The Bravo Bachelor

She asked, “You the oldest?”

“No, second born.”

“So why don’t you build your fancy houses on your own ranch?”

Had he seen that one coming? You bet he had. He sipped more coffee and told her why his family ranch wouldn’t do—even if the family had been willing to let it go. “Bravo Ridge is too far from a major highway. The plan is to build a top-quality San Antonio bedroom community that’s just far enough out to be considered in the country. With energy and oil prices so high, access and reasonable commute times are going to be key.”

“Plus, it’s your family ranch, right? Your…heritage. Your history. No way you’d let some developer build tract homes on it.”

She had it right. He changed the subject. “Mary. Please.

Not tract homes. Each house will be one of a kind. It’s a fine plan we’ve put together.” He gestured toward the glasstopped back door. It opened onto a patio—he could see the rusting metal patio cover. Beyond that, across a rough patch of drying grass and a wide dirt driveway, there was a barn and a few other rundown outbuildings and pens. “Your land will be put to good use.”

“My land is already put to good use.”

He spoke gently again. “You’re a freelance writer, Mary, not a rancher. We both know you barely have time to take care of the few animals your husband left you. With the baby coming, it’s only going to get more difficult for you.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Your land is overgrown.”

“I like it that way.”

It’s dangerous that way, he thought. A damn wildfire waiting to happen. But she might take such a remark as some kind of veiled threat and that wasn’t the tone he was going for. “I’m only saying that the land itself would be better served if it got more care.”

Now she was studying him. “More care, huh?”

“That’s right.”

“You know, I can see why they send you in to make the impossible happen, to.. .how did they put it in the Godfather movies?”

He saluted her with the mug and reluctantly provided the words she was looking for. “Make them an offer they can’t refuse?”

“That’s it.”

So much for avoiding any hint of a threat. “The Bravos are hardly the Mafia, Mary.”

“Of course you’re not.” She rubbed the side of her big stomach, frowning. “But you are used to getting what you want.”

“And so are the people we deal with. We do our best to make every transaction a win-win.”

She pulled a face at that. And then she shrugged. “Anyway, as I was saying…” Her brows drew together and she slid her hand around behind her to rub her lower back. “I can see why they sent you. There’s something about you. It’s partly your looks.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“I’m just stating a fact. It never hurts to be good-looking when you show up to try and charm a person into doing something she’s repeatedly refused to do. And you are charming.”

“I try.”

“Well, it’s working.”

“Good to know.”

“Plus, you seem…so calm. And patient. And interested, too. Interested in me and my welfare.”

“I am interested, Mary.” It was true. Not so much in her welfare. But in her. She wasn’t what he’d expected. To bend her to his will, gently, so that in the end she decided she wanted to sell, would be a challenge. And challenges interested him. But the truth was, even if he hadn’t been interested, he would have said he was and made her think he meant it.

She smoothed another lock of hair behind her ear. “I mean, we both know you’re only trying to manipulate me into signing away my ranch.”

“Ouch.”

“But yet you seem so relaxed about it. As if you don’t really care if you make it happen or not, as if you’re just enjoying sitting here in my kitchen with me, drinking regular coffee that came out of a can.”

“I am enjoying this, Mary.” He leaned closer. Her scent drifted to him again: Ivory soap and citrus. He lowered his voice. “That’s my secret. I enjoy making things.. .work out.”

“Work out for BravoCorp, you mean.”

“And for you, Mary. Believe it or not, I’m on your side.”

She didn’t roll her eyes, but she did make a small sound of disbelief.

He sat back in his chair. “Ready for the presentation?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Mary couldn’t hold back a laugh when the name of the housing development appeared on the screen.

Gabe punched the pause button. “What? You don’t like the name?”

“Bravo River? There’s no Bravo River on my property. There’s no river at all.”

“True. But there’s a nice, wide creek.”

“Skunk Creek, you mean?”

“That’s the one. We’ll change the name.”

He wouldn’t be doing any such thing, since he was not getting his hands on the Lazy H. But she’d already told him that about a hundred times, so she kept quiet. He punched the key again and the show continued.

In spite of herself, Mary was impressed. The presentation started with a great little movie. There was stirring music and a narrator who sounded like Robert Duvall.

The movie showed how BravoCorp, its architects and builders would respect the land when they built on it, designing each house to fit the terrain of the lot it would stand on, so that existing trees and geological features would remain, as much as possible, the way nature had created them. The houses themselves would employ green technology, using renewable resources, incorporating solar energy. There would even be Bravo River buses available between the development and San Antonio, so people could use mass transit rather than driving their cars and contributing to greenhouse gases and the oil crisis.

A montage of images showed the housing development taking shape, and then an aerial tour showed how it would look when it was completed. And even though she would never let it happen on her land, Mary had to admit, it was going to be beautiful when they finally found a place to put it.

He also had the pie charts and graphs she’d expected. They detailed how great Bravo River was going to be for the area, for the economy, for everybody—especially Mary. Now not only were they offering her a whopping price for the Lazy H, they were throwing in a percentage of the project’s profits.

If there was any chance that Mary might have changed her mind, she would have done it after seeing Gabe’s presentation. But there was no chance, as she’d made more than clear. She was only waiting for him to finish so she could say “no.” Again.