Page 18 of The Mountain Echoes

At over seventy, he’s still all lean muscle and hard edges, his skin leathered by sun and wind, and his hands look like they were made to grip fence wire and horse reins.

His eyes are sharp. He doesn’t miss much, even when he pretends he’s not paying attention.

Earl’s not the kind of man who talks to fill the silence. When he speaks, it means something.

“What are you tryin’ to tell me, Earl?” I’m done beating around the bush.

He fixes his gaze on me. His stormy gray eyes are sharp. “She’s not goin’ to sell, Mav.”

The fuck?

“She say that?” I ask calmly when I want to demand he explain this because I’ve been crystal clear about wanting to buy Longhorn. And for the past six months, while Rami was sick, even he was on board. Said it himself. Gave me his blessing. He knew Celine wanted to sell ‘cause she needed the money.

Hudson used to keep the books at Longhorn, but, near as I can tell, he was just good at losing money. He came from wealth, sure, but that’s long gone. Blew through it. Speaking of bad decisions, Hudson’s made a few—one of them is a habit he can’t shake at the underground poker games in Aspen.

And Rami had been fairly certain Aria would not return. He hadn’t even been sure she’d come back for his funeral.

As a man for whom family means everything, Aria walking away is the biggest mark against her as far as I’m concerned.

Earl shakes his head and stubs his cigarette under his boot. “Nah. Haven’t talked to her ‘bout it. But I’ve gotta feelin’.”

My heartbeat slows down. The man is just spouting shit.

“Earl, I told you, you’ll be taken care of.”

He smiles at me, like he pities me. “Mav, this ain’t about me. This is abouther. This is about a legacy.”

With that cryptic remark, he leaves me by the tree.

I decide I’ve had enough and walk around the house to where my truck is parked.

I see her in the back garden. She’s sitting on a swing, looking at the mountains. She’s still in that black dress with tights and Ugg boots and just a cardigan.

The woman thinks she’s still in California?Christ’s sake!And Earl believes she isn’t going to sell?

Does she even know how much debt is hanging over the place? And how the debtors are circling like buzzards? I’m giving her and her sister a lifeline—fair, generous, a hell of a deal considering the ranch’s state.

Is she going to complicate my life?

Fuck that.I don’t do complicated. This woman has no idea how this land bleeds—she’s a California girl, and the sooner she goes home, the better for everyone.

I walk over slowly, my boots crunching over the cold ground. She doesn’t turn until I’m close enough to smell the hint of apples. Her shampoo?

She’s staring out at the horizon like she’s waiting for something to rise out of it.

I should leave her be. Now isn’t the time. But….

“You always sneak up on women when they’re trying to be alone?” she asks without looking at me, surprising me.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” I ignore her comment.

She sways on the swing, her eyes still on the mountains in the distance. “I know who you are and you know who I am; and this isn’t the Victorian era where we need to beintroduced.”

She bites!

There is none of the femininity that Celine exudes. There is something hard and bitter about Aria.

Her dark hair’s tied back in a braid that’s coming loose in the wind, and her eyes—black coffee and moonless-night dark—are cold. There’s no softness in them.