LITMIR.BIZ

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if she sat still long enough to have a meaningful relationship.

      Cornwall spoke to her. This was where her family had come from and this was where she wanted to stay. But if she was going to build her dream home here, she’d better learn how to tough it out. There was no towing off a house. Being the new girl in a small town was hard enough. Lacking in coping skills wasn’t going to help the situation.

      If Wade thought he could bully her into selling by turning the town against her, he was in for a surprise. She wasn’t going to play along with his charade. If he could play dirty, so could she.

      “What can I get you?” The bartender had finally made his way over to her end of the bar. He looked like the kind of guy you’d find at a 115-year-old bar named the Wet Hen. Thin, leathery and gray-haired with an ancient, blurry anchor tattooed on his forearm. The tag pinned to his apron said his name was Skippy. She’d never seen anyone less like a Skippy in her life.

      “Gin and tonic with lime.” Strong and to the point without stooping to shots. She was tempted to just chug a few big gulps of tequila so she’d no longer care about Wade and his cronies. But she couldn’t lose control of her inhibitions, either. Lord knew what kind of trouble she’d get into.

      Skippy placed a bowl of peanuts and a napkin on the counter for the drink he quickly poured. He looked as though he had a solid fifty years of experience mixing drinks. When the lowball glass plopped down in front of her, she took a large, quick sip. Damned if that wasn’t the best gin and tonic she’d ever had.

      Go Skippy.

      The alcohol surged straight into her veins. She’d been too agitated to eat anything since Wade left, and her empty stomach gladly soaked up the wicked brew. Three sips into her drink, her worries from earlier had dulled into distant concerns that could be drowned out, along with the loud bursts of male laughter coming from the corner. Thank goodness.

      It wasn’t until she’d finished her drink and half a bowl of peanuts that she bothered to look in their direction again. Wade was still watching her, although this time the amusement on his face was gone. As the other men around the table chatted, he seemed to have narrowed his focus to her. The expression on his face was quite serious. And openly appreciative of whatever he was seeing.

      When their gazes met, Tori felt a jolt of electricity that ran down her spine and prickled across her skin like delicate flames licking at her. It was almost as though his look caressed her physically and drew her into him. It was the same feeling she’d had when he touched her today, handing her the honey jar. Sudden. Unexpected. Powerful.

      And totally and completely unwanted.

      The clunk of a glass on the bar in front of her startled Tori out of Wade’s tractor beam. When she turned, she saw a fresh glass, courtesy of Skippy.

      “This one’s on the oldest Eden boy.”

      It took Tori a minute to figure out that probably meant Wade. “You mean the dark-headed one in the green shirt with the smug expression on his face?”

      Skippy leaned onto the bar and turned toward the men in the back. “Yep.”

      “I thought his last name was Mitchell.”

      “It is.”

      “Then why’d you call him an Eden boy?”

      Skippy shrugged. “’Cause that’s what he is.”

      Tori frowned. Wade’s family tree seemed to be a touch more complicated than she’d anticipated. “Tell him I don’t want it.”

      Skippy snorted and shook his head. “He’s sitting with the mayor, the sheriff, the best lawyer in town and the city councilman who granted my liquor license. Sorry, kiddo, but I’m not getting involved. You’ll have to tell him that yourself.”

      “Fine,” Tori said. The drink was making her feel brave anyway. Scooping up the full glass, she slid off the stool a little too fluidly and made her way across the bar to the table of men in the back.

      All five of them halted their conversation and turned to look at her when she approached.

      “You’re welcome, Miss Sullivan,” Wade said with a smile that made her stomach flutter and pissed her off at the same time. He was too cocky for his own good.

      “Actually, I wasn’t coming to thank you. I’m returning it.”

      “Is something wrong with the drink?” Wade challenged.

      “Nothing aside from it being purchased by you.” She set it down on the edge of the table in front of him. “No thanks.”

      A couple of the men chuckled softly and another shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Wade ignored them all, his gaze laser-focused on her. “Oh, come on, now. Don’t be that way. It was a ‘Welcome to Cornwall’ drink. A taste of some local hospitality.”

      “I’ve lived here for two months and only four people have bothered to speak to me the entire time. It’s a little late for a warm welcome. Especially coming from the man who’s trying to run me out of town.”

      “That’s harsh. You can stay in town. Just not on that particular spot. Maybe Randy here can help you buy a new place.” Wade slapped the younger man beside him on the shoulder. “He tells me he handled the sale of my parents’ property.”

      “My property,” she emphasized. “What else did he tell you, Wade? Are there any loopholes you can use to nullify the sale? Or are you just snooping around town trying to find some dirt on me you can use for blackmail?”

      Wade shrugged casually, and Tori could feel her blood nearly boil in her veins with anger. “Not everything is about you, Miss Sullivan. I’m visiting my friends while I’m in town. If they just so happen to have information about you, then great. I like to be well-informed. Especially when going up against a worthy adversary.”

      “Don’t flatter me. You can dig all you want, but you’re not going to find any dirt, because I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not selling you my property, Mr. Mitchell. And that’s final.” Tori spun on her heel and took two big steps away before she heard the sound of muffled snickers behind her and a poorly masked whisper that suggested Wade’s skills in the bedroom might improve her attitude.

      That was the last straw. Snapping her head around, she caught Wade smirking at her backside as though he agreed with his uncouth companion’s assessment.

      She returned to their table. “I’m sorry, what was that? I can assure you my attitude was just fine until you started bullying me around. You may live in a world where you always get your way, but it’s not going to happen this time. And neither your money nor your penis is going to change that. I’m not interested in either of them.”

      With that, she picked up her drink, watching as Wade assessed her with curious eyes. He’d had the good sense to shelve the smirk. “On second thought,” she said with a sickeningly sweet smile, “I think I will take this drink. You could use a little cooling off.” With a flick of her wrist Tori emptied the glass into Wade’s lap.

      The icy cold drink shocked him upright out of the chair, sending ice cubes scattering across the floor. Tori turned and walked back to the bar, ignoring his stream of profanity muffled by his friends’ howls of laughter. She paid her bill, leaving a nice tip for Skippy, and headed for the door.

      Curiosity was nagging at her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to turn around and see what Wade was doing. She would give anything to see that smug look wiped off his face, and she was pretty sure that would do it. But looking back meant that she cared. She didn’t want to give Wade that satisfaction. Instead, she marched out the front door and headed to her truck. She was nearly to the corner of the building when she heard rapid, heavy footsteps coming up behind her.

      “What is your problem?” Wade snarled over her shoulder.

      As calmly as she could, Tori turned to look at him. Even with a tight jaw and an angry red flush tainting his perfect, aristocratic features, he was the most

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