by Gaelen Foley
The groundhog peeked out of the draining ditch as if hoping she might have left a carton of snap beans unattended.
At last, she climbed wearily into her truck and headed home. She was tired, but a smile played at her lips. She was still musing over her meeting with Harrison Riley and looking forward to telling the girls about him…
Drowsy from the long afternoon in the sun, she cruised down the road on automatic, barely paying attention, half listening to the radio. But when the farm’s entrance came into sight a couple hundred yards down the road, she suddenly jolted wide awake.
Harry’s little cherry-red convertible was just pulling out of her driveway.
What’s he doing here? she wondered in astonishment, but the Porsche accelerated swiftly and went zooming right past her, headed toward town. He went by too fast to have noticed her in her drab old truck, but there was no way she could have missed him in that flashy ego-mobile.
Well, that’s weird, she thought, glancing into the rearview mirror just before the scarlet roadster streaked out of sight around a bend. Geez, I hope he’s not some creepy stalker dude, was her first thought, but she brushed it off with a snort of amusement. Probably just got lost again, knowing him.
Chuckling at the memory of his faulty GPS excuse, she turned in the driveway, then went rumbling through the dust cloud that Harry had left still settling behind him.
Admittedly, her heart had skipped a beat when she had first spotted him there. But the more she thought about it, rolling up toward the house, the uneasier she became.
Something didn’t seem right about this. Intensely intrigued and yet feeling a slight twinge of worry, Bea parked her truck by the barn to be unloaded later, and went to ask her grandparents what he had been doing here.
Maybe he hadn’t even come up to the house, she thought as she jumped out of her truck and strode toward the porch. Maybe, by some bizarre coincidence, he’d just needed to turn around in their driveway.
But halfway to the house, she stopped in her tracks, remembering Tammy Reese’s billboard. She drew in her breath with a sudden, cold wave of foreboding, then bolted the rest of the way, nearly stumbling on the gravel.
“Pap, Gram?” Heart pounding, Bea barreled up onto the porch a moment later, where she found Pap reading the paper on the swing, Gram thumbing through coupons next to him, just like any old Sunday afternoon. The heavenly smell of Pap’s favorite chicken potpies baking wafted out through the screen door. “Was somebody here just now?”
Her grandfather’s shrewd glance at her over the top of his glasses said it all.
Bea gulped. “What did he want?”
“Oh, he wants us to sell him the farm, Honey-Bea,” Grandma Jean calmly replied while Pap sat swinging silently.
“What?” Bea dropped her purse onto the porch in shock.
Her grandparents explained the conversation they’d had with Harry, and somehow, she absorbed the tale. With every passing minute, her suspicions grew.
What the hell, Harry? Was that whole thing back at the farm stand a ploy? Had he even been lost at all, or just discreetly sounding her out for business reasons? Because Harrison Riley didn’t look like the sort of guy who got lost, ever.
Trembling, Bea set the cash box on the wicker end table nearby. “Who is this guy, exactly?”
“Here. He gave us his card,” said Gram.
Bea took his business card from her and read it. Well, at least he hadn’t lied about his name. “Diamond Enterprises?”
“His boss is some kind of an investor,” Gram said, sounding impressed.
“From Texas,” Pap added.
“He was very handsome, dear,” Gram said.
Bea blinked, then scowled at her grandma. “Yeah, we met. Believe me, I got a good look. Not my type.”
Anymore.
Actually, Porsche Guy had been exactly her type, back in the day.
When she used to be an idiot.
“He seemed pleasant enough,” Gram added. “Very polite. Not pushy like that Tammy woman. She apparently knows his boss.”
Bea’s hackles rose at the mention of her nemesis. “I see.” Figured Tammy was behind this somehow. Shaking her head, Bea turned away and tried to gather her composure. She propped a fist on her hip and looked down at her boots, at a loss.
But when she looked up, she caught the meaningful glance that Pap and Gram exchanged, and her heart lurched. Oh my God. What’s going on?
Whatever that blue-eyed devil had offered them, were her grandparents actually considering it this time? Her stomach clenched with dread.
It was still their farm, after all.
“So, what did you tell him?” Bea said, trying to sound casual, but folding her arms across her chest—and bracing herself.
“Nothin’,” Pap answered. “Said we’d have to talk to you first.”
Relief dribbled in. “I take it he made an offer?”
“A big one,” Gram said, wide-eyed, nodding.
“How big?” Bea asked.
“A million dollars,” Gram whispered in awe.
Bea nearly fell down the porch steps, saved only by the banister. “A million dollars?”
“Yep.” Pap showed Bea the scrap paper he had crumpled and stuffed into his front pocket. When she read from it, her heart stopped beating for a second.
She looked at her grandparents in disbelief.
“I guess he didn’t want to haggle,” Gram said, her eyebrows peaked.
“Or need to,” Pap said, just rocking on the porch swing.
Bea was so tense that the small, rhythmic squeaking of the chain suddenly made her want to scream. She turned away with her hand on her forehead and her pulse drumming out a sickening staccato.
She thought of their bills hanging on the fridge and blew out a breath, gazing off toward the peaceful fields, and trying to absorb the invisible punch in the gut of knowing that her grandparents really were considering it this time.
And who could blame them? It was so much money—two hundred thousand bucks over the appraisal. Not even Tammy had really believed they’d get the full asking price of eight hundred grand.
So, her beloved grandparents could either take Harry’s offer and pocket the extra two hundred thousand bucks, free and clear. Pay off all their debts, buy their RV. Or they could sell the farm to her for the same sum under market value.
Oh, God. Bea felt sick as a wave of crushing guilt poured through her. Interested parties had made good offers before, but none so high—and none of them had been presented by Harrison Riley, with his devastating charm.
Having already gotten a taste of his magnetism herself, she had a fairly grim idea of why his boss and Tammy must’ve sent him.
This smooth talker was clearly a corporate shark, and Bea already knew she was in over her head in dealing with this guy.
Suddenly, everything she’d been working so hard for felt like it was sifting through her fingers like the dry, spent soil of the Dust Bowl era.
The worst part was the same old gnawing fear, deep down, that she was probably just deluding herself, anyway. That her parents were probably right. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t actually do this. She was crazy for even trying.
She was cursed, after all. And farming, of all careers? One of the hardest fields there was…
She sat down slowly on the porch stairs, numb. Bail out now before you ruin everything for them, her fears whispered. Why don’t you just give up while this offer’s on the table? You know these dreams of yours will never work out.
As she sat there, momentarily paralyzed with self-doubt, the future she’d envisioned seemed about to crumble right along with her battered self-confidence unless…
Unless.
She closed her eyes for a second, then found her courage and forced herself to ask the question: “So, do you guys want to accept?”
From the porch swing came a silence; Bea couldn’t bring herself to look over.
“Honey, we’ve both agreed it’s up to you,” Gr
am said at last.
Her heart clenched; she looked over at them with a soulful, imploring gaze. Oh, don’t do this to me. Don’t make me be the bad guy.
“It’s okay, kid,” Pap reassured her softly. “You do what you think is right.”
Bea lowered her head, blinking back tears. How can they possibly trust me so much? More than she even trusted herself.
They were so beautiful in that moment, with their endless unselfishness, that Bea didn’t see how she could possibly stand in the way of them following their hearts. They so deserved this kind of windfall.
But then a terrible thought gripped her. What if it’s a trick?
Lord knew she smelled a rat. What if Harrison Riley was just some kind of con man? And with that, Bea felt her stubborn spirit slowly welling up again from deep inside, even fiercer than before. Yeah. If that blue-eyed charmer had stood there lying through his teeth to her back at the roadside, who knew if this supposed offer was even for real?
He had obviously deceived her earlier—and she, like an idiot, had been too busy ogling his cute butt to be the least bit suspicious. Apparently, her judgment hadn’t improved as much as she liked to think since the old days.
With a growl, she glanced again at Harry’s classy linen card, then shot to her feet and snatched her purse off the floor.
“Where are you going?” Grandma Jean asked in surprise as Bea slid Harry’s card into her back pocket and marched back to her pickup.
“Out,” she replied, jumping into the cab. “Back soon. I’m going to get some answers. Find out what this guy is really up to.”
“You do that, dear,” Gram called, but Bea barely heard.
She slammed the rusty door and wheeled around, speeding back off to town in a cloud of dust, ready to put up the fight of her life.
CHAPTER 4
The whole three-mile drive into Harmony Falls, Bea rehearsed fiery speeches, giving Tammy’s billboard the evil eye when she passed it, and grumbling under her breath about where Harrison Riley could shove his million dollars, if it even existed.
There had to be a catch. But if he believed her grandparents were just the weak, elderly prey that some big-time boss of his had sent him to bamboozle, she swore she’d put him through a wall.
By the time she spotted his ridiculous car parked outside the Sweetwater Inn, she was primed for battle. “There you are, you soulless corporate henchman,” she muttered.
She parked down the block a ways and, hands on the steering wheel, took a few deep breaths, preparing to give that arrogant smooth talker a piece of her mind.
But when she marched into the quaint Victorian B&B, ready to slay dragons, Sharon, the plump, gossipy receptionist informed her in a giddy whisper that “Mr. Cutie” had checked into his room and left again a few minutes ago.
Bea gritted her teeth to realize that Harry’s charm had worked on Sharon nearly as well as it had on her. “I think he went to dinner. I saw him go across the street.” Sharon motioned discreetly at the Knickpoint down the way.
“Thanks, Sharon,” Bea said in distraction, slapping the counter as she turned away, then strode back out into the early evening sunshine.
Okay. This is good, Bea reflected, gathering herself. The Knickpoint was her turf, and at least one of her pals would likely be there to watch her back.
Just to be sure, she hurried up and texted Chloe on the way. Need backup! Meet me at NKPT asap! Fortunately, as she crossed the street toward the pub, she had a chance to take a breath and calm down a bit.
Maybe it was best to challenge him in front of a crowd, keeping her composure, rather than risk going ballistic on him in private and making a fool of herself in the quiet, ritzy inn. Because, first off, Sharon would report whatever she overheard to the whole town, and second, going all Amazon warrior woman on him right out of the gate probably wouldn’t work very well, anyway.
Harrison Riley was slick, and he did this for a living. He was probably an expert arguer. Just like her dad.
Grr. Determined to get control of the situation, Bea reined in her temper and decided to be sensible, logical, steady, and cool with the dirty, rotten scoundrel. After all, she couldn’t prove he was a shyster, just because he happened to have some kind of professional relationship with Tammy Reese.
She further decided she was not going to blow the deal for her grandparents, either. As much as she loved, wanted, needed her dream of taking over the farm, it was a million dollars. She didn’t have the heart.
For now, she just wanted to ascertain if the offer was even real and get some straight answers.
She also damn well wanted Harry to explain why he’d lied to her today. She couldn’t deny feeling a little hurt, stupidly, because she’d actually thought there had been some sort of tentative connection between them.
Now it just seemed like he’d played her.
Except…she had witnessed his odd reaction firsthand the moment he’d seen the brochure.
Okay, so maybe he had been genuinely surprised, she conceded, marching toward the pub. But he should’ve said something then—and if he was any kind of decent human being, he should know that.
We’ll see. Damned straight she meant to test him. As she pulled open the Knickpoint’s heavy teak doors, she promised herself that if she heard anything at all from him that sounded the least bit fishy, he was out of here.
To protect her grandparents and her farm, she could happily crank up the bitch factor to scare him off. Maybe even remind him, if he gave her any trouble, that country folk kept shotguns on hand. An irreverent half-smile crooked her lips at the thought of sending Harrison Riley running for cover in his fancy leather wingtips.
As she stepped into the brewpub’s main hall, the big garage doors overlooking the deck and the volleyball pit were wide open on this sunlit early evening. The Onatah roared along in the background, frothing white around the boulders. All the while, a playful Black Eyed Peas song pumped from the speakers.
The clack-clack-clacking of someone racking balls at the pool table echoed off the hardwood floors, and the scent of boiling hops wafted through the air. Bea glanced around, searching for the snake in question, and spotted her quarry.
Harrison Riley, with his thick, jet-black hair still perfect, sat at a high stool at the far end of the bar, eating a burger, swigging a beer, chatting it up with the big guy.
Bea hung back for a moment to observe.
The former marine wore his signature tight blue muscle shirt and looked like he’d just shaved his head again with his proud jarhead buzz-cut. Jack stood behind the bar washing pint glasses, drying them, stacking them up, listening as Harry spoke.
He was nodding in agreement, even cracking a smile. Bea was sure the marine’s bullshit detector must be going crazy right now. Lord only knew what tall tales Harry must be telling him. She wondered why Jack was tolerating the man.
She composed herself, though, and, heart thumping, fists bunched nervously by her sides, walked over to the pair.
“So I said to the guy, ‘You’re gonna find yourself in the middle of a lawsuit if you don’t get your shit together, man,’” Harry said.
“No doubt,” Jack replied, chuckling and shaking his head. Then he noticed her arriving, while Harry took another swig of his beer. “Hey there, Honey-Bea. What brings you out of the fields this fine evening?”
“Hiya, Jack.” She sent her large, deadly friend a taut smile, then eyed Harry in distrust. “I’ve actually come to speak with this gentleman here,” she said as cordially as she could muster.
Harry wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and turned to her, eyebrows raised. He looked a little startled to see her, but not nearly as shocked as she would’ve liked.
“No kidding,” Jack responded. “You already know Harry? Nice.”
Wait, what? Her eyebrows shot up as she glanced from one to the other. These two are on a first-name basis already?
“Ms. Palmer and I met this afternoon,” Harry explained ever so politely. “At her farm
stand.”
“Huh,” said Jack. “Small world.”
“I’ll say. Nice to see you again, Mr. Riley,” Bea said in a tone of cutting sarcasm to let the GQ model know the jig was up.
Jack missed the daggers shooting from her eyes as she glared at the newcomer—though that was probably for the best. The big guy had a very long fuse, but when his anger blew, well, Bea had heard the spectacle of it best described as shock and awe. “The usual, babe? Shandy?”
“No thanks, Jack, I’ll skip it tonight.” Just having the marine nearby made her feel much more capable of kicking some ass—in a business sense, of course. But although she was glad to have her friends on hand for moral support, she could fight her own battles, thank you very much.
“Hey, Bea,” Jack said, “we’re gonna show Harry the falls tomorrow.”
She went motionless. “Wait—sorry—what?”
“He’s never been here before. Can you believe that? Me and Finn are gonna take him down to the gorge, see if he can hack some class-five rapids,” he added, sending her a sly wink.
Bea was aghast. What, he’s BFFs with my boys all of a sudden?
“You’re taking him rafting?” she said when she finally found her voice.
“Afraid so,” Harry answered for him with a decidedly uneasy laugh, glancing from her to Jack. “I’ll be all white knuckles, but your pals here insisted.”
“No kidding,” she said, glaring at the marine.
Jack didn’t notice, nodding to some woman who had just asked for an Alpenglow Amber. He stepped away to get it.
“Very hospitable, this town,” Harrison said, nodding around at the people in the Knickpoint. “When I asked our imposing bartender here how to find these amazing waterfalls I keep hearing about, he and that other guy told me that this is the best way to fully appreciate them. So please, tell me now if there’s any reason I shouldn’t trust these two,” he added with another halfhearted laugh.
“Nah, not to worry,” Jack assured him, returning. “Patrick Finn’s a crazy man, I grant you, but there’s no better river guide. Plus, I did my share of rescue missions in the Corps. You’ll be fine.” Then he slipped away again to go clear an empty high-top table.