High-Stakes Bride. Fiona Brand
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of real estate agents, all wanting her and David to sell. “So what can I do for you, Mr. Wells?” As open and pleasant as Wells seemed, it was after six, the sun was setting, and she wasn’t inclined to trust him.
White teeth gleamed. “This is just a quick call to introduce myself and let you know it’s business as usual with the bank. I like to take a personal interest in my clients.”
She just bet he did. Maybe she was being oversensitive, there was nothing in the statement to take offence at, but Roger Wells was a stark change from Harold Buckley, the previous manager. Mr. Buckley had been with the bank for as long as Dani could remember, and she’d liked him. In all those years, he had never once bothered to take a drive out to Galbraith, let alone take an uninvited tour of the property. If there was any business to be done, it had always been completed in his office during business hours.
Wells made a few bland observations about the severity of the drought and the state of the economy—nothing that Dani hadn’t tortured herself with a thousand times over already—then finally got to what really interested him, Galbraith’s stock numbers.
Setting her jaw, Dani reeled off the figures. A year ago that many head of cattle would have represented a slim, but comfortable return, but with the price of beef falling to a ten-year low, her profit margin was gone and Wells knew it. “Is there a problem with the bank financing farm mortgages? I hear Tom Stoddard’s looking at selling up.”
The blunt tactic didn’t net a return. “The bank’s commitment to farmers hasn’t changed.”
Dani kept her face expressionless. She’d seen the ad on T.V.—something about the “friendly bank.” From what she’d heard, lately, the Jackson’s Ridge bank was as friendly as a rottweiler. They had squeezed Tom so tight his options were gone.
After a few more uncomfortable pleasantries, Wells climbed back into his car and drove away. Dani watched the plume of dust until it dissipated, any appetite she’d had gone. As bland and pleasant as Wells had been, he represented trouble. He might have been on her land uninvited, but technically he owned more of Galbraith Station than either she or her brother did.
Chapter 4
The following afternoon, after taking a trip into town to buy groceries, Dani strolled down to the waterfront and met Becca McKay at Jackson’s Ridge’s only café.
Becca was the same age as Dani—a tanned, willowy blonde who’d spent most of her life travelling. Five years ago she had landed in Jackson’s Ridge for a summer and waited tables for Nola, until she’d been swept off her feet by one of the coast’s pastoral barons.
The marriage had caught everyone in Jackson’s Ridge cold. John McKay was twelve years older than Becca and a widower. To compound matters, Becca’s boss, Nola, just happened to be one of John’s sisters. Nola had had an amiable relationship with Becca until John had started turning up as a regular customer. Since then, she hadn’t been able to hide her disapproval of the age difference, or her opinion that the marriage was doomed to failure—despite the fact that John and Becca now had two children, with a third on the way.
Becca chose a table outside under a shade sail and shot her a meaningful look. “I heard Carter’s back.”
Dani pulled out a chair, sat down and braced herself. She and Becca had been friends for years, but they had differing opinions about Carter. Despite Carter’s reputation for being cool and elusive, Becca was certain he was prime husband material—for the right woman. “How did you find out?”
Becca draped a colourful fringed bag that matched the orange and pink stripes of her tank top over the back of her chair. “John had a face-to-face in the supermarket. Carter reached for a bottle of hot sauce—he was getting ketchup for the kids. How typical is that?”
Dani couldn’t help thinking that when it came to John McKay it was very typical. He was a devoted husband and father and made no bones about the fact that his wife and children came first. “Be warned. Carter Rawlings is not my favourite topic.”
“Then you’re on your own, because the whole town’s humming. Word is out that he’s got to pop the question this time.”
Dani studied the laminated menu. “He did make a proposition last time he was back, but it was more along the lines of a suggestion that it would be more convenient all around if I moved in with him. I don’t recall that a ring was part of the deal.”
Dani poured two glasses of water from the carafe on the table. There had been no moonlight, no bended knee, just pure practicality. She took a sip of water and tried to forget the moment. Carter had been on his way out the door, his bags packed, his orders and passport on his bedside table, with that cool, distant look in his gaze. As always, the exit was practiced and slick. Dani didn’t like to dwell on how many women had been put through the exact same routine. Even in Jackson’s Ridge Carter had a certain reputation, and he hadn’t earned it by being caught up in emotion. She shrugged. “I wasn’t interested. The way I saw it, it was all about convenience. His.”
Becca frowned. “Are you sure it’s finished? Don’t forget, he’s a guy. They think differently—food, sex, football, business—and not necessarily in that order.”
The screen door flipped open as Nola walked toward them with a pad.
“Twelve months sure. Carter and I broke up when he left. We’re finished.”
Nola’s expression went utterly blank. She was a dedicated lifetime member of the Carter Rawlings fan club. In her eyes he could do no wrong, whereas Dani did wrong on a regular basis—like now, for example.
Becca took one look at Nola’s face and set the menu down. “We’ll have two lattes while we figure out what else we want. Is that okay?”
Nola’s notebook snapped closed.
Becca waited until she was out of earshot. “She’s in shock.”
“I can’t think why. It’s the third time it’s happened.”
Becca’s expression was rueful. “Only the third? The moon would have to turn blue before Nola admitted she might have it wrong. Once she gets her teeth into an idea she hangs on like grim death. According to John she had a thing going with Walter Douglas from the butcher shop when they were at school. He ended up marrying someone else and Nola’s refused to date since. That’s thirty-five years on the shelf because she figures that someone else got her guy.”
The screen door to the café flipped open as a couple left.
“Talking about male cheesecake…” Becca jerked her head to indicate Roger Wells, who was seated inside near the window then averted her gaze as he pushed his chair back and strolled toward the door. She rolled her eyes. “He’s coming this way. Do I look married?”
“Becca, you’re six months pregnant. He’s got to figure that you’ve at least got a guy.”
“I guess. Plus he’s just been over the farm books. What he doesn’t know about me isn’t worth printing.” With a grin, she patted her belly. “Did I tell you it’s a girl? I had a scan on Monday. John’s over the moon.”
Roger Wells inclined his head. “Mrs. McKay, Dani.”
Becca made a face. Dani killed any hint of a smile and kept her gaze fixed on the collar of Wells’s pristine white shirt. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket today, and looked younger and a lot more casual than he had the previous evening. With an effort, Dani made polite conversation, but her replies were forced; Wells represented the bank. No matter how charming, she couldn’t get past that fact, or the fear that missing that mortgage payment engendered. Besides, he was just a little too smooth-tongued for her liking.
Nola appeared at the screen door with a tray. Wells did the gentlemanly thing and opened the door then lifted a hand as he strolled back to the office.
Becca fanned herself. “Looks like you’ve got yourself an inside track there, girl. From what I hear, Wells is single,