Nate steepled his fingers under his chin. “About that. Plans have changed. Much to the anger of the owner I’ve told him that his factory is no longer a part of my development.”
“Say that again,” I requested, putting a hand on Cassidy’s thigh.
“I’m no longer building the meat packing plant. I listened to your views, read your report, read Sandra O’Neil’s report and I agree that despite all the measures and processes that I planned to incorporate, the plant would be far too detrimental to the land and the area. It’s not something I’ve done before and not something I’ll be doing again.”
“So why do it here?” Nash asked.
Nate raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just say there was some pressure put on me by the County, but I’ve realized it doesn’t fit my brand,” He gave a quiet chuckle. “Besides, I don’t like it when people think I can be bullied. And I certainly can’t be bought.”
Well, that pretty much confirmed what we’d thought about someone being paid to pass the plans for the development of the land.
“Where’s it going to be now?” Cassidy asked.
“That is Jim Westlake’s problem, but it won’t be in Sundance County.” He chuckled softly. “It appears that my father was not happy about the factory either and as an ex journalist he still has friends in the business. So, apart from anything else, I do not need that sort of publicity and neither does the County.”
Even though he was grinning, I got the feeling that maybe there was a hint of truth in his joke. It seemed like he had a whole load of responsibility on his shoulders, because heavy was the crown despite the bank balance it brought with it.
“What are you building there instead?” Wilder asked. “More houses?”
“Actually, that is up to all of you.” He placed his hands on the table and then spread his gaze around each of us. “I thought maybe extending that piece of land to the ranch. You could then consider having those classrooms that you mentioned as a future development for the project. Perhaps a small movie theater? I know you mentioned an outdoor one but this damn Colorado weather, hey.”
Cassidy gasped and instantly I could see excitement shine in hers and Lily’s eyes. It would be their own little school, and I could imagine them, their heads together, discussing what they needed and what they could teach there. Pictures of her leaving my bed to go to work in our mini-school at our camp made my blood heat with want. It was different than the desire to get her naked in my bed, it was more a constant nagging in my veins, so insistent that it felt like it was clawing at my skin. But I’d learned my lesson—only if that was what she wanted.
“What do you think, Lila, Cassidy?” Nash asked.
“What’s the alternative?” Lily asked.
He shrugged. “A petting zoo?”
Wilder was the first to burst out laughing and it was so big and so loud, I almost shit my pants. “I like it,” he wheezed out in a laugh.
“We could do both.” Cassidy’s voice was tentative, but there was a hint of longing there, too. “Some chickens, a goat, grow some vegetables.”
I drew in a breath when I saw her eyes shining because I knew she was thinking of her childhood home. The life she’d loved growing up, the life her foster siblings had enjoyed the safety of. Talking about the chickens and goats, her eyes had lit up with the memories, and I just wanted to hug her, feel her joy. I could suddenly see her so clearly—barefoot in the summergrass, teaching a group of kids how to collect eggs, our own children among them someday. The image felt so real, so right, it nearly stole my breath. I reached across under the table, finding her hand and linking our fingers together. When she looked at me, surprised, I gave her hand a gentle squeeze.I see you; I tried to tell her without words.I see the life you miss, and I promise we’ll build it together.
“I think that would be a great idea,” I reinforced, staring into her eyes like there was no one else in the room. That whatever made her happy made me happy, even if I had to wash the fleet of cars that Nate Jenkins undoubtedly had every day for the rest of my life. I turned to Nash and Wilder. “I vote we do both, we can put money aside for it. Maybe forgo the horse’s showers.”
“I’m not sure you understand,” Nate said. “It’s all on me. It’s the least I can do after turning your lives upside down with site traffic and noise for the next few months.”
“Really?” Nash asked.
“Yes, really. I’d like to gift you the land, pay for the building, sponsor the camp, find out who set fire to your stables and wash the dishes after such an incredible meal.” He slammed his hands down on the table. “And hopefully all of that means you’ll trust me from now on.”
“Can we though?” I asked. “Businessmen don’t usually give away millions of dollars without an angle.”
“I get your concerns,” he replied, nodding. “I’d feel the same.”
“You can understand why we’d be wary, though?” Nash sat back, dark eyes studying our guest. “It feels like a big turn around.”
“I do get it, and I promise you all my intentions are good. I believe in the environment. I believe in community, and I believe in family.” He leaned forward and looked each of us directly in the eye. “That's why I believe in what you’re doing here and whyI want to help.” I heard him exhale slowly placing flat palms on the table. “So, do we have a deal?”
Nash pushed out of his chair and offered Nate his hand across the table. “I think that’s a deal.” He looked at Wilder and I in turn. “Do you agree?”
We both nodded and I personally let out a breath of relief when the two men shook on the agreement. A handshake for the future. When Cassidy’s fingers found mine under the table I didn’t think anything would feel that good.
“And the name?” Nate asked. “Any ideas? I can start marketing if you do.”
Nash cleared his throat, pulling all our gazes to him.
