Hers to Choose (Cannon Cousins) (28 page)

He laughed. “I’ll be by
for my share. You owe me.”

“What? You owe me,
remember, two months’ pay. And stay off my property,” she bit out.

He winked, and strode off
down the hallway. Shaking, she hurried to the office at the end of the hall.
After collecting papers with information she needed, she was directed to the
health department. Her throat had dried so bad it hurt to swallow, and walking
to the old truck, she actually felt afraid. What could anyone know? The only
contact had been Dan going to tag that buck, and she knew Dan wouldn’t say
anything.
Except, maybe, the location of his kill.

Maybe that had been
enough to set the local gossip mill in motion. No surprise that Thompson would
have the inside track on vicious rumor. He, like lots of the locals, would
easily assume the worst possible scenario for a man staying at her farm, and
make up whatever story suited their prurient interests.

She locked the doors and
sat in the truck, gripping the steering wheel. Maybe the locals had always
talked about her, and this was just the latest chapter.
Finally,
some slender thread of evidence to support their suspicions about a single
woman living alone.
Around here, that fact by itself caused scandal. No
wonder Thompson—and who knew how many others—considered her fair game. Maybe
Alex had been right in his concern.

If they
only knew.
She
laughed, choking back a sob. If even one of them had glimpsed her in one of
those
outfits,
or in a session with Dan… Was it
possible someone had seen inside the windows? Been in the driveway without
being noticed, or watching from the road? The distance was too great, unless
someone had binoculars.
The mailman or a neighbor?
Was
Thompson that crazy?

No. She started the truck
and eased out of the parking lot. This had to be gossip based on heated
imaginations, nothing more.

She drove to the health
department, where she collected another handful of papers about siting septic
systems and the requirements for putting in a central system to serve more than
one household, which was what Alex wanted. The agent said siting systems in the
karst geology often proved difficult, the percolation test would have to come
out just right, and a lot of other stuff that flew right past Bryn’s understanding.
Maybe her eyes glazed over—the agent finally stopped, laughed, and tapped the
papers she held in her hands, reassuring her all the info was there for her to
study.

At least he didn’t give
her any strange suggestion glances, meaning there was at least one person in
town who hadn’t heard the talk. What was left of that day she spent at her
dining table sorting through the stack of papers and forms and organizing stuff
into
folders.
The paperwork brought her closer to what
she had been before things blew up with Ethan, before the Cannon cousins
blasted into her life. She labeled the files and put them in order, stretching
out the duties in an effort to keep Thompson’s filthy threats out of her mind.

The television news
caught her attention with a warning of super cold temperatures arriving within
the next day or so, so the next morning when she fed the chickens, she checked
the cat’s carpeted sleep box to make sure the heater bar still worked. She
carried in more firewood and restocked the porch kindling stack. Every minute
not occupied with chores and other tasks were minutes when Alex filled her
head, accompanied by excruciating pain.

And inevitably Thompson’s
smug face popped into her mind. She kept the doors locked.

When she had pushed her tasks
as far as she could go, she composed a lengthy email to Alex detailing each
item on his list and what she had found out. He would know what to do next. His
response came almost immediately.

“Thanks for great work.
Shoving this off on Dan, am putting out multiple fires on my desk.
Later.
A.”

The next day she received
an email from Dan.
“Will be down in a few days to meet with
surveyors.
Hope your couch is available for an overnight, two at most.
Thanks for the fieldwork, more to come. Will
advise
.
D.”

Her reaction to Dan’s
email took her by surprise. She didn’t really want to see Dan, hadn’t longed
for him,
didn’t
feel her body pull toward him like it
did to Alex. But the companionship would be fun. And it would be a relief to
have a knowledgeable person to talk with about these new endeavors that seemed
so daunting. Not to mention a relief in her fear about Thompson.

The temperature hovered
between ten and fifteen degrees the next few days, with overnight lows dropping
to near zero. Her feet stayed warm only if she sat near the stove. She pulled
on a sweater and then her heaviest coat, and went around the house to check all
the foundation vents to see if air could circulate under the house. Somehow two
vents remained open. She managed to get one closed, but the other had frozen in
place. She had to heat water to pour over the hinge before it collapsed against
the opening. The floor warmed up slightly after that, but it was by no means
warm. Still, her successful effort at improving her conditions made her feel
slightly more in control of her life.

***

A big pot of vegetable soup simmered
on the stove, sending aromatic steam into the air, which condensed and ran down
the cold window glass. She felt strangely calm after all her emotional roller
coaster of the last two months. Things were happening in her life that she
couldn’t have predicted, real things she could consider true progress. She
stood at the window gazing west toward the land where Alex’s houses would be
built. It felt good being part of this process.

A gray sports car nosed
into the drive and stopped at the house. Dan hadn’t said what time he would
arrive, but there he was gathering things out of the back seat and coming
toward the house. His dark overcoat fell past his knees and its wide shoulders
expanded the impact of his already powerful frame. She could see why he was the
manager—his visual presence alone exuded intimidating authority. But then, she
already knew about Dan and his authority. A brief twinge of heat shot through
her belly. She held the door open as he ducked inside.

The pale blue stare
hadn’t changed, and he didn’t seem any friendlier as he nodded in greeting and
managed a brief smile. “Miss McClure.”

“Dan,
glad to see you.
May I take your coat?”

He let the heavy overcoat
slide into her hands. He wore a sports jacket in gray tweed. Underneath, a
white dress shirt opened at the neck. Dark gray slacks came down to his black
ankle boots. He cleared his throat and after a glance at his annoyed pale
stare, she quickly brought her curious survey to an end.

She served them both a
bowl of soup for lunch. His fat leather briefcase sat on the dining
table.  He took out a vinyl accordion folder and slid it across the table
toward her, advising on its contents. They spent the afternoon discussing the
project.

Cold lingered around her
ankles as they finished up. He sipped the martini she had prepared. She dabbed
her olive in her martini and took another drink.

“The information needed
for the county planner is in there. Alex thinks that should get them started,
but if not, let me know. Surveyor is supposed to be here first thing and I’ll
get them lined out. I don’t really have time to be down here past noon, so I
hope he’s not late. Alex emailed him the specifics, so no matter how long it
takes them to get things mapped out, I don’t see any reason they should bother
you with it.” He leaned back in the chair and let his glance drift down over
her flannel shirt.

She could feel him
thinking. More than once her look lingered on his hands moving through the
papers, pointing at things. She couldn’t stop her memories about Dan any more
than she had been able to stop them about Alex. His hands had owned her, pushed
her into crazy out of control pleasure with activities she had never dreamed.
He had used her, taken her to her limits out of his own need. She didn’t know
if she needed to forgive him. It didn’t matter. Like the rest of that
time-out-of-time at hunting season, it was over.

“Miss McClure...” he had
been talking while her mind drifted off.

She brought her gaze back
to his face, trying to focus on the flinty stare and thin line of his lips.
“Sorry, I was distracted. And can’t you call me Bryn?”

“I’ll try, but generally
I prefer a more formal approach in business dealings. It keeps the relationship
clear.”

“Like, you in charge, the
other person in submission?” The words popped out before she edited herself.
Her eyes grew large as she watched his face go through a change of expression.
A slight smile hovered at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, something
like
that. Might I get a refill?” He held up his empty
glass.

She found it reassuring
that things felt so familiar. Dan may have gained some kind of epiphany through
his November humiliation of her, but this domineering attitude of his hadn’t
changed.  His control sat on her head like a comfortable harness.

She briefly contemplated
the quick work he or Alex would make of Brent Thompson and indulged in a smile.
The roast simmered away on the stove, sending delicious scent of garlic, salty
beef and onion through the air. She poked it and adjusted the burner. She
peeked at the cobbler in the oven, anticipating the timer. Purple-black juice
bubbled up through slits in the golden crust, done enough to go ahead and pull
it out of the oven. Blackberry cobbler would be fabulous with creamy vanilla
ice cream. She sipped her martini and threw in another olive before going back
to Dan.

“What I was saying,” he
resumed after taking a drink, “is that they’ll be staying at the cabin, with
your permission. Do you have a problem with that?”

What she was having a
problem with was Dan. Her mind barely focused on what he was saying. He had
taken off the sports jacket and rolled up the crisply creased shirtsleeves, so
that the white fabric set against the tanned muscular expanse of his forearms
loomed in front of her. She had no reason to consider any kind of sexual
interaction with him. She hadn’t considered it. But there it
was,
his arms, his hands, and her mind drifting off to things she shouldn’t be
thinking.

A quiet voice in her head
raised the idea: if Dan wanted a scene, maybe it would push Alex out of her
mind.

“No,” she managed,
tearing her stare back and forcing herself to look at the table. “The cabin, if
they can manage to make that work, I have no issue with it.” She lifted her
gaze, daring to look at him again.

His eyes had taken an
even more steely color, slightly narrowed. Annoyed? Or plotting? She wasn’t
being very businesslike. He probably had zero confidence in her role for this whole
project and here she was confirming his worst fears.

Get this back on
track, Bryn.
“What
do I need to do? Do you want me to fix meals for them? It’s going to be cold as
hell, you know.”

“They’re grown-ups. They
can build fires. Yes, I need you to fix them one meal a day, a hot dinner. It
can be simple, maybe a pot of chili or whatever. I’m sure you’ll have good
ideas, your food never disappoints.” He glanced around the room. “But they
aren’t to come in your house, so don’t invite them. Alex made that clear to
Rob—Rob Allison, he’s the crew leader for this survey. They’ll pick up the food
and take it to the cabin and bring back the pan the next day. They can eat off
paper plates.”

“How long will this
take?” Her mind had raced off to menu ideas and shopping trips. More worries
about Thompson.

“Several
days, most likely.
We’ve got to have a contour map of the entire hundred acres plus peripheries
and downslope so our engineers can figure out drainage. They’ll be all over the
place. We have no idea where the section markers will be found.”

“And all that time
they’re not going to shower?”

He turned his head
slightly, assessing her in an off-center gaze. “That’s not our problem. If they
need to wash up, there’s plenty of water in the well at the cabin and heat in
the stove. They can load up as much firewood as they need and take care of
themselves. They’ve been informed.”

He opened his briefcase
and handed her a check. “Here’s an opening amount for an operating fund you’ll
need to set up. Buy their food, firewood and whatever other expenses you may
incur out of this account. Count your hours. Any local permits or fees should
come out of this. Do you think you can manage that?” he finished in a mildly
sarcastic tone.

He liked to push. She already
knew that. But now she wondered if Alex had to twist Dan’s arm to get him on
board with the whole thing.

“I have a degree in
accounting, you know,” she retorted. “I spent six years in a well-paid position
in that line of work, and I had good reviews.” She folded her arms. “If you’d
like, I can download your accounting system and track everything in your
preferred expense categories so you can import it when you’re ready.”