Page 139 of Downpour

Christian sighed. “Nice to meet you.”

“You know,” I teased. “I think you can do better than that. Wanna try again? You’ve got another foot.”

Bree dragged Mason into the living room to meet the rest of the motley crew.

Brooke crossed her arms and glared at me. “Really?”

“What?” I said innocently.

She huffed. “Don’t pull the tough-guy act. You know damn well you would do anything for her.”

I loved when Brooke looked angry. It was adorable.

I hitched my thumb over my shoulder at Christian. “I ran over his foot, didn’t I?”

“I fucking hate this,” Christian grumbled.

I peered into the living room and saw that Bree and Mason had taken up residence on the loveseat. They were sitting an appropriate twelve inches apart and both looked like they were about to throw up. Still, that punk-ass kid looked at Bree like she hung the moon and stars.

I couldn’t really be mad at that.

I went ahead and got settled at the long line of tables that had been pushed together so there were enough seats. I didn’t want to be struggling to get in and out when there were people I wasn’t familiar with joining us for dinner.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” I asked CJ when he stormed into the kitchen.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down across from Brooke and me.

“More fuckin’ people,” he grumbled.

I raised an eyebrow. “What? On the ranch?” I rested my hands on the table. “You knew this was coming. All these deals were signed before my accident.”

He took a long drink. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. You saw what happened at the build site. Putting all these things on the ranch is just asking for trouble. Mark my words, there’s gonna be more of it.”

CJ would live and die for the ranch. More than my father. More than Christian. He was a purist, loving the land more than the ability to keep it afloat. He didn’t take kindly to change, and I had a feeling he would hold on to that anger as long as possible.

We were alike in our ability to hold grudges.

The door swung open and Cassandra strolled in with some fancy-pants man on her heels. He was in a tailored suit, squeaky clean loafers, and had a watch that I knew sold for at least five figures.

“Oh my god,” Brooke whispered.

I glared at her. “Eyes on your own man.”

She snickered.

Cassandra’s face was stern and all business as she strode to the center of the living and dining room. “Everyone, this is Luca DeRossi.”

He tipped his perfectly coiffed black hair. “Pleasure to meet you all.”

“He’s the head of the DeRossi Hospitality Group and will be the co-owner and executive chef of the steakhouse,” Cassandra said.

Mom wiped her hands on a dish towel. “We’re glad to have you for dinner, Mr. DeRossi. We’re not fancy, so I hope you like sloppy Joes.”

He flashed a toothpaste-commercial smile. “I love them. Thank you for having me. It’ll be great to get to know everyone. I’m excited to partner with a family for this venture.”

And with that, CJ finished his beer, slammed it down, and pushed away from the table. “I’ll eat in the bunkhouse,” he grumbled as he stormed out.

Worry flashed in Brooke’s eyes.

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