Page 91 of Impossible Love

He looks down at where my fingers clutch at his denim sleeve. His shoulders move up and down as he breathes hard. “Excuse me.” His voice is flat. “I need to take a shower. Gotta get the stink of betrayal off me.” He takes a step toward his wing of the house.

“Stop right fucking there!” My voice is so commanding that it’s jarring to my own ears. “We’re not going to do this today, Cal. I’ve had all the strong and silent routine that I can handle. You’re going to turn around, look me in the eye, and tell me what it is that you think I did to you. Let’s get all this out in the open.”

Very slowly, he spins on his sock feet. His chin is dropped toward his chest. Two arched brows hover over eyes of blue-black ice. “You fucked us over, Victoria. You set us up and knocked us down.”

“How? How exactly did I do that?”

“By stealing our BLM lease to get your hands on Sulfur Springs for cheap.”

My eyes widen in comprehension. “Wait. You actually think—”

“Oh, I know, sweet cheeks. I saw the documents you drew up. Sulfur Springs would be damn near worthless as a lone parcel surrounded on all sides by public lands. We’ve held the BLM lease for a hundred years, connecting Sulfur Springs to the rest of Yosemite Ranch.”

“I realize that. So you think I did what, exactly?”

“You snatched the lease from us. Your daddy now owns the only access to a seriously devalued Sulfur Springs, which he wants to buy, and Yosemite just lost about a fourth of its total grazing acreage.”

My cheeks heat up. “I didn’t do this, Cal.”

He frowns. “Sure you did, Miss Backlund. But there’s a catch.”

I shake my head. My brain is humming. I’m missing something here, and I can’t quite grasp it.

Cal continues. “What a scavenger zombie holding company like yours couldn’t plan for is the value of relationships. The MacLaines have a longstanding friendship with the BLM. They sat up and noticed when we released claim to land we’ve leased since Herbert Hoover was in the White House. So they’ve delayed approval of the lease until they get clarification from us that it’s what we want. Your plan is falling apart.”

“Uh, that’s…” I rest my hands on my hips. I have the sneaking suspicion that this is some sort of test. “Friendships are nice and all, but that’s a load of bullshit, Cal. The only thing the government cares about is whether the check clears, not whose name is on it.”

I see something move across his face. Some of the cockiness disappears and he’s recalibrating. “Whatever you say. I need a shower.”

“You don’t believe me.”

He chuckles. “Nope, I do not.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“That would be correct.”

“You think I want to cheat you out of your family’s legacy, out of the thing that means more to the MacLaines—and you personally—than anything in the world.”

He points at me. “I knew you’d catch on.”

“Listen up.” I stomp toward him and smack my palm into his chest. “I did absolutely nothing of the sort, and I can prove it to you. Let me grab my laptop. Put your boots on and meet me on the deck.”

Chapter 48

Cal

“Follow me, sailor.”

I hate it when she calls me that. Especially now that I don’t think it’s a term of affection—just a condescending insult. But I follow her down the steps of the deck and out into the central ranch road. She’s heading north toward the rest of the houses.

“Do you mind telling me where we’re going, unless this is supposed to be a surprise?”

“Just try to keep up.”

I laugh at that but walk behind her, doing my sincere best not to look at her ass in those jeans. That would be wrong on all levels since I don’t like her or trust her. And she despises me, for good reason. Because of all of the above, I’m never taking her to my bed again. Which means staring at her ass is pointless.

I look anyway. Because I’m a monster.

---