Salacious Sale Read online

  There was no barn, however. Nothing was anywhere Cody remembered it being—except a bunkhouse so in need of repair that it appeared drunk and the main house.

  Not certain where else to park, he stopped his car next to the sort of monstrous pickup that television commercials always showed hauling heavy machinery up steep hills. The truck looked black, hulking as it did at the bottom of the porch steps, except where the light revealed the color to be a deep, dark blue. Cody took special note of the license plate as he grabbed his bag from his trunk.

  The front steps were a little loose, but the porch was solid enough. The door seemed to have new hinges, and, when he opened it, the pleasant smell of lemons and some delicious gourmet concoction wafted out. Judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen, someone was cooking dinner—more than unexpectedly, especially given the air of abandonment clinging to the Double O.

  “Hello?” Cody called out.

  A familiar female voice coasted toward him on tide of savory scents. “Back here.”

  “Miss Raines, I had no idea you’d be here.”

  Rather than head toward the trespasser, Cody surveyed his grandfather’s kingdom. He took his time mastering his shock at Olivia’s presence in his home and let old memories bring him a measure of calm. He’d seen a tintype of the house when it had been owned by his ancestor, Offer O’Neal, and also the images taken after each renovation. Over the generations, the large single room had sprouted two additional spaces downstairs, including a working kitchen, and three bedrooms, with a functional—if small—bathroom upstairs. Nothing fancy for the O’Neals—ever.

  The mantle still held their faded photographs, and a rag rug graced the floor. Deep-cushioned furniture was arranged around a boxy television, Eugene’s rocking chair in the prime viewing location. A soft pillow graced the seat and a knit throw was draped over the back. The inside of the house was homey—cozy, but for the sense that everything was too quiet, in spite of the woman in the kitchen banging pots and pans.

  There was no soul left at the Double O. No heart.

  “Cody?”

  “Yeah, I’m coming.” He dropped his bag at the foot of the steps and entered the kitchen.

  He was momentarily struck dumb. With faded, soft-looking jeans stretching across her ass, Olivia bent over the open oven door, mitts on her hands, a pie tin emerging from the red depths of the ancient appliance. Her blonde hair was pulled up on the top of her head in a messy bun and her face was flushed. Even from the doorway, Cody could tell she was wearing mascara.

  A sense of unreality caught him for a brutal moment. For that heartbeat of time, everything inside his chest contracted into a sharp point of yearning. He couldn’t remember when a woman had last cooked for him, except his mother, and that had been when he was a teenager. The scene in front of his eyes was everything Cody had ever truly wanted—a home, family, a shared life—and everything he couldn’t have.

  He rubbed his chest. “What are you doing here?”

  “I figured you wouldn’t have eaten, and Lord knows, nobody’s been shopping around here for a while.”

  She slid her burden onto the wood countertop. As if it were her own house, she got out plates and cups, forks and knives, then rummaged in the nearly-empty refrigerator and magically came up with two dark bottles.

  “And yet, there’s beer?” he asked.

  “I always keep a stock over here.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “This is my hideaway, you see. My house is too…much.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Suspicion had Cody’s nerves crawling.

  “Come sit down and I’ll tell you over dinner. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

  “I was going to go into Creek Bend and see what they had to offer.”

  Olivia wrinkled her nose. “Nothing that’ll beat my mother’s shepherd’s pie. Come on.”

  “Your mother’s?” He tried to deny the shaft of disappointment that speared through him. It helped that Olivia rounded the counter, letting him get a good look at her complete outfit—though that also had his suspicions climbing. Her hair, jeans and cotton shirt might have given the impression of being casual, but her boots and makeup told a whole different story.

  “I just heated it up, but my mother has won blue ribbons throughout the county for her cooking.” Olivia smiled up at him as she took a seat at the table. Her azure eyes were nearly neon, caught as they were between thick, darkened lashes.

  Cody was unsure of her intentions, though he didn’t want another argument either. Seeing his grandfather hooked up to tubes and machines, lying there so frail, had really taken a toll on his emotions, and the growing list of everything that had to be taken care of while he was in town overwhelmed him. It was easier to give in. He felt vaguely hypnotized the longer he stared at Olivia’s face but, as he reluctantly sat opposite her, he told himself that he was simply exhausted.

  “Smells good.” His stomach growled. “Except for the greasy slop served at my school, I can’t remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t passed through a window or prepackaged in the grocery store.”

  “You have a school?”

  “I wish.” Cody closed his eyes and drew in the smells of well-spiced beef and potatoes. “I work at a state-run delinquency program—a second chance boarding school for boys who get in trouble. Not quite jail, but they’re confined to the property.”

  “You like it? Except the food?”

  “Yeah. I can’t imagine doing anything else. Those boys just need a direction for their lives, someone who cares and takes an interest in them. Someone who has faith in their success and can help them find resources to ensure that success.”

  “Mmm.” Olivia forked a heaping serving onto his plate. “Well, home-cooked meals are the secret to our success.”

  “What success is that?”

  “The Raines Ranch and everything we’ve done to keep ourselves afloat.” Olivia met his gaze and Cody would have sworn she batted her enhanced lashes. Then she pouted. “I’ll be honest. I have an ulterior motive in coming over here.”

  His neck suddenly felt too stiff. “Let me guess. The water rights?”

  “Well, yes, but I figured to ease you into things. So, I brought an old photo album for you to look over after supper.”

  “That was thoughtful of you.”

  “It’s got a lot of images of this place and mine from back in the day. You can see the changes that have been made over the years.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, I’m not really sure I’m in the mood for a sales pitch, Miss Raines. I’ve had a long day.”

  Her lips quirked, but she nodded. “I know. I just want you to hear me out. I hope that you’ll see things my way before it’s too late, but tonight I won’t pressure you. If you’re anything like your grandfather, you’re more likely to balk when you’re tired, anyway.”

  “I’ve been told something similar before.”

  “You know we share the stream. Its source is on my property, but a good portion of its length is on yours. Then it doubles back onto my land just before it empties into the river.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ve got maps.” She scrunched her nose.

  “I don’t think you’re lying to me, Miss Raines.”

  “Call me Olivia, please.” She took a breath. “Mayor Wiggins wants your section of the stream.” Pausing, she cocked her head. “Well, he wants mine, too, but he knows I won’t give it to him.”

  Cody took a bite of the shepherd’s pie. The mashed potatoes were creamy, melting over his tongue. The meat was perfectly seasoned. He fought to keep his eyes open and his moan behind his teeth. When he refocused on Olivia, she was smiling at him.

  “Secret to our success,” she repeated. “You see, like everyone else in the region, our ranch took a dive when the cattle business bottomed out. Auction prices cycle, but I’ve never heard of them being this low before—or for this long. Lots of ranchers took a big hit.”

  Cody racked his brain. “I don’t remember
the Double O having too many cattle.”

  “Almost none. The last time this place was a working cattle ranch was in the Thirties. Opal O’Neal kept things afloat during the Depression by selling off the herd. Since then, y’all have had only a couple head and some milk cows. Pigs and chickens and handful of goats a few years ago, but Eugene sold them.”

  “I would think the upkeep would be too much to have livestock here.” Cody glanced around the kitchen, noting the places where the linoleum curled, the chips in the porcelain sink and the scratches in the countertops. The house could stand to be updated to the modern era. “There isn’t a lot of money to hire help.”

  Olivia’s murmur of agreement raised his hackles. “No, there isn’t, but Eugene never was all that interested in animals,” she said, easing Cody’s guilty conscience somewhat. “He liked motors. People from all over would bring him their cars and farming equipment and he’d take a look. Fix them if he could.”

  “Yeah.” A memory took hold, bringing a wavering, watery smile to Cody’s mouth. When he had been just a child, his grandfather had put him up on a box in the barn and patiently showed him all the parts of the 1935 roadster he’d been rebuilding. Cody had no use for engines, but he liked the mathematical precision of the mechanisms, and he’d loved spending the time with Eugene.

  Olivia gave him a minute, then said, “He had to stop when his hands got too arthritic to hold a wrench. Broke his heart.”

  “He watched those car auctions on television.” Cody laughed. “He used to call me and tell me all about them—what sold and for how much.”

  “Mmm, auctions. Cattle prices are at an all-time low.” She returned to their original topic with little segue. “But, because Eugene wasn’t in the cattle business, he didn’t lose his shirt like everyone else did.”

  “Judging by your expensive truck, you came out all right, Olivia.” Cody liked the way her name felt in his mouth, flowing over his tongue, filling his ears. He liked the way she flushed a little as he spoke her name, too—then he abruptly shook himself. God, I must be tired.

  “My father died when I was young. He was the cattle man. I was just struggling to hold on to what his family—my family—had built. We’d been successful until he—” She stopped abruptly and made a face. After a tense moment, she continued. “When the current crisis hit, I believe I was more adaptable than a great many others because, you see—”

  He interrupted her rush of words. “You weren’t holding on so tightly to the cows. I take it you found a different way forward?”

  Her cheeks lost their deep pink blush. “Well, the thing is, I never really knew what to do with them. I had to teach myself, and, at the auctions, I was always getting the short end of the stick, losing money, and that just got worse when beef prices tanked. So, I decided to just…keep the cows.”

  Cody knew there was more to it than she’d admitted, but he didn’t press her. “All right.”

  “You have no idea what that means, do you?” She shook her head. “I’m no longer in the beef business. I still have some dealings in the horse trade, but I set up my property as a dude ranch. I caught a lot of flak for it, too, but we’re starting to see a profit now.”

  “Why would people disapprove of a dude ranch? Though I will admit to being surprised this area has one. It’s not like we’re in the mountains or on the edge of a desert, where all the rest of them seem to be.”

  Excitement lit Olivia’s eyes. “This is good, prime real estate. Right here, thanks to your ancestor. In fact, Opal O’Neal was my inspiration for keeping the cows, like she’d once kept her pigs when everyone else was selling them at dirt cheap prices.”

  “During the Depression.” Cody knew the story. The government had paid pennies on the dollar to any farmer willing to slaughter their livestock. They’d attempted to control supply and demand, but, to his way of thinking, it hadn’t done anybody much good.

  “She saved this land of yours by getting rid of the cows, cutting down the wheat everybody else grew like mad fools and replanting a ton of the native grasses. There isn’t another patch of dirt in the tristate area as healthy as the soil on the Double O.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Cody opened his eyes wide—mockingly, though he understood the irony of the situation quite well. “It only took five generations to make this place into something worth having. And it all comes down to dirt.”

  “According to Eugene, Opal spent a good portion of the drought years, back in the Thirties, managing this place all by herself. Her first husband wasn’t any good, and by the time she got married again, the drought was nearly over. She let several acres go to seed, and the wild, native plants took over. There’s a glorious mulberry out there that makes the best pies.”

  “That’s wonderful. Dirt and mulberries. The O’Neal family fortunes are certainly on the rise.” Cody pushed his empty plate away and grabbed his beer. “What does any of this have to do with anything else?”

  “I love this ranch. It’s quiet and peaceful.” Olivia rubbed a wide gash scarring the surface of the table, then met Cody’s gaze with sad defiance. “My house has been turned into a raucous bed and breakfast that caters to the people who want to rope themselves a steer and hunt a supposedly wild boar on the weekends, then head back to the city and their white-collar jobs for their workweek.”

  “That’s your business?”

  She nodded. “Eugene gets a cut. I told you, Opal O’Neal let several acres go wild, and that’s where she kept those pigs she was supposed to have killed. Eugene said she couldn’t afford to keep them or sell them, so she let them be feral and they thrived, multiplied. They’re mean as hell, too. Do you know what city slickers will pay to hunt a mean-ass pig in the brush?”

  “A lot, I take it?”

  “Your grandfather lets my customers ride over here and blast away at the pigs in the back scrub. Hell, half the time they can’t hit a damned thing, but they get to ride a horse, tromp through thorns and pull a trigger. I’ve got repeat customers and corporate events lined up. Men even bring their wives and kids, because we’ve got a whole farmyard full of cute things, like pygmy goats and ducklings. Susan Evans comes out every few days to give manicures and massages.”

  “I don’t know who that is.”

  “She’s a single mother struggling to make ends meet in Creek Bend. She relies on my customers to help her do that. Also, I employ a good number of people for a wide variety of jobs. This enterprise has saved my family—and yours.”

  Cody glanced at the curled linoleum one more time. “Did it?”

  “Ask your father how much Eugene has sent to him over the past year.”

  Cody jerked back. Cold and sick, he feared he already knew the answer to his question, but it flew from his mouth before he could stop it. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Doesn’t your father work with some traveling doctor organization?”

  “No. Not exactly.” Not anymore, rather.

  Olivia’s face lost all color again. “Oh. Well, according to Eugene, your dad works at an international health clinic but he doesn’t get paid very much. He gets room and board and a small allowance, but that’s not enough—”

  “No.” Cody jumped to his feet. “My father made a choice to live with less. He bought a hospital in Sudan and is there now, trying to help bring adequate medical care to the people. I know Grandpa has sent him a few dollars now and then, but nothing that would require your business to save us. Please don’t tell me that my father’s been living off my grandfather—”

  “He has. Talk to Curtis Hornell in River’s Edge. He’s your grandfather’s accountant.”

  Cody pressed his palm to his forehead. “Good God, I don’t believe this.”

  Olivia was merciless. “If Wiggins gets control of the stream and uses it to provide Creek Bend with their water supply rather than upgrading the treatment facility to handle the pollution coming down the river, the water for both our properties will go dry. The demand will far outpac
e how fast the spring can refill itself, and all of us will be impacted.”

  “Why doesn’t he upgrade the facility?”

  “It’s an election year. He’s promised not to raise taxes, but I wonder where all the taxes we’ve already paid have gone.” She grabbed the plates from the table and moved toward the sink. “Why don’t you look through that photo album? You’ll see the layout of the land, the stream and how the town has grown over the years. My great-grandfather considered himself both a photographer and a town historian.”

  Chapter Three

  Olivia tried not to show how desperate she was as she sat down on the loveseat next to Cody and pressed indecently close. If anyone with an ounce of class could see her, she’d be shamed for the rest of her life, but she had to get through to the man somehow. And if that somehow required nakedness and brazen attempts at seduction, then so be it. Olivia had a business, a ranch and a family to save.

  So many futures rested squarely on her shoulders.

  “See? This is the original building.” She put her fingertip on the faded, blurry photograph and traced the single-room structure.

  “I’ve seen this before. My grandfather’s got a tintype of it somewhere around here.”

  Olivia leaned in harder, squashing her breast against Cody’s arm. Feeling like she was in over her head, she wished she had more feminine wiles at her disposal, but she wasn’t a hearts and flowers kind of girl. If she ever had been, a lifetime of nose-to-the-grindstone financial struggles had beaten all thoughts of romance out of her.

  Her father hadn’t been as successful as she might have implied to Cody. The rest of her forefathers had broken their backs making the family ranch a success, but her father had been raised with too much to appreciate the work that had gone into it. Or perhaps he really was the lazy son of a bitch her mother claimed him to be. Either way, he’d gone through money like their spring welled up with cash, rather than water.