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

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СКАЧАТЬ how much he waited for those peek-a-boo dimples to show up. How he lightened just for seeing them.

      ‘He was no picnic even after he came round.’

      I’ll bet. ‘Came round?’

      ‘Reconciled himself,’ Kate corrected.

      Grant’s feet locked up at the roll-door to the garage. No way he was going a step further into that space. ‘To giving up his land?’

      Kate dropped her box and straightened, frowning. ‘To giving up his dogged stance. I think he was just being belligerent out of habit toward the end there.’

      Grant snorted. ‘He always was contrary.’

      She thought about that. ‘No, I think he was lonely. Dragging out the negotiations gave him regular contact.’

      Pain sliced unexpectedly low in his gut. He shot up straight.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Kate rushed to make good. ‘That’s none of my business.’

      ‘My father didn’t really do lonely, Kate,’ he said, lowering his voice, critically aware of their location. Leo McMurtrie had liked nothing better than to be alone with his thoughts when Grant was a boy, sitting out high on a bluff somewhere. Leaving his son to find his own amusement.

      ‘I know he filled his spare time with committees and doing odd jobs for friends,’ she said. ‘But I think you can be busy and still lonely.’

      ‘Speaking from experience, Kate?’ Her eyes rounded and darkened with pain, then flicked away carefully. Grant gave himself the fastest of inner lectures.

      She rushed on. ‘Just as some people can be bored but think they’re content.’

      Was that a dig at him? No, she couldn’t know … ‘Bored is not a phrase I associate with Dad, either.’

      ‘No.’ Did that gentle smile mean she forgave him his snappy response? ‘No shortage of tasks when you’re running a farm single-handed.’

      Grant winced. Everywhere he turned there were reminders of the future that his father had wanted for him. He should have been here with his dad, running the farm. Maybe then he could have headed Kate’s research off before it had even started. Maybe then there would have been no question of the surety of their property. Maybe then his dad would still be alive.

      And maybe he’d be arguing loudly with an impossible man right now instead of talking quietly with a woman who was intriguing the hell out of him.

      They added two more loads of gear to the pile at the roller-door. Grant knew the moment was coming when he’d need to press the remote and open it. There was nothing in there now but dust and storage boxes. But still his pulse began to hammer.

      Kate turned to him. ‘Could I ask …?’

      His heart squeezed painfully. No, don’t ask. Don’t make me say no.

      She nodded towards the garage. ‘Just some of the bigger pieces?’

      An icy sweat broke out along his spine. He called on every boardroom tactic in his arsenal to keep it from showing on his face, and then he really scraped the barrel and called on desperate humour.

      Not his strong suit.

      ‘What happened to your fiery independence Ms Dickson? Does it only last until there’s heavy lifting to be done?’

      He saw the impact of his words in the dimming of her eyes, in the stiffness of her shoulders. He kicked himself, while at the same time acknowledging that his sarcasm was still better than what he wanted to do: turn and sprint for the hills.

      It was stupid not to have anticipated this moment. He should have left her to her unpacking and made himself scarce instead of hanging around like a blowfly waiting for her to smile again. Now he either had to forever position himself as a jerk in her mind or walk into the room he’d found his father in.

      ‘Sorry,’ she said, clipped, frosty and calm. ‘You must have things to do. I’ll be fine.’

      He knew that. If he hadn’t been here, she would have managed. All she had to do was take a few things out of the heaviest boxes. She didn’t actually need the help. Whether she knew it or not, she’d been making overtures of friendship since she’d walked in his front door with her paltry belongings two nights ago.

      And he’d just thrown it back in her face.

      Suck it up, kid. The voice in his imagination was a hybrid of his father’s and his own.

      ‘Kate, wait.’ He stopped her as she would have turned completely away. ‘That was a bad joke. I’m sorry.’

      ‘No.’ She shook his hand free, her eyes low. ‘You’ve been more than generous with your offer of lab space and a room. I don’t want to take advantage any more than—’

      Grant silenced her by bending and intentionally taking the biggest of the equipment boxes. ‘Can you get the door?’ While he had an armful of box, he couldn’t operate the remote; something told him that was a button-press he simply could not make.

      Even if Kate was with him.

      That thought brought his head up sharply. Since when had Grant ‘the Closer’ McMurtrie needeed someone to hold his hand? Since never. But, as he watched Kate’s delicate indexfinger activate the remote control and that enormous door began to rumble upwards, he’d never in his life been so grateful for the presence of another human being.

      With no chance of stopping himself, he moved one step closer to Kate. Sweat broke out across his top lip.

      ‘Oh, it’s fabulous!’ She swept in ahead of him, into the large, open space. His heart pounded against his ribs and he forced his feet into action. Alan had rallied some volunteers to tow his father’s car away and help clean the garage out after his death. Only the mayor had known the significance of what they were doing. The resulting space was clean, empty and entirely innocent of the terrible thing that had happened here. The garage was as much a victim of his father’s decision as all of them.

      It was due a reinvention.

      ‘Will this do?’ Only those who knew him best would spot the slight break in his voice.

      ‘Do? It’s perfect. It’s fully plumbed.’ Kate moved around the large space, checking out the features. ‘It has a fridge.’

      ‘Dad’s old beer-fridge.’ Beer and, for some reason, bowls of the most disgusting liquid covered in damp tea-towels and foaming away beneath a pancake layer of thick fungi. ‘I think Dad was working on his own laboratory experiment in here.’

      At Kate’s quizzical look, he explained what he had found. Not when or why, but what.

      Her face softened. ‘Kombucha tea. I’m glad he finally gave it a try. I put him onto it.’

       ‘What tea?’

      ‘Kombucha. It’s a fungus. It grows on the top and the tea below ferments and forms a naturopathic cider. It’s good for you.’

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