Page 11 of Forgotten Mountain Man

He nodded. “Yep.”

“And you don’t care?” I kept my tone carefully neutral. Because even though Walker was stubborn and I’d been in his house for around twenty-four hours, I’d grown to care for him. I’d spent far more years looking after his father, but I could see the resemblances between them both.

Also, I loved that piece of land. I’d driven past it many times over the years on the way into white cap, back when I was studying, on my way home. I had to, and it kind of heralded my return that I was backhome.

Okay, so I was invested. And maybe there was a good reason why I hadn’t been reading that day. But also someone who cared about the family should have maybe negotiated with this man and not left him bereft of his inheritance then so we weren’t at this pivotal point now.

And I still wanted to scream at him about it, but I didn’t.

Don’t you care about your father’s legacy? That it will be chopped up and parceled out into roads and other developments around White Cap?

I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose. “You’d only have to come off the mountain once. Just set foot on the land. Claim it is yours. I’ll look after the taxes. You can keep it for?—”

“What, my grandchildren?”

I raised my eyebrows encouragingly at the first alternative to ‘no’ I’d heard in the last hour.

Walker snorted. “Because I see so many opportunities for those around here.”

“Well, if you got off the mountain, maybe you would have a chance to make some,” I said tartly.

Walker leaned across the small fold out table where he had placed his ancient laptop that miraculously booted up with the help of three hours of long overdue updates, and placed his scarred, inked hands on my wrists.

“Faith, listen to me. My answer is no,” he said softly.

I bit my lip, staring into his liquid brown eyes and hated that I was about to do this.

Because there was no way I left town and drove all the way up his mountain without a trump card in my back pocket.

“Even if the reason the land is being taken away from you under a stack of clauses isn’t for roads, Walker? It’s because the roads are being built to put a casino into White Cap.”

His hands tightened on my wrists. “What?”

A zing of tension rocketed between us as his eyes flashed.

I knew I had him. I just hated that I'd had to do it. Paul Roan spent his life protesting and fighting again putting poker machines in the local bars in White Cap. Then the advent of a prospective casino. He spearheaded a massive campaign that prevented the plans for years. Most of my teen and college semesters were spent checking in on him while he made sure that the casino never went ahead, claiming the jobs created wouldn’t be the sort that the town needed. Walker had already left by then.

Then he got old, and sick. But he had spurred the town into action, and the campaigns continued well after he and Walker fell out.

Now Paul Roan was gone and the legacy he left behind was about to be divvied up by corrupt politicians I couldn't prevent from doing what they wanted, lining their pockets with the sale of his land.

But Walker could.Ifhe could move his ass down his mountain in the next two months, and decided to keep that land. Do something with it. Which meant he needed to come off the mountain more often.

And that was the crux of his ‘no’...until right now.

“Faith?” he asked, a warning in his voice.

I didn’t want to, but...needs must. Today fell under that caveat.

“I knew your father well, Walker. Really well.” It was my voice that strained this time, instead of his. “I don’t know if you remember, but I was at his funeral. I was the one hiding in the back because I couldn’t face anyone that day. I handled his legal accounts for years.”

Walker frowned. “You weren't at the will reading, I would have remembered you.” His eyes never flinched from mine as he made that declaration.

Something lanced straight through my chest, like his gaze passed right through me. His thumbs brushed the backs of my hands where he hadn’t let me go, and his fingers shifted to close around mine.

“No. They—I wasn’t allowed to be present. Too distraught, or something.” I hiccupped at the memory.

“Fucking assholes,” he growled, reaching out to sweep my hair back from my face. When the strand just kept going and going he curled it around one fist until he reached the endand tugged gently. “Just because someone cares about another human does not mean they are inept.”

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