Dead Man's Bluff (11 page)

“NO!
That’s not an option! I’m not asking my father for anything,” Drew snapped.

The
woman’s eyes widened at the sudden tension visible in his jaw. He had been told
he looked intimidating when he was angry. Damn, so much for looking
professional, he scolded his loss of control. She smiled and clasped her hands
on the desk. “You didn’t let me finish…It would help to have his signature, but
I don’t think it will be needed since you have a hundred thousand dollars as a
down payment.”

He
would’ve had a hundred and eighty thousand if he hadn’t already spent thirty
thousand dollars buying back a damn horse that was his to begin with. And then
there was the fifty thousand he somehow managed to waste on booze and women
over the last two years. “So, are you saying I’ve been approved for the hundred
and thirty thousand?”

“We
won’t know for certain until it goes through our loan department. There are a
few things they will want to see…like where is the hundred thousand you’re
using for the down payment coming from? It needs to be money that is free and
clear…it can’t be money you borrowed. It can be gifted from someone, but the
gift needs be in your checking account and untouched for at least three months.”

“It
wasn’t borrowed or a gift. The money came from the sale of my horses two years
ago after…” He was going to say after the fire, but he stopped himself. No need
to go there. The money was his. It was the only money he’d ever earned on his
own. That’s all she needed to know.

“Okay
then, Mr. Mackenzie, I don’t foresee there being any problems with your loan.” She
scribbled on a form and handed it to him across the desk. “Here is a
preapproval letter to give to the sellers of the ranch. It states you qualify
for the amount we discussed. It’s not an actual approval, but states you do
qualify.”

He
stared down at the form in his hand and clamped his free hand over his smile.
Every bit of the tension left his body as he hung his head, shaking it in
disbelief. Could it really be happening? Was he really about to own the ranch
once and for all. No one would be able to take it from him. He’d already bought
back Angel, and now he could slowing buy back all his other horses. Birdie
could stay. Emma. Griffin. Susan.

Maybe
he could do normal.

Tink’s
deep laugher filled his mind, what the old man would say if he were here. “I’m
proud of you.” Drew pushed to his feet and shook the woman’s hand. “Thank you.”

Red
lips curved as she slid her fingers slowly from his. It would be damn near
impossible to speak past the lump lodged at the base of his throat. Man. The
ranch. It was his. He shook his head again in disbelief before leaving the
office.

Bleep,
his cell announced it had received a new text. Drew’s dress shoes sounded over
payment as he made his way across the sunny parking lot. He fished Emma’s keys
out of the deep well of the pocket in his dress pants and flipped open his
cell.

Emma:
Your ladylove is looking everywhere for you. Can you hear her calling?

The
girl had an odd sense of humor. Some guy was going to have his hands full.

Drew:
What do you want Emma?

Emma:
Is it safe to assume the fiancé has flown the coop?”

He
slid in behind the wheel, grinning as he typed out a reply.

Drew:
Haha assume away…had the pleasure of bumping into his grumpy ass this morning
as he was on his way out.

Emma:
Lucky you!

The
back of his head rested against the seat. He could not keep the smile off his
face. Nothing could ruin this day. He stuck the key in the ignition.

Bleep!
Bleep! Another text. Emma: “ugh oh, someone might be getting a spanking
tonight.”

Drew:
What the hell are you rambling about now?

Emma:
She’s pissed because you hired Robbie to work on Barn. Not a smart move. Just
sayin.

Drew:
She’ll get over it.

Emma:
Big question?? Does Drew Mackenzie have it in him to be nice?  Or are you truly
a hopeless moron?”

Drew:
Give me a break. He’s the only contractor I know. You’re forgetting I’m not
from here.

Emma:
I haven’t forgotten this. It shows. Well? Did you get the loan?

He
felt a weird flip in his stomach. He wanted to share the news with Megan first,
which was crazy since she belonged to another guy. He started the car, punched
out a response and then tossed his cell on the passenger side seat, determined
not to text and drive.

Drew:
I think I just purchased a ranch. Don’t tell Megan…I want to be the one to tell
her.

What
was he thinking? Emma keeping her big mouth shut. Was it even possible? ♠

With
her arms latched around his neck Emma bounced up and down, squealing. “Oh my
God, oh my God…this is so wonderful!”

He
could sense it the moment his gaze met Megan’s: her closing down, drawing into
her shell, that damn sweater she wore acting as some form of protection from
the real world. He’d noticed she had a habit of working the hem in her
fingertips when she was nervous or anxious. When did that little habit start? Having
Emma hanging all over him wasn’t helping. He was working with limited time here
and had to act fast.

Megan
withdrew and turned on her heels heading into the house. He wanted to yell, “No!
Wait! The chick rubbing her tits all over me is an idiot.  I have something to
tell you!” Instead he peeled Emma’s arms from around his neck and set her an
arm’s length away. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled, peering at her
through narrowed eyes.

Emma
shrugged a shoulder while inspecting one of her thumb nails. “When everything
else fails…you go with jealousy. Works every time.”

“Well,
stop whatever scheme you’re cooking up in that head of yours. I don’t need your
help.” He rushed up the stairs, flung open the screen door searching for Megan.
He found her in the bedroom. An opened suitcase was balanced on top of his bed
or her bed; he wasn’t sure what to call it anymore. She was cramming clothes
into it, upset. He could tell by the way she was skipping the whole neatly-folding-and-placing-them-gently-
in-the-suitcase-like-a-sane-woman process. She warned, “Go away. I’m in no mood
to deal with you right now.”

He
cleared his throat, raked a hand through his hair, and then buried his hands in
his pockets. Suddenly it occurred to him…he couldn’t tell her about the loan.
If he did, she would have no reason to stay. And he wanted her to stay. He pushed
down his excitement, asking instead, “Are you okay?”

There
was more irrational, more craziness, more unpredictable movements around the
room as she gathered her things. She shot him a brief look of disbelief. “Do I
look okay? I hate this place!” She paused long enough to glare at him now,
shoving a finger in his direction. “I hate you! You never bothered to call me
once! Do you know that? Not once after it happened! Who does that shit?” She
wiped away a few tears that managed to get past her unshakeable exterior.
“Okay, I get that it was a bet and it meant absolutely nothing to you, but
don’t you have a conscience? Don’t you have a heart?” Apparently not. She’d
told him as much once before. “Didn’t you ever feel like maybe you should at
least check on me? Make sure I was okay? Still breathing?” Tilting her head she
waited…

“Filly…”
The word got lodged in his throat. He braced a hand on the trim of the bedroom
door and took a minute.

She
interpreted it as a sign that he was uncomfortable being put on the spot,
forced to answer a question he didn’t want to answer. It was true. He was
uncomfortable, but not for the reasons she thought.

Shaking
her head she returned to her rushed packing. “You know what, forget I said
anything! Go back to doing whatever it is that you do!”  She avoided looking at
him as she folded a light blue shirt, muttering, “You’re a son-of-a-bitch … the
sooner I’m away from you the sooner I can go back to living a normal life again.”

With
a hand still braced on the molding he pinched the bridge of his nose, focused
on the floor. “Is that what you want? Normal?”

“Normal
with Conner, yes, I want that very much. He’s a better man than you’ll ever be.”

She
might as well have slapped him. For two years he’d did everything he could to
get this girl out of his head, and here she was pretending that she knew exactly
what he was thinking. She didn’t have a damn clue, and she never would unless
he showed her. He was on her in a second, his hands braced on both sides of her
head, boxing her in up against the bedroom wall. The cords of muscle in his
forearms flexed. She rounded her shoulders, caving in on herself and avoided
looking him directly in the eye. Dammit, what had happened to her over the past
two years to make her appear as if she carried the weight of the world upon her
shoulders? His lower stomach fell at the thought that he could possibly be the
answer to that question. He happened. No. She was too strong to be broken by
some pathetic loser’s rejection.

“Let
me go,” she muttered, though she didn’t really mean it.

Sensing
she had no plans of fighting or making a run for it he removed his right hand
from the wall. Fingers lightly under her chin he tilted her face up, wanting
more than anything to see those breathtaking green eyes of hers, wishing they
could tell him everything she kept hidden.  His voice came out hoarse, “No. I’m
not going to let you go. I made the mistake of doing that once.” His gaze
dropped to her lips, parted as if she was begging him to kiss her.  “You
haunted my dreams every night. No matter how much I drank or convinced myself what
I felt for you was nothing…” he pressed his mouth to her ear and she shivered
in response. “It was the furthest thing from nothing I’ll ever feel. You might
as well unpack, because if you try to leave me without giving me a chance to
make us right…I swear to God I’ll handcuff you to my bed and convince you to
stay.” He leaned back and saw she was trembling, trembling like a timid rabbit
about to be swallowed up by a hungry wolf. His hands moved to her upper arms,
where he attempted to rub some heat into them.

“Bullshit,”
was all she said.

“Excuse
me?”

Her
gaze connected with his. Her chin tilted up in defiance. “When exactly did I
haunt your dreams? Before or after you screwed someone else?”

His
vision blurred. “I’m sorry. I’m confused. Are you or are you not fucking
engaged, Megan?” ♠

Twelve

Emma
grabbed a soda from the refrigerator, popped the top and was about to sit down
at the table when Drew appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. She rolled her
eyes at his chaotic appearance, seconds away from pressing the rim of the can
to her lips. “What the hell happened to you? Let me guess…you found her room
empty and a letter saying she’s ran back to the choirboy?”

He
kicked out a chair and dropped down in it, dragging both hands through his
hair. Emma had never thought she’d see the day Drew Mackenzie would be a
complete mess. The guy usually held his shit together better than this. She had
to give props to Megan. The girl knew how to tie a guy into knots.

He
finally glanced up. What the hell? Was that tears in those mysterious brown
eyes? Now she really had to give Megan props. He cleared his throat. Emma sat
down across from him and slid the soda on the table, crossed her arms over her
chest and waited. This was better than those soap operas her momma used to ignore
her for.

He
muttered, “She…”

Emma
leaned in, elbows on the table. “She what? What did she do?”

“…she
locked herself in the bathroom.”

“Locked
herself in the bathroom…what the
what
? She’s here one day and you
already have her locking doors to keep you out. ” Emma snorted out a giggle as
her forehead thumped the tabletop. She clutched at her stomach damn near about
to pee herself.

“You
know what I just realized?” Drew asked all grumpy like.

She
lifted her head to find him none too happy. His arms were folded over his chest
and he was scowling at her. She was afraid to ask. “What have you realized?”