Chapter Four

Happiness you pay for is to be found everywhere.

The highway sizzled with steamed heat. Even the wild sunflowers along the ditches drooped under the harsh rays of the sun. With windows rolled down, Season cranked up the radio and sang along with Ellie to her new hit Take Me to The Church. Pearl rattled and rumbled to a stop when she pulled into the yard. She loved her Honda Element with all its nicks, dents and memories. A repetitive, annoying commercial played in her head like a mantra: You loved Brad. You two had been through everything together—two boyfriends, three jobs…. Heck, she and Pearl had had survived freezing Minnesota temperatures, major tire blow-outs, endless fender-benders and not two but three boyfriends. She patted the dashboard. "Brad has nothing on you, Pearl."

A loud voice from the house broke her reverie, "Uncle!"

Scurrying from the car, she bolted toward the house and came to an abrupt halt.

Holy, crap, what now? And why does that rich, deep voice sound familiar? She hadn't seen another vehicle in the gravel drive and yet…. No, it can't be! With the stealth of cat burglar, she tiptoed through the back door and peered around the corner into the kitchen. Opposite one another, Duna and another man were seated at the table. Their right hands interlocked, Rann's arm lay flat on the table and Duna's expression vacillated between focused determination and triumph.

"You surrender then, boy?"

"Yes, yes, I give. Now if I can have my hand back, I might be able to use it again one day."

Season glanced to the jug of home-brewed dandelion wine gracing the table. They both looked up when Rook padded over to her, all wagging tail and eagerness. "Hey Rook the Mighty. I'm happy to see you too."

"Hi, gehl, you're home. We have a visitor."

Still rubbing his hand, Rann scrambled to his feet and gave her a smile that rendered her weak-kneed. "I've been learning how to respect my elders." His eyes locked with hers. "I stopped by to see how you were faring."

Her chin jerked upward. "You walk here all the way from Chicago?"

"Chicago?" He pushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "No. I met with the Brekkens down the road this morning and left my car there."

"Have you convinced them to sell out?"

He blew a long breath. "No, I asked permission to survey their property."

"Ha! A courtesy you didn't extend us." When Rann and Duna exchanged glances, her stomach fell. "Right, Duna?"

"He left a note in the mailbox last week," her grandfather said low-voiced. "Said we should call if we didn't approve." He offered a feeble shrug. "I should have told you but…."

"But?"

"I wanted to see what they'd offer so you'd know what you were saying no to."

Season looked away, her foot tapping the floorboards, anger churning in her gut.

"I'm sorry, ghel. I meant to help, not hurt you."

Rann glanced to the camera resting on her torso. "You got a new one?"

Gathering her battered emotions, she fingered the straps hanging from her neck and flashed back to the incident in the woods. Two regrets clawed at her innards. She didn't get a picture of the mountain lion or the bald eagle and she couldn't stop thinking about the hunk standing in their kitchen.

The lying snake.

Obviously, he'd won her grandfather over if they were arm wrestling. No easy feat. Duna cleared his throat. Holy crap, how long had she been gawking at Borriello's look-alike?

She looked down at her chest. "No, my instructor loaned me his backup so I could finish my portfolio." Never one to mince words, she shifted her gaze from camera to him, her words curt. "As you can see, I'm fine, so you can leave now."

Duna never raised his voice but knew how to manipulate his tone to express disappointment. "Season."

Her arms flailed at her sides. "What! He lied—"

"Never did." Rann kept his voice level and cool. "You never asked why I was nearby. In fact, you never asked anything about me."

"Well…well…." She wanted to look beyond him; pretend he was a wall-hanging like Duna's favorite saying above the sink: There are such things as false truths and honest lies. But she couldn't convince her eyes to turn away from that stunning face. "I'd like to see how you'd react when you're about to have your throat ripped out buy a feral cat."

He gave a slight bow. "Touché."

"I know why you're here. To talk to me and Duna about selling our land so your company can slap up condos."

"Not my company."

She advanced and poked a finger into his chest, remembering the ripped abs and flat, hard midsection. "Oh no, who is Charlotte Brogan, the woman whose face graces the Terra-Care Development web site, the woman with the same last name as yours?"

"CEO of Terra-Care." He looked away. "And my mother."

"So it is your company?"

Up came his chin. "I don't own one share. I'm an employee, a gopher."

"You do her bidding, isn't that what you mean?" She looked away, her voice almost a whisper. "I imagine one day the company will be yours." Turning to him again, the flag of victory rose. "Well you can tell the CEO, and your mother, three properties sit north of us and two, south. We're in the middle."

"I know. I surveyed everything."

"Yeah, you did. When I saw the equipment, I realized the man who rescued me in the woods was really a wolf in sheep's clothing."

"Ghel, please."

She couldn't stop now, not when she had him on the ropes. "That means, if we refuse to sell, your dream of luxurious condos with private cabanas, landscaped gardens, complete with sky bar and lounges, are just that…nothing more than a dream."

A muscle flexed in that sculpted jaw. At last she'd penetrated his invisible armor. "It's not my dream."

Despite her anger over his duplicity, he stirred a desire in her that shook her to the core. How could one dislike a man and be drawn to him at the same time? He emanated confidence but not arrogance, strength but not cruelty.

Straightening her back, nose in the air, she asked, "Just why are you here if not to fast-talk us into selling our land?"

"I wanted to see you again."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Well, you've seen me, and now you should leave."

"Not until you agree to have dinner with me."

A gasp fell from her lips. "Are you completely nuts? I can't have dinner with you."

"Consider it a peace offering." The smile stepped forward again, swelling her throat.

Duna's voice. "Yes, I think it's a good idea."

She pulled her eyes away from Rann's and looked at her grandfather. "Thanks for your support."

"The world is a ladder in which some go up and others go down," Duna said. "Best to meet in the middle."

"Look," Rann said, drawing her back to him again. "I promise not to bring up business or talk about land."

An internal war wreaked havoc with her mind. One part longed to say yes, another part wanted him to walk out the door and never return.

"You're chicken, that's the problem."

She wheezed an indignant puff of air. "I'm not afraid, not of you or your mother."

"Prove it."

A long pause ensued while she chewed on her thumbnail and finally threw up her hands. "Oh, what's the use? I can't fight both of you."

"Good." Grinning like an addle-brained hyena, he added, "I'll pick you up at seven o'clock. Since you know more about the local restaurants, I leave our destination to you."

Duna's chair scraped against the floor when he pushed his chair back and stood. He walked over to Rann and clapped him on the back. "We will see you tonight then, Veshengo. Perhaps one day we will have another match."

Rann shook out his hand but didn't miss Season's eye roll over his new name. "I'm going to need several months to recover first." He headed for the back door, talking over his shoulder before he opened it to leave, "See ya at seven."