32. Wilder
Wilder
It’s been hours since we left Lizard Lick Saloon and I got to remove Oz’s plug in the sexiest of ways.
He’s at work now, and I’m sitting at his kitchen island, poring over an updated version of the contract that includes the surveyor’s final numbers, indicating that I was right—the property’s quite a bit larger than I originally thought.
I love and hate that for me because it means the Sandovals will likely want more money.
Growling at the idea of further dealings with Saint Ashbourne, I sigh and tuck the documentation back into my folder. My communication watch pings, and Saint’s name hovers over the band.
Did I summon that asshole simply by thinking about him? That’s unfortunate.
I debate even answering, but the sooner we get this deal done, the sooner he can be in our rearview mirror. Directing the watch to answer, I hold back a sigh.
“Mister Lane? I assume you got the survey. Have you had a chance to review the numbers?”
“Yep.” Jackass, I tack on silently. “Sandovals seen ‘em?”
“Not yet,” he croons like he just can’t wait to share the news. “I’m meeting with Emmer shortly to discuss how they’d like to proceed. In the meantime, there’s a final walkthrough required, and I’d like to do it sooner than later. Are you available in an hour?”
“I’ll meet you there.” I’m just about to click off when he clears his throat.
“Bring that pretty little—”
I click the watch off, closing out the call before I launch into a full-on tirade. After everything I shared with Emmer Sandoval, I can’t believe Saint is still acting like such a dick.
And we’re fucking stuck with him if we want to get this ranch deal done.
I can’t change that, and Oz has sworn up and down a half dozen times that I shouldn’t let it bother me, but I can’t help myself. Since I can’t change it, I decide to do what I can and head to the General Store for another grocery run.
After grabbing some snacks I’ve seen Oz and Ginger share, I return to the fridge and stock carrots, a variety of cheese and some beef jerky I’ve seen him give her a handful of times.
She’s with him at work, and I take solace in that.
There’s no doubt in my mind that if Saint tries anything physical with Oz, she’ll step in and rip the vampire a new asshole.
I’d prefer to do that myself, but a hellhound guardian will do in the meantime.
Of course, there are a lotta ways to hurt someone past the physical. Emotional and mental anguish is almost worse sometimes, and I don’t know how much Ginger can help with that, which is why I’d like to be able to hang at the bar while Oz is working.
I swing by on my way to get the rental truck I left parked at my cottage. I’m just gonna peek through the window and make sure nothing’s amiss and Saint’s not at the damn bar being a nuisance. Hovering at the edge of the window, I look inside, hoping he doesn’t notice me and think I’m being nuts.
Oz is behind the bar, laughing and slinging drinks, punching tickets and looking thoroughly in his element. A seemingly perpetual smile lights up his face. Ginger’s nowhere to be seen, but Lemon and Bluebell are both seated at the end of the bar, laughing and talking with him.
I don’t know the monstresses well, but what I do know is that they’re nearly as protective of Oz as Ginger is. He’s in good hands for now, and me being with Saint means that asshole can’t bug Oz in any way.
The drive out to the Sandovals’ ranch feels different today, now that I know what I know about the supposed key to the city.
It’s difficult to imagine there being whole sections of Pine Gulch just hidden since Sipan’s time.
Then again, Furyon told me once that, at her heart, Pine Gulch is a haven of hidden delights.
Maybe he just didn’t know how true that was.
Oz and I talked it all over again this morning. Withholding this new information feels like a dick move, even if it hampers the deal. It’s possible the Sandovals know and didn’t tell us. It’s equally possible it changes the landscape of our deal or that we open an entire can of worms.
But in the end, Oz felt the haven herself wouldn’t have tossed that picture down on the table in front of us if she didn’t feel it was time. She could presumably have done that any time since Sipan was alive and hasn’t.
When I pull up in front of the luxurious Sandoval ranch house, I smile.
If everything goes according to plan, this will be our house soon, if Oz will agree to come here with me.
It’s too soon for me to ask him to, but I’m going to anyway the moment I sign the paperwork.
And then I’ll convince my mother to come out for a month to introduce her to him. She’s gonna love Oz; I just know it.
I don’t realize I’m smiling until I get out of the truck and Saint Ashbourne drops out of the sky on giant black shadow wings.
My smile falls and becomes a deep scowl as I cross my arms and look at him.
He’s handsome; I’ll give him that. I can see what attracted Oz to him.
But past that, all I see is a dickhead who’s willing to take advantage of anyone to get what he wants.
Not on my watch.
Not with my…Oz.
Saint tucks a manila folder beneath one arm and smirks at me. “Didn’t bring him? Let me guess, he’s too busy working?” He does air quotes around the word “working” like there’s something wrong with being a bartender.
“Let’s get this over with,” I manage. “I’ve got shit to do this afternoon.”
He smirks again but grabs the folder and waves it toward the house. “Let’s start with the home, shall we? Quick tour to ensure you’re still good with it, and then the foreman is meeting us down at the barn to talk about the bulls.”
Gods, this is gonna take a while.
Saint trails me up onto the roughhewn wood porch. Just like before, I’m struck by the masterful way this home was put together—a troll builder had their hand in it for sure. While I wasn’t blessed with that magic, I can recognize it in the neat-as-a-pin seams between the chunky wood support beams.
Running my hands over the rounded logs that make up the home’s exterior walls, I admire her anew. The beams vibrate beneath my touch, a friendly little hello just like the first time I toured.
I turn to Saint when he joins me with a fake-ass smile. “I can do the walkthrough without you. Why don’t you just wait here?”
He shakes his head, flashing a grin that shows the length of his fangs. “It’s the Sandovals’ wish that no potential buyer be left alone in their home, even though it’s currently empty.”
The way he says “no potential buyer” makes it sound like there might be others, and I’m pretty sure there aren’t, so he’s likely fucking with me. And I’ve met Emmer Sandoval enough times to know he don’t give a shit if I walk through the empty house.
But I’m not fighting Saint Ashbourne today, despite his desire to poke and poke at me every time we get together. What did my mother used to say when the other troll kids at school made fun of my lack of tusks?
Walk away, Wild. Be the better monster.
He examines his dark nails. “You know, I’m really coming to love Pine Gulch, having a great time going through the welcome book.
It’s helped me meet a lot of interesting characters.
” He grins at me. “Have you met the pixie twins yet? Merit and Bryony? Great bakers,” he says with an even bigger shit-eating grin. “They do the gossip column.”
I snort. “Gossip ain’t my concern, Ashbourne.”
He goes back to staring at his nails. “Well, sometimes gossip can be interesting, you know?”
“Knock yourself out,” I say with a growl, spinning from him before I get myself in hot water by doing something like chuckin’ him off the back porch.
I tour slowly through the house, taking in details and ensuring nothing's changed, because once I sign on that dotted line, this place is mine. A black witch the Sandovals recommended did a property tour before I came to PG, so the structure of the home should be in good shape. I don’t see anything that gives me pause.
In the kitchen, Saint drops the manila folder on the countertop. “So, you and Oz…tell me about how you met.”
A snarl rips from me before I can stop it, and I ball both fists. “How dare you bring him up to me twice now after the shit you pulled. You don’t deserve to know a fucking thing about us.”
He shrugs, pursing his lips with a sultry smirk. “I am curious, though. He and I were together not that long ago…”
Oh no, I’m not going down this line of questioning.
“You lost out,” is all I say as I turn from him and exit the back door, heading for a giant A-frame barn that lies across a cut wheat field.
Saint trails in silence, and I’m thankful when a big minotaur male stands in front of the barn. Thick hands are slung through his beltloops, and he thwaps his long tail from side to side, a smile on his angular, fuzzy face.
I like him right away, from the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes to the dust covering his forearms. He’s a male who gets down and dirty. I know those types of men. I’m one of them.
“Dart Longhorn,” he says, offering me a hand once I’m close enough. “I’m the foreman here, as he mighta told ya.” His smile falls as he glances over my shoulder at Saint.
The vampire stands staring at his shoes, one of which is firmly planted in the middle of a cow patty.
“Shoulda wore boots, Saint,” I say with a chuckle. “You sure you want to join this little part of the tour? Lot more where that came from.”
“Yeah, I’ve got it from here,” Dart says. “I’ve worked for the Sandovals for ninety years; they’ll trust anything I have to say.”
Saint’s upper lip curls back, and he steps out of the shit, scraping his shoe on the short wheat roughage covering the field.
“This place is disgusting.” He glances up at Dart.
“Yeah, go ahead and take over.” He grabs the manila folder and hands it to Dart without looking.
“Walkthrough sign-off paperwork. Do me a favor and make sure he signs that after, okay? I’ll come back to get it later. ”
“Don’t bother,” Dart says with a wry look. “I’m having dinner with Emmer and his father tonight to catch up. I’ll deliver it personally since they came in town to see me.”
That’s new news.
“Whatever,” Saint says, flaring his shadow wings wide and leaping up into the air. He frowns at me from where he flaps slowly above us. “Catch you later, Mister Lane.”
I say nothing, and after a moment, he darts up into the clouds and disappears.
Dart watches him go but turns to me. “I take it you and the sales agent don’t get along too good?”
I shake my head, unsure how much to tell a male I just met. “We haven’t seen eye to eye,” is all I manage.
Dart laughs. “Don’t know who would see eye to eye with that asshole, but it ain’t me either.” He waves me toward the barn. “I imagine you got a lotta questions about the bulls and the breeding program, so why don’t we tackle that now?”
Two hours later, I’ve seen all the Sandovals’ ranch and cow horses and a couple bulls.
Most of the cows are out to pasture at the moment, and the bulls are out in a separate one.
We rode out to check on them, and they’re big and gorgeous.
The Sandoval bucking bulls were already well renowned before I came along.
“What’s your plan, if you don’t mind me asking?” Dart leans against a fence as we watch the cows munching on a giant roll of hay in their outdoor feeder.
I shrug. “I don’t aim to change much of what Emmer and his father had going on with the current line, but I own three real nice bulls outta Brazil.
I’d like to test crossbreeding some of these cows with those to see what we get.
My Brazilian bulls are a little smaller, but they turn nice and tight, and they buck real big. ”
Dart nods and props a big foot up on the fence.
“Yeah, I been encouragin’ the Sandovals to branch out for a while, but when Artur Sandoval decided to retire, he didn’t have the time.
It was all Emmer could do to manage the ranch and the bulls’ schedule alongside his father’s health.
He don’t have a love for buckin’ bulls the way we do.
He’s more of a city male, gods bless him.
I can’t blame him for wantin’ to sell. But I suppose you can tell that’s why they added the bit about the buyer needin’ to be mated. ”
I nod, picturing Oz standing out here talking to us about bucking bulls. It’s hard to picture him on an actual bull, but I feel deeply that he’d be interested in it just because I am.
“Listen,” Dart continues, “there’s a gorgeous spot for a picnic down by the river. Ashbourne mentioned you had a mate. Why don’t you bring him out here in the next day or two, and I’ll show y’all. I got a good feeling about you.”
Smiling, I clap him on the shoulder. “He’d love that, thanks, Dart. He’s workin’ tonight but tomorrow? Lunch?”
He grabs my hand and pumps it. “Lunch it is. Just comm me when you’re ready, and I’ll give you and your mate directions to a gorgeous spot.”
A grin fully overtakes me.
My mate.
Gods, I haven’t called Oz that yet. It’s too soon, surely?
But when Dart talks about Oz like it’s already a done deal, I can’t help myself.
I think he’s right.