Loving Deep: Steele Ridge Series Page 2

  Randi turned to face him. “Mind telling me what you’re doing on Shepherd land?”

  The softness around his eyes disappeared, returning his handsome face to its normal forbidding expression. This was the Britt Steele she was accustomed to. The one who came into her bar every Friday night and lounged at a corner table while sipping a whisky. The one who watched everyone around him with the keenness of a wolf and the temperament of a bear.

  “I needed to cross the creek. This is the best place to do it.”

  “Interesting, but your explanation doesn’t really answer my question.” She eyed the antenna strapped to his back and the handgun at his side. “Tracking something?”

  “Bobcat.” This time, he brushed by her.

  Bobcat? “There’s no hunting on Shepherd land.” A statement that hadn’t always been true. At one time, her mother’s family had owned over five thousand acres of gameland where hunters could pay to harvest bear, deer, fox, grouse, turkey, and more.

  “That’s good, because we’re out of season.” He didn’t bother stopping, kept an even gait as he wound around various trees and shrubs and fallen trees.

  “Why are you tracking bobcat?”

  “Nothing nefarious. Just a simple wildlife survey of the Steele Conservation Area.” His gaze raked a hot path down her body. “As for being on Shepherd property, I couldn’t resist the show.” He resumed his hike.

  Randi’s jaw locked at his callous reminder. She recognized his maneuver. Scratch at an open wound and maybe your opponent won’t realize you’ve duped them. She knew this. Yet she couldn’t stop herself from spinning around, unzipping her pants, tugging them down a few inches, and waggling her mosquito-bitten ass at his retreating back.

  “How’s that for a show, Steele?” She bit out the challenge beneath her breath and had her jeans back in place in under three seconds. Damned if she hadn’t fixed her wedgie in the process.

  No doubt she would be horrified by her impulsive actions later. She always was. But right now, the only emotion she could muster was an immature satisfaction for a well-executed up yours.

  “Randi?”

  No, please no. Not two self-imposed humiliations in one day. “Nothing more to see. Have a good day.”

  He sighed. Loudly. “Is your mom home?”

  The change in topic was so abrupt that she failed to find an appropriate response. So she said the first thing that came to mind. “You knew my mother?”

  “We’ve collaborated on a project or two over the years.”

  A fact Randi should have known, would have known, had she seen her mom more than a handful of times in the past decade. She recalled them talking at his mother’s birthday party a few months ago, but she didn’t realize their relationship went beyond acquaintance.

  The hollow ache in her chest made speaking difficult. It was as if a knowing hand had ripped all the important parts out, leaving only air behind. “You’ve been away?”

  “Just got back from a conference in DC. Came straight here. Why?”

  “My mom’s dead.”

  A hush fell over the woods as if every mammal, every insect, every gust of wind silently wept.

  “Dead?” His voice shook. “I don’t understand.” His harsh brown eyes bore into her skull as if he could siphon the knowledge from her brain. “Barbara was healthy.”

  “Such a stupid accident.” She rubbed a hand against her stomach to quiet the tremors growing there.

  “How?”

  Randi really didn’t want to do this now. She’d been living off coffee and a busy schedule since receiving The Call. To relive it all again…Sheesus.

  Britt’s tortured, knowledge-needing gaze pushed back her pain. She dove into her Shepherd Survive It mode and turned this unpleasantness into another one of her kajillion tasks that needed to be completed.

  “It’s time for me to get back to work,” she said. “I’ll walk with you as far as the sharp bend in the stream.”

  Randi led the way until the understory opened up and they could walk side-by-side. He remained quiet while they navigated the uneven terrain.

  The story of her mother’s death seemed packed in her throat. She didn’t know why. Although her mother’s passing saddened her, grief did not overwhelm her. In life, their relationship had been complicated, distant, there but not. Why would her death change that fact?

  “Of all the ways Mom could have died,” Randi began, “rolling down the side of the mountain was the kindest end.”

  “Kindest?”

  “Better than a wild animal attack or a long, debilitating exotic disease or a swarm of killer bees.”

  He lowered his voice, as if he thought a higher volume would shatter her into oblivion. “Head, neck, or back?”

  “Neck.” Randi pressed her forearm against her stomach. “No one can tell me for certain what caused her fall. Some have suggested foul play. Others believe she got too close to the edge. And the bolder ones have speculated alcohol was involved.”

  She stepped onto a log. Her mother’s advice echoed in her head.

  “Never step over a fallen tree trunk, Miranda. Copperheads tend to take refuge under decaying logs and can be startled into striking out. Step onto the log, then off, out of striking distance.”

  “I’ve never seen your mother drink anything stronger than iced tea.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “I’m sorry. Not having closure must be difficult.”

  “Yes, but I consider myself lucky.”

  He eyed her for a moment. “How so?”

  “She could have gone on one of her long hikes and simply disappeared.” Randi stared straight ahead. “I know it sounds morbid, but at least I don’t have to contend with that horrible situation.”

  “So, you’re a could-be-worse kind of girl.”

  “Guess so.”

  “Dammit, I don’t know what to say other than I’m right sorry.” Concern carved into his grief-torn features. “How are you holding up?”

  “Good as can be expected, given the circumstances.”

  “When’s the funeral?”

  “We put Mom to rest two days ago.”

  “Two days ago? Her accident must have happened the same day I left for DC.”

  Randi nodded. He was struggling with the knowledge that fate had denied him the chance to say good-bye to his friend. She recognized the signs, because she’d experienced a similar torment the day she learned her mother had died.

  “Do you need anything?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll be occupied for the next week, getting the farmhouse spruced up.”

  Randi prayed the property would sell quickly. With the land in such pristine condition, except for the hundred acres her mom leased to a local farmer, Randi expected a developer to snap it up in a heartbeat. At a premium price.

  The land held stunning long- and mid-range views of the Blue Ridge Mountains and it had never been timbered. Couple the views with the moderate winter and summer temperatures, and one had the perfect enticement for people flocking into the area from the cold, flat regions of the North and Midwest.

  “So you’ve decided to put the property on the market?”

  “My life is downtown. I don’t have the time or resources to maintain Sagebrook.”

  “Don’t feel like you need to do anything with the house right away,” Britt said. “Give yourself time to grieve. I don’t plan on moving in for quite some time, if ever, so any cleaning or refurbishments would be wasted.”

  Randi’s pace slowed. “Pardon?”

  He stopped a few feet ahead of her, pivoted, and studied her face. Whatever he saw there, he didn’t like. Granite crackled along his jaw line, and his nostrils flared. A curse split the air between them.

  “Are you telling me you don’t know the full details of your mother’s will?”

  Why would she? It’s not as though her mother had ever invited her over for dinner to discuss the matter. Frankly, Randi was shocked her mom had bothered with such tedious, fam
ilial matters. They had never been on her radar. Or so Randi had thought.

  “It’s not a topic we’d ever discussed.”

  “Who’s her attorney?”

  “Virgil Carlisle.”

  “Carlisle? Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “She trusted him.”

  “I take it Virgil hasn’t discussed your mother’s will with you either?”

  Her mother’s cousin could barely recall his middle name most days. A hard-as-nails lawyer for nearly two decades, Virgil’s career had taken a nosedive five years ago when booze became more important than legal briefs.

  “We spoke briefly after the funeral, but I haven’t been able to reconnect with him since then. What do you know that I don’t?”

  Britt scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not my place.” Beneath his breath, he said, “I’m going to skewer that drunken bastard.”

  “It’s not your place? What a crock.” She moved toward him, forcing her anger to stay at a low boil. “My mother’s work associate knows more about her will than I do. Sounds like your place was secured by dear ole Mom.”

  “Look, all I know is what Barbara told me before she died.”

  “Which was?” Had her mother willed the property over to Britt Steele? Could she have done something so outrageous? She and her mother hadn’t been close, but they’d loved each other in their own way.

  “Dammit, Randi. Go get the details from Virgil, then we’ll talk.”

  Despair bubbled to the surface. What would she do if this property wasn’t hers to sell? Where else could she get that kind of capital? In such a short time span?

  “If you’re not going to share what information you have, get back on your side of the creek.”

  He stared at her, incredulity lining his perfect forehead. “You’re kicking me off Shepherd land?”

  “Sounds that way to me.” Her long strides carried her away. Away from his knowing eyes. Eyes that logged her every failure.

  4

  Britt watched Randi’s tight ass storm away. He’d been watching that ass for months. Ever since their brief encounter at his mom’s birthday party. A sixty-second introduction had been enough to entice him into her bar—a place he’d been avoiding.

  From the outside, Blues, Brews, and Books appeared too civilized for his tastes. He preferred drinking holes that didn’t scowl at a man for putting his boots on a chair. Holes that served eat-your-liver whisky and greasy tater tots.

  But Blues, Brews, and Books had proved to be a comfortable, tater-serving place, one he and his brothers frequented every Friday night.

  He followed Randi’s angry strides until the dense foliage swallowed her figure. A worm of concern curled around his chest. What if Barbara hadn’t followed through on her promise?

  The wolves couldn’t lose access to this property. It would be devastating to the pack. Barbara understood their vital role in the ecosystem, the importance of preserving the swiftly dwindling species.

  A developer wouldn’t.

  A farmer wouldn’t.

  A hunter—

  “Dammit.” Britt didn’t need this complication now. Once he finished his part in Jonah’s grandiose plans for the town, Britt would get his life back on the track he’d set for it. Not the one his father had forced him down for the past two decades.

  Recalling his commitment to be at his mother’s for dinner, he glanced at his watch.

  Shit. If he didn’t double-time it back to his truck, he’d be late.

  He rolled his head from side-to-side. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. Now if he could only do that a few dozen more times. Harboring this kind of tension around his brothers, especially pain-in-the-ass Reid, wouldn’t bode well for his mother’s happiness. Or his.

  Britt made sure his equipment and weapon were secure before settling into a ground-eating jog. The rapid pace compelled him to keep his mind on the space before him, rather than on the desperation he’d seen in Randi’s almond-shaped eyes.

  Barbara had assured him that her daughter wanted no part of Sagebrook. So what had been the cause of Randi’s despair? Her reaction seemed volatile, something far different than a daughter grieving for the loss of her mother.

  He couldn’t allow himself to care. Right now, the wolves needed someone to protect their habitat. And that someone was him.

  A while later, Old Blue rumbled toward his mother’s dream home, Tupelo Hill. A large, white, in-need-of-a-good-paint-job house with an immense wraparound porch. For years his mother had gazed longingly at this home while making do with a three-bedroom, one-bath house for a family of eight.

  When the baby boy billionaire saved the town, Jonah had also fulfilled his mother’s long-held secret wish by gifting her with the enormous five-bedroom, four-bath house. Of course, his mother had protested the purchase, claiming the home was far more than she and Evie needed. True, but that was before Jonah, Reid, and Grif had set up residence there.

  For a short spell the country house had busted at the seams with Steeles. His mother, in her element, had happily cooked and cleaned for her grown-up boys, and his brothers were content to let their sixty-year-old mother do it.

  Luckily for them, Grif and Reid hadn’t overextended their welcome. They were Carlie Beth’s and Brynne’s problems now. With Evie away at university, she couldn’t be labeled a burden to their mother. His little sister had always been self-sufficient anyway, like him.

  Jonah was another story. If Britt found out his mother was washing the little shit’s underwear, the two of them were going to have words. Or fists. Whatever it took to make him grow up.

  All three Steele brothers lined the porch, each with a longneck in their hands. Shaggy-headed Jonah rocked in a chair, his pale face plastered six inches from his phone. Sleek and unshakeable Griffin cradled his two favorite girls—Carlie Beth and their fourteen-year-old daughter, Aubrey—under each arm, swaying in the porch swing. And hell-raiser Reid lounged on the wide porch railing, his broad back propped against a support beam and one denim-clad leg stretched out before him. An I’m-going-to-fuck-with-you glint sparked in his blue eyes.

  “Well, well, well, look who made it after all.”

  “Not tonight, Reid,” Grif warned.

  “Hey, Britt!” Aubrey said with a big grin.

  “Hey, Aubrey. Come and give your almost uncle a hug.”

  She pounced on him like Tigger, all long legs and skinny arms and twitching tail. Aubrey had taken to him, more so than his younger, more dynamic brothers. Few adults knew what to do with him, which made his connection with Aubrey, an awkward boys-are-my-world teenager, all the more puzzling.

  Setting her away, he said, “You look real pretty tonight.” He nodded toward Grif and Carlie Beth. “Got a heartbreaker on your hands.”

  Carlie Beth smiled and Grif groaned.

  “Bro,” Jonah said without looking up.

  “Jonah.” He dropped into the rocker on the opposite side of the door, close to trouble. He knew how to deal with Reid’s nonsense. When it came to the genius gamer, he had no idea.

  “Is Brynne coming?” Carlie Beth asked.

  “Nope.” Reid pulled a hefty swig from his longneck. “One of the shop girls called in sick, Brynne has to close up. She sounded tired. I told her to go home afterward.”

  “Shop girls?” Britt asked with a pointed look.

  “What the hell else do you want me to call them? They’re girls and they work at Brynne’s clothing shop. Shop. Girls.”

  “Employees, staff, ladies…Take your pick.”

  “Oh, thanks, Mom.”

  “I know. I never let you have any fun. Deal.”

  “Aubrey, let’s go see if Grammy and Evie need any help.” Carlie Beth ushered her daughter inside, but not before sending Reid a bad uncle glance.

  “Ballbuster, that one,” Reid said.

  “If your pie-hole had any manners, she wouldn’t have to bust anything.” Jonah’s thumb slid across the five-and-a-half-inch screen with dizzying speed.


  “The vampire speaks,” Reid said. “Do you even know what day it is?”

  “Fuck you Friday.”

  Reid barked out a laugh and nearly fell off his perch. Once he recovered, his laser focus zeroed in on Britt.

  Here we go.

  “Why are you so long in the face this evening?”

  “Reid,” Grif warned again. “Mom’s been looking forward to tonight all week. Don’t start your shit.”

  “What? Are you his protector?” Reid asked in his typical take-it-too-far way.

  “No, I’m yours.”

  “I’m merely voicing some concern over my big brother’s grumpy mood.”

  Britt knew better than to engage Reid while tension continued to coil in his neck and back like an anaconda crushing the organs of its prey.

  Ignoring Reid, Grif asked Britt, “How was your conference?”

  “Good keynote speaker and the field excursions were interesting. The five days could probably have been cut down to three, though.”

  Of the three brothers, Britt was closest to Grif. They shared the same level-headedness and take-charge attitude. However, their careers were worlds apart. Grif’s revolved around sports and making money. A lot of it. Those with that kind of mindset rarely understood the value of safeguarding the natural environment. Something that often swallowed up money rather than making it. Eco-tourism being the one exception.

  “Any issues here?” Britt asked.

  “Much better now that no one is trying to kill Brynne,” Reid said.

  After finding a woman who could put up with his dipshit ways, Reid had almost lost Brynne in a drug scheme. Although Britt knew crime existed in every dark corner of the world, he hadn’t been prepared for its close proximity to those he loved. Seeing Reid, fearless in ways he couldn’t fathom, afraid for Brynne tore at that space in Britt’s heart that was brother, father figure, protector.

  Reid eyed him. “So fierce, Tarzan. Do we need to find you a Jane?”

  “This is gonna be so great,” Jonah said to his screen.

  Britt stopped rocking, his hands wrapped around the arms of his chair.

  “Oh-ho!” Reid taunted. “Could it be the ape-man’s found a Jane?”