Tailored for Trouble (Happy Pants #1) - Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page 0,96
hair, wearing a threadbare shirt, sat at the table.
Bennett said something to the man in his native tongue. Taylor had no idea Bennett spoke Balinese. Then again, there was a lot she didn’t know about this man. A lot. In fact, at this point, she’d come to expect nothing but surprises from this man. He’s like a really awesome onion that doesn’t stink.
Taylor made a polite nod at the man who smiled and flashed a set of incomplete teeth.
“So, what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to put everything together.
“I’ve just purchased this man’s land.”
“Okay. And what do you plan to do with it?” she asked.
Bennett smiled and held out his hand. “Come with me.” He looked at the man and mumbled a few odd words. She guessed Bennett was saying goodbye or that he’d be back soon.
She followed him out to the other Land Rover and got inside. Mud was everywhere.
“Sorry about the mess,” Bennett said, “but I had a flat tire earlier. It’s a little wet today.”
Another surprise. Bennett Wade changed his own flat tires. In the rain and mud.
“So what do you want to show me?” she asked, feeling anxious.
“You’ll see.” He cranked the engine and turned the vehicle around, down the road they’d come, waving at Wayan as they passed. But before they made it back to the paved road, Bennett took a right turn down something that looked like an overgrown walking trail. The branches of the trees slapped at the windows, and the rain began coming down in a heavy sheet.
“How can you see where you’re driving?” she asked.
“I know these roads like the back of my hand. I grew up here,” he said.
“The driver last night mentioned that. How come you never said anything?”
“It’s not something I discuss,” he replied.
“Are you going to tell me why?”
“Yes. In a moment,” he replied, ominously.
Taylor’s nerves amped up. He was about to drop a major bomb, wasn’t he?
He turned the vehicle sharply and they began to climb a steep embankment. The tires slipped and spun in the mud, but Bennett knew exactly how to work the steering wheel and gears to keep them from getting stuck.
The car caught a rock or something and jumped forward. She yelped.
Bennett laughed. “I promise, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got a satellite phone if we get stuck.”
“What if we roll?”
He thumped his hand on the roof. “This is a real Land Rover, the kind they use to cross the Serengeti. Not a soccer mom wagon.”
Oh. She hadn’t known there was a difference.
The engine groaned up the last few meters of the steep, muddy road, and then they turned down what looked like another hiking trail.
Then the road just stopped and so did Bennett.
“We’re here. Are you ready?” he said, and turned off the engine. His jaw pulsed with tension.
Taylor wasn’t sure. This was all really strange. “Uh. Yeah. I guess?”
He got out of the vehicle, so she hopped out on her side, stepping right into a soupy brown puddle. At this point, not getting dirty was a lost cause. Her feet, ankles, and calves were completely covered in muck.
She met Bennett at the front of the car, and he took her hand, leading her down a slip of a path between two trees. Just on the other side, the trail dropped off into a steep cliff.
“Wow,” she said. The view was amazing, miles and miles of green pastures and rolling lush jungle. Off in the distance, maybe three or so miles away, the dull blue of the ocean reflected the gray sky above. She imagined on a sunny day how all of this would look: Like a blanket of emerald green, surrounded by a halo of sapphire blue.
“It’s gorgeous, but what is this place?” she asked.
He looked out across the land and put his hand on his waist. “It’s me making things right.”
“I’m not following.”
“I know. And I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you that won’t make you think less of me, but I keep hitting the same damned wall. Over and over again.”
She reached for his arm. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise it won’t change how I feel.”
“This might.”
He sounded so sure that he made her doubt herself. “O—okay. Try me then,” she said.
He rubbed his scruffy jaw, mulling something over in his mind for several moments before he let out a big whoosh. “When I was eighteen, I helped my father take the land from the people who