The Patriot A Small Town Romance - Jennifer Millikin Page 0,30
why would I listen? I’m not a child. I don’t need to follow directions just because I’ve been told to.
I went to investigate, to make sure Wes was okay. The way he acted when he saw the old truck parked outside the low, long building told me there was a problem.
And then I fell into Dixon’s pockmarked arms. He smelled foul, like body odor and chew. He grabbed me, and that’s when Wes lost it.
The violence frightened me, but his command of the situation was undeniably attractive. Wes feels… safe. But there’s no denying there’s something inside of him, something raw and untamed.
My mind is still turning over the conundrum that is Wes when I pull up to Ashley’s house.
It’s a low-slung house with a gigantic, mature tree in the center of the front yard. It’s old, but well-maintained. Trimmed hedges line the front, and a porch swing dangles from two hooks in the ceiling.
I check my reflection in the rearview mirror and get out of the car. Ashley answers almost right away.
“Hi there.” She grins, pulling me inside by my forearm.
Her demeanor is much nicer than it was when I interrupted her manicure. She leads me into the living room, and when I spot the folding table covered in bottles of wine and booze with mixers, I understand why she’s more welcoming to me.
“Everyone, this is Dakota,” Ashley trills, pointing at me. “Dakota, this is everyone.”
I look into the nine or ten faces of women seated on couches and mismatched chairs that have probably been hauled in from other parts of the house. Waving at them, I say, “Thanks for having me tonight.”
“Dakota is here for some research,” Ashley tells the group as she refills a glass of white wine. “She’s building property on the edge of town and wants to know what we’d like to see built.”
“I’m one of a few companies looking to buy property that’s for sale,” I clarify. “It’s not a for sure thing, but I’ve told the seller I’ll bring them some ideas for what I’d put on the land. They don’t want to see it made into a strip mall filled with chain stores, and I agree with their opinion.” I look out at the woman and spot Stacia among them. With a small smile and a nod in her direction, I ask, “So please feel free to share with me your thoughts on how you’d like to see the land developed.”
They all start talking at once. There are suddenly so many voices filling the small room, it’s like taking the lid off a stockpot of boiling water.
One woman wants to see an equestrian center.
Another would love a nature conservatory.
Someone else mentions tourism, which gets me thinking. Tourism brings money and creates jobs. The weather in the Verde Valley, where Sierra Grande sits around other small towns, is fairly consistent all year long. I know because the dear old internet told me so.
Suggestions fly at me at warp speed, and I write them all down on the small notebook I pulled from my purse, but my mind is stuck on the tourism idea.
Book club begins, and it’s not a book I’ve read, which isn’t a problem because I’m busy mentally sifting through ideas.
When the book has been discussed, and the ladies are all two or three drinks deep, the gossip begins. And the first topic is, shockingly, me.
“So.” One woman, Sarah, turns and casts a curious look at me. “A little birdie told me Wes Hayden was in town with a beautiful young woman today. Any chance that woman was you?”
I give her a teasing look. “Are you calling me beautiful?”
She snorts with laughter. “I suppose. So? Was it you? Is someone finally going to tame that wild stallion?”
“It’s Hayden land that’s for sale, Sarah,” a woman across the circle speaks up. “My husband told me so.”
They all look to me and I nod my confirmation. “He was showing me the land this morning, and we came into town so I could meet Stacia and ultimately end up here tonight with all of you.”
“Sounds to me like a romance novel,” another woman crows, and two other ladies laugh. “Next you’ll be knocking boots.”
We already have.
I keep the thought to myself and laugh along with them. “You have very active imaginations.”
“My daughter went to high school with him,” the woman besides Stacia says. “She says he was crazy and fun back then, the life of the party. She tried to reconnect with him when