Safe In The Rancher's Arms. Catherine Mann
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to get them.
“Plant some trees,” she said. “Fast-growing ones. You really should quit harassing me. I might have to get a restraining order or something.”
She was kidding, of course. But her humor fell flat. Drew was not amused. “I don’t think you understand how serious I am about this. There’s a road on the far side of your place. Why can’t customers come to the produce stand that way?”
Hands on hips, she glared at him. “It’s a cattle path, not a road. It would take thousands of dollars to improve it, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one with the silver spoon in my mouth.”
His gaze was stormy. “Why did you want this particular piece of land anyway?”
She shrugged, unable to fully explain the emotions that had overtaken her when she realized she could finally afford a place of her own. “It was the right size and the right price. And I fell in love with it.”
“You can’t run a serious business based on feelings.”
“Wanna bet?” His patronizing attitude began to get on her nerves. “Why don’t you tell your elite clients that I’m a sharecropper, and you’re doing your good deed for the year?”
“That’s not funny.”
Earlier, she had picked up an inkling of humor from him. Now he looked like he would sooner murder her in her sleep than make a joke.
“I have two whole fields of pumpkins ready to sell,” she said. “And a third bunch not far behind. I’ll make enough money this month to keep my books in the black during the winter. Lucky for you, a horse is still a horse in the middle of January. But my farm will be cold and dead until spring.”
“You’re fighting a losing battle. In this economy, you can’t hope to survive long term. And in the meantime, you’re creating enormous problems for me.”
Fury tightened her throat. She had struggled her entire life to make something of herself, against pretty long odds. To have Drew dismiss the fruits of her labor with such careless male superiority told her he had no clue who she really was.
“Maybe I’ll fail,” she said, her tone as dispassionate as she could make it. “And maybe I won’t. But I’m like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind. I read the book when I was thirteen. Even then, I understood what her father told her. Land is what’s important. Land is the only thing that lasts.”
Drew rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, probably to keep from strangling her. “That makes perfect sense,” he said quietly, “if this had been in your family’s possession for generations. But it’s not Andrews land. And I freely admit that it’s not Farrell land either. It does, however, adjoin my property, Beth.”
“If you were so hell bent on having it, you should have outbid me.” They squabbled frequently about her supposed infractions of the “neighbor” code, but this was the first time he’d been so visibly angry. She knew that at the heart of the matter was his desire to buy her out, though he hadn’t mentioned it today. The last time he’d tried, she’d accused him of harassment.
“I’m merely asking you to see reason.”
His implication that she was unreasonable made her grind her teeth. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on this one.”
“Will you at least consider selling your produce somewhere in town? If you think about it, the central location could increase your customer base and it would keep the traffic off this road.”
Darn him, he had a point. But she wasn’t willing to cede the field yet. Her involuntary mental pun might have made her laugh if she hadn’t been in the midst of a heated argument with her macho, gorgeous neighbor. “Part of the experience of coming to Green Acres is for tourists and locals to see the pumpkins in the field. They can take pictures to their heart’s content and post them on Facebook. If they want to, they can traipse around the lot and choose their own prize. The ambience would be totally different in town.”
* * *
Drew knew when to back off strategically. He had given her something to think about. For the moment. But he wasn’t going to give up. Horse breeding was a long-term venture. Patience and planning and persistence made the difference. Of course, a little dollop of luck now and then didn’t hurt either.
Beth was stubborn and passionate. He could respect that. “I tell you what,” he said. “If you think about my suggestion and decide you could sell in bigger quantities in town, my guys will help you get set up, including all the logistics of hauling your stuff. Does that sound fair?” He paused. “You can have as much time as you need to think about it.”
She tugged at a strand of hair the wind had whipped into her mouth. He couldn’t help noticing her lips. They were pink and perfect. Eminently kissable. He wondered if her lip gloss was flavored. The random thought caught him off guard. He was in the midst of a serious conflict, not an intimate proposition. Though the latter had definite appeal.
Beth stared at him, her expression hard to fathom. “Do you always get what you want?” she asked quietly.
Guilt pinched hard. His life had been golden up until this point. He had a hunch Beth’s had not. “It’s not a sin to go after what you want,” he muttered.
“Exactly,” she said. “And that’s what I did when I bought my home. You had a chance, but you made a poor business decision. You can’t blame me for that.”
Drew noticed in some unoccupied corner of his mind that the wind was no longer as wild. The air was thick and moist. Sweat trickled down his back. Beth, however, looked cool and comfortable in a navy tank top that hugged her breasts and khaki shorts that showcased her stunning legs.
What stuck in his craw was that she was right on one point. It was his fault that he had lost this property. If he had wanted it so badly, he should have made a generous offer and sealed the deal. Unfortunately, Drew had been in Dubai at the moment the land came on the market. His business manager, a smart, well-intentioned employee, had taken the initiative and made an offer on Drew’s behalf.
No one had imagined that the small farm would attract any buyers, hence the lowball offer. Drew had been as surprised as anyone to hear he’d been outbid.
Beth touched his arm. “Look at that,” she said, pointing.
He tried to ignore the spark of heat where her fingers made contact with his skin. But it was immediately replaced by a chilling sensation as he glanced upward. The clouds had settled into an ominous pattern. It looked as if someone had taken a black marker and drawn a line across the sky—parallel to the ground—about halfway between heaven and earth. Below the line everything seemed normal. But in that unusual formation above, menace lurked.
“It’s a wall cloud,” he said, feeling the hair on his arms stand up. “I saw one as a kid. We have to take shelter. All hell is about to break loose.”
As the words left his mouth, two things happened almost simultaneously. Warning sirens far in the distance sounded their eerie wail. And a dark, perfectly-shaped funnel dropped out of the cloud.
Beth gasped. “Oh, God, Drew.”
He grabbed her arm. “The storm cellar. Hurry.” He didn’t bother asking where it was. Everyone in this part of the country had a shelter as close as possible to an exit from their home, so that if things happened in the middle of the night, everyone could make it to safety.
They ran as if all the hounds of hell were after them. He thought about picking her up, but Beth was in great shape, and her long legs ate up the distance. Her house was a quarter of a mile away. If necessary, they could hit the ground and cover their heads, but he had a bad feeling about this storm.
Beth panted, her face red from exertion. “Are we going to make it?”
He glanced over his shoulder, nearly tripping over a root. “It’s headed our way...but