Page 83 of First Touch

Or maybe I was just insecure and sensitive right now with all the emotions of the last couple of days. Yes, definitely that.

“What’s wrong?”

I turned toward him, a bright smile pasted on my lips. “Nothing at all.” In case he might press, I jumped to another topic. “Will there be any… social events… while I’m there?”

“What do you mean? Like parties?”

“I was thinking more like gatherings where the guests play pool.” Yeah, I was still stewing about that. Might as well address it while I had the chance and hope it wasn’t considered starting an argument.

He simpered. “There’s no pool table at the ranch, Emily.” He leaned in and continued in a low, rumbling voice. “But if there is any occasion where the staff might get together, you’d be invited – no, expected – to attend.”

It was an improvement, but not everything I wanted. “Will there be other girls fawning over you on these occasions?”

He swept the back of his fingers across my cheek in a tender gesture. “Only girl fawning over me will be you.”

It was the right thing to say, and made me feel all mushy and swoony inside. Naturally, I had to play it cool. “Oh, so you expect me to fawn?”

“No. I don’t expect that,” he said. “But you’re certainly invited.”

At the airport, we met up with Anatolios, a second bodyguard I hadn’t met, and the men who’d been Reeve’s guests the night before. He presented me as his girlfriend, which was surprising and endearing. Brent, I learned, was the ranch manager and Reeve’s right-hand man. He’d been the one wearing cowboy boots. The two dart players were Charlie, who oversaw the cattle, and Parker, who ran the stable.

After introductions were made, Reeve’s attention went fully to his men and I became ornamental, hanging on his arm while we walked through the terminal and boarded his private jet. Anatolios and his assistant took a seat in the cabin nearest the pilots while Reeve and his men sat around the table in the next cabin. Ginger, the buxom blond stewardess – Reeve definitely had a “type” – greeted me and escorted me to a seat near the men.

Though I had no reason to be jealous of Ginger, I was pleased when Reeve gave his attention to her only long enough to order a drink. Then he went back to talking to his ranch hands. I did find myself wondering if he’d ever slept with her. Found myself studying her curiously, looking for any sign that she might know him on a more familiar level.

Then, when I’d found none and she’d continued to be nothing but gracious to me, I wondered how many women she’d attended to on these flights while Reeve was preoccupied with business. Had she known Amber? Had Amber befriended her or ignored her?

If I’d had the chance, I would have struck up a conversation with the stewardess. But as soon as she’d served everyone drinks, Reeve dismissed her to the front cabin with Anatolios.

The men stayed wrapped up in their discussion long after we’d left the ground. I listened for the first half-hour or so, but soon grew bored with talk of horseshoeing and feed crops and calf tagging. So I pulled out my Kindle and got swept away in a book.

We’d been in the air for an hour or so when I heard a word that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck – “Michelis.” I’d missed what had brought his name up or who had said it, but the inflection had seemed to suggest it was a question. My ears perked up, and while I pretended to be lost in my e-reader, I eavesdropped instead.

“There were a bunch of chickens dead a couple of weeks ago,” Brent said. “I thought it might be him, but I can’t be sure.”

“There’s no footage?” Reeve asked.

“Nope. Camera was hit and angled wrong.” This came from Charlie, though I had to glance up to be sure, not knowing his voice well enough to identify from just sound.

“Which means it wasn’t foxes,” said Parker.

“And it was someone who knows where the camera is in the barns.” Brent again.

There was a brief silence. Then Reeve said, “Replace the system. Or, better yet, keep the system as a dummy and add another.”

“Yep,” Parker agreed. “That’s it.”

“Fucking asshole costs us a shit ton of money with these pranks of his,” Brent said, frustration in his tone. “Could you maybe tell him it’s not very nice to your employees?”

Reeve didn’t answer. I peeked up and saw him rubbing his hand over his face. Tension rolled off of him in waves, but I couldn’t be sure if he was angry, irritated, or just over the conversation. I tried to guess based on the conversation, but it was confusing. Was Michelis playing some sort of joke on the ranchers? Or was Brent’s comment facetious?

After a long minute, Brent said somberly, “You got the yearly invitation from him again. Maybe you should go.”

“I won’t acknowledge that with a response,” he snapped. Angry it is. “I’m done with this conversation. And stop giving him so much of your time. He already got something of mine that matters. That’s all he gets.” He stood and headed toward the back room. “Emily?” he called over his shoulder.

It took a second to realize that I didn’t need to pretend to not be listening anymore. “Uh. Yeah?”

“Join me.”