Page 3 of So Wrong It Must Be Right

“Don’t! He’ll call the cops.”

Dinah waved her off. “I’ll pick something ripe and give it back to him. I’m doing him a favor, really.”

Kayla muttered a disagreement, but Dinah ignored her. She surveyed the arches of green and splashes of color—squash maybe.

The yard looked very familiar. Like she’d seen it . . . somewhere. Somewhere. Well, she didn’t have time to dwell on that. She had to find a ripe vegetable to pick.

And since she had to no idea what she was doing, that was going to be a challenge.

* * *

Carter was not falling for this dirty trick. He wasn’t. If he was grinding his teeth and clenching his fists in his pockets, it was only because...

Aw, fuck it. She was winning. Touching his plants, his stuff, picking a damn unripe squash. He couldn’t let it go, even though he knew that was her plan all along.

He threw open the window, pushing his face close to the screen. “I’m calling the cops,” he shouted.

“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t,” the redhead answered just as casual as you please. “I only want to have a civil conversation.”

“Hell to the no, lady. I know what Gallagher means bycivil, and it’sscrew me six ways to Sundayand then he’d expect me to thank him for it.”

“As you can see,Mr.Gallagher isn’t here.”

“Just because you have breasts doesn’t mean I’m more inclined to talk to you.” Even if they were rather distracting when she was kneeling facing his window. From his higher vantage point, he could see down the gap between fabric and skin. Dark lace against very pale skin. A few freckles across her chest and cheeks. He briefly thought of his last email from D.

Maybe we couldn’t wait, and I unbutton and unzip your pants right there on your front porch.

He couldn’t think about the rest of that email and maintain his irritation, so he forced it out of his mind and focused on the offending party.

Her hair was a fashionable tangle of rich reddish waves. Her face was all made up with hues of pink, and the heels of her shoes sank into the mud next to his zucchini.

When she stood, wrinkling her freckled nose at him, he could see that she had long, lean legs, probably as pale and freckly as her chest, but black tights obscured them.

Which was good. This was one attraction he had no interest in pursuing. A Gallagher, for fuck’s sake. Of course she was gorgeous. She probably paid a lot of money to be. Her family was rolling in it.

“I’m calling the cops,” he threatened again.

“Don’t you think they have better things to do?”

“Listen, lady—”

“All I want is ten minutes of your time, Mr. Trask. That’s all. Much easier than getting the police involved.”

She had a point and it wasn’t like he was going to change his mind, but still, he knew the lay of the land. People with money managed to get what they wanted. People like him, people who just wanted to be left alone to work the land, to grow things and be at peace—those were the people trampled in the name of progress.

Ten minutes seemed innocuous, but it wouldn’t be the end. They wouldn’t accept his no. This was their third attempt at this point. Two from the sleaze in the suit, now an approach from these women.

Like he was going to change his mind just because of a change in tactics. Fat-ass chance. “Get off my property.”

She continued to stare at him through the screen, and he didn’t appreciate the scrutiny. It wasn’t anything like the first Gallagher guy. That guy had been downright rude. A total asshole. Carter had trouble understanding why someone in business thought being a total dick was the way to win over someone, but he’d given up trying to understand people a long time ago.

“Maybe you could invite us in? Or we can talk out here if you’d be more comfortable.”

Carter wanted to tell her no. He wanted to follow through on his threat to call the cops, but she was right. That was a waste of time for everyone involved. And worse, so much worse, she was still touching his plants.

There was something uncomfortably sexy in the way she let a finger trail over a leaf. Yeah, he’d go talk to them and get them out of here ASAP.

He stalked back outside to his porch, resisting the urge to go to the shed and find the most pointy, threatening gardening tool he had. Barely.

---