The Fifth Season Read Free

at his anger.
    “Like I’m gonna save ya,” he said. “I’m a long time gone from that business.”
    Emma shook her head and stepped back, slightly discombobulated at his insight. She looked at Stone Connor closely for the first time since he’d arrived. For all she’d been through in her twenty-eight years, Emma had become a very good judge of character.
    Maybe it was due to her father’s coaching in her early childhood on working the room with visiting political members, but she had an innate ability to read people and instinctively understand what made them tick and how to approach them. It’d been an invaluable asset in managing River Run. She swore when she realized her pre-occupation had blocked this sense.
    Stone snarled once more and strode past her to the back deck. She recognized the defensive I don’t give a damn armor . It didn’t bother her; two could play that game. She traipsed behind him.
    “That’s a tributary from the Snake River,” she said, trying to connect on some level, attempting to allow her sixth sense its freedom and provide her with insight.
    He remained silent. Aloof. Emma studied his face. High cheekbones dropped to a firm, intense mouth. No laugh lines there, she mused. At least she figured there weren’t any -- his entire face was cloaked in hair.
    She avoided direct contact with his eyes. Their empty, soulless depths bothered her. He topped her by a good foot. Every muscle rippled, tensed to battle some invisible enemy. The fact that Margaret had rarely spoken about Stone suddenly dawned on her.
    “Over to the left,” she rambled. “Is an old graveyard that belonged to the family who first settled here in the early eighteen hundreds.”
    She stepped back as he turned to her, piercing her with steely eyes.
    “Why do I need to know this?”
    She shrugged, her unease flooding back. “I thought you might be interested,” she said kicking herself internally for her mousy voice.
    “You thought wrong. Where’d you say my room was?”
    Squaring her shoulders, Emma met his gaze. “There’s no need to be rude.”
    “There’s no need to be friendly.”
    “I wasn’t being friendly, I was being polite. There’s a huge difference. Friendly would mean I care.” Let him fire her. She ignored the stream of fear gurgling beneath her pitiful display of courage. He was a hideous man with no manners, and she’d not tolerate him. A deep rumbling emanated from his chest followed by a derisive snort.
    Was he laughing at her?
    She stood as tall as possible, her back as straight as the Lodgepole Pines scattered across the yard. A grin spread across Stone’s face, sending an unfamiliar parade of sizzling sparks along her nerve endings.
    His eyes lit, and she thought a spark of something flashed within their steel depths, but it was gone as quick as it came.
    “I think we’ll get along just fine Ms. O’Malley. Just make sure you stay polite,” he said.
    “Polite won’t be a problem, Mr. Connor. Please follow me. I’ll show you to your room.” Curiosity snuck out from behind her emotional fence and tickled her mind. Stone Connor was an enigma, and it bothered her.
    They entered the house, and she led him toward the western corner.
    “Tell me, Ms. O’Malley, how long have you been employed here.”
    She tensed at his question but quickly realized it was normal under the circumstances. “Fifteen years, Mr. Connor. I’ve lived here for fifteen years.”
    “You were only a child?” he said, his voice laced with astonishment. “Why would Grandmother hire a child?”
    “I was more than capable,” she responded icily. She needn’t elaborate on her past. He was prying.
    “Capable of what? Doing your homework?”
    “My past really is of no concern to you, Mr. Connor. I’m more than qualified to perform my duties.”
    Stopping in front of a large wooden door, Emma twisted the glass knob and opened it. She walked into the center of the sitting room for the master suite, verifying