by Stacy Finz
Carol, unfortunately, was on her way to Santa Cruz with her family for the holiday, leaving Dana on her own to tangle with the intimidating cowboy. He owned one of the largest cattle ranches in California, was a war hero, and when he told the townsfolk to jump, they simply asked, “How high?”
He’d never said or done anything that would lead her to believe that he was anything less than a gentleman. Yet, he could still make her pee her pants with one snarl.
“Here’s your coffee, Mr. McCreedy.” Dana shut the door and took the seat across from him at the table. “As I told you when you first came in, there’s not really a lot I’m allowed to say to you.”
“Ray already told me what this secret client of yours is offering. And while it’s a hell of a price for land like that, I can’t match it.” He sipped the coffee while his piercing blue eyes locked on her. “I just want to make sure this corporation knows that Rosser’s property is agricultural land. Putting in another Sierra Heights, a strip mall, or even a resort ain’t gonna fly. I’ll fight it tooth and nail and, Dana, I’ll win. You’d be remiss in not telling your client that.”
“Mr. McCreedy, my client is well aware of what the land is zoned for.”
“No need to be so formal. My father was Tip and I’m Clay. These people cattle ranchers?”
He knew damned well the buyer wasn’t a cattle rancher. While beef was a big industry in the West, the list of players was short. Word of an acquisition on this level would’ve spread faster than an outbreak of E. coli. “Clay, I can’t give you that information.”
He let out a breath. “I’ve got to wonder what all the secrecy is about. Folks here know their neighbors. That land has been in the Rosser family for more than a century. It’s always been used to run cattle. At the rate we’re going, California’s farmland will shrink so small that we’ll have to get our food from a laboratory. These people know that?”
“I think they do.”
He made an exasperated sound. “When will we know who these folks are?”
“If and when a deal closes escrow, the buyer’s name becomes public record.”
“I’m already aware of the name, Dana. The T Corporation.” He let out a cynical laugh. “I can’t find one shred of information on the company anywhere. It’s bogus. When will I know who owns it?”
When you see Gia Treadwell walking through the Nugget Market or getting an order of curly fries at the Bun Boy. “I’m really not at liberty to say.”
“Well, I hope the T Corporation knows what it’s getting itself into. Because if it intends to use that land for anything other than farming or ranching, that bullshit company can expect a hell of a fight on its hands.” Clay swiped his hat off the table and stalked across the room and out the door.
That went well.
She waited for Clay to drive out of the parking lot in his big Ford truck and turned off the air conditioner. On her way out, she gathered her purse and paperwork, flicked off the lights, and headed home for lunch. Since Aidan had been on shift, the house felt so organized. She’d stacked all their subscription magazines in alphabetical order, divided their mail and put it in special holders with their names, and rearranged the garage. It was quiet too. Frankly, too quiet. She missed having him around, disrupting her tranquility, which was weird because she liked life orderly and peaceful. He, on the other hand, let kids wander in off the street to eat his Otter Pops, slung his wet bathing suit wherever it was convenient, and watched sports at ear-piercing levels.
Just for a change of scenery, she swung by the firehouse on her way home, and lo and behold, Aidan stood in the driveway washing one of the fire engines. She wondered if male firefighters were mandated to do that particular chore shirtless. It was certainly a brilliant PR strategy; any female fortunate enough to get an eye load of Aidan’s sinewy chest, all tanned and rippled, was sure to give to the Firefighters Foundation.
She pulled over and rolled down her window. “Hey, you can do mine next.”
He turned off the hose and strolled over, big smile stretched across his face. “What’s going on?”
“I just had a meeting with Clay McCreedy, who is not happy. How long have you been back?”
“We got in last night. That brushfire was a bitch, kept changing direction on us. Why is Clay McCreedy unhappy? He’s the cowboy, right?”
“Mm-hmm. He’s afraid my client is going to turn the Rosser place into a factory outlet mall.”
“Is she?”
“The land is zoned for agricultural use only.”
“That didn’t answer the question.” He stuck his face in the window. “Where you off to?”
“Home, to eat lunch.”
“Come in the firehouse and have a sandwich with me.”
“Are you allowed to do that?” she asked, skeptical.
He opened the driver’s side door and grabbed her hand. “Sure.”
She tried to resist but, in typical Aidan fashion, he wasn’t taking no for an answer. The last thing she wanted was for him to throw her over his shoulder like he’d done the last time. So she followed him, curious to see what the inside of the station looked like. It was a lot cozier than she would’ve guessed, and quite clean.
The living quarters held a series of dormitories, a kitchen, a dining area, and a TV room. Nothing fancy, just utilitarian furniture that appeared to get a lot of wear and tear. But homey. Aidan showed her a small gym where a couple of guys were bench-pressing weights.
“This is Dana, everyone.”
The men grunted in acknowledgment, and Aidan led her to the kitchen, where he proceeded to pull out half the contents of the refrigerator.
“Sit.” He nudged his head at a nearby table and chairs and started building two sandwiches.
He put them on plates, cut each one crosswise, and served them up with a pile of potato chips and two cold cans of soda. “Dig in,” he told her, taking a bite of his own sandwich. “So did this Clay guy give you a hard time?”
“Not really. I think he was just frustrated by my answers because I had to be vague. We’re still in negotiations. I can’t give out details at this point.” Or at any point, according to the nondisclosure document she’d signed.
“He’s that worried about an outlet mall?” Aidan took a gulp of his soda. Dana liked the way his Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed.
“That was hyperbole. Sierra Heights was before my time, but it caused a big brouhaha with the residents. People don’t like change, they don’t like seeing their rural town becoming homogenized with minimansions, and I can’t blame Clay for being concerned that the nation’s largest agricultural state is at risk of being developed into track homes and shopping centers. But I can’t tell him anything about my client’s reason for wanting the property, especially while we’re still in discussions.”
“You think it’s gonna happen?”
Dana shrugged. “My client, a corporation, really wants it, but we’re talking big bucks. Ray Rosser just countered for more money.”
“You told me it was a woman and she just wanted a piece of horse property,” he said.
“It’s a corporation now,” which was totally true. “And there are some horses involved.” She noticed he had circles under his eyes. “You look tired.”
“Knocking down fires is tiring work.” One side of his mouth tipped up in a sly half smile, and she was pretty sure she’d just developed a heart murmur. “As long as we don’t get called out again, I’ll sleep tonight and be in my own bed by tomorrow. What are your plans?”
She wasn’t sure what he meant. “For what?”
“The Fourth. What, all this real estate stuff make you forget it was a holiday?”
She usually just sat home and gorged on Calloway chocolate stars. “What’s there to do? Fireworks have been canceled on account of the dry conditions and the fire danger.” Of course he was aware of that already.
“I thought we’d grill and invite a few people over.”
He said it like they were a coupl
e. “Hey, it’s half your house; you can do whatever you want.”
“Good. Then we’re having a party. Get a few of your friends to come.”
The only person she had to invite was Carol, who was in Santa Cruz. “A little late notice, don’t you think?”
“No. Not when free food and beer is involved. You can bet some of these guys will come.” He motioned toward the TV room, where a few men were sacked out on couches and easy chairs.
“My friends have busy social calendars,” she lied.
“That’s okay. We’ll make it a small gathering.”
We’ll. He kept saying we’ll as if this barbecue he’d concocted would be a joint effort. She didn’t have any friends to invite, didn’t know any of his coworkers, and didn’t know how to grill. So what exactly was she bringing to this party?
One of the guys from the TV room wandered into the kitchen in a pair of Hawaiian shorts and a T-shirt that read, “Feel safe at night, sleep with a firefighter,” and gave her a slow perusal.
“I’m Hutch.” He stuck his hand out for Dana to shake it. “You the probie’s girlfriend?”
“This is Dana,” Aidan said, and Dana noticed he didn’t address Hutch’s question. “We’re having a barbecue tomorrow. Bring your girlfriend.”
“Yeah? I’ll bring beer . . . and fudge,” Hutch said. Dana thought the combo was rather random. “You live around here, Dana?”
“She lives with me.”
Not knowing whether to clarify that they were only roommates, Dana decided to stay quiet. Less complicated. “And you? Where do you live?”
“Glory Junction.”
“It’s so cute there.” Occasionally, she got a listing in the ski resort town, which was thirty minutes away.
“Born and raised.” Hutch tapped his chest. “My mother and aunt own Oh Fudge!”
“You’re kidding.” That explained the fudge offering. “I love that place. We have something in common . . . my family owns Calloway Confections.”
“Get out!” he said. “Calloway Confections . . . whoa, that’s on a whole different scale than my ma’s little business.”
“They both make candy. And both operations are family run. That’s the way I look at it.”
“Right on,” he said, and before Dana realized it, they were fist bumping.
She glanced over at Aidan, who shot her a grin, gathered up the sandwich plates, and took them to the sink.
“I better let you get back to work.”
“I’ll walk you out,” he told her.
As they headed for the door, she turned to Hutch, who had his head stuck in the refrigerator. “See you tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it,” he called back.
Outside, the temperature had risen at least ten degrees, and Dana couldn’t wait to get out of her navy blue pantsuit. In the heat, the pants were starting to stick to her.
“You want me to make a Reno run tonight to get some food for the party?”
Aidan absently tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun behind her ear. “Nah, wait until tomorrow morning when I’m off. We’ll go together.”
She supposed the big supermarkets would be open. “Okay.”
“Stay cool,” he said as she got in her car.
“You too.” She turned on the ignition to get the AC running and suddenly asked, “Did you and Sue used to entertain a lot?”
“In the beginning we did.”
“Why not later?”
He hitched his shoulders. “We had different ideas of what a party should be.”
Dana was dying to know more but didn’t feel right about prying. If Aidan had wanted to elaborate he would’ve. Yet she couldn’t help wondering if it was one of the reasons Sue had run off with someone else. Crazy woman. In Dana’s mind, Aidan McBride was the epitome of perfect. No one had ever made her feel more at ease and so included. Odd that it had taken a newcomer like Aidan to make her feel like she belonged in Nugget, even though she’d been here first.
“Hasta la vista,” she said and pulled away from the curb, smiling. They were having a party.
* * *
Aidan got a kick out of watching Dana decorate. Like with everything else she did, there were lists and charts and Excel spreadsheets. If the act of organization didn’t make her so damned happy, Aidan would’ve found it tremendously annoying. Not that he was a psychologist or anything, but he got the impression that it helped her cope with situations that made her nervous.
Like the idiotic closet organizer was really a metaphor for putting order back into her life after the fire had destroyed it.
“It’s just a casual barbecue,” he reminded her.
“I know.” She looked up at the red, white, and blue paper lanterns she’d hung from the trees and winced. “Oh God, I overdid it, didn’t I?”
“Nah. I like ’em. Very patriotic and festive. Good choice.”
She beamed. “What about the centerpieces?”
“Meh.” He rocked his hand back and forth, then laughed to show he was kidding. “It’s all good, Dana.”
The first guests to arrive were Sloane and Brady. They each carried a big bowl.
“What have you got there?” Aidan asked.
“Potato salad and spicy slaw.” Brady stuck his bowl under Aidan’s nose.
Aidan raised his brows. “A busman’s holiday?”
“No.” Brady shared a look with Sloane. “We didn’t want to starve.”
“Who else is coming?” Sloane examined the yard, checked out the flag bunting Dana had tacked to the porch railing and seemed to approve.
“A couple of guys from the firehouse and you and Brady.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m new in town; what do you want, a Cubs crowd?
“Dana knows people.”
Aidan searched the yard for her, and when he couldn’t find her, figured she’d gone inside. “Because of the short notice her friends were all busy,” he said. In all honesty, he didn’t think she had any friends to invite.
The fact that she seemed content enough to plan a nice gathering for his new Cal Fire friends—and to be included—both saddened and touched him. Sue had always been more interested in impressing people she thought were worthy—their lawyer, accountant, and anesthesiologist neighbors. Firefighters were just a little too blue collar in her book, even though all the members of his family were civil servants. From what Aidan could tell, Dana didn’t have a snobby bone in her body; she just wanted acceptance.
Given her smarts, beauty, success, and sense of humor, she should have a wide social circle. He certainly enjoyed being around her, and not just because he wanted to get inside her pants, which he did.
Brady checked the coals on the grill. “Those aren’t hot enough.”
Aidan was too distracted scanning the area for Dana to pay attention to barbecue temperatures. “You got this for a few minutes? I’ve got to go do something.”
He went inside and found Dana sitting on the edge of her bed in her room. “What are you doing?”
“Uh . . . just waiting until people get here.”
“People are here . . . my sister and Brady. We’re outside.”
“I just thought maybe you wanted some time alone with them.”
“Why? She’s my sister. Come on.” He pulled her up, and she followed him outside.
By then, Hutch, and a woman Aidan presumed was his girlfriend, and Kurtis and his wife had arrived. They greeted everyone and made room in the cooler for the drinks they’d brought. Hutch treated Dana like they were long-lost friends.
“I brought fudge,” he said and put a white bakery box on the dessert table.
Dana pointed at a red glass bowl. “Stars.”
“Hot damn.” Hutch grabbed a handful.
Brady watched the exchange and said, “Calloway stars?”
“You bet. And Hutch’s family”—she nodded at the firefighter—“owns Oh Fudge! in Glory Junction. Have you tried it? They make amazing chocolate.�
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“Are you kidding?” Sloane said. “That stuff is like crack. Every time we’re there we get a piece.”
Hutch beamed, undoubtedly proud of his family’s enterprise. It was generous of Dana to make such a big fuss over the small-town fudge shop—Aidan hadn’t been to a tourist place yet that didn’t have one—when it sounded like her family owned the Godiva of the West.
Brady took over the barbecue, flipping burgers and pouring beer over the dogs, getting a good steam going. When Aidan tried to take over, Brady brushed him away.
“It’s best to leave it to the pro.”
“I’ve got a news flash for you,” Aidan said. “It’s not that difficult.”
Brady laughed, and they both stood around the grill making small talk. Aidan thought his sister’s fiancé would make a fine addition to the McBride clan. The guy could hold his own in the smart-ass department against Aidan and his two brothers, and he loved Sloane. Like really loved her; it was written all over his face.
His family had loved Sue. She’d gone to Zumba, or whatever the hell you called it, with his mother every week, had taught his old man how to make the perfect Manhattan, and had generally classed up a house filled with roughnecks. His brothers all thought she was smoking hot, which had made Aidan feel like a stud. And Sloane, the toughest critic of the bunch, had embraced Sue like a sister. He didn’t think she or his mother would ever get over losing her from the family.
About three years ago, he’d met her at a Coats for Kids fundraiser in which CFD were big sponsors. She’d gone with her mother, who never met a charity she didn’t like, and he’d attended with a contingent of firefighters. One look at her in a strapless black gown and a mass of red corkscrew curls and he was a goner. Just dead.
The organizers made sure to put a firefighter at every table and Aidan made sure to sit at Sue’s. They talked so much, they barely touched their four-hundred-dollar plates of food. Hey, it was for a good cause. Kids got coats and he got Sue. He left with her phone number in his phone and a tentative date to meet for coffee. Soon, coffee turned into drinks and dinners and parties. The first time they’d slept together, she blew his mind, dancing for him under the stars on his balcony before they made love.
