Rising Heat (44 page)

I shook my head, stooping down to pick up a pinecone. I squeezed my hand around it, then tossed it into the shrubs, my thoughts disconnected and more than slightly disturbed. The last thing I needed was to develop a crush on the billionaire. He was not interested in me. How could he be? He roamed in different circles. His life was so different from mine, as was his world. That he lived a relatively down-to-earth existents didn’t matter. We had shared a sexual encounter. Big deal. I couldn’t afford to be tempted into reading more into it than what was there.

No, we were too different. Blake wasn’t a man who had to worry about paying his bills. Unlike me, he didn’t live paycheck to paycheck or rely on someone else to give him those paychecks. I didn’t begrudge him his wealth. Even though he’d grown up in a well-to-do family, and had inherited a lot from his parents, he was obviously a hard worker, one focused on building a legacy to leave behind. But leave behind for whom?

Blake was a loner, or so I was beginning to think. He was a very private man, one who found it difficult to express emotions. One who was wary of personal relationships. He had built a wall around himself, a wall that kept everyone out. Maybe he had a good reason for building that wall, but where did that leave him? What did all those billions of dollars do for him if he had no one to share it with? No one he could trust?

Out of the blue, I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for him. He might be one of the richest men in the world, but he was alone and mistrustful of others, except maybe a friend or two. I wouldn’t know about that, but I did know one thing. I might live paycheck to paycheck, but I didn’t have to be suspicious of everyone, nor did I believe that everyone operated with ulterior motives. For that I was grateful. All the money in the world couldn’t replace Blake’s father, didn’t take away his suspicion of others, or the hesitance he obviously felt to allow anyone to get close to him.

It was sad, really.

I sat down on a log, closed my eyes, and lifted my face to the sunshine. So relaxing. I hadn’t slept well last night, not before or after the “incident” with Blake. I felt lethargic. The gently blowing breeze, the scent of the cedar, pine, and earth caressing my senses soothed me. I let everything go. My worries, my concerns, the bills that needed to be paid when I got back home. I just enjoyed the moment.

The sharp snap of a twig startled me and I opened my eyes, gazing around until I spied the deer standing just inside the tree line beside the trail. I smiled but made no other move. I stared into the dark, soft brown eyes of the deer, awestruck as always at the sight of wild animals in their own environment. It’d been a long time since I had been in the wide open spaces and an unexpected wave of homesickness washed over me.

The deer switched its tail, flicked its ears, and then moved off. I remained still, listening to the birds and the wild chattering of a squirrel in a nearby tree. I understood why Blake enjoyed the outdoors so much. I did too and always had.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

Startled, I lifted a hand to my chest. “Will you stop doing that? You’re going to give me a heart attack!”

“Not my fault you’re a million miles away,” he said. He stood about ten feet down the trail, feet slightly spread against the incline, his hands on his hips.

“How did you know I was here?”

“There’s only two trails leading from the cabin. I thought I’d try the closest one.” He turned to stare out over the distance. “I’ve gotta go into town soon. You can either come along or stay here. Up to you.”

I glanced down at my clothes; a pair of khakis I had found in the closet and a clean sweatshirt, then looked up at him. “Do I need to change?” His gaze swept me from top to toe and back again.

“No, those will do just fine.”

“When do you need to leave?”

He glanced down at his watch. “Soon.”

He headed back down the trail and I stood to follow. We walked in silence until we reached the back of the cabin and rounded the front.

“If you have to go to the bathroom, you better go, because we have roughly a thirty-minute drive to Klamath Falls.”

“What’s in Klamath Falls?” I asked, heading for the front door. He stepped up beside me, and opened it, gesturing for me to go first.

“There’s a rodeo this afternoon. I need to check it out.”

I turned to look at him with a lifted eyebrow.

“One of the amenities I’ll be offering my guests. Free admission to the local rodeo, bull riding specifically, at the Klamath County Fairgrounds. I’m also arranging to provide my guests with moonlight kayak tours. Then in December, more bull and bronc riding at the fairgrounds, with riders from seven western states competing.”

“I heard that you like to do a bit of bronc busting yourself,” I said, glancing up at him as I headed for the stairs.

He shrugged. “On occasion, when I have the time.”

I nodded and quickly took the stairs, not wanting to delay him. “I’ll be down in just a few minutes.” I climbed as fast as my sore muscles would allow.

I watched from above as Blake disappeared into the kitchen and soon heard him rummaging around in the pantry. He was probably checking our supplies, to see what one of us could make for dinner tonight. We would leave tomorrow, but unless we ate something at the fairgrounds, we would have to make do with what was in the pantry. The refrigerator held bottled water and that was about it, but there was coffee, tea, and some powdered drink mix in the cupboard.

By the time he emerged from the kitchen, I was headed back downstairs. I’d washed my face, pinched some color into my cheeks. They were still damp, as was my hair, which I had pulled back into a ponytail. I wore the same jeans and sweatshirt.

“Ready?”

“I guess.” I shrugged as I followed him out of the cabin. I waited as he locked the door and then headed around the side. Behind the cabin was a narrow driveway that ended at a shed. He jiggled his keychain and inserted a key into the padlock hooked around the metal hasp. When he swung the door open, I saw the four-by-four pickup truck.

“You always keep your vehicles up here? Aren’t you afraid they’ll get stolen?”

“Yes, and no,” he said, gesturing for me to get in on the passenger side. “The four-wheelers and the truck just arrived last week for use by the ranch personnel. We have security cameras mounted on each side of the main cabin, the barn, and the shed here and the system will go live once we open.”

I climbed in and settled into the seat as he did the same, closing his door with a quiet thud before reaching for his seatbelt. I didn’t say anything more as he pulled the truck out of the shed and slowly made his way down the driveway toward the main road at the base of the hill. As he navigated the winding road further down the mountain toward the highway, I pulled a small notepad from my back pocket, along with a pen. I began to jot some notes.

I tried to ignore him though I felt him glancing curiously at me several times. I didn’t know if he was the least bit interested in what I would write in my article. I got the impression that he really didn’t care. Of course, I wanted potential readers of my article to gain something positive from it, and for it to be good publicity for his company.

“What’s the name of this property?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. I glanced at him, saw that he was staring at me. “Eyes on the road! Eyes on the road!”

He quickly tore his gaze away from me and back to the road and the approaching hairpin curve. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“The name of the property?”

“Rocking J,” he replied. “Now I get to ask you another question.”

I shifted my position on the seat, leaning my back against the door. “Seriously? Just because I asked you the name of the property?”

“A deal’s a deal,” he said, a grin curving up one side of his face.

“Whatever,” I sighed.

“How long have you lived in San Francisco?”

“Not long, just since late last summer.”

“Do you like San Francisco better than North Dallas?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Okay, so I’ll owe you one. Do you?”

“Not really, but one needs to go where the jobs are, correct?”

“You didn’t have a job in North Dallas?”

I made a face. “Yes, I did, but I’m trying to advance my career, not stifle it. And that’s three questions. My turn. What was your first property acquisition, and why did you buy it?”

Again, he looked surprised. I would imagine what he was thinking. Was I really, truly and honestly only interested in his business dealings? While it would certainly be a nice change of pace for him, I didn’t think he believed that, not for a minute.

“Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Lazy Days Dude Ranch was its name when I bought it. Now it’s the Camp Robber Resort.”

“Why the Camp Robber?”

I felt his eyes on me again but resisted the urge to glance at him. “There’s magpies all over the place up there.”

“And what does that have to do with camp robbers?”

He shot me a quick glance. “Camp robbers are the nickname for magpies,” he explained. “It seemed apropos.”

“And are all your properties profitable—”

“That’s your third question… wait, I did owe you another one.” He grinned. He stared at me for a second, but then he gave me that lifted eyebrow look. I shifted my gaze pointedly out the windshield. A silent reminder to keep his eyes on the road. Nevertheless, I felt amused. No, Blake Masters wasn’t at all like I expected. I got the impression that he was enjoying our little game. Usually, when I interviewed someone, the questions were oh-so-serious.

“Yes, most of them have been profitable, but a couple are still in the startup phase. Time will tell.”

“This isn’t an official question, Blake,” I said as we reached the bottom of the mountain and turned onto the highway headed west toward Klamath Falls. “But do you inspect all your properties this thoroughly? From the trails to the local entertainment and amenities?”

“Sure,” he replied. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s not just enough to offer amenities on the property, but to make deals and arrangements with local establishments and venues. That not only gives my clients extra options but supports local communities. It’s a two-way street as far as I’m concerned, and a good way to do business. Especially when local businesses aren’t too keen on a vacation resort in their area.”

“Do you have people who don’t want you in their communities?” I asked in surprise. “You would think that any tourist spot would offer local benefits.”

He shrugged. “Depends where it is. Some older communities don’t want change. They’re worried about newcomers, worried about conservation, potential criminal activities, you know the drill.”

I nodded. “I was about sixteen when a local retailer wanted to build an outlet in my community. Even though the outlet would benefit employment and offer additional options, I was amazed at the number of protests against the development.”

He didn’t respond, but nodded, focused on following the signs for downtown Klamath Falls and then took the loop toward the Klamath County Fairgrounds. Within another ten minutes, he was pulling up into a large dirt parking area. The fairgrounds were already crowded, the parking lot full of Jeeps, trucks, and a variety of vehicles, horse trailers, and the usual transport trucks associated with any county fairgrounds event.

As he found a spot near the rodeo grounds, he gestured toward the stands. “You can wait for me in the bleachers,” he said. “I’ll find you when I’m done.”

I watched Blake walk, not toward any of the buildings encompassing the arena, but toward the cluster of horse trailers, cattle trucks, and supply trucks to the west side. I glanced from the dozens of horse trailers toward the rodeo grounds, then the fairgrounds spreading into the distance. The sights, sounds, and smells assailed my senses as I stood next to the truck, staring after him in dumbfounded amazement. He couldn’t possibly…

He wasn’t going to perform in the rodeo, was he? And then I remembered what Melanie told me; that he liked to bust broncs. Was he really going to ride a bull or a bronco this afternoon? I decided I wouldn’t put anything past Blake. For all I knew, he could be competing in several divisions. I sighed, thinking that I would just have to make the best of it.

Who was I kidding? The thought of watching Blake ride a wild horse was oddly thrilling. Not that I hadn’t been to rodeos before. I had, numerous times. I liked everything about county fairs. The events, the animals, the competitions, and most especially, the corn dogs and funnel cakes. I didn’t like many carnival rides, so usually avoided those. Back home in Texas, I could spend a day or more at a county fair, wandering among booths set up for competitions such as the best quilt, the best jam, the best pie, the best cake, best chili, you name it. And then there were the animal husbandry contests that used to be popular when I was growing up. Junior competitions among 4-H club members, and then the farmers, and ranchers, gardeners, and horticulturalists all competed in different divisions. I enjoyed watching them all.

My mother won first prize only a few years ago for the best patchwork quilt, handstitched, not any of this sewing machine stuff, which I considered cheating. When I was in high school, I had entered a bull into a contest and received a second place ribbon. Wonderful memories flooded back.

As I slowly walked around the grounds, absorbing the myriad of smells, I smiled. Frying corn dogs, barbecue ribs, and that oh-so-yummy aroma of funnel cake wafted over the fairgrounds and through the dozens of booths set up to attract visitors and buyers of handcrafted and baked goods. Though still relatively early in the afternoon, the fair was already crowded.

People walked by, laughing, pointing at attractions, nibbling on cotton candy, corn on the cob dripping with butter, and barbecued turkey legs; every sight and sound brought back a myriad of memories. How long had it been since I’d been to a state fair? Too long. I shook my head, thinking that I needed to start making more time for more pleasurable pursuits. My life couldn’t just be focused on work.

Look at Blake. He was fortunate in that he could earn a living doing something he was passionate about, something that he loved to such a degree that he poured his heart and soul into it. While I was enthusiastically pursuing my career as a journalist, I also realized that I was pushing other aspects of my life onto the back burner. Since coming to San Francisco, and even before that, I had put on blinders and focused solely on honing my skills, sending out resumes, and doing what I could to gain experience in the field. That left little time for human companionship. Or fun. While I had never been much for the bar scene, it’d been ages since I’d shared a drink with friends, gone out dancing, or even innocently flirted with anyone.