Burke chuckled. “You calling me a sucker?”
Lenny shook his head. “Just…particular, I guess. It’s one of the nicest cabins up here, that’s for sure. Did she include access to the fishing gear and that type of thing?”
Burke held his gaze for a blink, hesitating to admit the answer to that. “Yes, she gave me the key to the shed…for a price.”
The man ran a hand through his red hair, chuckling under his breath. “That woman. Well, least you’ve got the place to yourself. I can tell you this much—we’ve got some very eligible bachelorettes in town, pretty ones.” He grinned proudly. “All of them will be at the festival, but you might run into a couple at Pete’s Pub if you don’t want to wait until the weekend to mingle.”
Mingle? Duke had already helped Burke summon an image of the women he might encounter there. Probably an odd sort. Square dancing in a prairie dress she’d stitched herself. She’d pause to tip back a frothy glass of two percent she’d milked from her very own cow. Or goat. Heck, maybe she’d have galloped to the pub on a horse she’d tied up to the hitching post beside the watering hole. The image pulled a wry chuckle from his throat.
“I’ll, um…keep that in mind. Thanks.”
“You betcha. Oh,” Lenny added as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Watch for wildlife on your way back. There’s always a ton of road kill around here.”
The warning sparked a recollection. “Ugh, that reminds me,” Burke said, a knot of guilt sinking into his gut. “I hit a cat on the interstate.”
Lenny shrugged. “It happens.”
“Yes, but what in the world would a domestic cat be doing so far out? The houses stretch out miles apart and they’re set back acres from the street.”
“Some of them are wild. Like farm cats, you know?”
“Ah,” Burke said, tipping his head back. Add a couple of cats to the image he’d formed in his head and he was probably spot on for his options in a town like this. “Hopefully the cat wasn’t some poor gal’s spot of warmth to cuddle up to at night.”
“Yeah.” Lenny slipped on a pair of shades. “Well, enjoy your time here.”
“Will do.” Or at least, he’d try. Burke gave the property another look over before climbing into his car and buckling up. It wouldn’t be the greatest property he’d flipped in his career, but it was a very good addition to his modest purchases on the west coast.
A bit of pride seeped in, lifting his shoulders a notch as he pulled in a satisfied breath. He’d done it. He’d officially left the east coast behind.
When Burke turned eighteen and received his first million from the father he never knew, he also had his first conversation with the man. That’s when Jonathon told Burke that he’d very much like to be part of his life. He planned to tell his kids about their half-sibling in hopes that Burke could be a part of the family in some way.
Burke’s mother didn’t love that idea, but she didn’t try to deny him either. He was an adult, and he’d done his part by not attempting to contact his father over the years. Who could have ever guessed that less than one year later the man would die, along with his father, in a private plane crash?
A deep ache tore through him as he recalled hearing the news. It was just a few days away from a phone call they had planned, a call in which they’d set up a time to meet in person. And as much as it hurt him, hurt him like nothing he’d known, the look on his mother’s face was…unforgettable. Shock, horror, and above all else—guilt. She felt horrible for keeping Burke from him all those years. For insisting Jonathon not reach out until then.
It was a different sort of pain losing Mom. She was fiercely independent with a career focus that could outshine most savvy businessmen, hugely successful in her own right.
For Burke, the worst part was hearing that final prognosis, knowing—or at least trying to fathom—that a horrible disease would put an early end to her life.
He shook his head, unable to believe it had really happened. Had he not been there to see it himself, he’d have never believed a woman so vibrant and strong could…stop, Burke. Don’t open those doors again. The image was too much. He clenched his jaw, forcing the recollection to flee his mind.
It was then, in the final days of her life, that his mother confessed that she’d picked Jonathon Benton for a reason—it was the very fact that he wasn’t available. She wanted a child, but she didn’t want the man. And a man who was raising a family on the other side of the country…a man who had no idea of her intent during the time of the affair. That, coupled with his intelligence, good looks, and other admirable traits, made him—according to her—the perfect candidate.
Burke tried very hard not to resent her for that. Still, as lonely as it was, being an only child to a work-focused parent, he longed for the family he only partially belonged to.
A deep and aching sigh pushed through him. Burke was grateful for the money and the financial advice his father had given him, but Burke would give everything he owned to have just one day with the man.
That loss was an unreachable ache in his heart. A problem he’d never solve. The prize that money would never buy him.
Burke weaved the small car along the winding street until he came to the interstate once more. A memory of the calico cat darting across the street came to mind. He groaned and tightened his grip on the wheel. He’d been taught from an early age to not brake for a small animal. Better to hit a cat than risk your own life, his mom would say. Until today, he’d never faced the unfortunate dilemma.
He shook off the incident and snatched his sunglasses from the dash, yet just as he slid them onto his face, Burke realized how quickly he was gaining on the vehicle ahead, an old pale blue truck.
The classic Chevy was in good shape from the looks of it; too bad the same couldn’t be said about its driver. Not only were they crawling along at a snail’s pace, they were swerving too. Perhaps an old local was driving under the influence.
“Great.” Burke brought the BMW to a slow. He squinted, hoping to glean a glimpse of the driver, when the truck swung hard to the left, veering over the yellow dashed line.
Whoa, buddy. Get a grip. As if just noticing the error himself, the driver swerved hard to the right next. Burke’s heart pumped out a thunderous beat as the truck teetered, putting inches of air between the pavement and the left-side tires.
Lord, don’t let them roll.
The pickup swerved once again to the left, then to the right, and soon it straightened out completely, all four tires on blessed ground.
The tension in his limbs softened. “Thank the Lord,” he muttered. Yet before he could match the truck’s slowing pace, it slowed even more. Now it was Burke swerving to avoid the oncoming traffic and then the dang truck that still hadn’t managed to get out of his way.
The tires gave out a hot screech as he came up behind the Chevy, the truck’s massive bumper growing closer and closer still as the smell of burning rubber hit the air.
Come on…stop, stop, stop…
Crack!
The sound, accompanied by the slightest jolt, told Burke that he hadn’t missed the bumper completely. He’d nicked it, just barely. A curse slipped through his clenched jaw as anger tightened his frame from head to foot.