Page 4 of The Boss

"Thank you."

Fuck. The way she keeps biting that plush bottom lip is driving me insane.

Then I remember. "Did you say you needed to test something out on this property?"

Her delicate skin pales. "Um, I'm supposed to be asking if there's anything toxic out here. Chemicals, pesticides, things like that."

I release a long sigh. "Pretty sure there's more to it than that. It'll be easier if you just tell me everything. I swear I won't get mad at you. "

She blinks quickly. If this beautiful girl begins to cry, I think my heart might shatter.

“It’s just… Nobody in town knows what goes on here at your ranch. Uncle David doesn't want to invest a pile of money if it's anything illegal or environmentally unsound. Basically, he can't spend millions and then have someone discover the next-door neighbor is…you know. Your basic PR nightmare."

My deep chuckle lowers her shoulders at least half an inch. "Nothing toxic, for sure. Not with the animals and gardens and small crops." I scratch the back of my head. "Wait – last year there was a pretty bad ant problem in the garage. I think Smoky used some bug spray on it. Is that the kind of thing to scare off your uncle?"

She laughs lightly. Such a sweet sound that makes me want to wrap my arms around her and never let go. "I don't think bug spray will contaminate the neighboring land."

"Wait. You said the Jensen farm." My eyebrow lifts. "Why would he be selling?"

She shrugs. Her lips press together.

I tap my elbow into hers. "Come on, now. We're old friends by now. You can tell me."

Etta rolls her eyes, smirking. "Okay, but if anyone asks, you dragged it out of me."

I nod. "Of course. I'm a terrible, terrible man."

"Well… Apparently Jensen's wife has been ill, his sons are still in school, and he's behind on his mortgage payments. My uncle figures if Jensen defaults on the loan entirely, they can swoop in and scoop it up."

She must catch the brief flash of rage that flares in my eye. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she sputters. "I have nothing to do with this."

"I know." I take a deep, slow breath. "I'm not going to shoot the messenger. I just hate it when rich assholes take advantage of honest folk when they're behind the eight ball."

I check my phone and see that the signal has returned.

Holding up a finger to Etta, I make a call. In the quiet, I'm sure she can hear both sides of the conversation.

"Hey, Boss. Some storm, hey?"

"Sure was, Shane. Sorry, I'm in a hurry. I need a favor."

"For my favorite client? Of course."

"I may have just caught word that the Jensens are behind on their mortgage."

There are a few seconds of silence. "You know I can't comment on another client’s situation."

"I realize that. Listen, however much it is, I'm paying off their mortgage. Right now. Just take it from my main account.”

Etta’s eyes are huge as I hold out the phone so she can hear Shane sputter. "Boss, you've always been beyond generous with the people of this town. Everybody appreciates it. But this could be a lot. Are you sure?"

"Very sure. And listen." I raise an eyebrow to Etta. "If there are any other farmers or landowners in a radius of, say, fifty miles who are behind on their mortgage payments, come to me before your bank forecloses on them. Got it?"

"Got it. Thank you. I'll send over the paperwork tomorrow."

"Thanks, Shane. Take care." I end the call, then force myself not to laugh at Etta's wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression.

"You just…just like that?" she whispers.