Reclaimed by Jennifer Rodewald Read Free Book Online Page B

he must have found on a poster of Grease . She imagined a wifebeater tee shirt clinging to his broad shoulders under his silver button-down. And those boots? Never saw a speck of dirt. He was one confused, creepy man.
    Why did he want to buy her land? She glanced out the full-length window at the front of the bank. Certainly, he didn’t drive that shiny Dodge down a dirt road much. The chrome on the wheels gleamed way too much to have kissed the gravel on a country road.
    “Things are fine, thank you.”
    “Having any problems?”
    Like he cared. Actually, he did. His eyes glinted with a sinister hope that put her spine straight. “Nothing that hasn’t been handled.”
    “Really?”
    Nuts. She’d said the wrong thing.
    “What’d you run into?”
    “Just a broken pipe, but Paul Rustin helped me fix it.” She tilted her chin. “It’s good now.”
    Stanton stared, rudely calculating with a cool expression. “That’s fine, Miss Wilton.” His voice set her jaw on edge. “Glad to hear my buddy Paul is making himself useful.”
    Suzanna backed away. Her heart pounded, and her neck stiffened. How could a man make words that should have been kind sound so menacing?

     
    Paul strode to his pickup with one loaded paper bag tucked in his arm. He’d caught up with Rodney down at the sale barn that morning, and they’d put together a sale bill for the end of the month. After lunch with his parents, he’d stopped at the farm supply store for some sweet feed. Holeman’s was his last stop for the day.
    “Rustin.”
    Paul dropped his groceries on the front seat and turned. Chuck smacked his way across the parking lot, looking like a missile trained on his target. Hanging a thumb on his jean pocket, Paul waited for the man to speak.
    Drawing near, Chuck suddenly smiled and squeezed Paul’s shoulder. A little too tight. “How you doing, buddy?”
    “Fine.”
    “So I hear.”
    He did, huh? Paul looked at him in silence.
    “Hear you’re quite the handy neighbor.” Chuck crossed his arms and leaned against Paul’s Ford.
    “Do you?” Paul arched an eyebrow.
    Chuck nodded his slicked head and pulled himself straight. He stood a good three inches taller than Paul; he was taller than most, for that matter. Chuck loved to take advantage of that genetic quirk whenever possible.
    “I thought we understood each other at the Fall Festival, Rustin.”
    “How’s that, Chuck?” Paul crossed his arms, rolling his shoulders so they pulled at his tee shirt.
    So he hadn’t been a linebacker like Chuck. Running backs weren’t exactly sissies. Not that any of that mattered twenty years past the glory days. Chuck had spent the majority of those years in an air-conditioned office in the back of the bank. Paul had been tossing hay bales, pushing cattle, fixing fences, and maintaining tractors. He wasn’t about to be intimidated by a man just because he had longer legs.
    “Suzanna Wilton.”
    Paul’s stomach clenched, and his brow dropped. “I don’t recall what you mean.”
    “Listen, Paul.” Chuck balled his fists as he planted his feet. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. She doesn’t belong out there. She has no claim to it, and I’m not real keen on your interfering. You don’t want to help our cause, fine. But stay out of the way. The sooner she realizes she’s out of her element, the better.”
    “Better for who?” Paul’s eyes pinched. “Fact is, Suzanna has plenty of claim on that property. It was her dad’s. It’s never belonged to you, and, as I recall, you never wanted it. Not when Mrs. Hawkins’s estate went to auction. Not when the feedlot put it on the market. What makes you think you’re entitled to it now?”
    “I was outbid. Those corporations have unlimited funds. Something you can’t relate to because you inherited everything you’ve got. The rest of us have to pinch for ours.”
    “Yeah, you have to pinch.” Paul snorted. “Your daddy left you plenty. And you could have bought