A low rumble caught my attention, and I watched as a luxury SUV rolled slowly down the gravel drive.
I stood, blinking in the sunlight, shielding my eyes with one hand. The car parked in front of the cottage, and a man stepped out—tall, clean-cut, dressed in business-casual slacks and a collared shirt that probably cost more than my whole wardrobe.
He walked toward me with a coffee tray in one hand and the kind of self-assured ease that said he was used to walking into rooms and making decisions that changed people’s lives.
I braced myself. “Can I help you?”
He smiled—charming but practiced. “I hope so.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re either very lost or very brave.”
He laughed, then held out the coffee. “I brought peace offerings. Not poisoned, I promise.”
I stared at him for a beat, then took the cup.
“Thanks,” I said warily. “Who are you?”
“My name is JP King,” he said with the air of someone used to their name meaning something.
Blank stare.
He chuckled. “I own Tower Business Ventures. I would like to speak with you about Star Harbor Farm.”
I blinked, trying to parse together what was happening.
JP smiled, handing me a small business card. “I’m the guy who shows up when someone’s trying to build something and needs a little help making it happen.”
It struck me as funny how something as simple as a business card could screamwealth. It was thick, textured paper withTower Business Venturesin blocky gold font. JP King’s name was beneath it.
I frowned. “So you’re like a real estate fairy godfather?”
His lips pressed into a flat smile, a bit of humanity leaking into his blue-green eyes. “I’ve been called worse.”
I crossed my arms. “And what does the real estate fairy godfather want with me?”
JP walked up the steps and sat on the edge of my porch like he belonged there. He gestured over his shoulder. “I want to help you buy the farm.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It burst out of me like a punch line I hadn’t seen coming. “Okay. Sure. And I’m the Lady of the Dunes.”
He clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid this is serious.”
“So am I. This land is worth millions. I have approximately forty-seven dollars in my bank account and a drawer full of rejection letters.”
He sipped his coffee, unfazed. “And yet you’re still here. Still working. Still trying.”
I stared at him. “Why does that matter?”
He didn’t answer right away, but let the quiet settle between us until the birdsong took over.
“Let’s call it a favor,” he said finally. “From someone who thinks you belong here.”
My stomach dropped. “Who?”
JP tilted his head, smiled like he knew every secret in the universe. “Someone who believes in second chances.”
I looked him up and down. “Is this some kind of scam?”
“Nope.”
