CHAPTER 8
Cal
I’m doing a pretty good job keeping my mouth shut and giving her some space to decompress.
As we climb in elevation, I see her face lift to the dappled sunlight, exposing the sensual curve of her throat.
She stretches out her arm so that her hand can surf the air current.
Her beautiful hair sparkles in the sunshine as long waves dance in the wind behind her.
She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Eventually, I decide to find out if we’re at least headed in the right direction. “Do you have an address for where your meeting is?”
“No. I don't have an address, just the name of the of the place and the family that owns it.”
I smile. Since I know every ranch and every family within 300 miles of Sweetbriar, I'm fairly sure I can deliver her to her destination. I check my gas gauge to make sure I've got enough fuel to get us there. “All right. So where is it? Where are we going?”
Her eyes are still closed. She’s breathing deep and slow, and it looks like the mountain air is mellowing her out. “Oh, it’s just some place called Yosemite Ranch.”
My fingers grip the wheel.
“I don't know why it's called Yosemite, since we're not near Yosemite Park. I mean, I looked on the map and Yosemite is on the other side of the Sierras and it takes hours to drive there, but only in the warm months. They close the roads in winter, and the only way to get there is by air.”
I focus on my breath and heart rate.
“Did you know that the word Yosemite is an indigenous word for a killer grizzly bear?”
When I don’t answer, she looks over at me, an expectant look on her face.
What the fuck is going on? Why is she headed to my family’s ranch, and why is she still smiling at me like that? Her eyes are sparkling. She looks happy.
“Right,” I say, returning my eyes to the road.
“Do you know how to get there? Yosemite Ranch?”
She doesn’t know who I am.
“It’s owned by people named MacLaine, and since you know Elsie and Clem and everyone else around here, I figure you probably know them, too.”
“I do,” I say. “Quite well.”
“Wonderful! Then let’s head that way. How long of a drive is it?”
“Not far. Maybe another ten minutes.”
“Perfect.” She lets her head fall back against the seat and unclenches her legs. She takes off her ridiculous shoes and wiggles her toes. The nails are painted a soft pink. Like her skin. Her lips.
Her little visit isn’t related to StellaR Tech, that I’m sure of. If there were a problem, Finn,
Declan, Evander, and Special K would have given me the heads-up, and we’d already be fixing it, the way we always do everything—together. Besides, Finn and Declan were standing right next to me at the airpark when she arrived, just as surprised as I was. So, no. She isn’t here for StellaR Tech.
Is it Dad? Is this another off-the-wall money-making scheme?
I love him, but Jamie MacLaine is the shittiest businessman this side of the Sierra Nevadas.
But it can’t be that, either. The ranch is finally in the black, expanding operations, even.
There’s no reason he’d invite a private-jet-level business rep to the ranch.
So, who is she and what is she up to?
I glance over in time to see a gust of wind send all that beautiful red hair flying. It takes my breath away, to be honest, which isn’t good. No matter how breathtaking she is, I’m getting a really bad feeling about her interest in my family.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Victoria, what kind of business do you have with the MacLaines?”
She turns to me. That smile is a spectacular sight. But I don’t trust it.
“Big business.”
“Ahhh. Lucky them.”
“True—today is their lucky day.”
We’re coming down the backside of the mountain and approaching the ranch. I know that if I want to get more details out of her, I better get them now. I’m almost out of time.
“So, what kind of business are you in?”
“The problem-solving business.”
“I see.” And I call bullshit. I’ve spent enough years around government and contracting to know word salad double-speak when I hear it, and that was a big-ass platter of the stuff. “So, what exactly does ‘problem solving’ mean in this context?”
She shrugs. “My company knows how to get the best out of existing assets. When there are structural issues or perhaps the full potential is not being met, we figure out a way to fix things.”
“Fix things. Gotcha.” So, she’s a scavenger. A vulture who tries to convince innocent suckers that she’s there to save them from problems that don’t exist.
“You know, it smells so good here,” she says. “These must be ancient trees.”
I remind myself she’s a vulture, no matter how tender her face looks in the sunlight or how sweet her voice sounds when she’s not tightly wound. “Yep. Old growth Ponderosa Pines.”
“Well, it’s some of the most beautiful land I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been everywhere, let me assure you.”
I see the ranch spread out below, seven houses, a dozen barns and outbuildings, corrals and pastures and training rings. It’s now or never. “So, Victoria,” I say.
“Yeah?” She turns to me, her face relaxed.
“How are you feeling about this business transaction, this problem you're about to solve at Yosemite Ranch? Feeling good about it?”
She laughs. “This is going to be the easiest money I ever make. From what I can tell, the MacLaines are pushovers.”
The tendons in my neck tighten. My knuckles go white on the steering wheel. “You don’t say.”
“Well, let me put it this way—they don't know I'm coming, and when I get there, they won’t know what hit them.”
“Cool,” I say, turning off the highway.
“They won’t be able to say no.”
“Go for it, killer.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
Her head is on a swivel as she looks around. “This place is huge! I heard it was a thousand square miles or something ridiculous. Could that be right?”
“Absolutely. It’s the same size as the Ponderosa.”
“The what?”
“The old TV show. Bonanza.” I turn to see that she has absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. “Never mind.”
By the time we drive beneath the ranch gateway, I’m so furious I’m gritting my teeth. Special K waves to me from one of the outdoor training rings, where he’s exercising a colt. I wave back, watching him do a double-take when he sees the redhead at my side. We continue up the lane.
“Who exactly are you here to see?”
“James MacLaine.”
I drive up to the main house, my father’s home. My two best girls, Ripley and Sarah Connor, run out to greet me, their tails swinging in happiness.
“I’m not a fan of dogs,” Victoria says.
“That’s a damn shame.” I cut the engine, wishing, for the first time ever, that my girls were Rottweilers instead of Golden Retrievers.
I get out and walk over to the passenger door, opening it for our vulture visitor. She’s struggling to put her shoes back on, and when she steps out, she nearly falls. I catch her.
Fuck. I wish she didn’t smell so good. Feel so good.
The heavy oak door opens, and Dad walks out onto the log porch. His hands are in the front pockets of his jeans, and there’s a big smile on his weathered face. “Well, hello there, Cal!” he says. “Who do you have with you?”
Victoria has brushed off my help and regained her balance. With one hand she tries to smooth down her tousled hair. With the other, she holds her expensive purse against her knees to prevent the dogs from licking her.
“Go away. Git!” She uses her bag as a shield. It’s now covered in Retriever spit. Excellent.
I answer my father. “Dad, this is Victoria. Victoria, this is my dad, Jamie MacLaine.”
She spins toward me, eyes wild, face red. “What the fuck?” she hisses in my direction. “Cal—” I watch the realization hit her. “As in Callum MacLaine?”
I grin at her. “I am. But my friends call me Cal.”