my Pap was branded as a thief who made his fortune stealing a few hundred million barrels from a major oil company.”
“No, I wasn’t aware of any of that,” she admitted. This was all fresh news.
It was true she’d been reading about East Texas in general but hadn’t yet found the hours to dig into local folklore. He was right. She could definitely use area experts and storytellers who’d share the fantasies as well as the