Chapter 95: Reflections on an Interesting Day
From the covered porch of the ranch house, Hunter listened to the steady drumming of the rain on the roof. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his boots in front of him and crossed them at the ankles as he sipped his glass of Jim Beam.
She prefers Irish whiskey, he mused, swirling the Kentucky bourbon around with his tongue.
She. Poppy. If it hasn't been the damnedest day…
He'd ditched work to meet with a fancy New York City lawyer who had turned out to be a gorgeous, red-haired spitfire. He pictured her power-walking in her fancy designer high heels, launching into her talking points about the infernal resort he'd be damned if he'd accommodate with a single inch of McFall land.
After she'd left the ranch, he couldn't stop thinki
