Chapter 47 Hunter
Hunter
I’m fixing a gearbox at a bin site when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I wipe my hands off on a shop rag, check the screen—local number, one I know well.
“Bill,” I answer. “Good timing. I was gonna follow up this week, see how the paperwork was coming.”
There’s a pause followed by a raspy exhale on the other end.
“Hunter, I’m callin’ to let you know the deal’s off the table,” he says.
I straighten, frowning. “What?”
“You heard me.”
I press the phone tighter to my ear. “We settled on a number. You said you were moving forward.”
“Yeah, well . . . I’m backing out of the deal.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why? What changed?”
Another pause. I hear his breath rattle through the line, like he’s debating if he wants to say it.
“You’re not who I thought you were,” he says finally. “That’s all I’m gonna say.”
I grit my teeth. “Bill, what are you talking about?”
“I ran into Cole Benton the other day. He told me how you assaulted him.”
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. I should’ve known Cole wasn’t gonna let that go quietly.
“He also said,” Bill continues, his voice going lower, “you’re datin’ some . . . well, some woman, the kind of gal a man wouldn’t take home to his mama.”
I bark a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “You believe everything that drunk son of a bitch says?”
The irony of this whole thing isn’t lost on me. In fact, it infuriates me. Cole’s painting me in a negative light, and Bill’s turning a blind eye to the fact that Cole’s exactly the kind of man Bill wouldn’t do business with.
I can’t say I blame Bill. In his old age, he doesn’t have time for drama, avoids it like the plague, and he knows damn well Cole could make or break anyone in this town. Cole’s got so much money it wouldn’t surprise me if he offered Bill seven figures cash not to take the deal.
“I’m just tellin’ you what I heard, Hunter.”
“And I’m telling you it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than that.”
“Maybe so,” Bill says. “But I’m almost eighty years old, son. I don’t need complicated.”
I swallow my frustration, trying to salvage it. “We’ve been working on this deal for months. You’re gonna throw it away over gossip?”
There’s a beat, and then Bill says, “Cole offered me twenty percent more than what you were gonna pay.”
And there it is. Just as I suspected.
I clench my jaw until it burns, staring at the concrete floor like it’s personally offended me. “I’m disappointed, Bill. I thought you were a man of your word.”
“I am. But I’m also a man who knows a better deal when I see one.”
I don’t tell him he’s wrong.
We hang up, and I stare at the dead screen in my hand, rage simmering under my skin.
This is Cole’s doing. Retaliation for being rejected, for getting embarrassed in public.
He’s got money, power, and no one to keep him in check.
That makes him dangerous, especially in our little farming community, where word spreads fast and everyone’s a friend and a competitor at the same time.
Cole is the worst kind of man. And he’s not going anywhere—he’s a goddamn local fixture, sitting on tens of thousands of acres like some spoiled prince wearing his daddy’s crown.
A truck door creaks open, and over walks Cal, wiping sweat from his brow. I hadn’t heard him pull up. He isn’t wearing his trademark smirk and he doesn’t have some witty, smart-assed line for me. He simply gives me a look like he’s about to deliver more bad news.
“Just drove past the Highland farm on my way here,” he says. “Corn was just starting to sprout, but the leaf buds? They’re turning yellow already.”
I frown. “That can’t be right.”
“It’s the whole field, boss. It’s like someone sprayed everything with bleach or something. I dunno. Never seen anything like it.”
I nod, putting the pieces together. “Cole.”
Cal’s eyes narrow. “Cole Benton?”
In addition to inheriting his father’s massive operation, the man owns an aerial ag business.
Planes, helicopters, crop-dusting, spraying.
If someone wanted to sabotage a field without setting foot on the property, that’d be the way.
And if he does it in the middle of the night?
With a helicopter? It’d go by virtually unseen, especially the Highland farm. It’s miles from the nearest house.
Cal shakes his head. “Why the hell would he do that?”
“Because he wants what I have.”
Cal scratches his temple. “Land?”
I shake my head. “No. He wants Wren.”
He lets out a low whistle, chuckling under his breath. “Women are not worth it, man.”
Normally I’d agree with him. But I think of her smile, the way she laughs when she’s trying not to like me, the way she looks when she’s naked and happy and completely unguarded.
“This one?” I say, silently plotting how I’m going to deal with this obnoxious waste of human space. “She’s worth it.”