Page 28 of Things Left Unsaid

His mocking tone has me folding my arms across my chest. “How long have you known about this?”

“Two days.”

“Oh.”

“You asked me earlier why I didn’t stop the contract. I was in Wyoming on business and when I got home, Pops presented it to me.Fait accompli.

“Because we’re desperate for water, after he agreed to my terms, I read the contract and approached your grandmother. I told her my signature hinged on you being granted the rights of majority shareholder to the Bar 9. That was the only consolation prize I could offer you,” he excuses.

My brothers’ signatures weren’t outright betrayals, then. Just their hands being forced byGrand-mère.

Like she’d done with me.

“How did you get your brothers to agree? I’m assuming they had to do the same as the triplets if our child is to become the sole beneficiary of both ranches.”

“That’s not how it works with the Seven Cs.”

“No?”

“The eldest child of the next generation inherits everything. The other siblings only gain access to a trust fund.”

“So, on your end, our child would always benefit?”

“Yes, and that’s all that matters.”

Who is this man?

“Two days ago, along with everyone else in this goddamn town, you thought I was an arsonist. Can we add martyr complex to the list of qualities you have now?”

“You’ve grown claws,” he says simply, not getting angry with me or letting me rile him.

“Had to. Especially around here.”

His alibi might have spared me three years in a youth correctional facility, but that didn’t stop Pigeon Creek’s good citizens from believing the worst.

McAllisters hate Korhonens.

A McAllister was at the scene of the Korhonen fire.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

We have ourselves a perp.

“I suppose I feel better knowing that I wasn’t sabotaged,” I admit begrudgingly. And that he’s only had two days to collect his thoughts and measure his reaction.

“You were,” he disagrees. “We both were. But I’m getting more out of this than you.”

“Hardly. Our ranches are merging. The Bar 9 will finally be safe and mygrand-mèrecan live out her days in her home instead of…” I pull a face. “I don’t know where she’d live if she wasn’t on the ranch.

“She’d rather die than go into assisted living, and I think she’d prefer that than moving in with me and Christy in New York City.” My lips twist at the idea of Tee letting that happen—talk about testing the bonds of our friendship. “I probably gave her an extra lease on life. Go me.”

He sighs. “Family, huh?”

“Yeah.” I study him again. “When will you be the head of your company?”

“Already am. Pops resigned from the board yesterday during an emergency meeting, and I was given the position,” he says with no small amount of satisfaction. “He returned to Saskatoon last night.”

His smug smile should make me want to slap him, but my memory fires to life, reminding me of the times I was permitted to see his amusement. His joy. His sorrows.

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