TRACKING TRISHA - A Black Hounds Motorcycle Club Romance (The Fox and the Hounds Book #1) Read Free Page A

proud and sculpted like that of a Renaissance statue. His windswept hair was of medium length and looked incapable of being combed properly. The man was gorgeous and he knew it. He had the tall, well-muscled build of a man and the boyish swagger of troublemaking teenager.
     
     
    “Likewise, Mr. Alastair.”
     
     
    “Please, call me Dante,” he laughed, causing her to turn flush again. “Mr. Alastair was my late father’s name. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being called that.”
     
     
    “Dante said he wanted to place an order,” Harold chimed in. “Actually, he wanted to place a lot of orders. He wants everything from turnips to strawberries. He even wants some of the wool we have left over from shearing!”
     
     
    “I’ll take it from here, Harold,” Trisha said, dismissing the young man. She led Dante to her house as she probed him for answers. “I’ll take you inside to fill out your order.”
     
     
    “Thank you,” he replied. “It’s a long drive here from the city. This place is beautiful. I should have made the trip earlier.”
     
     
    “What brings you to Foxtail Farms, Dante?” Trisha asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “From the looks of it, you’re placing a very big order from an admittedly small farm. In fact, I would say that this sounds like a recurring supply order.”
     
     
    “Well, I enjoy… perusing smaller providers when selecting suppliers,” he answered, reaching the door to Trisha’s house. “The bigger farms can’t give the same attention to detail or natural quality as the smaller farms. I want to make sure we’re getting our money’s worth when supplying my business. That’s why I’ve come here in person.”
     
     
    “Is that so?” Trisha answered, suspecting that something wasn’t right. “Do club presidents, or CEOs or whatever they call you do the grocery shopping?”
     
     
    The man had to have an agenda. The biker was born into money and power. He never had to live paycheck to paycheck. He never had to worry if he had enough money to keep a roof over his head.
     
     
    Trisha wondered why the man had come here. He couldn’t be sick and twisted enough to see her failing farm as some sort of entertainment. He also couldn’t possibly interested in buying her land considering the money he had.
     
     
    Nevertheless, the man looked impressed at her line of questioning. “I learned of this place from my mother. I would always pass it when I would go out riding in this area. I figured I should finally drop by.”
     
     
    “Your mother?”
     
     
    “Whenever she was around here, my mother, Samantha, used to buy from Foxtail Farms,” he answered, looking somewhat nostalgic. “She always hated the city and preferred these parts. I remembered she would buy fresh fruits from here and bring it home for us. She would always get that dried grapefruit candy that was made fresh here. My sister Lucia and I would always fight over it. Do you still have some by any chance? I just got a craving.”
     
     
    Trisha’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m afraid not. We don’t grow grapefruit here anymore. It’s just too water hungry with the drought warning.”
     
     
    Dante smiled. “My mother always made small talk with the woman who helped run the place. I think it was Mary Kaplan. Is she still here? I always ride pass here but never got the opportunity to meet her.”
     
     
    “That was my mother,” Trisha whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “She died earlier this year from heath issues. Dad didn’t last too long after that. He just stopped taking care of himself.”
     
     
    “I’m very sorry to hear that,” the man offered. He seemed to internally curse himself for upsetting her. “I’ve lost my mother recently as well, Beatrix.”
     
     
    “Please call me Trisha,” she replied, stopping the tears from flowing. This was now a time for business rather than reminiscing. “Beatrix is my real name but only my mother ever used