A Kiss to Seal the Deal / The Army Ranger's Return: A Kiss to Seal the Deal / The Army Ranger's Return

All she needed was a boat. And someone to sail it.

How hard could that be to find in a fishing community? First chance she got, she’d head into town and see who she could rustle up. Things were beginning to go her way again. Kate could feel rightness returning to the world.

‘So when do farming lessons begin?’

His voice was still tight but his body looked more relaxed than when he’d first entered. You’d have thought he was being escorted to the gallows. She’d given him one last chance to opt out if he was that reluctant to have her lab in his house—or maybe to help her project out, after all—but he hadn’t taken it. And, although he’d been painful about helping her move her stuff in, he was certainly applying himself and all those compounding muscles admirably to the task. Super-quick, in fact. Like he couldn’t wait to get out of here.

Kate sighed. It would be easy to trust him and believe that he had the Atlas colony’s interests at heart; that he was trying to offer a compromise that meant they both got what they needed. But at the end of the day that was navïely futile. No way could they both walk away from this situation equally happy. Grant was going through the motions out of courtesy, but everything in his manner said he couldn’t wait to be out of here. After the rocky start they’d had, courtesy was something, but just because she was starting to like the man didn’t mean it was mutual.

This was Leo all over again. Look how long it had taken him to warm to her—although once he had it had almost been like becoming family. When the McMurtrie men bonded, they really bonded.

Which was not something she should be thinking in Grant McMurtrie’s presence. Not when he stood between her and her nicely ordered world, her nicely ordered future.

So when should farming lessons begin—if at all?

‘Without the travelling time I should have a few hours each evening,’ she said carefully. Dinner. Conversation. The intricacies of sheep castration. Nice and neutral. ‘Could that work for you?’

‘Night school …’ Jade eyes considered her. ‘I like it. It’ll fill those long evenings.’

Right. Another subtle reminder that this was business to him. As it should be to her.

‘Would you mind if we postponed Friday night’s tutorials? I was hoping to go into Castleridge.’

His reply was immediate. ‘Into town? Sure. I’ll come in with you.’

That brought her head around. ‘Why?’

Charming lines furrowed his brow. ‘Uh …’

Kate smiled. ‘Getting used to the company, Grant?’

He slid one last box onto the work bench. ‘Maybe I’m looking for a better class of company.’

She would have been offended if she’d thought for a moment that was true. While she might not be the best reader of men on the planet, she did know sharp conversation when she found it, and her discussions with Grant so far had been diverse and free-flowing. Almost scintillating. Especially when you threw in the healthy dose of chemistry that zinged around between the words.

In between remembering they were on opposite sides of this awkward situation.

Her smile widened into a full tease. ‘Well, then, perhaps we’ll both get lucky in that regard.’

He muttered something she couldn’t hear but then decided she didn’t want to. She’d kid herself a little longer that there was a mini-friendship brewing here; she wouldn’t go bursting her own bubbles just yet. Life had a way of doing that for her—with terminal impact.

‘I’ll come along to keep you out of trouble with the locals. They might not take kindly to a conservationist in their territory.’

Kate grinned. Finally something they agreed on. ‘If there’s something I know all about, it’s territorial mammal behaviour. Especially the bulls.’ She kept her gaze innocent and open, but his narrowed eyes told her she wasn’t fooling anyone. ‘Do you think we’ll need some kind of secret signal if I get in trouble?’

‘No need,’ he assured her, a tasty twist to his full lips. ‘I’ll hear the sounds of the gallows being erected and come running.’

Kate bent for the final box of equipment. ‘To help them with the finishing touches?’

His gaze smoothly shifted from her back end to her face as she straightened. ‘That remains to be decided.’

She held a cupped hand to her ear and tipped her head towards the floor. ‘Why, I do believe that’s the sound of ice cracking in hell.’

His indulgent smile shouldn’t have been steamy, but it was. Somehow teasing Grant was turning into a specialty of hers, even when she didn’t mean to. How could it not be, with positive reinforcement like that? When she teased, he smiled. And those smiles were rewarding in a way she was only just beginning to understand.

‘The only thing cracking around here is my back under the weight of these boxes,’ he grumbled. ‘What’s in this stuff? Gold bullion?’

Kate paused a moment, deciding whether to let him retreat from their flirtatious exploration. But then reality came creeping back in and she realised that putting things back on a professional footing was not only wise but overdue.

Even if it was also a lot less fun.

Grant stood directly between her and her project. He was the man robbing her of the choices she’d worked so hard to assure, taking control out of her hands.

And no-one was doing that again.

No-one.

CHAPTER SIX

EVEN though they’d joked about the townsfolk stringing her up, Kate hadn’t actually believed it would happen. But here she was, metaphorically at least, being marched to the gallows by the fishing fraternity of Castleridge. She’d come to find a man with a boat. What she’d got was a whole lot more complicated.

‘Not a single hour free in the next month?’ She gaped. ‘Seriously?’

Joe Sampson was the fourth fisherman she’d tried. How could they all be busy?

‘Not for the sort of job you want.’

Oh, here we go. ‘You charter your vessel. Isn’t a job a job?’

‘Not around here, love. I can afford to pick and choose.’

Another person ripping options out from under her. ‘So why are you choosing to turn down my charter?’

Joe turned his grizzled face and his beer breath her way. The whites of his eyes were stained as yellow as his nicotine teeth. ‘I told ya. I’m busy.’

Kate narrowed her eyes and raised herself to her full height. She raised her voice, too. ‘Not too busy to find time to get drunk with your mates, I see.’

Two of those mates laughed, booming, gusty guffaws; Joe Sampson turned and glared at them. When he came back to her, his eyes were sharp like a fox. ‘That’s right, love, I like a drink. The last sort of person you want driving you up the coast.’

She’d heard that about him. She planted her fists on her hips and glared at him. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’

His friends burst into fits of laughter again, one of them coughing and spluttering with the effort. Kate distantly wondered whether he’d ever tried kombucha for his lungs.

Out of nowhere, a steely hand closed around her upper arm and pulled her away from the fuming Joe Sampson. ‘Kate,’ a familiar, velvety voice said. ‘Sorry I’m so late, got a call from the city. Let’s get our table, shall we?’

The words triggered a delicious tingling through her body. She spun around to face Grant. Table? What was he doing here?

‘She’s a guest on your land, McMurtrie,’ the old fella wheezed. ‘And it’s out of respect for your father that I haven’t told her exactly what she can do with her request to charter my vessel.’

‘Joe …’

Grant and the bar manager spoke at the same time but the older man wasn’t deterred. ‘Leo might’ve gotten himself all addled by a piece of city skirt, but not everyone is as easily swayed as he was.’

Kate spun around again, not sure which insult boiled her blood more. ‘Easily swayed? Had you met Leo McMurtrie?’

Joe finally put down his beer, ready for a battle. ‘I grew up with him, love.’

Then something else hit her. ‘And I am not a piece of city skirt. I grew up in a town smaller than this one.’

‘Good for you,’ Joe snapped. ‘Why don’t you head back there? Your kind is not wanted here.’

Even his own mates stepped in then, taking Joe’s beer from the bar and moving away from their seats as if he’d follow, pied-piper style. They underestimated him.

She straightened to her full height. ‘Is that so?’

‘Kate …’

Grant’s warning was warm against her ear but she was too far gone to care. She ignored his plea and shot back at Joe. ‘And what kind is that, exactly?’

The whole bar stopped to listen. People peered in from the dining area next door.

‘You greenie mob. More interested in saving a bunch of thieving sea-dogs than the lives and livelihoods of the people living here.’

Grant’s hand tightened further on her upper arm. He slipped his body closer to hers and tried to nudge her away from the bar with it.

Kate leaned around him. ‘Those sea-dogs have more right to be here than you do. They’ve been fishing here for millennia.’

‘Rubbish! I’ve been around a lot longer than you have, love, and there were hardly any when I was a boy. Just those few out on the McMurtrie farm.’

‘That’s because morons like you hunted them nearly to extinction. They’re only just now getting back to—’

‘Kate! Enough.’ Grant physically pushed his way between the two opponents and forced her back a step.

‘Get out of my way.’ Her verbal warning was for Grant, but her narrowed gaze and her furious attention were all for the ageing fisherman at the bar. Although not so much she didn’t feel the strength of Grant’s body pushing back against hers.

He dropped his head low against her jaw and whispered warm against her skin, ‘Don’t do this, Kate. You’re not going to do yourself any favours.’

Behind him Joe Sampson snorted. ‘Oh, not another bloody McMurtrie man addled by a nice pair of legs,’ he sneered, before turning back to the bar and speaking too loudly to be to himself. ‘Or what’s between them.’

Grant spun faster than Kate could blink and his body was hard up against Joe’s. Both the old man’s friends stepped in, hands raised, to head off the conflict. Joe stumbled backwards off his chair and looked every year of his considerable age.

Grant caught him and held him with the steeliest grip Kate had ever seen. ‘Apologise.’ His voice was low and hard, and she got her first inkling of what he might be like as a boardroom opponent.

‘I’m not apologising to no city skirt.’

Grant shook the older man and spoke low and hard. ‘I’m not talking about Kate. She can look after herself. Apologise for what you implied about my father.’

Kate held her breath. So did the rest of the pub.

Joe Sampson eventually dropped his gaze from Grant’s. ‘Yeah, all right. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, I s’pose.’

Kate stepped up behind Grant and put her hand gently on his back, moral support, for what it was worth. He didn’t even notice. Furious heat radiated through his shirt.

‘My father negotiated access with Kate’s team. As was his right on his land. Nothing more.’

‘That we know of,’ Joe threw out stupidly.

Grant’s whole body tensed but one of Joe’s mates stepped into the simmering tension. John Pickering, the one with the bushy beard. ‘Look, I’ll take her out. I don’t mind,’ he said.

Joe turned on his mate. ‘Traitor!’

‘Let it go, Joe. What’s one boat trip to keep the peace?’ Pickering looked past Grant at Kate. ‘This has gone far enough. Take this as my way of saying sorry for not stopping it sooner. I’ll take you out tomorrow afternoon if that suits. Half price.’

Kate just nodded dumbly. The bearded man matched it and then steered the belligerent Joe Sampson away from her. Grant straightened up but didn’t turn back to her. He spoke quietly to the bar manager over the counter, who nodded and then wandered off to wipe down a surface at the far end of the bar.

Kate stared pointedly at Grant’s back. Eventually, he turned and faced her. She lifted both eyebrows.

To his credit, he didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. ‘You would have made things so much worse.’

‘You were right when you said I can look after myself. I don’t need your help.’

‘Kate, you were warming up to a bar fight. With one of Castleridge’s longest-standing residents.’

‘He’s an idiot.’

‘Moron I think was your professional estimation.’

Smiling now would be a mistake, but Grant with his super-solemn face was hard to take seriously. Her lips twitched.

‘I’m serious, Kate. You could have ruined everything you’ve worked for.’

‘By having a vigorous discussion on a subject I can argue convincingly in a room full of potential allies?’

He stopped and stared at her. ‘You did it on purpose?’

‘Not stir up Joe Sampson—although I’m glad I’m not getting on a boat alone with him now that I know what a misogynist he is. But it wouldn’t hurt if word began to spread in town that the seals aren’t threatening human fish-stocks.’

Green eyes blazed. ‘You actually think that’s a good idea?’

Whose side was he on? Oh, wait … stupid question. ‘Why are you here?’ she asked irritably.

‘I told you I’d come if I heard the sounds of scaffolding being erected.’

‘From the other room? You were supposed to be at the movies.’

‘A man’s got to eat.’

‘Dine alone often, do you?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s Friday night. Always someone to meet.’

He looked entirely innocent. If he was lying, he was good at it. ‘There really is a table?’

‘There was. If you haven’t got us banned.’

Kate smiled and followed him into the dining hall. All eyes were on them, which barely registered, because her eyes were entirely on Grant.

Kate can look after herself.

Uncertainty nibbled. On one hand, it was enormously validating to have someone like Grant McMurtrie display such confidence in her ability to handle herself, after years of being talked down to as a pretty, young woman in the male-dominated scientific community. But, on the other hand, feeling Grant’s hard body slide in between her and danger had generated a heady, primitive kind of rush, and the tingles it caused were still resonating. Kate stared at the back of those broad shoulders crossing the dining room and remembered how they’d shielded her from Joe Sampson.

She smiled. Or perhaps protected Joe from her.

‘Table for two?’ A tall, toothy waitress appeared from nowhere with two menus. She gave Kate an approving wink before placing the menus on a neatly laid table and parting on, ‘Hope the company’s more agreeable in here.’

It couldn’t be hard. Still, for all the drama, at least she was walking away with a boat and someone to captain it. So something positive had come from the evening.

A few moments later they were settled and seated and everyone in the bar had gone back to minding their own business. Mostly. Kate could feel Joe Sampson’s malevolent stare on her back from across the adjoining bar-room. Her heart slowly got back to its normal rhythm.

‘So, you weren’t kidding about being farming blood. You’re a country girl,’ Grant said by way of a conversation-starter.

Kate looked up. ‘Sunbrook. We ran dairy, mostly, but had sheep and some alpacas.’

‘What happened to the stock when you moved to the city?’

‘Sold, apparently.’

‘Apparently?’

Her hands tightened under the table. ‘I never asked. I never wanted to know. Two of those alpacas were like pets to me.’

Grant shook his head. ‘And no-one asked your permission? Asked you what you wanted?’

Defensiveness surged through her for the people who’d been left with the awful task of sorting out her life. The people who’d done their best. But deep down she knew that Grant only voiced the same question she’d had her entire adult life. How hard would it have been to ask her what she needed?

She shrugged and studied the menu. ‘I was twelve. What was I going to say? There was no way Aunt Nancy would have moved onto the farm, so what choice did I have?’

Conversation stalled while they ordered meals and their drinks arrived—a tall beer for Grant and a wine and soda for Kate.

‘It’s funny,’ he finally said, breaking the silence. ‘While I was doing everything I could to get out of this place, you would have given your life to go back to your farm.’

Kate sipped carefully then lowered her glass. ‘I still would.’

‘Did you ever go back?’

She’d driven south especially to see it a few years back but, even with the shielding of time past, it hurt too much. ‘Only once. I couldn’t bear to see someone else’s children climbing my trees. Someone else’s washing on Mum’s line.’ Her voice cracked slightly and she took another sip. He hadn’t touched his beer; his attention was completely on her.

‘What did you do with the money?’

‘Most of it went back to the bank to pay off the agricultural loan. Some of it went to Nancy for taking me in. What little was left I got when I was eighteen. I used it as a down payment on my apartment.’ She folded her hands on the table and leaned towards him. ‘Grant, why are you selling Tulloquay? I completely understand your desire to keep it in one piece, but why sell it at all? Why not lease it, or get a caretaker in? Keep it in your family?’

His lips thinned. ‘What family?’

That was right; he had as little as she did now that his father was gone. ‘Your future family. Someone should look after it. Until you need it.’

‘Angling for a new job, Kate?’

She didn’t laugh. ‘No. But I would give anything for a chance to come back to country living, to have something to call my own: land. A future. A home. I can’t understand how selling it is better than keeping it. Even if you kept it empty.’

‘An empty farm is soulless, Kate. I’d rather see a stranger take it and make it great than let it run fallow.’

Her heart softened. She considered not voicing her thoughts. ‘Every now and again I look at your face and I see Leo staring back at me.’

He stiffened.

‘I meant that as a compliment, Grant. He was a complicated but dedicated man. And he was determined to strengthen Tulloquay, to keep it relevant.’

‘Then he should have left it to someone else.’

‘Because you’re not interested?’

‘Because I’m not a farmer.’

‘That’s not the first time you’ve said that. Do you think farmers are born knowing what to do?’

‘They’re raised. Trained.’

She frowned at him. ‘Leo didn’t teach you?’

He thought about that long and hard, staring into his beer. Eventually he lifted his head. ‘I didn’t want to learn.’

The dark shadows in his eyes called out to her. ‘You didn’t want the farm—even then?’

‘I didn’t want my future mapped out for me. If he’d said he wanted me to go into the army, I probably would have wanted to be a farmer. He pushed too hard.’

The two lines that creased his forehead told her he’d said more than he meant to. She nodded. ‘I can see that. He had a very forceful way about him. Particularly after he … Well, at the end there. When he thought he was out of time.’

Grant’s forehead creased further. ‘What do you mean?’

Kate rushed in to fix her insensitive gaffe. ‘I’m sorry. I just meant that he must have felt the pressure following his diagnosis. The urgency to get things in order.’

Grant’s face bleached in a heartbeat. His body froze.

Kate’s stomach squeezed into a tiny fist. Oh please, Leo … Please have told your son …

His already deep voice was pure gravel. ‘What diagnosis?’

Kate’s eyes fell shut. ‘Grant, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you—’

‘Kate!’ The bark drew stares from the other diners. ‘What diagnosis?’

Empathy bubbled up urgently. Memories of that awful discussion in her principal’s office bled through her. Memories of Mrs Martin’s pale face. Her shaking fingers, having to break a child’s heart with unspeakable news.

She groaned. ‘Grant …’

‘Tell me, Kate.’

‘Lung cancer.’ The words rushed out of her. ‘Terminal.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You didn’t know?’

Grant’s chest rose and fell roughly and his gaze dropped to the table.

Damn you, Leo … To tell a stranger and not his son …

She reached across the table and slid her fingers around Grant’s icy ones. His Adam’s apple worked furiously up and down as he struggled to compose himself. Her focus flicked nervously around the dining room and caught the cheerful waitress as she smiled her way towards them with two steaming meals balanced carefully on her forearm. Kate’s eyes flew wide and she shook her head subtly.

Effortlessly, the waitress spotted it, interpreted the tension at the table, turned on the balls of her feet and whipped the meals back into the kitchen. Kate had a horrible feeling they wouldn’t be eaten tonight—at least, not by them. She slid Grant’s untouched beer towards him. Then she just waited, her fingers still wrapped tightly around his. He clutched them back, holding on tight.

Holding himself together.

‘Are you ok, Grant?’

When he finally lifted his shaking head, his colour was back but his eyes had faded. ‘I didn’t know, Kate. I’m sorry that you had to …’ His words ran out.

Tears prickled embarrassingly behind her eyes. She shook her head, unable to speak.

He seemed to realise where his fingers were and he gently extracted them, sliding them into his lap, dragging the napkin with them to disguise their trembling. Distancing himself.

Kate cleared her throat. ‘He told me last August—in case anything happened to him. Because I was on the farm so often.’ It sounded exactly as lame as it was.

He told me. But not you.

‘Something did happen to him. But you weren’t there.’

Kate’s eyes dropped, her guilt surging back. ‘No. I was on a conference. It was terrible timing.’

His frown was tortured and angry at the same time. ‘You weren’t his nurse. He wasn’t your responsibility.’

‘He was my friend.’ Grant’s loud snort drew more eyes. ‘You doubt me, but you weren’t there.’

His eyes blazed. ‘I had a life to lead.’

She gentled her tone and didn’t bite. The man was suffering enough right now. ‘I meant you weren’t there to judge the friendship. But clearly you two weren’t—’ she changed direction at the last second ‘—in touch, so he told … a friend. I imagine Mayor Sefton knows, too.’

Grant’s nostrils flared wildly and his eyes darkened. ‘If he does, he’ll have some explaining to do.’

Kate frowned. This was more than just a horrible surprise. Grant was really struggling. What did he think his father had died of? ‘Let me take you home, Grant.’

His distracted eyes scanned the dining room. ‘Our meals …’

‘I’ll make you something at home.’

She stood and held out a hand to him; it hovered, ignored, in space and Kate fought the flush that rose as she let her fingers drop back to her side. The gesture had been automatic, but now, more than ever, was the last time a man like Grant McMurtrie would accept a gesture like that from her. Yet his world had just imploded so very publically and he was desperately trying to pull himself together.

She softened her voice. ‘Come on.’

He stood unsteadily on his feet and dropped a handful of notes—way too much for what they’d ordered—on the table. Kate smiled an apology to the waitress through the servery window and led Grant out into the cool night.

At the car she stopped him. ‘Keys.’

‘I’ll drive.’

‘You’ll drive us into a ditch. I have a research study to finish and I imagine you have—’ she suddenly faltered ‘—someone to get safely home to when this is all over.’

He tossed her his keys with an accuracy that suggested he was quickly recovering his wits. ‘No someone. No family. Not now.’