Page 11 of Impossible Love

My fingers grip the wheel.

“I don't know why it's called Yosemite, since we're not near Yosemite Park. I mean, I looked on the map and Yosemite is on the other side of the Sierras and it takes hours to drive there, but only in the warm months. They close the roads in winter, and the only way to get there is by air.”

I focus on my breath and heart rate.

“Did you know that the word Yosemite is an indigenous word for a killer grizzly bear?”

When I don’t answer, she looks over at me, an expectant look on her face.

What the fuck is going on? Why is she headed to my family’s ranch, and why is she still smiling at me like that? Her eyes are sparkling. She looks happy.

“Right,” I say, returning my eyes to the road.

“Do you know how to get there? Yosemite Ranch?”

She doesn’t know who I am.

“It’s owned by people named MacLaine, and since you know Elsie and Clem and everyone else around here, I figure you probably know them, too.”

“I do,” I say. “Quite well.”

“Wonderful! Then let’s head that way. How long of a drive is it?”

“Not far. Maybe another ten minutes.”

“Perfect.” She lets her head fall back against the seat and unclenches her legs. She takes off her ridiculous shoes and wiggles her toes. The nails are painted a soft pink. Like her skin. Her lips.

Her little visit isn’t related to StellaR Tech, that I’m sure of. If there were a problem, Finn,

Declan, Evander, and Special K would have given me the heads-up, and we’d already be fixing it, the way we always do everything—together. Besides, Finn and Declan were standing right next to me at the airpark when she arrived, just as surprised as I was. So, no. She isn’t here for StellaR Tech.

Is it Dad? Is this another off-the-wall money-making scheme? I love him, but Jamie MacLaine is the shittiest businessman this side of the Sierra Nevadas. But it can’t be that, either. The ranch is finally in the black, expanding operations, even. There’s no reason he’d invite a private-jet-level business rep to the ranch.

So, who is she and what is she up to?

I glance over in time to see a gust of wind send all that beautiful red hair flying. It takes my breath away, to be honest, which isn’t good. No matter how breathtaking she is, I’m getting a really bad feeling about her interest in my family.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Victoria, what kind of business do you have with the MacLaines?”

She turns to me. That smile is a spectacular sight. But I don’t trust it.

“Big business.”

“Ahhh. Lucky them.”

“True—today is their lucky day.”

We’re coming down the backside of the mountain and approaching the ranch. I know that if I want to get more details out of her, I better get them now. I’m almost out of time.

“So, what kind of business are you in?”

“The problem-solving business.”

“I see.” And I call bullshit. I’ve spent enough years around government and contracting to know word salad double-speak when I hear it, and that was a big-ass platter of the stuff. “So, what exactly does ‘problem solving’ mean in this context?”

She shrugs. “My company knows how to get the best out of existing assets. When there are structural issues or perhaps the full potential is not being met, we figure out a way to fix things.”

“Fix things. Gotcha.” So, she’s a scavenger. A vulture who tries to convince innocent suckers that she’s there to save them from problems that don’t exist.

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