Page 99 of Dust Storm

“I looked into some studies and talked to CJ about it. The cows will adjust. They’ll be fine.” Her eyes flicked up to mine. “If that’s what you were about to bring up.”

I huffed. “Continue.”

“Where we should use the immediate available budget is the equine program and land acquisition. There are two properties north of the ranch that are willing to sell off a parcel of their land, and they’d rather it go to you all than to some developer.”

“And you’re not a developer?” I asked, tapping on the exposed edge of a set of architectural mock-ups and floor plans.

“Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t,” she clipped.

“Fair.”

“The additional land will give the herd more space, with the ability to expand it if you want. The land closer to the existing infrastructure—water, electric, etcetera—can be developed.”

I groaned. “You’re losing me.”

“Just hear me out. You paid big money for this conversation.”

I traced my fingers over her shoulders, soothing the tension that balled up by her neck.

“A restaurant. Farm to table. Everything made in-house. Dry-aged steaks, local produce, world-class chefs. People won’t drive out here for a chain-restaurant meal. It has to be a destination. If things go well, some kind of artisanal or specialty foods shop could be added on. We could start bee keeping and sell honey or make sauces and baked goods. Maybe a mail-order steak service. The options are endless.”

She turned to the next page.

“And because getting out here isn’t exactly a quick trip from Austin, Houston, or Dallas, we’d need to build lodging. An inn of some sort. The cabins could be renovated and rented out separately. Lodging and a restaurant also opens you up to more than one-night stays. You’d have a destination for luxury weddings. Corporations would book it out for the ‘ranch experience.’ Team building and all that bullshit. Build an extension from the lodge and have a day spa. Given the boots-on-the-ground research I’ve done, there are plenty of locals itching for somewhere to get away to relax or celebrate a special occasion.”

She flipped to the last page. It was a fax from some real estate firm based in New York.

“Lawson International is willing to back the project.”

I let out a low whistle as I looked at the numbers. “Ten million dollars. This… company will give us ten million dollars?”

Cassandra lifted her chin. “I know powerful people, Christian. We’re not building a roadside motel. This will be a luxury destination. The investment reflects that, as will the prices when guests come to dine and stay.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Who do you know with ten million dollars?”

She didn’t even blink. “Isaac Lawson is worth far more than ten million dollars. He probably keeps that in cash by his bedside.” She tapped the page. “The terms of the partnership are spelled out, and they already have a preference for the restaurateur that’s brought in on the deal.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How do you know that we can trust these people?” I still couldn’t believe my eyes. “How do you know them to begin with?”

“You’re forgetting that I was a publicist before I landed on your ranch. I know Mr. Lawson’s publicist, and his personal assistant. I know all his dirty laundry, and I’ve assisted in a cover-up or two. Making the phone call was easy. The deal was not. I’d recommend reviewing it in detail with your legal counsel before making any decisions. The development and terms of the contract will likely outlive you. Think of the girls and the next generation when you’re discussing the terms and making your decision.”

Cassandra shuffled the papers together and tapped them on her lap to straighten the pages.

I rested my elbows on my knees and ran my hands through my hair. “I hate this.”

“I know you do,” she said without a care in the world.

“CJ is gonna hate it even more.”

Cassandra handed over the revitalization plans. “Probably.”

I sighed. “You went big.”

Her eyes softened. “You told me to.”

“Fuck,” I huffed as I sat back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Let’s do it.”

21

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