Chapter 4
2058 Words
Chapter Four
Blake swallowed hard and double-checked the roll of plans he carried as he stepped across worn slats comprising the front porch. He’d ridden over across Steele Creek instead of driving. It was faster, and somehow felt friendlier. Family feuding had taken precedent over neighborliness, and maybe it was time that stopped.
He rapped twice on the front door and waited. Looking out across the porch, he was surprised to see the edge of the Sinclaire homestead through the trees, just on the other side of the river. After all the generations of misunderstandings, his heart twisted a little at how close the families must have been at the beginning.
He rapped again, this time hearing a muffled voice and accompanying footsteps. The door opened and a gaunt figure with vivid blue eyes stared out suspiciously. For a moment his breath caught. God, it was like staring straight into Maddie’s eyes. Her father had aged even in the short time since Blake had seen him last, though. Ben was right. Warren was ill.
When Blake didn’t speak, Warren cleared his throat.
“Cat got your tongue, son?”
“Sir? Warren?”
The man nodded once, his face not giving anything away. God, he looked worse than whatever the cat d**g in. “You’re back. Did Maddie Jane put you up to this?”
He may look like crap but his tongue still had the sting of a viper.
Warren scowled. “Well she didn’t waste any time, did she? Circling like sharks. I’m not dead yet for chrissakes.”
“Sir?”
“Well don’t just stand there like a ninny. May as well have a cup of coffee.” Warren turned and left Blake standing.
He guessed he was making progress. Last time Warren had kicked him off the front porch and told him that he’d shoot him if he ever stepped foot on the property again.
He followed Warren into the house. Except for several pictures of Maddie at various ages, nothing adorned the walls and the furniture had seen better days. Clearly the home had missed a woman’s touch for many years. His heart twisted. Surely this wasn’t where Maddie had spent her childhood?
Warren grabbed a metal pot of coffee off the stove and poured. But his hand shook when it hovered over Blake’s mug. Ben wasn’t kidding about Warren’s condition. Blake had never seen the man look so frail.
“Sit.” Warren motioned to the Formica table in the corner with his head. “You think showing me your plans is going to convince me? The only thing those plans are good for is kindling.”
Shit. He’d gone about this all wrong. Maddie had told him not to meet Warren head-on. And what had he done?
He’d come over here with the idea of treating Warren like a potential investor bringing the plans for the hunting lodge he’d had drawn up. He should have known better. He did know better, but he hadn’t listened. Instead, he’d rushed over, letting his emotions rule his head.
He nodded, pushing down the flames of shame that licked up at him. He would not let this man shame him. Hell, Warren had stolen the property from his father. Shame sparked to anger, and he forced himself to let it dissipate by taking a long sip of his coffee. He hid a grimace. It wasn’t as good as his. Not by a longshot.
He slowly set the mug down and looked Warren square in the eye. Sweat beaded across his upper lip. Was that a tell? Was Warren nervous? The kitchen didn’t feel very hot.
“With all due respect, sir. We’re talking about property you stole from my father.”
“Jake tell you that?” he growled. “Jake owed me a lot more than that property, son. I accepted it as p*****t fair and square.”
“You knew he had a problem.”
“Everyone knew he had a problem. The only person who refused to see it was Jake.”
Anger blazed in Blake’s gut, and pressed his hands into the cool Formica in an effort to remain calm. Warren raised his hand and cut him off before he could speak.
“Why are you here?”
Blake swallowed. Hell, he might as well cut to the chase. This conversation was going to the shitter like the previous ones.
“I heard you haven’t been well.” He paused, studying Warren’s face for any type of reaction. There was none, but those blue eyes pierced him. Longing for Maddie stabbed through him. He pushed his feelings aside, willing himself back to the conversation. “Rumor has it you might be…” He stopped suddenly, unsure of how to continue. Warren looked like s**t, and having this discussion felt predatory.
“Spit it out, son.” Warren’s voice fell heavy between them.
“Aw, hell.” He scraped his fingers over his day old stubble. “We heard you might be selling… I wanted to make an offer.”
Warren’s mouth pressed into a thin line and his eyes flashed. Anger, resignation, something else. Pain? Something about this whole encounter felt off.
“Why in tarnation would I sell to you? You’re a Sinclaire.”
Blake refused to take the bait. “You know that land was ours before you stole–”
“Won it.”
“Fine.” Blake straightened in his chair. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“Why should I?” Warren glared. “Nothing worth fighting for is easy, son. Especially matters of the heart.”
“You think that’s what this is? A matter of the heart?”
“If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t care two hoots.”
Well damn if he didn’t have a point. This land had been in his family since the 1850s. At some point along the way, the Hansens and the Sinclaires had a falling out. Repeatedly, as the wounds got passed down the generations. But he’d be damned if he’d let a developer come in and take what was rightfully theirs. As much as it galled him, he’d rather the Hansens have the land than a stranger. At least they had an understanding.
Speculation flashed across Warren’s eyes. Instantly, his guard came up. Years of negotiating experience indicated Warren was ready to pounce.
“Tell me about yourself, son.”
Why was he abruptly changing the subject? s**t. He should have listened to Maddie instead of riding over here, plans in hand, like this would be a done deal. He’d been foolish and headstrong. Fine. He could play this game too. Answer the question with a question.
“You have an MBA, sir?”
Warren sat back and laughed. “Ha. Don’t need no business degree, when I’ve got the smarts up here.” He tapped his temple.
Blake nodded. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
Warren’s eyes narrowed. “Who says you aren’t?”
He was going to be a tough nut to c***k.
Blake took another sip of his coffee, his mind racing. What was Warren after?
“I see you’re not married.”
“Haven’t met the right person.” Not that it would matter if he had. He wasn’t marriage material. Not with his burdens.
“You should be.”
“Huh?” He c****d his head, not following.
“Married. You should be married. You’re hell bent on getting back Sinclaire property but who you gonna give it to?” Warren pinned him with eyes that he seriously needed to stop looking at. This was not the time to be thinking about Maddie.
He shrugged. “My brothers’ children. They’ll get married someday.”
“How old are you, son?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Just how much longer are you gonna wait until someday?”
Warren’s uncanny ability to push his buttons reminded him too strongly of another Hansen. The urge to fidget in his chair rushed through him. But Warren was a Texas Hold ’em player. If he so much as twitched, he’d give something away. Just like she told you.
“What exactly does this have to do with the property, sir?”
“You’re the first born, aren’t you?”
Blake nodded curtly, tired of the questions.
Warren chuckled to himself, then caught his breath, wincing. “Know how I know? You’re jus’ like your father.”
He stiffened, fisting his hand. Like hell he was like his father. Jacob Sinclaire was an SOB who’d drunk himself to death and had given away five hundred acres of family history and God knew what else to hide it.
He opened his mouth to object, but Warren raised his hand. “Jake knew when he’d been beat. He might not like it, but when you’re a gambler, you learn when to take your winnings away from the table.” He leaned forward, a wild, hungry light in his eyes. “You want the property, don’t you? You can taste it.” He paused, a bead of sweat glistening above his lip. “You’ve wanted it back your whole life. And you’re not so proud you refuse to come in person and ask. Repeatedly. I like that about you.”
Blake’s mouth went dry. His senses were on high alert zinging danger signals at him left and right.
“You even came here with a plan.” Warren’s eyes glittered shrewdly. “Now, if I was a betting man, and sometimes I am, I’d bet you put the cart before the horse and have plans to build because you’re convinced someday you’ll wear me down and you’ll get your land back.
Jesus. How in the hell had Warren Hansen just gotten inside his head?
“I’d also bet you’d site it down by your old homestead. That’s where I’d build something.” Warren’s hard stare sliced right through him. “See, you’re too much of a gentleman to build on this side of the creek. You’d stay on the old family dividing line in case I changed my mind, because there’s no way in hell you’d let a house fall into Hansen hands.”
The guy was half-cracked. Whatever meds they were pumping into him had knocked a screw loose. Blake could feel a noose tightening around his neck and he was powerless to stop it. All of his negotiation training had gone out the window. It was like he was seventeen again, arguing with his father. He stood.
When losing a deal, change the dynamic in the room. Warren stood too, and grabbed the pot from the stove, refilling Blake’s mug without asking. And even though his hand shook like an old woman, he reasserted his control of the conversation. Damn, Warren was good. Although clearly not well. Whatever ill feelings he harbored toward the man, Blake couldn’t deny he was tough as nails.
“Love costs, son.”
“Sir?”
Warren leaned his hip back on the counter, looking grayer by the second, sizing Blake up.
“Build your house.” Warren waved at the roll of plans still sitting on the table. “We can work out the p*****t details another day, but before you break ground, before I sign anything…”
The silence stretched between them.
Warren smiled slyly. Like a cat about to wolf down its prey.
Damn.
He’d done it. Whatever his tell was, Warren had figured it out and used it against him. He was going to go to the devil. He’d been set up and played for a fool. The trap door opened and the noose snapped around his neck.
“Marry my daughter.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. My daughter is in need of a husband.”
He stared at the old man, slack jawed. Was Warren treating his daughter, his precious daughter, if the number of pictures were any indication, like a piece of livestock?
A lightbulb went off in his head. Find his pinch point and use it.
Well hell and damnation. Was Warren’s pinch point Maddie? That was a fine turn of events. He’d always said he’d do whatever it took to reclaim his property. But would he make a deal with the Devil to get his property back?
He had to get his land back, no matter what the cost. For the future Sinclaires. Ben and Brodie were bound to settle down soon. He’d give the land to the first one of them to marry and have a family. Then it would stay Sinclaire land forever.
Maddie Hansen was the hottest thing he’d ever met. No doubt about it. She drove him crazy with need. But what would she have to say about this? He couldn’t see any possible scenario where she’d believe marrying him was a good idea. In fact, if their previous encounter had been any indicator, she’d kick his a*s into next week if she learned about this conversation.
“Uh… Have you spoken to Maddie about this?”
Warren paused, grimacing. “Pah. That girl wouldn’t know the right thing for her if it was a rattlesnake on a pile of laundry.”
“I doubt that very–”
Warren gasped audibly, his eyes bulging out, mouth open.
“s**t. You okay, Sir?”
Warren gasped again, eyes rolling back, clutching the counter as his knees gave out. OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod. Blake stepped forward to catch him as he pitched forward. Christ almighty. Warren Hansen was going to die in his arms. What would Maddie say then?
- Writer
