Fortune Finds Florist

Chapter Three

Sam sat back, aware that he’d nearly made a very bad mistake. He’d actually thought about kissing her. Even in the best of circumstances, Sierra Carlton was not the sort of woman with whom he could afford to fool around. She was his business partner. Business and romance never mixed well. The repercussions could be fatal, at least to the enterprise. Only a fool would jeopardize a financial setup this good, even if she hadn’t been so smart with her money in the past.

Quickly retreating to the safety of business, Sam said, “We’re burning daylight here. I’d better get out and take a good look at those fields.”

Sierra set down her coffee cup as she rose from her chair. “Finish your coffee while I grab my coat, and we’ll take off.”

He gulped. “You don’t have to go.”

“Oh, I want to. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

He tried not to sound panicked when he asked, “What about your daughter?”

“She’s taken care of. I had Chelsea Grouper stay over last night.”

Sam smiled weakly as she spun out of the room, then hunkered down over his cup. What was wrong with him? He knew how a man had to behave in a business situation. The fact that his partner was a woman shouldn’t make any difference.

Maybe he should start paying some attention to his social life. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. Shoot, he’d never been with a woman. He’d been with his share of grownup girls, but not in some time, and he’d never been with a real woman, at least not one the caliber of Sierra Carlton. Somehow, she had a way of making him supremely aware of that fact. He rubbed his brow and chugged back the remaining brew in his cup.

Sierra reappeared wearing a bright yellow down jacket over her long-sleeved knit top and jeans. She was a woman who looked as good in jeans and boots and a fat, bushy ponytail as designer suits and more elaborate hairstyles. He wondered if she permed her hair and suppressed the urge to wrap a corkscrew curl at the nape of her neck around his finger as he followed her to the back door. They stepped down into a three-car garage that was empty except for her expensive sedan.

“We should take my truck,” he pointed out belatedly.

“Oh. Right. Should’ve thought of that. This way, then.” She led him through a side door and around the house to the front, where he’d parked his truck at the top of the graveled, circular drive.

He hadn’t bothered to lock up, and she was inside before he even had the chance to go for her door, which irked him mildly, though he told himself that equals didn’t bother opening doors for one another, even if one of them was female.

“Where’s the gate?” he asked, settling behind the wheel.

“Gate? The property’s only fenced on two sides. Is that a problem?”

“Naw, not really. Barbed wire will only keep the big critters out, anyway. We may want to string some chicken wire, though.”

“I’m beginning to realize how much I don’t know,” she muttered, reaching for her safety belt.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

He slid the key into the ignition and started the truck, but before he could put the transmission into gear, she reached across and clapped a hand over his forearm.

“Put on your seat belt first.”

The admonition flew through him. Before he could think, certainly before he could reason, he had shaken off her hand and snapped, “You may be my partner, but you aren’t my mother!”

Her mouth dropped open, and matching ire flashed in her blue-green eyes. “I’m not trying to be!”

“Aren’t you?”

“No! You’re in the car, you put a belt on.”

“You have to get over this age thing, Sierra, or we just can’t work together.”

“What has this got to do with age?” She threw up her hands. “You’ve spent the morning proving how invaluable you are. Is it so surprising that I don’t want you taking unnecessary chances with your personal safety?”

“We aren’t going to drive on the interstate.”

“If your sisters were in this truck, wouldn’t you expect them to buckle up?”

That set him back. If the girls had been in the truck, he’d have buckled his seat belt without even thinking about it, because he always did when they were with him and because he always insisted that they do the same. Maybe he’d gotten in the habit of not fastening the thing when he was working on the farm, but that was no excuse. He tamped down his unreasonable anger and felt embarrassment rise in its place. He closed his eyes, set his jaw, then made himself relax it again.

“You’re right.” He pulled the seat belt across him and shoved the hasp into the clip next to his hip, then he yanked the transmission into gear and set off down a track alongside the house, probably worn down during construction.

“You’re the one who has a problem with your age,” she grumbled.

“Well, if I do,” he retorted, “it’s because so many other people have shown me that it’s a problem for them.”

“I understand that,” she told him, “but I’m not one of them. So far you’ve demonstrated great maturity—despite that little outburst just now.”

He pointed a look at her. “And you didn’t have a little outburst just now?”

She looked away, one hand going to a curl that had worked its way free in front of her ear. “Well, yeah, I did.” She turned an impish smile on him. “But nobody’s ever accused me of demonstrating maturity.”

He laughed, resentment waning. “I like honesty in a woman.”

She cut her eyes at him. “I’ll try always to be honest with you, Sam.”

Desire slugged him straight in the groin. He jerked his gaze forward, then hunched over the wheel, silently cursing the restrictions of that belt. “Th-that’s good. Partners should be honest with one another.”

“We’re going to be good together. I know we are.”

He nearly burst his zipper. Abruptly, he guided the truck off the trail to the left, hoping that the buck and bounce of crossing rough ground would prove an adequate distraction for both of them.

Sierra pushed back into her seat. “What are you doing?”

“Just trying to get the lay of the land.”

So much for honesty.

“I’m not sure I should’ve let you talk me into this,” Sierra murmured, stepping up into the bank lobby with Sam at her side.

“The door swings both ways,” he reminded her succinctly. “I don’t know what you’re carping about, though. It’s my credit.”

“But I’m supposed to provide the capital.”

“You are. You’re securing my credit with your capital and reestablishing your own in the process. Without risking your precious home, I might add.”

Sierra sighed, convinced again but still not liking it. He was taking a huge chance by putting his own credit rating on the line like this. For her dream. She wasn’t entirely persuaded that it was going to work out, though. Surely no one would loan such a young man the kind of money they were seeking.

Zeke Ontario came out of his office and strode toward them, hand outstretched. “Sam. Sierra. I’m surprised to see you two here together.”

Sam spoke up before Sierra had a chance to do so. “Sierra and I have entered into a partnership, Zeke.”

“Not that flower thing,” the banker said impatiently.

“That very promising flower thing,” Sam confirmed, nodding at Sierra, “and we’ve got the figures to prove it.”

Sierra held out the large envelope that contained their papers and lifted her chin. “What would you say to an initial profit of twenty-five thousand per acre?”

Zeke Ontario’s bushy gray eyebrows went straight up, but to Sierra’s irritation, he looked to Sam for confirmation. “Is this true?”

“You know I like to err on the conservative side, Zeke,” Sam drawled.

“Well,” the elderly banker said, sweeping an arm toward his office, “let’s have us a little chat then.”

“Thought you’d say that,” Sam teased, laying his hand in the small of Sierra’s back and ushering her forward.

Sierra felt a little thrill of victory. Or was it something else?

She tried to push that aside as she preceded the men into the office. To her deep personal embarrassment, she was beginning to feel too much attraction to her young partner, and she could just imagine what her father would say to that if he should ever learn of it. He still hadn’t forgiven her for eloping with Dennis Carlton ten years ago, and it didn’t help that he’d been right about Dennis, either.

She’d been a foolish nineteen-year-old, at odds with her father since the death of her mother some seven years earlier. She’d been so sure that Dennis would give her the affection and approval that her father hadn’t, but she’d been nothing more to Dennis than his ticket to the easy life. By the time Dennis realized that marrying the boss’s daughter had actually achieved the opposite of what he’d hoped, Sierra had been pregnant with Tyree. When it had become apparent that not even the birth of his granddaughter would soften Frank’s intractable disapproval, Dennis had split for greener pastures and only kept in contact with Tyree intermittently until news of Sierra’s inheritance had reached him. Now both her father and her ex were tugging at her again. Her father was trying to dictate her life while Dennis was doing his best to squeeze money out of her via their daughter.

Sam seated her in front of Mr. Ontario’s desk and dropped down into the chair next to her while Zeke made his lumbering way to his own place. Sierra removed papers from the portfolio, placed them on the desk and explained each one. The banker studied the papers, listened attentively, then looked to Sam. Again.

“Did you put this together, Sam?”

“Yes. They’re solid figures, Zeke. I’ve cited my sources carefully.”

“Of course. Hmm.” He studied the papers a few minutes longer, then hit the intercom on his desk and asked for a loan officer to be sent in before kicking back in his chair. “I had no idea flowers could be so profitable. You’ve put together a good business plan. We’ll check your sources, and if they pan out, which I’m sure they will, I don’t see any problem, especially with Sierra’s backing.”

Sierra stiffened, but she’d barely gotten her mouth open before Sam said firmly, “Sierra’s not ‘backing me,’ Zeke. I told you already. We’re partners. This whole thing was Sierra’s idea, as you well know.”

The old banker had the good grace to look chagrined. He actually tried to smile at Sierra. She looked down her nose at the old chauvinist, then flashed Sam a grateful smile. He winked, patiently awaiting the loan officer.

Sam was feeling pretty good when they walked out of the bank. The sun was shining, the ambient temperature had risen to almost forty degrees, and the first installment of a considerable sum of money had been deposited into his and Sierra’s joint business account—S & S Farms. They’d pulled the name out of thin air on the spur of the moment, joking about whose initial should come first. Zeke had suggested that they look into incorporation, and they’d agreed to discuss the idea with her attorney, Corbett Johnson. This thing was coming together. He had a good feeling about it, and from the way Sierra was smiling at him, he’d say she did, too.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, surprised.

“Zeke Ontario would never have given me that loan.”

Sam shrugged negligently. The truth was that he hadn’t much liked the dismissive manner in which the man had treated Sierra. So she hadn’t done the smartest thing when it came to her house; she could’ve done worse. Besides, he figured it was understandable. A single mother with a child to raise would do almost anything to secure her home. Maybe she need not have spent so much, but the shock of all that money must’ve gone to her head. Heck, he’d spent that much and more on farming equipment.

“Zeke’s a good guy, but he’s pretty old school,” Sam told her.

“Meaning that he thinks women make good tellers and not much more.”

Sam chuckled. “True, but he gave me a break when I needed it most, and I have to be grateful for that.”

“Yes, of course you do. And so do I since you’re my partner now.”

He rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Can’t wait to get started, frankly.”

“When do you intend to start breaking ground or whatever it is you do first?”

Sam looked up at the bright winter sky, then down at the even brighter woman strolling along at his side. “Now seems like a pretty good time.”

Sierra stopped in her tracks. “You mean this very minute.”

He squinted at the sun overhead. “I think I can get a load of fertilizer and most of the equipment out to the farm by dark.” Impulsively, he tapped her on the end of her nose. “By the time you get home tomorrow evening, I might even have that little bottom patch tilled.”

“It’ll be a real farm then.”

“So it will.”

She laughed and shook her head, and for one heart-stopping moment he thought she might actually throw her arms around him, but then she just clapped them on her sides and laughed some more. He laughed, too, as he walked her the rest of the way to her storefront, and somehow the sun seemed to shine even brighter, as bright as the future. Their future.

Frank McAfree dumped his coat on the living room sofa and brought his hands to his hips in what Sierra thought of as his classical “rant” pose.

“What the devil is going on?”

“Well, hello, Dad, nice to see you, too. Glad you could drop by.”

“Don’t change the subject, Sierra. I asked you a question.”

Sierra folded her arms protectively. His carrot-red hair had turned yellow-white in the last few years, and his square face was sagging a bit at the jawline, but he’d lost none of his imposing authority. He’d always seemed larger than life.

“I assume you are referring to the plowing and the greenhouse.”

“Please tell me you haven’t sunk your funds into some harebrained scheme.”

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

“Then why plow up all that ground? And just how big of a greenhouse do you need, anyway?”

“My partner and I have decided—”

“Partner?” he interrupted sharply. “Oh, for the love of Mike!”

Sierra clamped down on her anger. “Sam is a well-respected custom farmer.”

“Farming is a very risky business, Sierra,” Frank said disapprovingly.

“I understand that, but Sam knows what he’s doing, and so do our backers.”

Frank blinked at that. “Backers? This project actually has investors?”

“Not exactly. We took out a loan.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “You’re going to lose Tyree’s whole future. Why can’t you be reasonable? If you’d sell this place and move in with me, you could reinvest and make your money really grow.”

“I’m not selling my home.”

“Why do you need this house? Mine is large enough for all of us.”

“I’m not selling my home.”

“Fine. Lose it, then. That’s what’s going to happen.”

Sierra put a hand to her head, where a dull ache had begun. “Dad, did you come here just to scold me, or was there another reason for your visit?”

He scowled, rammed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m concerned about my granddaughter. I called earlier, and Tyree said Dennis is taking her to lunch.”

“Yes.”

“He has no right to see her.”

“He’s her father.”

“He doesn’t pay his child support. He’s just using her.”

“I know that, and you know that, but Tyree doesn’t.”

“Then she needs to be told.”

“For pity’s sake, she’s eight years old!” Sierra erupted. “An eight-year-old cannot understand that her father isn’t capable of loving her.”

“Then keep him away from her! Take him to court if you have to.”

“He’s her father,” she repeated forcefully. “All that will happen if I take him to court is that he’ll be forced to pay his child support and my daughter will be even more angry with me than she is now when they also restrict his visits.”

“Well, you have to do something!”

“I am! I’m doing my best to maintain my relationship with my daughter so if and when her manipulative jerk of a father shows his true colors I’ll be able to help her overcome her disappointment and see that it has nothing to do with her.”

Frank made an exasperated sound, “That’s the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard. Keep him away from her.” He shook his finger in her face. “If you had listened to me, none of this would be happening!”

Sierra hugged herself and said nothing, wondering if it never occurred to him that if she had listened to him, they wouldn’t have Tyree to worry about or to love.

It was a difficult morning. Tyree had been glad to see her grandfather at first, but he made so many derogatory comments about Dennis that she was in a surly mood by the time he left, so she argued with Sierra about cleaning up her room before her father came. Sierra wound up threatening Tyree with losing television privileges for the evening if she didn’t get her room straightened by the time Dennis arrived. Tyree was still up in her room banging things around and grumbling about having to do chores on Saturday when Dennis drove up to the house.

Sierra stepped out onto the front porch to have a word with him about the importance of him having Tyree home at the appointed time. The weather held bright and mild. The buzzing of a circular saw filled the air with the sound of progress. Sierra glanced toward the building site perhaps thirty yards away and saw that Sam had stripped down to his undershirt. He finished the cut just as Dennis got out of his car. Sam put aside the electric saw and brushed sawdust from his forearms and hair before peeling off the undershirt and shaking it out.

Sierra smiled. One thing she’d noticed about Sam since he’d started working here was his natural penchant for cleanliness and order. He never put away a tool without wiping it down, and he kept himself and his work site as clean as possible.

Footsteps crunched on gravel. Sierra turned to face Dennis and caught a disparaging look on his face.

“So that’s the plowboy.”

Sierra glared at him. Once Dennis had been handsome. Tall, dark, powerfully built, he had seemed manly and strong, someone who could stand against her father. Soon enough, however, his true weakness had been exposed, and now he seemed to wear it in every tired line on his face and the sag of muscles gone soft. She wasn’t surprised that he’d heard about Sam, but he had some nerve speaking of him in that contemptuous manner.

“Don’t call him that. He happens to be my business partner.”

“Yeah? What’s he plowing besides the field?” Dennis sneered.

Sierra’s mouth fell open. “That’s a filthy thing to say!”

“Oh, come on, Sierra. Everyone knows you’ve bought yourself a boy-toy.”

“That’s a lie!”

“You think I care if you’re getting down and dirty with that kid? All that concerns me is what you’re paying for it.”

“That really is all you care about, isn’t it, Dennis? The money. You can’t bear the thought that someone else might get his hands on it!”

“I’m thinking about Tyree,” he insisted. “It’s her inheritance.”

“Funny, you sure weren’t concerned enough about Tyree to pay your child support when it was all I could do to keep a roof over her head. You weren’t concerned about our daughter at all until I inherited a million bucks.”

“That’s not so. I just haven’t been as lucky as you. I’ve had hard times.”

“So have I.”

“Well, I’m still having a hard time, but you just don’t give a flip, do you?”

“Not even a little one.”

“You are one cold b—”

“Don’t think you can stand here and call me filthy names on my own doorstep!” she interrupted hotly.

“And some doorstep it is, too!”

“This doorstep is mine, Dennis. What does yours look like?”

“Oh, yeah, rub it in, why don’t you? Money gets dumped in your lap, and I’m living hand-to-mouth. I get that, believe me!”

“Stop it!”

Sierra whirled around to find Tyree in the open doorway, her face contorted, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Stop it!” she screamed again. “Stop fighting! I hate you fighting!”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Sierra began.

At the same moment, Dennis accused, “Now look what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done?” Sierra exclaimed.

At that, Tyree tore across the porch and ran around the corner.

“Well, that’s just terrific!” Dennis shouted, throwing up his hands.

“Get out of here!” Sierra told him angrily. “I mean it, Dennis. Go!”

Dennis yanked open his car door. “Fine. You’ve ruined the whole day, anyway!” He dropped down behind the wheel and slammed the door. He was mouthing angry words as he drove away, but the window was up and the engine was running, and she didn’t really care to hear it, anyway. She felt physically ill as she swung off the porch and around the house to go in search of her daughter. This was one day that surely couldn’t get any worse.

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