Page 18 of One Scorching Summer

“Skye!” He was stunned and miserably uncomfortable.

“My bad,” she said, giggling and clearly pleased with herself. “But I have your full attention now. I see the women who drool and pant, stop in their tracks to stare and admire. You're hot, Uncle Rake. You have a wild sense of humor that I sense Jorja would enjoy. Landry is only three hours. She travels all over Texas for work and can office from anywhere. There's plenty of space in our house to add another office.”

“No more discussion. I'm not askin'Jorja Ogden out. I am not going to date, marry, or impregnate her. I'm content with my life but appreciate your concern.”

“Well, time will tell. Mom, Dad, Uncle Lee, and you … Every single adult in my life has told me ‘Never say never.’”

Out of the mouth of a babe. Based on her track record, Skye might be right, which meant he was probably fucked.

CHAPTER FIVE

Jorja rose early, anticipating her second visit to the Carpenter Ranch, hoping it was successful in moving the process of bringing the parcels under lease. The messenger bag was repacked with her device and charger, copies of Ogden-Keller's lease form, pens, and a fresh legal pad. Taught by landmen who had more years in the industry than she had been alive, she was old school, preferring to record details by shorthand. Writing would also serve to help her focus less on the dreamy rancher.

Her father, and his father before him, often said that landowners only wanted to do business with those they felt they could trust. Somehow, the initial head butting between Rake and her had to be defused.

Still pushing for a hookup between her best friend and Rake, Nettie had not mentioned that he would be there, and she would have, especially after Jorja disclosed what happened with Rake at the ranch on Friday and the history of their families. But she had tried to bring him several times last night, finally dropping the subject when Jorja gave her the death stare.

The conundrum was that she and Rake were enemy combatants not of their making but of a situation they inherited from earlier generations. And here she was, requestingpermission to explore and drill beneath his land, a mammoth tract that blanketed the mineral estates her family owned. It was essential that it went well and was above board. She mentally noted what she was faced with:

Trying to do business within a fractious history.

Contending with searing attraction.

What could go wrong?

A lot.

The need to prove herself to her father pushed her. Like her brother, she possessed an unrelenting drive to succeed. While shadowing geologists,geophysicists, and engineers and spending days upon days in the fields accompanying Walter and Clive on visits—Ogden-Keller’s two landmen with whom she was most familiar—Jorja’s love of the oil and gas industry grew, propelling her to learn as much as she could.

The seed of ambition, long planted in Texas’ oil-and-gas-rich land, propelled her forward, toward earning, on merit, her place as the next CEO of Ogden-Keller Oil. To do so, to be held in the highest regard, she had to have a solid understanding about the industry (check) and the laws governing it (check), technical skills of the diverse workforce (check), and improve her business acumen (working on it). She hoped to enter the C-Suite before turning forty. She had thirteen years and a tremendous amount of work to do to soften and influence her father’s long-held opinions and biases.

Jamison Ogden never considered employing his daughter at Ogden-Keller, forget preparing her to take over. He and his wife saw that role being filled by their son Clem; the heir apparent who was eight years older than Jorja. Their mother was intent on finding her daughter a suitable husband. The marriage would provide her and Jamison with grandchildren.

The news that Clem was not joining Ogden-Keller was met with a ferocity that Jorja had never witnessed in her parents.Amid the shock and anger reverberating through their home like a godawful Texas storm, Jorja schemed, strategically planning what was needed to supplant her brother in a role that he had no interest in, with his blessing. She had no desire to settle down at such a young age—certainly not with someone chosen by her parents—and acted out until her father agreed to bring her on as a landman apprentice.

Shouting matches, recriminations, and slamming doors were reduced to arguments and pleading. Eventually, their parents surrendered. Clem went off to medical school, still within Texas, and then out of state to complete his specialty in neurology. He settled in Chicago, joining the same practice as Uncle Royce, their father’s younger brother.

Jorja took to being a landman like a duck to water. But she wanted more.

She shook her head and returned to the present.Focus. Rake’s giving you a second chance.Still, there were monumental hurdles to overcome: earning his trust and regarding her as likable and credible, tall orders considering the history and the sexual energy zinging between them.

This time, she selected her clothes based on what businesspeople had been wearing Saturday in Eagle Creek. Clean, lightweight jeans without any holes or distressing, a pale pink sleeveless lightweight-cotton shirt, and the same cowboy boots—her favorites—that she had on the other night at Beugy’s. If Rake recommended walking any of ranch, her worn steel-toed leather work boots were in the large, locked cargo hold, which also contained the emergency survival kit, first aid kit, and get home bag. Preparedness had been driven into her since she was a young thing and become more so when she was driving Grandad's International.

Would Rake be amused by her dressing down for this visit? His reaction, or lack thereof, might indicate how the meetingwould go. Or not. Her one thick braid was pulled through the back of the denim-blue ball cap, keeping escaped strands tucked in. Hair flying about or stuck to her face was annoying, especially on what was predicted to be a sultry day, until the cold front arrived ahead of a storm that was expected to wreak havoc in the area of the Lone Star State later this afternoon. By then she would be tucked into her townhome in Landry and out of the storm's path.

Body thrumming, Jorja pulled into the Carpenter property, heading up the rise and past the old stone house and barns, where the meeting that might forever haunt her had occurred. The weedy gravel gave way to a well-maintained paved drive that wound through undulating topography and led to a magnificent post and beam home surrounded by beautiful landscaping sitting atop a much higher hill that possessed a 360-degree view. She also glimpsed a decent sized shed close to the house with a fenced garden situated to minimize exposure to Texas’ afternoon heat.

A sleek, metallic red BMW convertible was stationed on the parking pad under the dense shade of a large bur oak. She parked the International next to the Beemer and carefully opened the ornery door, exiting the truck in one piece. Her eyes traveled over the car and its cognac-colored leather interior; it was the same model her mother drove, only hers was green with a white interior. A car charm in the shape of the state of Texas, embellished with a dangling feather of the same metal and a leather tassel, hung from the review mirror. A curly straw cowboy hat rested in the passenger seat. A woman. What was she walking into? An overnight guest? She groaned under herbreath but kept moving toward the house, undeterred. It was early for a business meeting, but she was here at Rake’s request.

A stone path steered her to the steps and onto the wide front porch overlayed with the same material. She paused before going any further and turned in a slow circle, taking in the soaring expanse of exposed timber beams spanning from posts, the large ceiling fans churning languidly, and the collections of seating. Inviting. It was easy to envision herself relaxing in one of the comfortable-looking chairs. She approached the double front doors. The left side opened before she could knock.

Rake appeared, with damp hair and barefooted, dressed in jeans and a black "I'm Your Density" tee.

Seriously?A quote fromBack to the Future?

He raised the mug he was holding, a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes assessed her from head to toe. “Mornin', Miss Ogden. I'm never sure which woman I’m gonna meet. Please come in.” He extended his arm into the house, and she entered, quivering as she moved past him. He smelled wonderful—clean, vibrant, and woodsy.

“Wow. Your home is gorgeous.” It was spacious yet felt like a warm hug. The smells of coffee and something baked made her mouth water. That and the man close to her. She inhaled deep and exhaled slow to ease the erratic beating of heart, then faced him and smiled cheerfully. It was a new day after all, and she would likely be spending hours of it with him.Let’s get this off on a positive note.“Good morning, Mr. Carpenter. Have you considered that I might be more than a few women all tucked into one?”

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