“To each his own,” Baz commented. “But I was thinkin’ more along the lines of who owns the place.”
“Right.” She pulled up the information. “Looks like the Lamberts own it. It sits on a good majority of the land in Embers Ridge.” She skimmed more details. “Jerry Lambert and his five daughters, Hope, Grace, Trinity, Faith, and Mercy, keep it running. Hope’s married to Jared, one of Brantley’s ten million cousins.”
Baz chuckled.
“Should we throw them a party?” JJ asked.
Baz’s gaze slammed into her. “What? Why would we throw the Lamberts a party?”
“Not the Lamberts.” She huffed. “Brantley and Reese.”
He shook his head adamantly. “Absolutely not.”
“Why? It’ll be fun.”
“No.”
“But—”
“JJ, I know you mean well, but please don’t interfere. They’ve had a hard enough time as it is. Just let it be.”
She turned her attention out the window with a heavy sigh. He was right, of course. If she threw them a party, Reese would just be embarrassed, and Brantley would end up pissed.
“Fine,” she muttered, then slowly looked back at Baz. “However, when they get married, you can bet your ass I’m gonna make it the event of the year.”
Baz snorted. “Yeah? And who says they’re gonna get married?”
She narrowed her eyes, stared out the front window. “I do. Mark my words.”
Half an hour later, Baz was parking the truck in the front lot at the ranch’s main office.
Rather than go in through the guest entrance, JJ wandered around to the back, looking for someone who could tell her where to find Mercy Lambert.
She spied a woman walking her way. She was decked out in cowboy boots, painted-on jeans, and a T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up like they’d done back in the day. Despite the somewhat masculine attire, she was a beautiful woman. Long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail that swished back and forth when she walked.
“You must be JJ,” the woman shouted as she approached.
“And you must be Mercy.”
“One and only.” Mercy thrust out a hand when she neared. “Nice to meet you.”
JJ shook it, then glanced at Baz. “This is Sebastian Buchanan.”
“You can call me Baz,” he insisted, shaking Mercy’s hand.
“Sorry you had to come this way under the circumstances,” she said politely, motioning for them to follow her. “The sheriff’s inside talkin’ to my dad. Y’all wanna head that way?”
JJ was about to tell her that she had no desire to talk to the sheriff, but Baz spoke up first.
“Why don’t I take care of that? Maybe you could give JJ a tour.” Baz gifted them one of those wicked smiles. “She mentioned somethin’ about wantin’ to learn how to shovel—”
“Shut it!” JJ shouted over him. “Ignore him. He’s the funny one in this relationship.”
Mercy laughed, then pointed toward the house. “Go right on in there. They’re at the dinin’ room table.”
“Be good,” Baz said softly, then squeezed her hand before moving past her toward the porch.
“I didn’t even know this place was out here,” JJ admitted once she was alone with Mercy.
