“What-what are you doing?” Our eyes meet briefly before Noah’s gaze lowers.
“Come on me, little bird.” He watches where he’s touching me, quickly sparking another build.
“I’ve never… I can’t…”
“You will.” His tone teases. His mouth curls in a knowing smirk. My thoughts return to him knowing his way around a woman. I’m learning how practiced he is. Within seconds, I’m coming for the third time, and as I clench around him, he grips my hips. Leaning forward, Noah pistons into me.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “So perfect.”
I continue to come as he stills his body but not his cock. Deep within me, he pulses and pumps, and for a moment, I wish nothing was between us.
Eventually, Noah falls forward, blanketing me with his weight before rolling us to our sides. His eyes find mine in the dimly lit room. With the blinds open, only the natural glow of early nightfall lights the space. Noah brushes back my hair before lowering his fingers to my throat.
What does my heart say? As he seems to be the reader of my pulse, I want to ask him. But I’m afraid he won’t answer. The unspoken truth would be unsettling.
Noah Weller is a man I could fall in love with… if only he weren’t leaving.
14
[Tessa]
“Ms. Brogan, we regret to inform you…” The remainder of the loan officer’s voice drowns out.
With Zack Weller beside me, I clench my fingers together as blood rushes through my ears.
I don’t know Zack, having only spoken to him on the phone, but I recognized him immediately upon entering the bank. He looks so much like his older brother, minus the snowflake effect in his hair. Zack’s face is stern, more edgy than Noah's, but he was kind in his greeting as we shook hands. He’s here because of Noah, and I don’t know how I’ll pay his legal fees.
I don’t even know what I’m going to do next.
Zack is asking a question, and all I hear are two words. “Back taxes.”
“What?” My uncle has been in charge of finances since my father’s death. Joe turned over some of the bookkeeping to Isaiah. Joe trusted our resident artist, saying he’d been a good friend to us during a difficult time. He also appreciated Isaiah’s willingness to work at the inn while making his sculptures. The tradeoff was multiple. Isaiah ran the inn. He still created art. And Joe could be more hands-off. Unfortunately for me, I should have been more hands-on.
“According to the records for the Bluebird Hollow Inn, there’s a substantial amount of taxes owed on the place. Roughly five years, actually.”
“But…but where did the money go?”
The loan officer shrugs. “It’s simply not in the records. Either the money was accumulated but never paid out, or the money was never collected.”
“What does this mean?” I turn to Zack, still too dazed from the rejection of the loan.
“It means that until the back taxes are paid, the place cannot be sold. Unless those taxes become part of the contingency for sale. Meaning a potential buyer would pay them off. Either way, the taxes must be paid, or the property reverts to a bank.” Zack’s eyes narrow at the bank employee.
“Are you saying someone stole the money?” I swallow around the thought.
“Or the inn never made enough money to pay the taxes,” Zack clarifies.
“But my uncle…” has purchased a place in Florida. The inn had to have made money. “Joe wouldn’t steal from me.” My voice is weak. The thought incomprehensible.
“Is there someone else on the books? Someone else who worked for the inn who had access to the money?” Zack asks.
“Isaiah, but he didn’t have access to the bank. He could make deposits, but he couldn’t—”
“Isaiah Reardon?” the loan officer interjects, and I turn to him. “He’s a co-signer on the accounts.”
“He’s what? How?”
The banker glances down at the paperwork. “His signature is dated roughly seven years ago.”
“Did he…embezzle the money?”
“Jesus,” Zack mutters beside me, and I remember what Noah told me about their father. He went to jail for stealing from his employer to pay off his gambling debts. Isaiah wasn’t a gambler. But could he have taken the money?
“We have no way of knowing that.” The loan officer gives me a weak smile. “You’d have to run your own investigation. Since the taxes are due on the inn, though, it can’t be put up for sale. That money needs to be paid, or the IRS is going to step in, and a bank will own the place.”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have the amount mentioned for back taxes. I didn’t have the money to buy out my uncle. And as of now, I didn’t have an inn to be purchased, only confiscated from the bank.
+ +
“Tell me you didn’t take the money for taxes to buy a condo in Florida.” I don’t even greet my uncle with hello but jump into the continuation of my hellish morning.
“Tessa Marie Brogan.” My uncle’s voice thickens. He’s been like a second father to me, but since Isaiah’s presence—and subsequent absence—and Jonas’s birth, my uncle has slowly been slipping away from me.
Taking a deep breath, I continue. “The bank can’t give me the loan for a property with back taxes. You wouldn’t even be able to sell it unless a new buyer is willing to cover the loss.”
Joe remains silent.
My voice lowers. “That’s it, isn’t it? You knew about the taxes, and that’s why you want to sell to someone who takes it all as it is, back taxes and all.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Why? Why would you do this?”
“I noticed Isaiah hadn’t paid after I went to refinance my condo. When I questioned him, he reminded me I’d left him in charge up there. I’d let things go too long.”
Uncle Joe made a huge mistake trusting Isaiah with anything pertaining to the inn, just as I had made the same error in trusting Isaiah with my heart.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice drops as tears fill my eyes. Then I answer my own question. “You thought you’d sell it outright.”
Joe doesn’t respond.
“You’d let me lose my home, Jonas’s home, rather than tell me the truth.”
“Isaiah duped you, too.”
My breath hitches. “That he did. Only that was my heart. This might be worse.” I can live with a broken heart, but now I have no place to live.
I don’t see any other choice than to sell the inn to strangers and come up with a new life plan for my son and me.
+ +
When Noah returns two days after the bank debacle, I still haven’t sorted everything out in my head. And I’ve returned to absentmindedly placing things here and there. I never learned the bookkeeping portion of the inn, trusting Isaiah with yet one more aspect of my life, and now I’m thoroughly lost. I can’t make heads or tails of anything. Thankfully, Zack recommended an accountant. The next issue was finding receipts that didn’t seem to exist.