Free Solid Gold Seduction (The Drakes of California) by Zuri Day Page A

a potentially flirtatious occasion now going to hell in a handbasket?
    She crossed her arms. “Griff warned me not to take them. He said that your motives would not be pure.”
    Warren took a step toward her. “Oh, he did, did he?”
    Charli willed herself not to shrink back. Instead, she lifted her chin a notch. “Yes. He did.”
    Without another word, Warren spun around and stalked to the SUV that was parked beside her truck. He got in it, started it up and spewed gravel as he backed out and headed down the driveway.
    It all happened so quickly that it took a moment for Charli’s brain to communicate the obvious. He’s headed to my house!
    She ran to her pickup, jumped in the cab and started it up before her door was shut. Gravel flew again as she raced to catch up with the shiny new SUV, probably pulling with eight cylinders compared to her six. “Oh my God,” she mumbled, shifting into fifth gear and willing her pickup to, well, pick up speed. “Please let Griff be gone to get groceries!”
    Because she had a feeling if the two men met up before she reached them, it wouldn’t be nice.
    She turned off the end of the driveway, and the truck sputtered and died. She pressed on the gas pedal. Nothing.
    “No!” She pumped the pedal and turned the key. Still, the truck refused to speak. The battery had been giving her hints, nudges, warnings that it needed to be replaced. Warnings that she should have heeded because now her truck battery was dead.
    Hopefully, no human she knew would share this fate.
    * * *
    Warren reached the Reed property and took the turn on two wheels. He hadn’t been this angry since...well...in a long darn time! The nerve of someone to call his character into question. To assume that his random act of kindness had strings attached. To suggest that being kin to Walter Drake was akin to being shady. Walter Drake was a stalwart, upright man. Griff or any other dirt dabbler could only wish he could measure up to the heels on his grandfather’s wing-tipped shoes!
    He reached the house and brought his SUV to a screeching halt in the middle of the driveway. He was breathing heavy and his heart raced; he was so angry that he even scared himself. Man, you’ve got to calm down! Still, he flexed his hands and balled them into fists, taking a moment to relish the idea of one of them connecting to the mouth that talked trash against him.
    “No, you’re not going to get physical,” he mumbled aloud, working to calm his irate nerves. “You’re better than that. You’re a man. And you’re getting ready to show this old-school fool what one looks like.”
    He opened the car door, calmly walked up on the Reed porch, crossed to the heavy wooden front door and knocked.
    Once.
    Twice.
    No answer.
    He looked around and noted several cars about, including an old Ford pickup that looked a lot like Griff, whether it belonged to the old geezer or not.
    He turned back to the door. And knocked harder. Bang!
    The door opened with a jerk.
    Griff was chewing his ever-present toothpick. His face was set. His eyes were narrowed. “What the hell you want?”
    Warren took a breath. “My grandfather, Walter Drake, taught me to respect my elders. So, Mr . Griff, I want to know what I ever did to you to cause you to take my name and drag it through the Reed land mud?”

Chapter 16
    G riff eyed the young upstart trying to hold onto his temper. He looked beyond him for Charli’s truck. Didn’t see it. But something told him that the fact that Warren was standing before him had everything to do with Charli’s visit to his ranch. And something told him it wasn’t about whether there’d been too much cinnamon in the pie.
    “Where’s Charli?”
    Warren looked behind him and then turned back to Griff. “I don’t know. But she’s not who I’ve come to visit. I’ve come to see you, Mr. Griff. To talk man to man. Because somewhere along the way you’ve gotten the mistaken notion that you know me. I’m here to clear up