I nodded. When he put it like that, it sounded impulsive and reckless.
He shoved the papers back at me but didn’t slap me in the face with them so that was a positive.
“People who can't wait long enough for me to read the lease agreement before making a decision.” He slapped his hand on the table and my reindeer jumped but he didn’t shift, thank gods. My beast babbled that I’d messed up and to let him handle the situation. Right, because him taking his fur would fix everything! Ahhh!
“Mr. Keller.” I needed to distance myself from him because his scent was befuddling my brain. “I understand this is sudden, but my clients are in a difficult situation. They need somewhere to establish their community and your property is an excellent place to do that.”
“What kind of community?” Reed's voice was sharp and I winced.
“They're…” There were no words to describe a pack of reindeer shifters to an unsuspecting human. “They have a strong connection to the land.” Even to my ears it sounded suspicious and Reed would pick up on how vague I was being.
“Roscoe,” he said. “It sounds as if you want to rush me into signing a lease agreement for a bunch of strangers who want to build… build a commune or something on my family's land. That's not happening.”
He muttered “cult” under his breath.
That word hit me like a slap.
My reindeer surged forward and no amount of pushing him down would work. There was pressure behind my eyes and a tingling I was familiar with since I was fifteen. In a few seconds, antlers would sprout on my head and Reed would faint or call animal control.
“I need some air.” I raced for the door. “I can continue this conversation later if it’s okay with you.”
I'd handled this wrong. The Dark Crown Pack was depending on me to secure the land before Christmas, and I'd alienated the one person who could help us by treating him like an obstacle.
As I reached my car and looked back at the farm, Reed was standing in the office doorway. While I’d avoided my antlers popping up, even at this distance, I couldn’t ignore the mate bond. Damn! Not only had I screwed up the agreement big time, I’d been confronted with the third reason my beast couldn’t contain himself. Reed was my fated mate and now he hated me.
Merry early Christmas to me.
THREE
REED
I was still fuming hours later about Roscoe and trying to figure out what his angle was. And though the farmwasfailing, him saying he was doing a gigantic favor by pulling me out of a financial hole had me wanting to put a fist through a wall.
I spent the rest of the morning thinking about him running out of my office. Had he eaten bad shrimp and was about to puke? Or worse? Though by the time he reached his car, he appeared to have recovered.
Roscoe had come here expecting me to get on my knees and thank him. An image flashed into my head of me doing exactly that but instead of being grateful, I had part of him in my mouth. Pushing that thought away, I went over the paperwork he’d brought, along with his description of the community that at best sounded like a group of people who were into what Icalled woo woo. And at the opposite end of the spectrum, they were a cult.
Were they running from something? Debts? The police? An angry mob? I didn’t see how leasing my land would prevent anyone finding them.
Despite me being peeved at his savior-like attitude, he acted as if he cared about my predicament. I couldn’t pinpoint why or how I sensed that. Maybe it was me imagining him naked with Christmas lights strung over his shoulders and around his length that swayed my opinion.
I sighed, because as much as I’d enjoy naked time, I needed a solution to my rising debts. I needed to not focus on Roscoe and his mysterious group but on my land and trees. After doing a quick online search for Roscoe Curran, I discovered he was an environmental consultant who’d lived outside town and the article hinted he and his family had lost their land. I was sorry for them but I refused to have my rights stomped on because they needed a home.
But as I was adjusting the irrigation lines for the Noble Firs, a car headed up the drive. Assuming they were customers, I wondered which of my trees they’d choose.
More than one vehicle turned into a small convoy led by Roscoe’s car. I grabbed a spade, not because I was scared of him and his community, but to covermy arousal that refused to deflate when I pictured him.
His car was followed by a few pickups and a mini van and when they pulled up, people piled out including teens and kids. The children raced toward the decorated trees and my instinct was to yell at them not to mess with them, but they didn’t and instead they oohed and ahhed.
“Reed.” Roscoe nodded. “My apologies for earlier.”
He stood apart from everyone, still in his pants with the perfect crease and the nice coat while the rest of the group were dressed more casually. Was he theirspokesperson? While I ran my eyes over the others, I kept returning to Roscoe. And he was also staring at me, though when I glanced at him, he’d look away.
“I hope you don’t mind us turning up unannounced, but my clients agreed you should meet them before considering any arrangement.”
Nice. I could listen to him talk all day. But he referred to the group as clients or community when I’d read they were a family. And earlier he’s said “we” when talking about the cabins.
A woman with gray hair greeted me. “I'm Zelda, and this is my family. We were hoping you might lease some of your land and all of us wanted to thank you for considering our request.”
