Bad boy gone good, p.7
Bad Boy Gone Good, page 7
She had jumped back on the back of her horse, naked, seconds after his second-guessing. Clutching her wet bathing suit in one hand as she rode away. She needed to remember that moment. Especially now, when he looked like sex incarnate. Or, at least, what she imaged sex would look like if it took on a male form.
No. He hadn’t wanted to be her first. Hell, he was probably only interested now because of her damn lie from the Two Truths and a Lie game... That she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Ugh.
“Not sure why she’d think I wasn’t into her.” He was staring at her. Eyes unreadable. Then she felt a weight on her hand.
His hand.
Just a comforting touch. Just a brief pat, but it lingered, his hand hot against her skin.
“Well, I mean, I heard you never followed her. Guess I shouldn’t forget the kind of man you are.”
Think of something else. Anything but how electric it feels to be this close to him.
He straightened. She could tell her words had hurt him, but, shit, so did the memory of the most embarrassing moment of her life.
“Not like anyone is gonna let me forget.” He looked around the room. Anywhere but at her. His hand gone as quickly as it had come.
“Just through there.” She pointed to the door to the bathroom, then feigned a deep interest in a stack of books on the nightstand. In fact, they were her books. But he didn’t know that. She picked up Wuthering Heights and thumbed through it.
He nodded. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Yeah. I’ll wait,” she said. Mia would have left, proving the second charade of the evening to be her feelings, growing stronger by the minute.
There were times when a few minutes could feel like hours. Now she was living one such unending moment. A moment of waiting. Of wanting to come clean about who she was and what she wanted. Wanting to know her own mind well enough to stand up to her family. To the little voice in her head. To Mr. I’ll Never Have Kids Even Though I Have a Body for Sin.
And sin she wanted.
She was mad and sad and a million other emotions all at once.
She heard the water running; he was washing his hands. When she’d first seen him that evening, her heart had thumped so loudly she’d worried her siblings would hear. Or that Ben would hear. Her pulse wasn’t hers to control. He owned her heartbeats, it seemed. Damn.
It ws impossible to be immune to the tight white shirt, perfectly groomed beard and blond hair tied back into a messy man bun. Grease stains on his hands, shirts and pants, he looked dirty, strong and so very bad. His muscle shirt offered up a view to some new tattoos, and she had a question about one of them. It was a fresh piece of line art, a tree of life.
“Did I tell you?” Anxious to change the subject, she bombarded him with the question as soon as he opened the door to the bathroom.
“Tell me what?” He tested a smile. She saw a dimple peek at her and she melted. Could you really judge someone for the worst things they’d done? Or was it better to remember them only for the best of who they were? Was she being ridiculous? Hanging on to her hurt? No. She was being smart.
He was standing close to her, but it was comfortable. They’d been silent for several minutes, but it was as far from boring as any silence had ever been. The silence was electric. Instead of talking to her, he was looking at her, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he saw through her silly game. Time to drop the charade.
“I got an audition.”
He nodded. Still not saying anything.
Her mouth was dry. Why had she told him? The only thing more embarrassing about clinging to her virginity like it was something precious was definitely swapping places with her twin at twenty-eight. Was she surprised he figured it out? Happy?
“It’s a good part. A lead role. It’s not a big-budget picture, but Paramount is interested in distribution. And it’s a small cast. I’d be, er, an aspiring burlesque dancer. Who gets stranded following a plane crash. Very wild. I was thinking of channeling my inner Reese Witherspoon and giving it a go.”
“I think you’d be perfect for the role.” There wasn’t a trace of tone, just sincere encouragement.
“Filming isn’t long, only three months. In Canada, of all places. But yeah, I mean, my agent pitched me as a pro-camping woman of the wild.” She shrugged.
At this, he laughed, but then forced his mouth out of the playful smirk.
“It’s stupid. I mean, I have a lot going on here. And I don’t even know if I like acting, really.”
He nodded. Still not offering his opinion, just leaving her space to state hers.
“I could just go for a few days. For the audition. It’s in LA, no surprise there.” She looked down. At her own feet. Too afraid of the potential judgment. Whatever reaction he had, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to see it.
“Thought you were done with acting?” He hadn’t even raised an eyebrow at the fact that she’d tried to pass herself off as Mia. Honestly, the sad thing was that no one had even noticed. Ben hadn’t so much as batted an eyelid when Mia had slipped an arm into the nook of his. She’d purposely given Mia a different perfume for the night, wondering if Ben might raise a besotted eyebrow at the sub. But no. He hadn’t noticed, and, as such, the golden boy had received his first strike, failing at a test he hadn’t realized was being held.
If Ben had said it, she was sure it would have sounded like a statement, but August had asked her. No tone. No judgment.
“So did I. It’s kinda hard to make it in Hollywood, in case you haven’t heard?”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “They said the same thing about the oil industry.”
He flashed a cheeky smile at her, and the defense sounded more like a challenge.
“You’re infuriating. You know that, right?”
“Sure, Mia. And you’re cute. Swapping places. Thinking I wouldn’t notice. That your own family wouldn’t notice.”
“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.” She quoted George Eliot, the Victorian novelist, and wondered why someone else’s words made her feel more naked than ever.
“That’s an odd thing to say,” he mused, reaching for the copy of Wuthering Heights she was holding.
“Whatever. To be fair, they didn’t. Notice, that is.” She defended her switch, although the fact that he was the only one to see through it made her feel somehow worse.
“Yeah, well, I noticed.”
“And how was that?” She stuck her chin out as though the new posture might prove her point. They were identical twins, after all.
“Even after years of playing with y’all, I never ever spent a night wanting to kiss Mia.”
Her heart stopped.
“Is that so?” She licked her lips. Couldn’t stop the reflex, which felt as natural as breathing. As sweating in summer heat. In August heat.
He didn’t answer. Once again, the silence spoke louder than anything he could say. She watched as he licked his lips. Good God. Was he gonna kiss her? Good God. Let him kiss her.
“And I’ve wanted to kiss you. Since I got here.”
He didn’t ask. Didn’t pause another moment, just took her mouth with a surety that caused her heart to leap into her throat. He kissed her so expertly she forgot she was in her family’s guest room. Forgot that everyone at the dinner party was sure the “deer” was Mia, and not her. Not that it was better for Evie to be caught kissing the resident bad boy, not with Prince Charming at the same party. She should push him away. Get him to stop. Except that she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to keep going. All the way. Even here, in a random guest room. Because it wasn’t about the where. It was about the man. And about the way that man made her feel. All grown up, in all the best ways.
Her hands explored the broad expanse of his chest, and he pulled away from her as suddenly as he had kissed her.
“You taste good,” he said, shrugging his shoulders in an apology.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she answered without thinking. It seemed like something an aspiring burlesque dancer would say.
“I could teach you, you know.”
About how to offer him a taste? A taste of what exactly? Her blood sizzled at the possibilities.
“About living in the rough. I mean, I could help. Make your audition a little more...authentic?”
“Help?” She couldn’t focus on anything except for how much she deeply regretted whatever impulse had caused him to take his hands off her.
“Help you prep. We could go for a weekend. I need to stake out some land on the west line of my ranch. You could come.”
She licked her lips again, in a dare.
“If you want to,” he finished.
Oh, she wanted to.
“This weekend?” She looked at him. It was Thursday.
She licked her lips, liking the way he stared at her as she did.
“Yeah.” His voice was gruff.
“I’ll let you know,” she said instead of hell, yes. Always leave them wanting more.
“You do that.”
“I mean. Yeah. I think this weekend could work. My audition is in two weeks, so sooner is better.”
“Friday, then. We leave Friday.”
She nodded. “Tomorrow.”
He dipped his head and walked out of the guest room. They had a party to get to, and she had a date waiting.
Six
It’s a Dude Deal
For seven years, August had read about all things oil, from fracking to land rights. He could read a soil test faster than most geological engineers. However, somehow, the most “honest” job he’d had, making money hand over fist negotiating fracking rights, had made him feel slimy. It was as if excelling at that job had just made everyone right about him. That he was bad. Because what could be worse than prostituting the land around him for money?
“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.” There was something about Evie’s quote that had hit home. She’d made it offhand, but it haunted him, perhaps for its optimism. Sure, he’d done some slightly shady—while fully socially acceptable—business activities to generate his wealth, but it wasn’t too late to be what he might have been. The kind of man who could make social change. Who could make a difference.
First step, he needed to secure more capital. Which meant the divesting of some land. The easiest sales were the ones in which both parties won, which led him to Cody, the last of Jackson’s groomsmen, and the owner of the land that lay west of Quaid Ranch.
Thus the invitation to today’s ride. Little did his guest know that he was about to be on the receiving end of a proposal to end all proposals.
“You gotta change this here.” Cody had his attention. A few years August’s junior, Cody had moved to Bozeman a few years back. His family had bought the dude ranch that bordered on the north lot line of Hartmann Homestead, kitty-corner to his own land.
Cody was pointing at the irrigation system and frowning. Didn’t need an engineering degree to sort out that it was decrepit, and it definitely needed replacement if August was going to move forward with the modern updates necessary for successful ranching operations. But what Cody—what everyone—didn’t know was that organic ranching was just a small part of his plan.
“Yep, kinda saw the irrigation upgrade coming.” He nodded, wondering if he should have brought a notepad to write down the list of practical ideas he needed to implement. Mostly, he needed a good number two. His thought was that maybe Cody might be interested in a joint venture.
The cowboy was rich in his own right, but the dude ranch was small. Since Cody had taken it over, they’d gotten a fair bit of press. Most recently, Antone Williams had launched a whiskey distillery nearby, and the ex-NFL player had hosted a ton of tours; players staying at Hartmann Homestead partook in some elements of the expedition trip Cody coordinated on his dude ranch. Klein Korner had been written up in Esquire as the “Masculine Retreat to Kick-start Any Gentleman’s Misadventure.” He was booked solid and, per Jackson, looking to expand.
Cody nodded. “Actually, there’s a lot you’ve got to do here, if I’m being honest.”
“That’s why I asked you over. Honesty. Truth is, I’ve been out of the ranching game longer than I’ve been in it.”
Cody nodded and kicked at a bit of gravel. “Can I ask you? Why ranching? I mean, didn’t you make a bucket in oil and gas? Why come back here? Not like you need to work, if The Wall Street Journal was right about the man placed third in their ranking of today’s top forty under forty.”
August leveled his gaze at Cody. “I reckon you know about my folks?” Sometimes it was best just to get right to the point.
“Sure. Your old man is doing time. I heard. But at least, well, from what I understand, they didn’t cook in the house.”
Meth houses were common enough in Montana. But his dad’s operation had been bigger. He had run four cooks, all working from trailers parked on the reserves, which had made things complicated for local law enforcement. August had stayed far away from the “family business.” There had been more than enough honest work available. If you counted professional poker as honest work, then later, fracking. As a result, August had spent most of his adolescence out of the house, either sleeping rough, camping, or with Austin. Or Evie.
August had made his seed money for the oil and gas gig playing underground poker, and then, as his notoriety grew, he was able to get invited to some high-stakes games. Legitimate games. It was a different side of Montana, but at least he hadn’t broken any laws. Just a few jaws. But flipping his modest winnings into a fortune had taken a lot more work. He’d been gone a long time, but he was finally ready to earn back the respect of this community, tattoos be damned. The rebel persona stayed, though. Perhaps that was why he still gambled. Because he wanted Montana’s upper crust to accept him for what he was: a bad boy gone good.
“I came back because home is where the heart is.” It was the truth. He came back for her. Even if he could never be with her, he could look out for her. Protect her, or look after her in whatever capacity she might need. He’d promised Austin he’d look after his sister. And he was gonna. He groaned.
“You know—” Cody smiled “—I’ve seen you play before.”
“Play?”
“Poker. We could totally host an event at the dude ranch.”
Poker with the boys? Why not?
“Why don’t you show me the barn,” Cody offered, and August nodded, leading the way.
August heaved open the door, the hinges complaining loudly about their lack of oil.
“I know. Oil the door.” He’d add it to his impossibly long to-do list.
The barn was full. He’d ordered a wind turbine, and a series of batteries, and they lay in pieces on the floor. This was the part he felt good about. The part of his plan he was most confident in.
“Quite the operation you’ve got here.” Cody whistled, taking in the batteries August had been playing with.
“I’ve applied for a government grant. I’m hoping to build on twenty thousand acres. Solar, mostly, but I’ve been reading up about some amazing batteries. That’s, er, the other reason I came home. Spruce up part of the ranch for sale. And turn the rest into a solar farm.”
Cody looked at him. Well and truly shocked.
“Gee, I had no idea you were into that. I mean, weren’t you the oil guy?”
At least he hadn’t said “meth guy.”
“Yeah, well, had to make money doing something, and poker, even the hands I was playing, wasn’t going to make me rich enough to make a huge dent in what I want to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Change the face of power in Montana.” He was nervous to say it aloud. He hadn’t spoken about his plan much, not with anyone related to the Hartmanns. There was still too much that could go wrong.
But Cody was smart. He seemed to get what August was trying to do. “You’re gonna need quite the capital investment to get this going,” he pointed out.
No. August didn’t need money. “I reckon I have enough. First-phase budget I’m guessing will finish at around two hundred million.”
Cody whistled. “Not exactly chump change.”
“Yeah, but there are some federal grants for eighty mil. And I think I should be able to cash-fund the rest.”
“Can you?”
He nodded. “I can. If I sell half the ranch.”
Which he could do. His dad had signed over the land and the family’s assets before the trial. Everything was in his name.
“You’re looking to sell?”
It was impossible to miss the interest in Cody’s eyes.
“I might be,” August confirmed.
Cody didn’t miss a beat, saying, “How big is the holding?”
“Forty thousand acres. I’d be looking to sell half.”
“I wouldn’t need the house.” Cody had jumped right to the point.
“I figured. And I don’t need the water.” Which meant that the more expensive half of the land was available.
Cody nodded. “You worried about what Jacks might say if I buy this land?”
The Hartmanns were always looking. Always buying, and the Quaid land was adjacent. But August wanted a clean sale. Wanted to get the money for this project without the Hartmann wealth. On his own. No handouts.
“No. Can’t say I am. I’m tight with Jacks, and I need this deal to work for everyone.”
“Well, I’m interested. I’ll talk to our team. Do you have any details on the land?”
“Sure.” August felt good about the decision. He wasn’t a rancher, and for the first time since he’d come home, he realized he didn’t need to be to make it in Montana. He could make the Quaid Corp a leader in renewable energy, and turn its land into the largest solar farm in the state. This bad boy had a good plan. And maybe, just maybe, she’d notice.
