Markle had been relentlessly trying to buy the Shefield place since he moved in. According to Natalie, he’d emailed and called her with pitches that varied in nature from dire warnings about the state of the deterioration to offers far exceeding the value to downright threatening, saying he’d be turning her in for every type of county code violation imaginable.
Sure, the place needed updating. I paused in my walk, looked back at the house. It was two story with wood siding painted a forest green. It was faded in spots, and the white window sills and trim needed some scraping, but it was… homey. The roof was shot, the grass overgrown. It looked neglected, which it was. But it wasn’t dangerous or against county code. Hell, I didn’t think there were any regulations way out here. It all led to the fact that Jett Markle was most likely a dick. A retired hedge fund manager on paper but most likely a drug runner who wanted the extra land for some illegal purpose.
When I reached the end of my property line, I carefully pulled up the top string of barbed wire and set my boot on the lower one, then slid between them to emerge on his side.
A group of cows turned their heads to watch me approach, completely uninterested. Two were lying down in a small patch of shade near the fence line.
I breathed in the Montana air—the scent of wild grasses and dusty earth hit my nostrils. I’d thought I would hate being back in Montana, but it was strange—there was definitely a sense of “home.” A rightness or belonging, even after the nightmare of my childhood. I couldn’t hate an entire state for the wrongs of the Carp family. I’d stayed away long enough, but now… I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it. Like this was how outdoors should feel, with the hot sun on my face, the constant breeze, the verdant smell. It was like my body recognized it here over the places I’d been living the past ten years.
I was playing a part, but even the cowgirl boots and jeans felt right on my body. I wished I had the hat to go with the outfit. I made a mental note to buy myself a cowgirl hat at the seed and feed in town. I walked until I neared the ranch house, barn and stable—all new buildings in pristine condition. It made the Shefield place look like something out of a horror flick.
Two men stood near the stable, one of them speaking in a raised voice like he was giving the younger man a dressing down.
Markle. Even if I hadn’t spent the last six months investigating the hell out of the guy, I’d know him by the designer jeans and five thousand dollar Stetson that just looked stupid on him. He looked like a Hollywood cowboy. Not because he was good looking, which he was, but because he appeared to be in costume or playing dress-up. He might own a ranch, but he sure as hell wasn’t a rancher.
Not like the ones I’d been raised by anyway.
I strode up, and the older man broke off his tirade. Both men gaped at me in surprise.
“Afternoon, gentlemen.” I let my hips swing as I approached, and their gazes tracked the movement. When I reached them, I stuck my hand out to Markle. “I’m Natalie, your new neighbor. I wanted to stop by and introduce myself. We… uh, talked on the phone, but that’s not the same thing as seeing someone in person.” I took the moment to look Markle over, just as he did me. Blatantly, as if I liked what I saw. Dark hair, fake tan, chiseled jaw.
Markle’s dark eyebrow raised. Then he grinned, showing off perfect veneers. He was attractive. I wasn’t blind and could see women giving him a second look, especially with his vast amounts of money. But he hadn’t spoken yet. What was the saying? Light traveled faster than sound because some people seemed bright until you heard them speak.
“Yes, in person is a hell of a lot better.”
He waited a beat before reaching out to shake my hand. A gold Rolex flashed on his wrist. Definitely out of place on a rancher. He closed his fingers around mine and squeezed too hard. It was the kind of grip that made me want to shake my hand out afterward. Or maybe that was just because I didn’t like him.
I didn’t let it show, though. I stepped in a little closer and bent down to swat an imaginary bug off my leg, letting him get a view of my cleavage.
He coughed a little, like the sight disturbed his equilibrium. “Jett Markle.” He didn’t bother to introduce his ranch hand.
I turned my sweetest smile on the other man and stuck out my hand. “Hey, there. I’m Natalie.”