The main room was dimmer than the dining area, lit only by the Christmas tree and the dying fire in the hearth. We settled onto the couch facing the fireplace, Kent’s arm coming around my shoulders automatically. I curled up against his side.
“So,” I said, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. “How did you ever convince your father to accept the new terms of your offer? I thought he was pretty set on the mineral rights approach.”
Kent was quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing absent patterns on my arm. “I didn’t,” he said simply.
I pulled back to look at him properly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I didn’t convince him of anything. I went to my own lawyers and realtors and had the offer drawn up independently. Got my own preapproval, used my own assets as collateral.” Hemet my eyes directly. “This offer has nothing to do with my family. It’s completely personal. Just from me.”
The words hit me like a bucket of cold water. “Kent, does your father know about this?”
He shook his head, and apprehension flickered across his features.
“Is this going to get you in hot water?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.
Kent shrugged, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. “It might. He definitely won’t like that I went behind his back. And he really won’t like losing out on the mineral rights, or the fact that I’m willing to just let them sit there. To him, it’s a pile of money just ripe for the taking. It’s a lot of money. A lot. One of the biggest deals the Bancroft business was moving in on. Losing that kind of income is going to piss him off.”
“We could let you drill,” I said quickly, hating the thought that my family’s happiness might come at the cost of Kent’s relationship with his father. “If it would help smooth things over.”
“No.” Kent’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “That’s not how it works, Sylvie. Drilling means tearing up the entire two hundred acres. Nothing would be left standing. Not the lodge, not the tree farm, not any of it. That’s not happening.”
The finality in his voice made me panic. “Kent, I didn’t want my family to win if it means you lose everything. I can’t be the reason you get cut off from your family.”
Before I could spiral further into guilt and worry, Kent gathered me in his arms and kissed me with gentle intensity that made my thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.
“Baby,” he murmured against my lips, “if this is how it feels to lose, I never need to win again.”
The words made my heart do something complicated in my chest, a mixture of love and gratitude and terror at themagnitude of what he was sacrificing for me, for us, for the life we were building together.
He said he wouldn’t be broke, but he failed to mention he would be disowned. I knew things were complicated in his family, but I also knew he loved his brothers. I pushed those thoughts down and decided to enjoy the moment.
I kissed him back, pouring all of my feelings into the connection between us, trying to show him without words how much his choice meant to me.
We might have stayed there kissing by the firelight indefinitely if the sound of chairs scraping and voices getting louder hadn’t indicated that dinner was officially over and the family was migrating to the main room.
“Ew, gross!” Aspen announced. “Mom! Aunt Sylvie is kissing Kent!”
“Leave them alone,” Stacy said with a laugh. “They’re in love. It’s sweet.”
“It’s nauseating,” Brom muttered, but there was no real heat in his voice. If anything, he looked almost fond as he watched me and Kent untangle ourselves from each other.
The next few hours passed in the kind of perfect family chaos that I’d grown up with but had never fully appreciated until I saw it through Kent’s eyes. We played board games that ended in good-natured arguments. Mom brought out photo albums that chronicled every embarrassing stage of my childhood. Dad told stories about the lodge’s early days that had everyone laughing until their sides hurt.
Kent participated in all of it with the enthusiasm of someone who’d been starved for exactly this kind of warmth and acceptance. He looked at baby pictures of me with the kind of tender attention that made my cheeks burn. He listened to Dad’s stories like they were the most fascinating things he’d ever heard.
“I think we’re going to take these guys home and tuck them in,” Brom said.
Aspen and Alder were doing their best not to yawn but failing miserably.
Kent shook his hand, a sign that Brom was finally unthawing toward him. We said our goodbyes and walked out of the house. I took Kent’s hand and stopped him when he started across the driveway back to my place.
“Where are we going?” Kent asked as I led him around the back of the lodge.
“Somewhere private,” I said.
I led him to the bar, locked the door behind us, and turned to find Kent watching me with an expression that made heat pool low in my belly.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice low and rough in a way that sent shivers down my spine.
