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So she's going to make him see that she's serious about this. She's not just some girl, playing business-woman. That's what Brad thinks. That's what half the men she meets think. They take one look at her, barely five-two, only a hundred and five pounds on mornings when she's feeling a little bloated.
And they see her like a five-year-old boy who's trying on his daddy's suit.
Well, that's a load of shit, and plenty of men have learned their lessons much too late. Philip Callahan looks like a smart guy. A guy who can figure out which way the wind is blowing without too much trouble.
She would hate to see Lowe Industrial blow him over, just because he decided he couldn't make a deal with a woman, just because she was a woman, or just because she was younger than him.
But if that was what it came down to, then that would be what she did.
She takes a breath and holds it as she hefts up a rail and slots it into the post. Callahan slots it into the other side. She picks up the
second rail and slots it in as well. Callahan slots it and drops the post into the hole.
Then they move onto the next one. It's just the same procedure. Deep breath, lift, slot. Over and over again. She's got plenty of time to breathe, plenty of time to think, and plenty of time to know that no matter what happens, she's not letting this property get away from her.
The first step to making a deal is knowing which way the wind is blowing. The second step is knowing what the other guy wants.
That's where she's running into trouble. Phil Callahan is proving to be a difficult man to understand, because as far as she can tell, he doesn't want a whole hell of a lot of anything. What he wants, as far as she can tell, is to get this fence built.
It's a shame that he's putting so much effort into it, too. Because in the end, all of this land is going to belong to her, and in spite of all the work she's doing now, she's not going to shed a tear when she has to rip these posts up and have them carted off.
Because that's business, and this is just what she needs to do to get her business done. Simple as that.
Chapter Five
Philip Callahan gets up early, same as he does every day. But today, he's actually got to get dressed for something, which is a surprise. It's not even a Sunday.
She made it sound like he would be doing her some big God damn favor. Well, if it's a favor then he'll do it. But there's no reason to think that it'll change his mind, in any case.
Miss Lowe—the fact that she's unmarried throws a monkey-wrench in everything, because now she's not only young and attractive and everything that Callahan doesn't need in his life. Now, in addition to all of that, she's available, to boot.
Miss Lowe seemed to have some very confused ideas about why he was there. Sure, it was about the money. If he didn't keep things going there, then he would be having all kinds of trouble.
He'd have to pay the property taxes somehow. He'd have to buy food somehow. And all of that just expanded out into, he needed the ranch to be in business in order to stay there.
But that wasn't why he was there. He was there because he wanted to stay. Because every part of his life, old and new, lived in that house. The ranch around it, well, he needed something to do.
He slips into the truck and waits for the boys to show up. How much work they're going to do with him away is debatable. But that's already factored into the plan. He's not planning on them doing a whole hell of a lot if he's not there to follow behind and check on them.
"Everything alright, boss?"
Their truck pulls up next to him, and the middle-boy, Michael, has his head out the passenger-side window. He looks almost concerned, the poor boy.
"Yeah. Going out for a bit."
"You want us to keep digging those post holes?"
Philip's eyes shoot wide open, and he makes a face as if the idea had just occurred to him for the first time. "Hey, good idea! Why don't you do that? Don't kill yourselves. I'll be back in a few hours."
He slips the car into reverse and before he knows it, Phil Callahan's on the highway, headed out to some factory in the middle of nowhere.
Some property where someone used to have a ranch, just like his. Somewhere where someone had put down roots. Now those roots had been dug up, and in its place they were putting a big concrete pre-fabricated building with a parking lot all around it.
What the hell kind of trade was that? Not the kind that he'd make himself. Not in a million years.
But if she wanted to make it out like he was doing her a favor, then fine. He'd do her a favor and come out to look at the job site.
Callahan was pulling into the site twenty minutes later. A dozen identical white trucks are parked all in a line, all of them with "Lowe Industrial" decals on the doors.
