by Amelia Jade
Sandy shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”
“I never lie,” he rumbled, his eyes with their bright green irises and exotic black flecks boring into her, holding her still while he got his point across.
His hand was still on hers she noticed, swallowing hard with the realization. She should be trembling. The rest of her was. But somehow her right arm remained calm and still from his touch.
“So you want everything there is?”
“Yes. My name is Palin, by the way.”
“R-Right.” She finally pulled her hand out from under his, expecting to feel relief. Instead she felt…disappointed?
There was no time to dwell on rogue feelings, however. This Palin had just said he would buy everything she had. Without even negotiating. She was going to sell it all at full price and make a killing! This would go a long way toward her next property-tax bill.
Excitement made her nerves flare up, but she managed to tell him the price without stuttering. He didn’t even blink. Instead he simply dug through his wallet, pulled out several crisp bills, and gave them to her.
“I’ll be back with the truck. I’ll pull in behind you.”
“Right.” She was too busy stuffing the bills away to focus on him.
“Don’t go selling it again while I’m gone.”
Sandy laughed. “I’m not like that. You paid for it, it’s yours, mister.”
“My name’s Palin,” he repeated, drawing it out just a little at the end.
He wanted to know her name. Sandy didn’t normally give her name out to strangers, but then most people didn’t buy everything she had for sale, let alone for full price. Perhaps she could extend him some courtesy. After his initial approach he seemed to be proving himself to be a perfectly normal person.
Not that she would trust him farther than she could throw him. Which, considering his towering height, door-busting frame, and the fact that she was pretty positive that his muscles had muscles of their own, was not very far at all. Sandy didn’t trust anyone. But giving out her first name wasn’t going to hurt.
“Sandy,” she said.
“A pleasure to meet you, Sandy.” He stuck out his hand.
She took it after the barest of hesitation, struck once again by how warm and soft his hands felt against her callused working skin. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way? She was supposed to be soft and delicate while a man’s hands felt rough and well worked?
Not bloody likely with me. My hands are never going to recover.
Palin disappeared, but she couldn’t strike the image of him from her mind. Tall, with a bald head and dark black goatee over skin that she couldn’t decide if it was natural or faked tan, he was really something pleasant to look at.
So why was he so interested in buying all her crops?
Does it matter? You can go and spend the rest of the day relaxing at home. Relaxing! Think about that.
It would certainly be nice. She rarely got any time off. Never, really. This was going to be a major holiday. She might even have a glass of wine.
A pickup rolled across the dirt behind her tent, coming to a stop. Palin came back around and started grabbing crates and hauling them into the truck. She offered to help, but he waved her down. So instead she just sat back and watched his muscles bulge under the black T-shirt. His biceps flexed, but the crates seemed to pose no actual challenge to him.
“What the hell are you going to do with all this, Palin?”
Sandy leaned back as she heard voices coming from the truck, a pair of them, both harassing Palin for his purchase. She listened through the tent walls at the back and forth each time Palin grabbed a new crate.
“Shut up,” he muttered. “She can hear you.”
Muted laughter reached her.
“You hate vegetables. Unless there are steaks hidden in here. Are you going on a diet? Worried you’re getting fat?”
Sandy covered her mouth to stop from giggling.
“I told you to shut up. I spent my money, not yours.”
“It’s all going to rot. Nobody is going to eat that stuff.”
“I bet she’s cute. He’s probably smitten. Trying to impress her.”
“I said shut up,” Palin snarled defensively.
Sandy didn’t really care why he had bought her crops, all she cared about was that she had the money for them. Patting her pocket, she confirmed the bills were still there.
“When is the next farmers market?”
Palin reappeared in front of her, picking up the last of her little crates.
“Uh, every weekend,” she said.
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” A green eye flashed as he winked at her, and then just like that, he was gone.
Sandy got up a second later and went after him, but the truck was already pulling out from the parking lot. “Wait!” she called, but he didn’t hear her.
“You forgot the crates from my truck.”
Chapter Five
Sandy
She was relaxing.
Relaxing! Her. Sandy Talbert, was able to sit back and enjoy the afternoon sunlight. It was remarkable, but after having sold out of everything so early on a Saturday morning, there was little else for her to do. So she’d packed up shop and headed for the comforts—and solitude—of home.
Now she sat on her porch, well-worn paperback in hand, swing moving lazily back and forth in the mild fall breeze. The sun was still high in the sky, tracking from her right to left. In another handful of hours it would fall below the horizon, providing a spectacular sunset view from her bedroom inside. It was one of the best parts of the farm, though she rarely got to enjoy the view from inside. Usually she was still working.
It really was wonderful to be able to take the afternoon off. Sandy hadn’t felt so calm and at ease in many years. It was a welcome change, though she knew tomorrow she’d be right back at it. This time of year she couldn’t waste an entire extra day given to her. That was one more day of working the fields, giving her a chance to make just that little bit more money. And she needed it. The property-tax bill had been waiting in the mail for her, along with a notice saying it was going up next year.
Of course it was going up. It never went down. Ever. No matter how “temporary” the measure was. Sandy knew it was pointless to argue, though. So she just set it aside and started figuring out what she was going to have to do to make the payments next year. Along with the increases to power that would probably come shortly too. Thankfully she was on well water, and didn’t have to pay the government for that!
Maybe if she came into some money she could get solar installed, but she would have to get mighty lucky for that to happen.
Her peaceful reading was interrupted by a dust cloud moving up the long driveway. Beside her Champ lifted his head. A moment later he let out a warning growl and shuffled forward to sit between her and the steps. Sandy trusted Champ’s instincts. Slowly putting down the book, she got up and went inside, grabbing the loaded shotgun from its rack by the door.
Sandy didn’t like visitors. When Champ didn’t like them, she made a habit of being prepared. Just in case.
“I bet you Rusty got his tax bill today too,” she muttered angrily. “What do you say?”
Champ whined softly in response, but he didn’t move his attention from the oncoming truck.
“Yeah. It’s him.”
Sandy set the gun down, but kept it in within close reach. However much she might detest Rusty, she wasn’t going to shoot him. Not outside of her dreams at least. But her neighbor was a volatile man, with a temper that could spark over the smallest thing. Sandy didn’t risk her safety. Not anymore.
“Hello, Rusty,” she said slowly, wondering if she’d jinxed herself by praying she wouldn’t run into him at the market. That would have been much more preferable than doing so here. Alone.
Champ growled as Rusty walked up to the front porch.
“Good boy,” he said, in a voice that showed he didn’t particularly care much for the dog.
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Champ growled louder, straining at him. Sandy eyed the dog. He was a good judge of character. Some sort of mix between a collie and something…bigger, he weighed nearly a hundred pounds, and it was all lean muscle. Even Rusty, a big man in his own right, didn’t try to cross Champ.
“What do you want, Rusty?” She had no time for games today. This was supposed to be a good day, where she could relax without a care. Instead she was forced to deal with the person she quite possibly hated most in the world.
“Oh, I just thought I’d come by and see how things are going.” He grinned. It wasn’t a nice look. “I got my property-tax bill in the mail. I figured you probably had as well.”
She didn’t respond.
“I missed you at the market today. Did you stay home?”
“Sold out early,” she drawled, leaning back onto her swing.
“Good for you. Though, I guess it can’t be that hard when you don’t bring very much.”
Sandy rolled her eyes. Leave it to Rusty to turn something good into an insult. His tent was the biggest at the market. His property was coincidentally the largest around, and he liked to make sure everyone knew it.
When it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything, he pushed onward. “I wanted to see if you had had another chance to consider my offer?”
“Piss off, Dusty. My answer hasn’t changed in three years. It’s not changing today. And tell your brother down at the municipal office to stop breaking the law and telling you how far behind on payments I am. That’s illegal.”
Rusty chortled loudly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Right. How else would the asshole know that she was behind? Sandy didn’t announce that sort of thing to anyone. She kept her life private, the way it should be. No, Rusty had been told by Dusty what was going on, specifically because he wanted her property, and wanted it bad.
“I’m not selling. Now go away.”
“Don’t be stupid, Sandy. I’m offering you more than the bank ever will.”
“It’s not the money,” she snapped, losing her calm. “It’s the fact that I don’t want to sell.”
Rusty’s face shut down. He hated when she said no, something Sandy suspected he wasn’t used to hearing. Rusty’s property surrounded her on three sides; only the road that ran along the fourth stopped him from hemming her in. The farm across the road was more than big enough that Rusty couldn’t afford it all. But her place? While huge for her, it was tiny when compared to the massive conglomerate run by Rusty.
“We both know you can’t keep this up forever,” he said after a moment, his face red with rage. “You’re going to miss a payment. And then another. And another. Eventually you’ll be forced to sell to the bank. Don’t embarrass yourself like that. Just sign it over to me and enjoy your money.”
“This farm has been in my family for generations. I’m not selling. Now get off my property.” She reached out and grabbed the shotgun, resting it across her lap. “Or else I’ll call the sheriff and tell him you were trespassing again.”
Dusty’s face was apoplectic, but he smothered anything else he might have been about to say and stomped over to his truck. The engine roared and he spun around in a cloud of dirt before taking off down the road.
“Well, so much for our relaxing evening, eh, Champ?”
Her mixed mutt came over to her and lay his head on her lap, whining softly as he looked up at her.
“It’ll be okay,” she whispered, stroking his big head. “It’ll be okay.”
Champ turned his head swiftly, his tongue flicking out and licking her hand as she tried to pet him.
Then his mouth dropped open in a doggy pant as he looked at her happily.
Yeah. Everything was going to be okay.
Somehow.
Chapter Six
Palin
This time he pulled into the assigned “parking lot.”
It was really just a stretch of gravel shoulder off the road, but today Palin wanted to make a good impression. While he doubted Sandy cared where he parked, he didn’t want to appear disrespectful, so he parked in a line with the other cars.
Killing the engine, he got out and grabbed the stack of items from the trunk. Neither Torran nor Rowe were with him this time thankfully, and he didn’t particularly feel sad. The ride back into the city had been nonstop snide remarks about his diet, his weight, that he was in love with a human, and more.
That last part bothered him more than he cared to admit to either of them. Palin was still having a hard time believing that Sandy was a human. How could she be if they were mated? That was part of the reason he’d come back. The main reason, really. He needed to be certain that his dragon wasn’t mistaken, that she was his mate, and that she was also human.
He wasn’t certain what he would do if both of those questions came back as true.
Marching through the booths, he ignored the calls of the merchants, striding quickly and easily through the rows until he came to the smaller ones on the far end. Sandy was at her booth again, fresh crops displayed in front of her.
She wore the same outfit, though the shirt was now tan, brown, and white. Still plaid, still flannel, and still sexy as hell. He wondered if he could convince her to tie it across her midsection at some point in private with him, while unbuttoning the top. He’d seen it in a television show the past week, and his mind had immediately superimposed Sandy’s body over the too-thin actress on television.
He wanted curves, meat, softness. All of it and more, all of which had been combined perfectly into Sandy.
“These are for you,” he said, holding out the stack of crates he carried in one hand.
Sandy eyed him in surprise. “You’re back.”
“I am.”
“And you brought my crates back.”
“I did.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
Palin chuckled. “I told you I’d see you. I’m not a liar. I keep my word.”
“Yes, I suppose you did,” Sandy said slowly. “I’m not sure how to thank you for that.”
She looked just as gorgeous as he remembered. All week Palin had thought about her, unable to get her out of his mind. The pale pink hair, the sun-kissed skin, and for some reason even the denim overalls. They just…worked for him. That was who Sandy was, and Sandy was his mate. He didn’t doubt that now; the clamoring of his dragon had started the instant he’d laid eyes on her.
Eyes.
“You could take off your sunglasses.”
“Pardon?”
“If you want to thank me, you could take off your sunglasses so I can see your face when I talk to you.”
Sandy frowned a little, but in the end she reached up and removed the gold aviators, tucking them into a breast pocket.
She had brown eyes. Perfectly normal brown eyes. They had the barest few specks of gold, but for the most part they were a solid hazelnut color. Just like the rest of her—it wasn’t anything unique, and yet it made him desire her even more. Even the faint tan lines from the sunglasses called to him.
Palin wanted everything to do with her. Perfections. Flaws, and even the things that just “were.” If it had to do with Sandy, he was attracted to it.
“Better?”
“Yes. Much.” Forcefully ripping his gaze away from her, he walked into her booth, around her tables, and plopped the crates down in the back.
“Is returning my crates the only thing you came here for?”
“No.” He walked back out front and waved a finger at everything she had arranged in front of her. “I want all of this as well.”
Sandy frowned. “Again? You want all of it?”
“Yes.”
For a moment he thought she was going to refuse, to say no. Palin knew she couldn’t afford to decline his money. The way her eyes had lit up the past weekend had clued in to him that maybe he was doing her a bigger favor than he realized. He’d vowed to come back every weekend until winter hit and buy everything s
he had.
Palin wasn’t going to eat it, but when he’d told the other dragons living in the apartment building where they had been assigned, “The Dragon Tower” as it was affectionately known, their mates had clamored for access to it. He’d let them deal with it, laughing all the way back to his place, knowing that his actions had forced the other dragons to eat way more vegetables than they wanted.
Now that was a good prank. So good, in fact, he wanted to do it again with what he bought today.
“Why do you want it all?”
“I like vegetables. I have a big appetite.”
Sandy snorted. “Right.”
“I’m going to need more too. Whatever you have.”
She shook her head, ponytail flicking back and forth a split second later. “This is all I have. Was it Palin? It’s all I have, Palin. I bring what I have every weekend. You cleaned me out last time, and now you’re doing so again.”
He frowned. That wasn’t good. How was he supposed to funnel more money to her? There had to be a way.
“Well, I’ll be back next weekend I suppose, to buy it all then.”
She smiled. “I don’t think I’ll have anything by then.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
Palin didn’t know the first thing about farming. They were big though, weren’t they? How come she couldn’t get more than this?
“I just won’t.”
He blinked, bouncing off her wall so suddenly he was at a loss for words. He hadn’t meant to pry, not into anything painful at least.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy. I just thought farmers had lots of land.”
Sandy sighed. “I’m sorry too, I guess. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Look, Palin. I’m a private person. I don’t like to talk much. This conversation is already twice as long as I’d prefer. So I’ll be straight with you. I run the farm by myself. There’s only so much land I can farm in a day. Which means there are only so many crops I can farm in a day. That’s why I won’t have enough to make the trip out next weekend.”
He had been taking in all that she was saying, and all that she wasn’t saying as well. Sandy was struggling, he realized. She needed the money more than he’d believed. She didn’t want to admit it, but things were bad.
