A Kiss to Seal the Deal / The Army Ranger's Return: A Kiss to Seal the Deal / The Army Ranger's Return

Kate smiled and followed him into the dining hall. All eyes were on them, which barely registered, because her eyes were entirely on Grant.

Kate can look after herself.

Uncertainty nibbled. On one hand, it was enormously validating to have someone like Grant McMurtrie display such confidence in her ability to handle herself, after years of being talked down to as a pretty, young woman in the male-dominated scientific community. But, on the other hand, feeling Grant’s hard body slide in between her and danger had generated a heady, primitive kind of rush, and the tingles it caused were still resonating. Kate stared at the back of those broad shoulders crossing the dining room and remembered how they’d shielded her from Joe Sampson.

She smiled. Or perhaps protected Joe from her.

‘Table for two?’ A tall, toothy waitress appeared from nowhere with two menus. She gave Kate an approving wink before placing the menus on a neatly laid table and parting on, ‘Hope the company’s more agreeable in here.’

It couldn’t be hard. Still, for all the drama, at least she was walking away with a boat and someone to captain it. So something positive had come from the evening.

A few moments later they were settled and seated and everyone in the bar had gone back to minding their own business. Mostly. Kate could feel Joe Sampson’s malevolent stare on her back from across the adjoining bar-room. Her heart slowly got back to its normal rhythm.

‘So, you weren’t kidding about being farming blood. You’re a country girl,’ Grant said by way of a conversation-starter.

Kate looked up. ‘Sunbrook. We ran dairy, mostly, but had sheep and some alpacas.’

‘What happened to the stock when you moved to the city?’

‘Sold, apparently.’

‘Apparently?’

Her hands tightened under the table. ‘I never asked. I never wanted to know. Two of those alpacas were like pets to me.’

Grant shook his head. ‘And no-one asked your permission? Asked you what you wanted?’

Defensiveness surged through her for the people who’d been left with the awful task of sorting out her life. The people who’d done their best. But deep down she knew that Grant only voiced the same question she’d had her entire adult life. How hard would it have been to ask her what she needed?

She shrugged and studied the menu. ‘I was twelve. What was I going to say? There was no way Aunt Nancy would have moved onto the farm, so what choice did I have?’

Conversation stalled while they ordered meals and their drinks arrived—a tall beer for Grant and a wine and soda for Kate.

‘It’s funny,’ he finally said, breaking the silence. ‘While I was doing everything I could to get out of this place, you would have given your life to go back to your farm.’

Kate sipped carefully then lowered her glass. ‘I still would.’

‘Did you ever go back?’

She’d driven south especially to see it a few years back but, even with the shielding of time past, it hurt too much. ‘Only once. I couldn’t bear to see someone else’s children climbing my trees. Someone else’s washing on Mum’s line.’ Her voice cracked slightly and she took another sip. He hadn’t touched his beer; his attention was completely on her.

‘What did you do with the money?’

‘Most of it went back to the bank to pay off the agricultural loan. Some of it went to Nancy for taking me in. What little was left I got when I was eighteen. I used it as a down payment on my apartment.’ She folded her hands on the table and leaned towards him. ‘Grant, why are you selling Tulloquay? I completely understand your desire to keep it in one piece, but why sell it at all? Why not lease it, or get a caretaker in? Keep it in your family?’

His lips thinned. ‘What family?’

That was right; he had as little as she did now that his father was gone. ‘Your future family. Someone should look after it. Until you need it.’

‘Angling for a new job, Kate?’

She didn’t laugh. ‘No. But I would give anything for a chance to come back to country living, to have something to call my own: land. A future. A home. I can’t understand how selling it is better than keeping it. Even if you kept it empty.’

‘An empty farm is soulless, Kate. I’d rather see a stranger take it and make it great than let it run fallow.’

Her heart softened. She considered not voicing her thoughts. ‘Every now and again I look at your face and I see Leo staring back at me.’

He stiffened.

‘I meant that as a compliment, Grant. He was a complicated but dedicated man. And he was determined to strengthen Tulloquay, to keep it relevant.’

‘Then he should have left it to someone else.’

‘Because you’re not interested?’

‘Because I’m not a farmer.’

‘That’s not the first time you’ve said that. Do you think farmers are born knowing what to do?’

‘They’re raised. Trained.’

She frowned at him. ‘Leo didn’t teach you?’

He thought about that long and hard, staring into his beer. Eventually he lifted his head. ‘I didn’t want to learn.’

The dark shadows in his eyes called out to her. ‘You didn’t want the farm—even then?’

‘I didn’t want my future mapped out for me. If he’d said he wanted me to go into the army, I probably would have wanted to be a farmer. He pushed too hard.’

The two lines that creased his forehead told her he’d said more than he meant to. She nodded. ‘I can see that. He had a very forceful way about him. Particularly after he … Well, at the end there. When he thought he was out of time.’

Grant’s forehead creased further. ‘What do you mean?’

Kate rushed in to fix her insensitive gaffe. ‘I’m sorry. I just meant that he must have felt the pressure following his diagnosis. The urgency to get things in order.’

Grant’s face bleached in a heartbeat. His body froze.

Kate’s stomach squeezed into a tiny fist. Oh please, Leo … Please have told your son …

His already deep voice was pure gravel. ‘What diagnosis?’

Kate’s eyes fell shut. ‘Grant, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you—’

‘Kate!’ The bark drew stares from the other diners. ‘What diagnosis?’

Empathy bubbled up urgently. Memories of that awful discussion in her principal’s office bled through her. Memories of Mrs Martin’s pale face. Her shaking fingers, having to break a child’s heart with unspeakable news.

She groaned. ‘Grant …’