by Leah Braemel
“I’m fine with it.” She’d have to be if she wanted to keep her job. Not that she particularly enjoyed working for SSTG, but she’d grown fond of living with a roof over her head and food in her cupboards until she found somewhere else to work.
“Same with the Gradys. If they’re trying to hide anything, if the Gradys fudged their Title Insurance application, you’ve got a better shot at reading them because you know ’em.”
“I couldn’t read them when I lived here. I would never have—” She swallowed the rest of the sentence, not willing to get into a discussion of her past with her boss. “I wouldn’t have trusted them the way I did.”
“Which puts you more on guard. You’ll be watching them closer. Besides, I got a load of how Ben looks at you. You can deny it all you want, but he’s still got a thing for you, and I’m not ashamed to admit I’m willing to ask you to exploit his attraction all you can.”
He was probably remembering what she used to do for him. Wondering if he could seduce her again. “You’re seeing things.”
“Nope. I’m not. By the way, I want deets on this history they referred to. It’s more than what you told me earlier, isn’t it?”
“You know all you need to. The rest doesn’t matter.”
Kathy lifted her eyebrows. “Uh-huh. You realize I’ll get it out of you eventually.”
“You’ll try, I’m sure.” But she didn’t share everything in her life, especially with her boss.
They walked out to Kathy’s car, parked beside Allie’s trim Honda.
“You can do this. I’m counting on you to be thorough. Shake whatever tree you have to. Rattle their cages. Dig up their dirt. Eighteen million is too much to lose if this claim is real. And if there is another heir hidden somewhere, we might be facing losing the whole thirty-three million. Do your job the way I taught you. If you do, you’ll have evidence they won’t be able to dispute.” Kathy got in her car and rolled down the window. “I’m counting on you here. Don’t let me down.”
As Kathy pulled out, Ben’s white dual-wheeled truck slowed in front of the trailer. He waited for Kathy to pass him before pulling into the driveway.
He climbed from the truck and reached into the back, pulling out a black plastic basket. “I figured I’d save you a trip into town.”
“Thanks.” She eyed the basket as he drew nearer—the damned thing was filled with an assortment of fresh apples and pears, potatoes, carrots. Her mouth watered at the scent of the two loaves of freshly baked bread. “Tell me Butch made those.”
Butch was one of the ranch hands who had taken on the cookhouse long before Allie and her father had arrived. Every hand on the ranch had declared Butch the best cook west of the Mississippi, and Allie had to agree. Though she’d longed to get his recipes or even to learn to cook, Allie never dared test the old man’s threat that any hand foolish enough to venture anywhere near his kitchen would go hungry for a week.
Ben crunched up the gravel path with the same big goofy grin she’d fallen so hard for in high school. Damn it, he had to stop looking so cute. She laid a hand flat on his chest and pushed. Except he didn’t move an inch. “What?”
“You should see yourself—you’re practically drooling, aren’t you?”
Annoyed at his perception, she hunched her shoulders and concentrated on digging through the produce. “Just tell me Butch is still your cook.”
“Yeah, Butch is still here, though his daughter’s taken over most of the cooking. Bitsey’s cooking is as great as his.”
Anticipation bubbling, she poked through the basket. “What else did they send over? Tell me there are some of his cookies.”
“I’m not sure. Why don’t we go inside and unpack it so you can find out.” Without waiting for an answer, he strode to the front door and into the trailer. Holy crap Butch’s cooking wasn’t the only thing she wanted to sink her teeth into—Ben’s ass, so wonderfully outlined by his chaps, just begged to be to be bitten.
“You comin’ or what?”
Damn, her mind spun his question off in a way she knew he hadn’t intended. Before she answered “why, are you gettin’ naked?” she pinched the soft tissue on the inner part of her arm and muttered, “You can’t trust Gradys, remember? You’re just here to do a job not fall for Ben’s charms.”
Her resolve settling into her spine, she stomped into the trailer and found him unpacking the box.
In addition to the fresh vegetables and bread, Butch had sent over containers of chili, homemade granola, a dozen fresh eggs and...Allie pounced on a plastic container and hugged it to her chest. “Banana bread muffins! Oh my God, I can’t believe he remembered that I love these.”
Ben opened his mouth then closed it again. “I’ve got more stuff too. I’ll be back in a sec.”
By the time he’d finished unloading the truck, his more stuff loaded the table until it was filled, along with half the cupboards and the entire refrigerator. Peanut butter cookies, fresh biscuits and a double helping of Butch’s county-fair-winning peach cobbler held their place of honor on the counter.
While Butch might have remembered that she liked peach cobbler, there was no way the old cook could have remember all her other preferences. Which meant Ben had gone to Butch with a shopping list of all her favorite foods. Even after all these years, all that had happened, he still cared for her enough to look after her. The warm fuzzy feelings fed the long-slumbering love she’d once had for him.
Damn it. She couldn’t let herself be attracted to him again. Couldn’t let her guard down. The best defense is a strong offense. “Are you trying to bribe me to make sure I clear the title in your favor? Or did you do this because you feel guilty about what your family did to my father?”
The amusement on his face faded. “I was just trying to be neighborly.”
All this food, proof that he hadn’t forgotten her, that he’d thought about her, was more than just neighborly. It was pure Ben. She curled her fingers into her palm to stop herself from touching him, using the bite of pain as her nails dug into her skin to remind her of the pain his family had caused.
“Thank you, but an apology would have gone farther.”
* * *
Apology? For his grandfather firing her father for stealing? After he’d gone to all the trouble of making sure she was comfortable here?
His jaw clenched as he bit back a harsh retort. Don’t tick her off. Logan’s warning ringing in his ears, he stuffed down his yearning to stalk out the door, letting it slam behind him. Instead he took a deep, calming breath. “I’d say apologies are owed from both sides.”
Oh, crap. From the way her jaw dropped and her fists clenched, his response was not enough to cool her temper.
“Unlike you and the rest of your family, I don’t owe you or anyone an apology.”
Yup, definitely not enough. Yet his gut told him there was something else going on. It took a lot of control but he kept his voice level. “How about for not responding to my emails or the messages I left on your phone asking if you were okay.” After a moment, he added, “I cared about you, Allie. I didn’t stop caring just because you didn’t live here anymore. But you never responded. I didn’t know if you were okay or what had happened to you.”
“Frankly, I didn’t want to see you or any one from Bull’s Hollow ever again.” Her expression closed up, the way Logan’s did whenever they played poker. “I hated you for a long time. And even if Dad hadn’t been monitoring my emails, I would have deleted yours unread.”
Her courtroom persona was almost enough to make him believe she hadn’t cared, but then her voice hitched betraying her hard-won control. That tiny waver sliced open his own control and wiggled inside. Made him soften his voice. “Why? What did I do?”
“What did you do?” She gave him a well, duh look and thumped him on the chest. “I trusted you, Ben, but you betrayed me. Both of you.”
Oh sweet baby Jesus, had she told her father about them at the pond and what the three of them had done? How they�
�d ditched work and gone skinny-dipping down at The Hollow? How things had gone further, and the three of them had...shit, it still blew him away that she’d allowed them both to touch her. To make love to her. And what stunned him more was that he’d let Logan even touch her.
The gut-sick feeling he’d had after she’d left returned with a vengeance, twisting and bouncing as if he were on an out-of-control bronco. Their threesome had been hot as hell but afterwards, when his emails went unanswered, he’d started worrying. Wondering. “It wasn’t planned, and we never thought any less of you because of it.”
“After I saw the video, I knew you’d set me up.”
Every muscle tightened. Fuck. He stared hard, trying to find some proof in her expression that she was lying, but found none. “What video?”
“The video you guys made of us.” The words snapped out, and her body vibrated with anger. He got the impression she was having a hard time stopping from stamping her feet. Or slapping his face. “Of me. With you both.”
What the fuck? Someone had filmed them? He swallowed down the bile burning the back of his throat. No wonder she’d not contacted him or wanted anything to do with him. It was a surprise she hadn’t set the police on them. Not that they’d broken any laws.
“I don’t know how you did it,” she continued, “or who you arranged to be at the canyon waiting to film us, because you made it sound like the whole day was spontaneous.”
His righteous indignation died as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on him. He sat on the chair a little too hard and held up a hand. “Hold on. There was nothing planned about that day. And I damned well had nothing to do with anyone filming us.”
Who the fuck would have filmed them? Logan had led them out there—had he known someone else would be there too? Was he part of whatever she claimed his grandfather had done? He dismissed the idea as soon as he thought it. There was no way Logan would have betrayed him any more than he would have betrayed Logan.
“Swear to God, Allie, this is the first I’ve heard of it. I wouldn’t have had any part of it.”
“Well, someone was there with a camera and they taped us in full, glorious color.” She rubbed her forehead as if she were fighting a headache. “They taped all of it, Ben. Every single minute. From us arriving to us skinny-dipping, and then you kissing me and...me kissing you, and then Logan...” She ground the heel of her hand into her eyes and groaned. “I don’t know if your grandfather took it or who did, but he showed it to my father and told him he didn’t want his ‘whore of a daughter’ on Bull’s Hollow to corrupt his grandson anymore.”
Oh shit, Gramps had called her a whore? Allie was a lot of things—brilliant, fearless, proud—but never a whore. “I’ve never heard jack shit about a video. Honest.”
“I came home from school the next day,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “and found Dad loading all our stuff on the truck and your grandfather guarding him as if he were going to steal some precious Bull’s Hollow equipment.”
“You know it’s standard procedure for an employee caught stealing from Bull’s Hollow.” Luckily it didn’t happen often. Why no one had told him about the video or why Allie knew nothing of her father’s theft was the question. Gramps would have happily thrown the video in Ben’s face as proof that he wasn’t worthy of the ranch back then. So why hadn’t he?
“But we didn’t steal anything, did we?” she shouted, her eyes glistening through her anger.”
He scrubbed his palms over his face. This was so effed up. Why would his grandfather not tell her what her father had done? “Your father was fired because they caught him stealing several tons of hay off one of the back fields and pocketing the money. Not because of some video of us up at The Hollow.”
“Then they lied to you. Dad never stole anything. He got fired because of me.” She sank onto one of the uncomfortable gray vinyl chairs, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the ranch lay upon them. “And I got reminded of it every goddamned day for the next year.”
Obviously her father had been lying to her too, because Ben had seen the proof her father had been selling hay right off the pasture; the sheriff had statements from the people to whom he’d sold the stolen hay. Damn Pete Daniels for letting his daughter think she was responsible for him losing his job. Damn his grandfather too.
The misery he’d been in after she left paled compared to what she must have suffered. Was still suffering. “I promise. Your father didn’t get fired because of you. No matter what my grandfather or your dad told you.”
But was she telling the truth about the video? He had scanned the area when Logan had first stripped down, but he’d not checked again before they’d seriously fooled around. “Was there any sound? Maybe we’d recognize their voice if they talked while they were filming us.”
“I don’t know,” she snapped. “He had the volume muted.”
Did it really exist? Even if it didn’t, had someone had seen them and reported back to his grandfather. His fingers itched to touch her, comfort her, but he doubted she’d want to be touched by him. Not if she thought he’d helped destroy her reputation. “I don’t know what to say, Al. I would never have asked anyone to videotape us without your approval.”
She laughed, a harsh sound in the hot night. “But you would have videotaped us.”
“You know what I meant.” Geez Louise. “Between you and Logan, I’m starting to think they teach a course at law school on how to twist phrases around.”
Her soft low sigh signaled a defeat he’d never seen from her before. “Sorry. Comes from living with a lawyer as well as being one, I guess.”
“I ain’t your ex.”
I was prepared to be your husband, if you hadn’t...if your father hadn’t...so many ifs. There was no way in hell he was going to ask about her ex, either. “And I didn’t set you up. I would have gone to Gramps and defended you if I’d known what he’d said about you.”
“I figured you knew.”
Of course she would assume Gramps had told him as well. He scrubbed his hands over his face, then let them drop to his side. “I emailed you dozens of times. I phoned you a lot too. But you never answered.” Which is what made him suspect Gramps was right, that she’d been in on her father’s thefts and used him. At least been a distraction.
“I didn’t see anything you sent me because Dad took my phone away and monitored all my internet activity and phone conversations. Once I left for college, I didn’t want to have anything to do with you, so I set up a filter to dump anything from you straight into the trash.”
Ouch.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt and her jaw did that sticking-out thing it did when she was pissed. “I thought you’d set me up. I loved you, Ben. After what we’d shared that afternoon, can you blame me for not wanting to talk to you again?”
“No.” And though Gramps had made the accusation and driven her away, he wasn’t here to apologize, but Ben was. And he was now head of Bull’s Hollow. Time to man up.
He hunkered on his heels in front of her to put him at eye level. Except she wouldn’t look at him. He crooked a finger beneath her chin and lifted until she met his gaze. Her skin was just as soft as he remembered, and her lips just as full. Only the distress in her eyes was new. At least that was something he could fix. “I can only imagine how much this must have hurt you, and I know words can’t fix what they did, but I’m sorry for everything they did to you.”
“You know, I’ve waited for years to hear an apology, and thank you, but it really doesn’t change anything, does it?” If he hadn’t been holding her chin, he might not have noticed the fine tremor racking her. But he would have noticed the thickness in her voice.
Well, shit on a stick. He let his hand fall. How he could make this right, he had no idea. “What do you want from me? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
She pulled up her shoulders and gathered herself until she once again resembled the confident woman she’d been when she arrived. “I
want you to let me do my job. Once I’ve investigated your claim, I’ll head back to Houston to submit my findings to my boss and we can get back to our own lives.”
If she’d been anyone else he’d have been relieved at the matter-of-factness of her tone, the lack of drama or emotion. But this was Allie. Her recitation bugged the shit out of him. She had a right to be mad. He’d have been if he were in her shoes. Except she should have trusted him, known he wouldn’t have hurt her by taping her and letting the video fall into anyone else’s hands. Then again it would be darned hard to trust anyone if a video did exist.
In his own shoes, he was feeling anything but matter-of-fact. Her expensive perfume might be subtle but it enticed him, even as his head knew getting involved with her was dangerous. He leaned in for a sniff and found himself unable to pull away—distracted by her thick red hair bound up in a sleek knot, so close that his fingers itched to pull one of the pins so it tumbled over her shoulders.
The desire to touch her, to kiss her would end up with her walking away and him hurting again.
So why the hell did he reach up and stroke her cheek with the back of his knuckle?
Considering how many grown men and women kowtowed to his grandparents, even him, he had to admire the way she’d kept her head high and thrown their put-downs right back at them. He’d loved her wild side as a teen, the willingness to go into any situation hell-bent for leather. No fear.
Challenged by her, he’d pushed her boundaries as hard as he’d pushed his own. Not just that afternoon at the Hollow. He’d pushed both their boundaries from the very first time they’d made love. And he hadn’t stopped pushing outside of the bedroom either. When he learned she’d planned to settle for a second rate college, he’d goaded her to apply not only to A&M so they could be together, but to Ivy League colleges too, even though she hadn’t known how she’d afford the tuition. Goddamned ego.
