Nodding, I let Ashton turn me away, guiding me back to our car. Halfway there, across the grass, a man walked toward us. Like everyone else, he wore a suit. Unlike my friends, there was no color, but he had a black cowboy hat and well-polished boots instead. Basically, he looked like some outdated television oil tycoon. I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes.
"Miss Dawson?" the man called, begging me to wait.
Under his breath, Ashton growled, but he still stopped. When I turned to face the man, my friend's hand stayed possessively on my back, his body pressed into my side. It was kind of nice to have a little bit of muscle to back me up.
"Can I help you, Mr...?" Lifting a brow, I waited for him to offer a name.
"Paul Simmons. I was your grandmother's neighbor. Heard you inherited the property."
"I did." I kept my voice calm, level, and sweet. I knew plenty about this guy, but he probably didn't realize that.
His brow furrowed, obviously expecting more from my answer. "Well, I figure a girl like you isn't interested in some run-down farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Just wanted to let you know that I'd be happy to offer you a fair value for the place. Be kinda nice to have some extra acreage that butts right up to mine."
Ashton leaned closer. "I don't think this is the place, Mr. Simmons."
The rancher dipped his head, not even bothering to remove his hat. "You're right. Unfortunately, I don't see Miss Dawson and I bumping shoulders in the near future."
Because we were from two very different worlds. Paul Simmons probably had on his only suit. I had a closet full of clothes just like this. There was a good chance he hadn't ever left the state - and certainly not the country. I'd spent years traveling the world. He hated anything new or different. I hated men just like him.
"I'm not interested," I said, trying to end the discussion.
"One point six," the man countered.
Ashton's hand pressed a bit harder into my back. Evidently that wasn't a number he'd expected. I just shook my head. "A hundred and thirty-five fenced acres? At one point six million dollars, that's not even the raw land value. Never mind the house, barn, and other property improvements, let alone mineral rights."
I turned back for the car, but Mr. Simmons wasn't ready to give up. "Ok, two even."
Ashton shot back, "Not the time or the place, sir."
"It's the best you're going to get." Mr. Simmons was following. "If you don't sell, we'll just have the county change the zoning laws and get your ag exemption pulled. Hasn't been a horse on that place in a long-ass time, and with so many buildings, it'll be hell to get back." He chuckled. "Sell me the land, Miss Dawson, because you can't afford to fight me."
I stopped so fast even Ashton almost tripped. "Is that what you think? Your big plan was to offer me a stupidly low figure for that land, and then try tothreatenme? Do you have any idea who I am?" Then I smiled, but I was sure it looked a lot more like a snarl. "Don't pick a fight with me, sir. You'll lose."
"Don't think so, girl. You'll never get the permissions to re-open that place. There's no way you're bringing in a bunch of juvenile delinquents into this town. Cats Peak isn't real fond of strangers, and I'm the one with all the connections."
"No," I promised. "You see, that's exactly where you're wrong. You know a few people.Iam the one with the connections. Try me. Idareyou."
When Mr. Simmons stepped closer, Ashton put a strong hand into his chest. "Don't even think about touching my girl, cowboy. I really don't care how much you want that land. I certainly don't care if you hate the center Vera Dawson made famous. If you're that adamant, have your attorney contact mine." He finally released me long enough to pull a card from his suit pocket with the hand not holding the arrogant cowboy back.
When he handed it to Paul Simmons, the man's face twisted in confusion. I tried hard not to laugh. Ashton Walker was an enigma. With the massive alpha male vibe he was throwing down, the last thing some country hick would expect was the company he not only worked for, but owned. Even from where I was standing, I could see the pale white card with a vivid magenta script.
Right about now, Paul Simmons was wondering if the rainbow-colored display I brought with me were gay activists. That was exactly what I wanted. Maybe Gran couldn't admit she'd been a lesbian while she was alive, but now that she was gone, there was no reason to be ashamed. No reason at all. The old woman had started a revolution and hidden it with color. My grandmother had given me and my friends the one thing no one else had: respect. She'd taught us that if we tried hard enough, nothing in the world could stop us. The least we could do was make sure it didn't go to waste.
"Take me home," I told Ashton. "Take me home and let me forget all of this for just a little bit?"
His strong arm curled around my shoulder. "Promise, sweetie. Told Gran I'd take real good care of you. That's my job. Yours is to keep this going."
Chapter One
Three months later...
Trees huddled over the road, dappling the asphalt with shade as I pushed my Audi into the next corner. I was almost there. The drive from New York had been long and boring, leaving me exhausted and ready to be home. As the landmarks became familiar, I knew I was close. Another coffee would be nice, but I hoped it would be from Gran's espresso machine and not some cheap gas station crap.
Around the next corner, I looked over a pristine pasture, admiring the horses grazing in the sweltering sun. It was only a second. I'd barely taken my eyes away from the road, but when they returned, it was too late. Jerking the wheel made the car lurch to the side, but my tire still smashed right into the discarded two-by-four peeking over the shoulder. For a single breath, I hoped I hadn't ruined anything - then the tire began to thump and the dash lit up.
"Crap!"
I slowed down, limping the car around the next bend to a straight patch with something like a shoulder. Pulling over as far as I could, I stepped out to check the disaster. This stupid town had to be cursed.
