A smirk curls his lips as he drawls, “Well, what do we have here? You dipping your finger in the honey pot, son?”
He lets out a loud, humorless laugh, the sound scraping against every nerve in my body.
“Lordy,” he continues, shaking his head like this is all some grand joke. “Your mother would love this. After all the shit you gave me for chasing after pretty little things, and here you are. No better than me.”
Liam’s jaw tics, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he clenches his fists at his sides. His father’s infidelity to his mother is understandably a sore spot for Liam.
Liam’s voice is a low, dangerous rumble when he says, “I’m going to ask you one more time, Carl. What are you doing here?”
His father straightens, his smile twisting into something colder, meaner.
“Carl,” he echoes, like the name tastes bad in his mouth. “Well now, there ain’t no room for that, boy.”
He steps closer, puffing up his chest like he’s still got the right to intimidate Liam.
“I’m your father, and you’ll address me as such.”
Then he turns his attention to me. His gaze rakes over me again, dismissive and calculating.
“Olivia,” he says, deliberate and sharp. “You need to remind your boss that he may think he’s in charge, but it’s my name on that sign, too. Always has been. Always will be.”
Something inside me freezes, anger swirling in my gut. But before I can speak, Liam steps between us, blocking me completely from his father's view.
His voice is low, shaking with fury.
“Her name,” he growls, “IsOlive.”
The way he says it makes my throat tighten painfully. He’s not just correcting him. He’s claiming me. He’s drawing a line in the sand.
Carl laughs loud, deep, and mocking.
“Easy, son,” he drawls, like Liam’s anger is a joke to him. “There’s a million more where she came from.”
The words slice through the room, acid burning hot under my skin. But Liam doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. He just stares his father down, jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle ticing in his cheek.
Carl presses on, oblivious. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. Really, that’s probably the case because the only person he cares about is himself.
“Now. Where do we stand on the Birmingham deal?”
Liam’s voice is ice-cold when he answers. “Wedon’t stand anywhere.”
Carl blinks, thrown off for half a second but recovers with a sneer.
“Couldn’t land the deal, eh? Damn shame,” he says, fake pity dripping from every syllable. “Well, no worries. I’ll speakto Teddy at the picnic today. Remind him who really runs Stonewater Rodeo Stock.”
I huff out a sharp laugh before I can stop myself. It’s pure disgust.
Carl’s head snaps toward me, his eyes narrowing.
“What’s so funny, sweetie?” he sneers, his voice coated in condescension. “You’re no longer needed here. Why don’t you go on back to whatever bed you crawled out of?”
The words hit harder than a slap. But I don't flinch. Because men like Carl get off on knowing they’ve struck a nerve.
“And you,” Carl adds, pointing a gnarled finger at Liam like he’s talking to a disobedient dog. “You should get dressed, boy. We’re going to work.”
The air between them crackles. Liam’s whole body goes taut, fists flexing at his sides, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
“You’re not welcome here, Carl.”
