Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“You sound like you actually want to stay.” Head tilting, Faith studied me through horrified eyes.
“Trust me, I want to sell as much as you do.” I gestured around the room. The formal dining room, with all its dark woods and somber paintings, had always freaked me out as a kid. “I hate this place. Stuck in the small town we escaped for a whole year sounds like misery to me too, but what alternative do we have?” I turned back toward Mr. Ernest. “Who does the ranch pass to if we don’t agree?”
“Ah.” Mr. Ernest held up a spindly index finger as if scoring a point. “Your father was insistent that the ranch stay in Lovelorn hands. If you don’t agree to the terms, a distant cousin has been discovered in New York. Quentin Lovelorn, the third.”
“We’re not the last Lovelorns?” Faith visibly recoiled, pushing her chair away from the table with the force of her objection. “I hate him already.”
“Me too,” I readily agreed. “And this is why we need to at least consider complying. I’m not letting our inheritance—or Hannah’s—go to someone we’ve never heard of.”
My sister could be insufferable at times, but she’d given me my niece, who had one of the sweetest dispositions ever. Neither Faith nor I particularly deserved to inherit the ranch, but Hannah deserved all that was good in the world and a secure future.
“God.” Faith gazed skyward at the paneled ceiling before standing and stalking to the built-in corner liquor cabinet. “I need a drink.”
“Are you sure—”
“Maverick.” Faith whirled at me before I could finish the question. “I’m a grown woman who needs a drink.”
“I thought you did Dry January?” I’d been beyond relieved when she’d announced her newfound sobriety at the start of the year.
“Luckily, it’s June.”
“Ahem.” Apparently bored by the brewing sibling conflict, Mr. Ernest snapped his briefcase shut with a decisive click. “All the documentation is in the paperwork. If you wish to have someone look at the will and trust, by all means, do.”
“Oh, we will.” Faith’s tone was ominous. She’d had work done, a tightness around her temples and forehead that made scowling impossible, but she continued to have the best glare west of the Rockies.
“If you decide to stay, we can review all the existing ranch financials at another time.” Mr. Ernest addressed the offer to me while Faith poured herself a very generous scotch.
“Thank you.” I showed him out of the dining room, passing through the front parlor to the covered wide front porch. “We will be in touch.”
I shut the door and headed away from the stifling parlor toward the kitchen with the far more welcoming great room beyond. This was the warm and cozy part of the house, a newer addition to the lodge, and while Brita, my favorite cook, was long gone, at least here, I could breathe.
Well, breathe until Grayson, the foreman, ambled in through the back door. He was around ten years older than me and far more silver, but I remembered him best as a pensive young man trailing behind his father, the prior foreman. The two of them had shown up back when Mel and my mother had been alive, a package deal of two-for-one ranch hands that quickly did the impossible and earned my father’s trust.
And mine. I’d never had reason to doubt Grayson’s word or loyalty, so I stood my ground next to the coffee maker rather than give in to the urge to beat a hasty retreat.
“Legal done?” Grayson wasn’t one to mosey around a conversation. He poured himself a cup of coffee—black, of course. “How soon ’til the For Sale sign goes up?”
“A year. Apparently.” I made a vague gesture. There was no point in lying to someone I respected as deeply as Grayson, and he’d find out soon enough. “My dad wants to force Faith and me to live here for a year before we can think about selling.”
“Fuck.” He drew out the word in a low groan.
“You didn’t know about the terms of the will?” I’d never entirely understood why or how Grayson continued to put up with my father. For years, I’d assumed they’d worked out the sort of friendship I’d never managed with either, but Grayson gave a decisive shake of his head.
“No, Maverick. Despite working for your father more or less my whole adult life, I’m pretty sure he didn’t care for me more than he did any other human.” He offered a bitter laugh. “He wasn’t about to discuss his will with me. Would have ruined his image of being damn near invincible.”
“True. He didn’t like anyone.” I took a second to make my own cup of much-needed coffee, doctoring it with plenty of creamer. “Hell, I’m honestly surprised he didn’t just leave it to you. You at least know how to run a ranch.”