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

to call me that. I always hated being called. It always made me feel old.”
     
     
    “Okay, Trisha,” he said. “I should have come here sooner for a joyride. The fresh air is already making me feel better.”
     
     
    Trisha gave him a teasing smile. “Happy to get away from the media frenzy surrounding your motorcycle club?”
     
     
    Dante shifted uncomfortable in his riding boots. “You heard?”
     
     
    “I may not be a city girl but I follow the news,” she replied. “I heard about the awful things they’re saying about your uncle. The man did his time. He should be able to live the rest of his time out in peace. It’s like as if the media wants another trial.”
     
     
    “The media has to justify its wages,” Dante said, bemused at her words. “I won’t blame a dog for wanting to bark.”
     
     
    “I apologize if I sounded rude earlier,” she said, opening the door to her home. “It’s just that when people come here to do business, I always expect them to give me offers for the land.”
     
     
    “I can assure you,” Dante said with a playful smile. “I have no interest in your land. Let’s go inside and discuss my order.”
     
     
    Life was hard for Beatrix Kaplan. Now, her burden felt a little lighter.

 
    He had hit the jackpot. Trisha Kaplan was perfect. Lucia couldn’t find a better woman outside of the Virgin Mary herself.
     
     
    Dante wasn’t a romantic by any stretch of the imagination. However, he couldn’t help but think their meeting was orchestrated by a higher power. Hell, their mothers even knew each other. Trisha was the perfect puzzle piece to finish Lucia’s scheme.
     
     
    The farm girl had was the perfect salt-of-the-earth woman to balance his image as the bad boy biker. The woman had her own business and wasn’t afraid to get dirty performing hard labor. She had a strong ties to the local community and was descended from a farming dynasty. The woman looked like she knew what it was to do a day’s work for a day’s pay.
     
     
    Sure, she wasn’t a beautiful model but he was better off for it. The public would love her down to earth persona rather than some stickup model. Dante personally found the farm girl’s sooty look to be appealing. It reminded him of the grease covered mechanics he had dated during his teenage years.
     
     
    The woman seemed ashamed of her home’s frugal furnishings but Dante didn’t mind. He loved the messy clutter of a good car repair shop. What was there at Trisha’s home looked to be rundown and need of a good dusting. The areas that were clean looked to be from furniture that had been moved around.
     
     
    Or sold off to raise money.
     
     
    Business forms and other financial documents littered the house. The woman had tried hard to buy more time for her sinking farm and its workers. The line between home and office was nonexistent. Dante even found a certificate thanking Foxtail Farms and Trisha for donating food to needy children. Trisha must have invested more of her time and money on her business, workers, and charity work than her own well-being.
     
     
    The two discussed business over some very nice peach-mango tea at her dinner table. They began by talking about the business order but conversation soon turned to agriculture. In spite of her youth, Trisha knew as much about agriculture and biology as a Professor with a Ph.D. She impressed him with how she had been able to run a farm while there was a water conservation act limiting resources. Occasionally, Trisha would go out of the house to direct her workers before returning to him and their conversation.
     
     
    She was certainly smart enough to deduce he wasn’t exactly here to do grocery shopping. Dante was reminded of his sister’s appearance belying her intellect. Nevertheless, Trisha would never suspect what he had come here to buy.
     
     
    Eventually, tea time turned into lunch.
     
     
    “Trisha, this pasta primavera is delicious,” Dante praised,