Page 6 of A Shared Mind

I pulled on my suit coat and straightened my tie before heading to the waiting room. When I opened the door, I did a double take. Alone in the room was a very attractive man in a pair of dark jeans and a gray western shirt with white pearl snaps down the front and on the chest pockets. The black cowboy boots on his feet and the black felt hat resting on the chair next to him had me tongue tied.

Holy fuck! He was something out of a damn western movie!

My throat seized, making my greeting stick in my throat, so I cleared it. “Pardon me, Mr. Fines. I’m Justin Watkins. How do you do?”

He stood from his chair and grinned, walking closer to me with his hand extended to shake. “Clay Fines. Nice to meet you.”

We shook hands and I held the door for him. “Please, call me Justin. We’re set up in a conference room back here. Mr. Korr didn’t have time to give me much information about your financial goals, so let’s sit down and discuss them, shall we?”

I guided him to the conference room and closed the door. We sat at the small glass-topped table, and Mr. Fines hung his cowboy hat on the back of the chair to his right.

“Can I get you some coffee?”

Mr. Korr, the owner and president of Korr Financial Services, had referred the man to me because Korr had a family emergency out of town. I wasn’t sure if Mr. Fines would still be my client when Mr. Korr returned to the office, but if he wasn’t, I’d make sure I had a detailed picture of Mr. Fines’ financial goals for Mr. Korr to pursue.

“Uh, no, but thanks. I drank enough coffee on the way here to drown a dog. The lady who came to tell me you were on the phone got me a bottle of water. Steve—uh, Mr. Korr—said it was okay if I brought you pictures of my financial documents instead of making copies. Is that right?”

Mr. Fines pulled his phone from the pocket of his western shirt and unlocked it, scrolling for a moment before turning the device toward me. I saw pictures of his financial documents on the tiny screen.

I smiled at the man. “Oh, uh, that’s great. May I send these to my assistant so she can make them a little clearer and print them? It’ll be easier to see the numbers if the documents are more focused.”

“Sure,” Mr. Fines answered before he propped his elbows on the armrests and scanned the very bland, beige conference room with the glass top table and mahogany credenza that held supplies. A black coffee carafe was sitting on a tray with four beige coffee mugs, a small pitcher of cream, and a sugar bowl. It was all very mundane and boring as hell.

I quickly sent the ten documents from his phone to my phone before forwarding them to Viviana. I returned his phone and pulled out the information Mr. Korr had provided for me, along with a pad of paper to make notes.

“Okay, Mr. Fines. Should we get started? I see that you inherited a thousand acres of land with two houses and six outbuildings. Will you tell me about your property?”

He’s good looking, isn’t he? You oughta take him out for dinner and see if you can get into his pants. I mean, that’s what you want, right? You still never said if you’re a pitcher or a catcher, you know.

Holy shit. Not again! Shut the fuck up. Stop saying things.

Mr. Fines’ mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear anything he was saying because of the voice in my head. I thought that fucking voice was gone, but no. It was back, right in the middle of a client meeting when I needed it the least.

I snapped out of my fog in time to hear Mr. Fines say, “The land was passed down from my great-grandfather to my grandfather and then my father after them. Now it’s mine. For generations, we’ve grown corn, sorghum, and hay on the farm. I rotate the crops like my forefathers did. We don’t want to degrade the soil to the point that it won’t produce crops any longer. That’s always a danger in our business.”

I nodded. “I’m sure it is. Where’s your place located?” I asked.

“Sterling City. It’s about eighty miles northeast of here. Not much of a town, but it’s where the farm is located, so...” His smile was dazzling, highlighting his strong jaw and those incredible eyes.

His skin was still tanned from the summer sun, probably spending a lot of time riding a big green tracker to plow his land. His biceps looked as though they could rip through his dress shirt sleeves. I had to reach up to be sure my mouth wasn’t hanging open.

Damn. This man? He was straight out of a fantasy I’d had more than once.

“Uh, Mr. Watkins. Did I say something to upset you?”

I swallowed again. “No, no. Something just occurred to me. Will you excuse me while I get my laptop to take better notes?”

Getting the hell out of that closed conference room where his scent was making my head spin was job one. I didn’t wait for an answer, and I nearly mowed down Viviana when I opened the door and rushed into the hallway.

“Justin?” I turned to see Eve staring at me as if I was nuts.

“Oh, god. Help me,” I gasped.

Eve took my hand and dragged me into her office. “What the hell is going on? You’re white as a sheet, Justin.”

“I’m with a client. He’s...” The words weren’t forming fast enough.

“Did he threaten you or something? I’ll kick his fucking ass.” Eve’s voice carried and she had the office next to me just down the hall from the conference room.