Dead Man's Bluff

by Adriana Law

  Noting his lack of interest the woman frowned and scooted her chair closer to the desk. She read over his credit report, her eyes eventually rising to meet his. It was back to business and it was pure torture waiting for her to say something. She sighed. “The good news is you don’t have bad credit. The bad news is you don’t have any credit at all. Mr. Mackenzie, you’ve never applied for any credit before. No car. No credit cards. No student loans.”

  The urge to smoke returned. He shifted in his chair. “I’ve never needed to apply for a loan before.”

  “Well, normally, we’d ask for a cosigner. I see here your father is…” she double checked the name on the paper before she rattled it off. “… Jonathan Mackenzie. I have to say he is a valued account holder. His signature on the loan application would definitely …”

  “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?”

  “You’re a male version of me. I don’t like it.”

  Now she really was about to pee her pants. Finally her laughter trailed off. “I’m sorry,” she offered as a hand went over her mouth to ensure no more giggles escaped. Drew probably thought she was making fun of him. She wasn’t. Not really. Truthfully, she knew exactly how he felt, desperate. She felt the same way herself and maybe her finding his situation funny had a little bit to do with her own situation. Why did love have to be so damn difficult?

  “Got it all out of your system yet?” he asked, referring to her little fit.

  She nodded her head, strands of blonde falling over an eye.

  He said, “Good. Now help me.”

  “Um…let me see…how about? No. You don’t need my help, remember?” She pouted.

  The anger bled from his expression, he went straight into pleading, “Please. I don’t know what to do. She has my head so screwed up…I don’t know what to think anymore. If I thought she’d truly be happy with him, then maybe…”

  “You’d let her go? No, you wouldn’t. You love her too much. You know how much it hurts to be without her.” Emma sighed, hoping she wouldn’t regret what she was about to say. “I’ll spend some time with her. See if I can find out how she feels.”

  “I already know how she feels. She loves me as much as I love her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent sure.”

  “Then why do you need my help?”

  “Because she’s hiding something and I want to know what it is.” ♠

  Thirteen

  Megan rolled out a long piece of toilet paper. Her eyes stung, and her nose was so clogged up with snot she was having difficulty breathing. She had to look pathetic, sitting on the toilet like a frail little girl, bawling her eyes out. Dammit, she had spent so much time containing these useless emotions, and then he’d just opened the steel door like it was weightless, allowing all her crap to flood in like a tidal wave drowning her in it.

  She rolled out a fresh clump of tissue and blew her nose, for like the hundredth time. She breathed in a strangled breath and relaxed her shoulders a bit.

  Knuckles tapped against the other side of the locked bathroom door. “Go away!” Megan ordered.

  “It’s Em…unlock the door.”

  “Is he with you?”

  “No.”

  “Promise?”

  “Jesus, paranoid much?” Emma rattled the doorknob.

  Megan blew her nose one last time and wiped away any traces of smeared mascara. She deliberately twisted the look on the door and went back to her throne of sorrow knowing exactly how child-like she appeared. There was no use in pretending now.

  Emma settled herself on the side of the tub, leaned forward, hands on her knees which gave Megan the clear view of her cleavage and immediately she was shuddering out another sob. Life was not fair. She’d never allowed herself to acknowledge just how pretty Emma was. But it was more than her appearance that Megan envied, it was that she would never be caught crying. Megan would bet Em had never experienced puffy eyes, a red nose or a broken heart. And the girl wanted Drew. It was only a matter of time before…what guy wouldn’t date Emma? Hell, if she was into girls, she would date Emma.

  Em rolled off a new strand of tissue and held it out for her; revealing some of the whitest, straightest teeth Megan had ever seen. She had teeth like Brittany Spears. Perfect. Another flawless thing about h
er. Good grief. How could she compete?

  “Let me take you to get drunk…some time away would do you good,” Emma said.

  “I don’t… gasp… know,” she managed to get out while doing that sucking in deep uncontrollable breaths like girls do when they’ve reached that ugly stage of crying, and Em was witnessing it all. Her ugliness. Hell. Who was she kidding. She could use a drink and maybe even a Valium. “O-okay… gasp… get me… sob-hiccup...drunk.”

  Emma patted her knee and stood up. “Excellent. Now, take a shower and put on your sexiest dress. Dry up the tears. If you’re not ready in an hour, I’m leaving without you and you’ll be stuck here with Drew all night…unless, that’s what you want?”

  Megan shook her head.

  She did as instructed. Showered, and dug out the sexiest dress she owned, only it wasn’t clinging to her body, instead it was clinging to the bathroom counter top. She stood there with a towel wrapped around her body eyeing the thing as if it were the devil. “I can’t do this,” she muttered into her cell.