‘Right. That’s exactly what it says. Now, do you want to ask me the same question you asked a moment ago?’
Alex looked at him, dumbfounded.
‘Alex?’
‘Is that how much we’ve inherited? In cash?’
A slight smile touched his lips. ‘Yes, cash in a variety of deposit forms. I wouldn’t think you’ll have a problem paying the taxes, Alex. Or at least, I can’t imagine you will.’
‘How could I have missed that?’
‘I don’t know. Have you studied the summary?’
‘I thought I had. I mean, I guess I thought it was only the buildings, you know?’
‘Yes, well, it’s the buildings, and the cash. Not to mention if you turn the page over, quite a healthy stock portfolio. Your uncle was a very wealthy man, Alex Mason. And now you and your sisters are very wealthy women. Have you already engaged an accountant to help you through all this? Because you know we’d love to take you and your sisters on as clients?’
‘We have an accountant, back home. But since I retired from professional tennis I haven’t made enough to have to worry about US taxes. And my sisters have never had a problem. I suppose this inheritance might change things a bit—for all of us.’
He handed her his business card. ‘Think about it. I’d be more than happy to work with your existing accountant if that helps. And by all means, if you have any questions, about anything, you can ring me … anytime.’
Any wonder he’d been so happy to meet with her on a Saturday.
~~*~~
When Denver had pleaded with Travis to meet Alex over at Old Man Mason’s place, Travis knew it was no accident. Even if there hadn’t been the dead give-away of a twinkle in Denver’s eyes, double-booking himself was not something Denver did. Ever.
But what he didn’t know was why he’d been so quick to agree to do it.
He knew meeting her was a really dumb idea, and yet he’d jumped at the chance. He’d even raced to the shower to remove the layer of dirt from his skin after having spent the morning working with several of his young horses.
When he pulled up in front of the Mason house her red Mustang wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but within a few moments she drove up.
At the sight of her, his heart started racing, and he cursed himself for being pathetic. Had Denver picked up on his physical reaction to this woman? Is that why he’d set up this meeting? And if it had been obvious to Denver, might it also have been obvious to her? He cringed at the thought.
As she walked up, he touched the brim of his hat in greeting and grunted a hello, hoping to disguise any hint of his feelings.
She cocked her pretty head, a slight frown creasing her forehead. ‘Oh, isn’t Denver coming?’ Her disappointment was obvious.
‘No, he’d forgotten he’d organised an electrician to do some work for the party. He sends his apologies.’
‘Oh, I see. I, uh … he could have come a bit later.’
Was she simply disappointed, or was she annoyed? ‘He didn’t know how to contact you to change the time.’
Her frown deepened momentarily in disbelief, but when she spoke her tone was completely business-like. ‘Oh yes, of course. I’m just so used to confirming everything by text that I’d forgotten we arranged this in person. I’m sorry you had to come out of your way to meet me.’
‘It’s no trouble.’ He pulled a screwdriver from his back pocket and waved it in front of her. ‘I’m not entirely useless when it comes to tools.’
She looked at him blankly for a moment, and then indicated for him to follow her. ‘Oh, okay then. It’s the back door.’
When she raised an eyebrow and smiled, he had to remind himself to breathe.
Chapter 8
Alex wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing Travis Gold right now.
She’d spent the previous evening alone in her hotel room, thinking about Denver’s party. About getting a new outfit, and how she’d do her hair. She’d listened to some rockabilly music and gone through the dance steps she’d found on the internet. She’d expected to have plenty of time to get her emotions in check and be in complete control when she next encountered Travis Gold. She’d thought it would be fun to see him at Denver’s party; from a distance. She’d even allowed herself to think about what it might be like to have a dance with him.
All that would have been on her terms, when she was prepared. Not out of the blue like this.
She tried her best to keep things business-like. That’s all this was, after all. She’d engaged a tradesman to do some work. It wasn’t her fault a different man had turned up.
He was right behind her as she showed him through to the laundry, his body heat practically scorching her as they walked along. Her arm lifted reflexively as she started to run her hand through her hair, but she forced herself to stop. There was something about body language and hair—and it wasn’t the message she wanted to send him.
She stopped when she reached the laundry and turned to him. ‘It’s the back door. It isn’t closing properly, and the screen has no lock. I’m too much of a city girl to live in a house that can’t be locked up.’
He took off his hat and placed it on top of the washing machine. When their eyes met, she could see confusion in his.
‘Did you say live in? As in, you’re planning to live here?’
She tried to smile but could feel her lips quiver, so she rubbed her hand across them hoping it looked like she had an itch. ‘For a time, yes. Until we decide what we’re doing. I see no point in paying for a hotel in Sacramento when I could be staying in this lovely home.’
‘Right, that makes sense. Well then, let’s see what we can do here.’
As he moved past her his cotton sleeve brushed against her bare arm and the fresh scent of soap teased her nostrils. She’d have thought he’d smell of horses and sweat this time of day, and she was once again caught off guard.
She drew in her breath as quietly as she could, hoping her voice would remain steady. ‘I think the door must be warped or something. It closes but doesn’t quite catch.’
He pulled at the door and it came open easily. ‘I see what you mean.’
He was standing so close it took all her self-restraint not to reach out and touch him. ‘It’s not safe.’ Her voice sounded husky, even to her own ears.
He turned, staring into her eyes for just a moment before speaking. ‘I think I can adjust it.’
He reached up, the movement sending more of his fresh scent her way. She practically held her breath as he adjusted the hinges on the back door. After a few tries the door stayed shut, even with him pulling on it.
‘That’s fixed for now, but if you want a deadlock installed that’s best left for Denver … or a locksmith. I’m sure I could do it, but not with just my screwdriver.’
‘Thanks so much. I really appreciate you taking the time to come over. I know how busy you are. Oh, but one more thing before you go … do you know if a lock can be put on this screen door?’
Bending over, he took a closer look at it, and then turned to her. ‘Sure. The hardware store should have some handle mechanisms that’ll fit this—I can fix it for you if you want.’
She let out a sigh before she could stop herself. ‘Could you? Oh, look, that would be fabulous, but I hate to take any more of your time. Is it something I could do myself?’ She’d seen Liam change one once—it couldn’t be that hard to do if Liam had managed it.
As he looked at her, she suddenly knew what it must feel like to be a horse for sale at an auction. It made her slightly uncomfortable, but at the same time she wasn’t ready to be free from his company. This whole encounter confused her on so many levels.
‘You probably could, but then again it can be fiddly. I’ll do it. It won’t take me long.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t mind trying to do it myself.’
&nb
sp; He blinked slowly, the movement being the only thing hinting he wasn’t a wax creation at Madam Tussauds. She held her breath, waiting for him to seize the opportunity to flee.
‘That’s okay. It won’t take long,’ he said as he pulled out his phone and took a photo of the screen door handle. Then he shut both doors hard, and tested the door again. It stayed closed. When he faced her, his lips curled up in a slight smile. ‘You want to come with me to the hardware store, or wait here?’
‘I’ll come, so I can pay for the lock.’
She grabbed her shoulder-bag and followed him outside to his truck.
~~*~~
Travis opened the passenger door and stood back while Alex climbed in. As he walked around to the driver’s side, he cursed his stupidity. He had so much work to do before the rodeo, why had he offered to fix her door? When he got in behind the wheel he realised the scent of her perfume, which had been tantalising inside the house, was now nearly unbearable. And as he glanced sideways, seeing her tight jeans and sleeveless top, she looked irresistible.
He turned back to the road and focused on the drive. Luckily Alex remained quiet during the short trip to town.
Once in the store, he led her to the aisle with the screen doors and lifted the correct mechanism off the shelf. ‘This is it.’
She smiled, looking around at all the other choices. ‘That was quick. And we don’t need any special tools or anything?’
‘Nope, just this.’
As they made their way to the register, he noticed Alex checking out the sales table.
‘I think I’ll come back here later to grab some things to give the place my own personal touch,’ she said, her voice sounding ridiculously excited about the store’s meagre offering.
But what intrigued him was why she felt the need to give the house a personal touch if she was just staying for a few days. He let that thought stew for a bit, then back in the Rover, he decided to ask. ‘Are you planning to stay long?’
‘In Masons Flat?’
‘Yes. I assumed you would just be here for a week or so while you work through the estate paperwork.’
She chewed the corner of her lip for a moment before she answered. ‘I haven’t decided. The accountant is doing some work for us on the figures and I want to give it some real thought before making any decisions.’
He’d forgotten she was meeting the accountant that morning. ‘Did you remember to ask him about our offer? For the saloon?’
She hesitated before answering, perhaps weighing up her answer. ‘I did. He said he knew of the offer but that my uncle didn’t want to sell.’
Travis huffed out a breath. He’d expected as much. ‘Then it wasn’t anything to do with the accountant?’
Her eyes narrowed as she took a moment to reply. ‘No, it was my uncle’s decision.’
He turned, staring out the window as he started the engine. At least the accountant wasn’t against it which meant there was still a chance he could buy it back. But if she was planning to sell everything, it didn’t explain why she would want to personalise the house.
Unable to keep from frowning, he turned back toward her. ‘So … even if you stay for a little while, you’ll have to go back to Australia at some stage, right? You wouldn’t be allowed to stay indefinitely, would you?’
‘Why not? I’m a dual citizen.’
An involuntary frown tightened his face. That was not what he’d expected her to say. ‘I didn’t know that. I assumed … I mean, you sound Australian to me.’
‘I was born in Sacramento. My mother is Australian, and my father was American. When my parents split up, Mum moved us back to Australia.’
‘And your father—is he still here in California?’
‘He died when I was a teenager.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry—I guess I should have known that. I knew Old Man Mason had no living relations in the area.’
She looked over at him, cocking her head slowly, perhaps measuring his sympathy. ‘Yes, well he died a long time ago. Then when my grandfather died, he left everything to his brother—my Uncle Steven—because my father had already passed.’
‘And Old Man Mason left everything to you because he had no children.’
She shrugged. ‘So it seems.’
He released the brake, and put the car in reverse, then turned to her once more. ‘And you’re personalising the house because you might stay a while?’
When her only reply was a smile, he drove off, completely at a loss as to whether what he’d just heard was good news or bad.
~~*~~
Alex stayed quiet on the short drive back, and when they pulled up at the house it seemed a good time to change the subject. She’d already told him far more than she should have. After all, if he was trying to buy the saloon, he might also want to buy some of the other properties. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing if she decided to sell, which was still the most likely decision, so there was no point clouding any offer he might make with too much knowledge of her circumstances.
They made their way inside and back to the laundry, where Travis took off his hat and glasses. He tore open the packet with the new handle, then rolled up his sleeves and busied himself with the door.
She wished she hadn’t watched him do that—rolling up his sleeves. His forearms were tanned and muscular, making her wonder what the rest of him looked like. She winced as her face grew hot with embarrassment, eternally grateful he was concentrating on removing the handle mechanism from the screen door and not paying any attention to her.
It took no time at all and, when he finished, he handed her the two keys and she tested the lock. It worked like a charm.
‘I don’t know how to thank you enough. Can I pay you for your time? Or will Denver send me an account?’
Travis shrugged, shaking his head. ‘No, it was nothing, I wouldn’t worry about it.’
‘It wasn’t nothing—I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have it finished.’
She followed him as he headed back to the front door. When he reached it, he turned to her. ‘I suppose I’ll see you next weekend, at Denver’s party. Oh, and in case he forgot to mention it, no presents. It isn’t that kind of party.’
Still feeling awkward about not paying him, she tried to be humorous. ‘Are you sure? I could at least bake a cake or something?’
He looked at her blankly.
‘Sorry, inside joke. I’m not my sister.’
‘Sister?’ he asked, quirking a brow.
‘My sister’s a pastry chef. Or at least she works in a bakery. Now, that girl can cook.’
‘Ah, got it. No, a cake won’t be necessary,’ he said as he tipped his hat and headed toward the street.
She let out a long slow breath as he drove off. Then, free from the spell his proximity had cast over her, she went back inside and began to picture what this house would be like with her personal touches—ornaments, photos, her favourite vase, her books, her paintings. Yes, the place was just a house at the moment, but with her things in it, would it be a home?
Closing her eyes, she imagined how the room would look in winter, with a fire in the corner and the lights turned down low. Her fuzzy red socks rubbed up against each other as she warmed her feet in front of the fire. Another pair of socks—dark brown—rubbed up alongside hers. She let her imagination run up those legs, up past the waist and shoulders to a face topped with dark hair and even darker eyes—eyes that drew her into their depths and held her there, unable to escape.
Then she laughed at herself. This was crazy. She barely knew the man. And even if today he’d been less brooding and stern than before, chances were that he was just trying to get on her good side so she’d accept his offer for the saloon. She huffed out a breath as the realisation hit home. That had to be why he was being nice.
She grabbed her shoulder-bag from the sofa, dou
ble checked that she’d locked the back door, and then headed out to her car. She had one more stop to make before going to the grocery store to stock up.
Chapter 9
Travis couldn’t stop thinking about Alex, replaying their conversation on the way back to his place. She’d said she might be staying a while—that she didn’t actually have to leave at all if she didn’t want to. She was still thinking about it, and her exact words were: until we decide what we’re doing.
She’d mentioned a sister. That could be all it was, but a woman that alluring probably had a significant other of some sort. And the way she’d said we did sound like it could have been a significant other.
He banged his hand on the steering wheel. Why was he obsessing over her?
When he got home, he went inside, made a cup of coffee, and headed into his office. When he opened up his laptop it occurred to him she’d be on Facebook—wasn’t everyone these days? He searched for her name but when it brought up a huge list of matches he gave up, shaking his head—this was simply too hard.
Then it occurred to him he could try a different route. He typed her name, followed by Melbourne Australia, into his search engine. There were quite a few matches, but only one seemed relevant. He opened the article from a small newspaper, dated eight years earlier, and read.
“Local tennis hopeful Alex Mason retires after injuries end her career. Australian tennis mourns the loss of a promising young player, after devastating injuries left her with poor mobility in her right arm and shoulder. Her husband, golfer Liam Bruce—”
He closed the page, his question answered. She was some sort of celebrity down there in Australia. Any wonder she had so much attitude. And she was married.
He took a sip of coffee, set it down, and sat rubbing his chin. Then again, did she sound married? She’d used “we” today, but she’d used “I” while talking about staying here and sorting through the estate. He pulled up the article again, and read further.
… Her husband, golfer Liam Bruce, is currently the golf pro at one of Melbourne’s top courses.
Discovering Gold Page 6
