He scrubs a hand down his face, and for once, he looks old. Bags hang under his eyes, and strain shows in the frown lines pulling down at the corners of his mouth. “Rayburn also owns half the ranch.”
“What?” Iverson and I say at the same time.
“The guest ranch is mine. The money it makes or loses is mine, but we were both left the land the working ranch is on.” He blows out a hard breath. “If we do this wedding, he’s agreed to sell it to me. Then I can leave it free and clear to my daughters. All but a portion he wants to keep for Sydney. January wants the wedding, and she doesn’t want anything else to do with the ranch.”
A sarcastic snort leaves Campbell. “She probably hasn’t told Stanford, or he’d be counting the money he could squeeze out of you, Daddy.”
Christine’s derisive sniff lands between us. “That girl just wants to show you up more than she wants a part of her family’s legacy. She always was a jealous kid.”
My mind’s whirling. The situation is shitty for everyone involved, but it’s all Hawthorne drama. The only other family involved is Stanford’s. “What’s our role in this?”
William lifts his gaze to Campbell.
She crosses one leg over the other. If she were wearing the dress from last night, it might’ve slid down her knee to reveal some skin.
And why would I care?
She has nice legs. I’m not interested, but I still notice things.
“They would like the local distillery with deep roots in Huckleberry Springs history to provide the spirits and bar services.” She says it like she’s trying to recruit our business, and the way she’s selling it would’ve worked if I hadn’t just heard the story about why.
“We can provide the spirits,” Iverson says. He taps his fingertips together. “Is there a reason why the staff here can’t do their normal duties with the bar? Or why they can’t provide a wet bar?”
“Stanford thinks you’re an asshole and he wants you to wait on him,” Campbell says simply.
I cough out a laugh. “Way to get to the point.”
I mean it as a compliment, but her shoulders droop farther. “It’s a guess. I shouldn’t have said it, but this isn’t really a standard pitch for your services.” She bites into her lower lip, and I’m fixated on the spot where her white teeth are sinking into red flesh. “At the wedding, Stanford thought both of you were presumptive asses and dismissed him. Haven too. He doesn’t take kindly to that, ironically, because he thinks he’s better than anyone. So when he was presented with a chance to have a wedding at the ranch and make you three dance for his money, he couldn’t resist.”
“Fucker,” I growl.
Christine leans over to put her cool fingers on my forearm. I tense for her censure.
“I’m so glad we’re of the same mind when it comes to this craziness.” She pats me in the most maternal gesture I’ve ever experienced before pulling away. “I say we should tell them to take a hike.”
The venom in her tone tells me she’s used harsher words to describe what Stanford, January, and William’s brother can do.
“We can,” William said cautiously.
“We don’t need their business to succeed,” Iverson says. “Foster House is doing just fine, and the Foster House Gold products are growing a niche whiskey, vodka, and gin audience, just like we planned. It doesn’t need some dickwad’s wedding.”
“But it would help,” Campbell says in a soft voice. “It would help you and your growing family for Foster House to have more stability and faster growth.” She runs her gaze over me, a resolute glint in her eyes. “You’re supporting a lot of people in this small community. Iverson, you’re married, but the other owners are mostly single guys who may also be settling down soon and growing families.”
Is she shouldering the responsibility of how our company is going to support all of its employees? My admiration for her grows. Just a little.
“I can tell them no,” William assures her, but the stress and fatigue weighing him down are almost palpable.
“I have no problem telling them to fuck off,” Iverson adds.
“He’ll have the full Foster House fuck-off behind him,” I say.
Christine’s nodding, but Campbell’s studying me, as if she can’t believe that I’m on board to keep her from getting bossed around by two people who hurt her. She’s annoying, but I don’t wish that for her. I’m a better man than her ex.
We all watch her. She licks her pink tongue out, wetting her bottom lip, and once again, I’m riveted. Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex.
That determination from earlier hardens. “I think weshould do it. I’m going to plan their wedding, and I’m going to do it well. Because I’m good at what I do. No matter what anyone thinks.” She casts a glance in my direction. Point taken. “I think Foster House should participate. You can serve the wedding and get your products on more palates, but you’ll also be factored into the biggest talk of the town since one of Daddy’s cowboys ran off with his daughter.”
William and Christine chuckle. Iverson looks pleased with himself.
