McKettrick's Luck Read Online Free Page B

“Other women are invisible to them. If they had their way, the whole world would be a reverse harem.”
    Jesse chuckled. “Well, that’s an interesting take on the subject,” he allowed. “The soup’s pretty good here.”
    She picked up her spoon, put it down again. “It’s not as if I’m asking you to sell any part of the Triple M,” she said. Another hairpin turn, but this time, Jesse was ready. “That land is just sitting there. Unused.”
    â€œUn spoiled, ” Jesse clarified. “I suppose you want to turn it into an industrial park. Or a factory—the world really needs more disposable plastic objects.”
    â€œCondominiums,” Cheyenne said, squaring her shoulders.
    Jesse winced. “Even worse,” he replied.
    â€œPeople need places to live.”
    â€œSo do critters,” Jesse said. He’d been hungry when he’d suggested supper at the Roadhouse. Now, he wasn’t sure he could choke down any part of that cheeseburger. “We’ve got so many coyotes and bobcats coming right into town these days that the feds are about to put a bounty on them. Do you know why, Ms. Bridges?” he asked, suddenly icily formal.
    â€œWhy are coyotes and bobcats coming into town,” she countered, “or why is the government about to put a bounty on them?”
    Jesse set his back teeth, thought of his cousin Keegan for no reason he could have explained, and deliberately relaxed his jaws. “Wild animals are being driven farther out of their natural habitat every day,” he said. “By people like you. They’ve got to be somewhere, damn it.”
    â€œWhich do you care more about, Mr. McKettrick? People or animals?”
    â€œDepends,” Jesse said. “I’ve known people who could learn scruples from a rabid badger. And it’s not as if building more condominiums is a service to humanity. Most of them are a blight on the land—and they all look alike, too. Stucco boxes, stacked on top of each other. What’s that about?”
    Cheyenne picked up her spoon, made a halfhearted swipe at her soup. Straightened her spine. “I’d be glad to show you the blueprints,” she said. “Our project is designed to blend gracefully into the landscape, with minimal impact on the environment.”
    Jesse eyed his cheeseburger regretfully. All those additives and preservatives going to waste, not to mention a lot of perfectly good grease. “No deal,” he said. With anybody else, he’d have played out the hand, let her believe he was interested in selling, just to see what came of it. Cheyenne Bridges was different, and that was the most disturbing element of all.
    Why was she different?
    â€œJust let me show you the plans,” she persisted.
    â€œJust let me show you the land,” he retorted.
    She smiled. “I’ll let you show me yours,” she bargained, “if you’ll let me show you mine.”
    He laughed. “You sure are persistent,” he said.
    â€œYou sure are stubborn,” she answered.
    Jesse reached for his cheeseburger. By that time, he’d had ample opportunity to notice that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
    â€œYou ever get married?” he asked.
    She seemed to welcome the change of subject, though the quiet, bruised vigilance was still there in her eyes and the set of her shoulders and the way she held her head. “No,” she said. “You?”
    â€œNo,” he told her. He and Brandi, a rodeo groupie, had been married by an Elvis in Las Vegas, come to their senses before word had got out, and agreed to divorce an hour after they’d checked out of the hotel. They’d parted friends, and he hadn’t seen her in a couple of years, though she hit him up for a few hundred dollars every now and then, and he always sent the money.
    As far as he was concerned, he’d answered honestly. Brandi slipped out of