Page 5 of Want You Back

“Luckily, it’s June.”

“Ahem.” Apparently bored by the brewing sibling conflict, Mr. Ernest snapped his briefcase shut with a decisive click. “All the documentation is in the paperwork. If you wish to have someone look at the will and trust, by all means, do.”

“Oh, we will.” Faith’s tone was ominous. She’d had work done, a tightness around her temples and forehead that made scowling impossible, but she continued to have the best glare west of the Rockies.

“If you decide to stay, we can review all the existing ranch financials at another time.” Mr. Ernest addressed the offer to me while Faith poured herself a very generous scotch.

“Thank you.” I showed him out of the dining room, passing through the front parlor to the covered wide front porch. “We will be in touch.”

I shut the door and headed away from the stifling parlor toward the kitchen with the far more welcoming great room beyond. This was the warm and cozy part of the house, a newer addition to the lodge, and while Brita, my favorite cook, was long gone, at least here, I could breathe.

Well, breathe until Grayson, the foreman, ambled in through the back door. He was around ten years older than me and far more silver, but I remembered him best as a pensive young man trailing behind his father, the prior foreman. The two of them had shown up back when Mel and my mother had been alive, a package deal of two-for-one ranch hands that quickly did the impossible and earned my father’s trust.

And mine. I’d never had reason to doubt Grayson’s word or loyalty, so I stood my ground next to the coffee maker rather than give in to the urge to beat a hasty retreat.

“Legal done?” Grayson wasn’t one to mosey around a conversation. He poured himself a cup of coffee—black, of course. “How soon ’til the For Sale sign goes up?”

“A year. Apparently.” I made a vague gesture. There was no point in lying to someone I respected as deeply as Grayson, and he’d find out soon enough. “My dad wants to force Faith and me to live here for a year before we can think about selling.”

“Fuck.” He drew out the word in a low groan.

“You didn’t know about the terms of the will?” I’d never entirely understood why or how Grayson continued to put up with my father. For years, I’d assumed they’d worked out the sort of friendship I’d never managed with either, but Grayson gave a decisive shake of his head.

“No, Maverick. Despite working for your father more or less my whole adult life, I’m pretty sure he didn’t care for me more than he did any other human.” He offered a bitter laugh. “He wasn’t about to discuss his will with me. Would have ruined his image of being damn near invincible.”

“True. He didn’t like anyone.” I took a second to make my own cup of much-needed coffee, doctoring it with plenty of creamer. “Hell, I’m honestly surprised he didn’t just leave it to you. You at least know how to run a ranch.”

“Well, thank you. I think.” Grayson wasn’t big on smiling any more than he was on lengthy conversation, but his lips moved in the barest curl that might have been amusement.

“Place would have fallen apart without you years ago, and we all know it.”

“Does that mean I’m not fired?” Tilting his head, he gave me a long stare. “The bunkhouse is all kinds of nervous too. Everyone was expecting y’all to sell and sell fast.”

Hell. In my hurry to rid myself of the place, I’d forgotten other people were depending on the ranch, good people who didn’t deserve to be left unemployed. Like Colt had rightfully said—damn him—my father’s death would leave a mark on the area. No one deserved this turn of events, and I felt highly inadequate to deal with the challenge. My hands clenched helplessly.

“God. I didn’t think about layoffs. I hate this.” I closed my eyes briefly, head tipping skywards, the same frustrated gesture Faith had done earlier. “I have no clue how to run this thing. I’m not a rancher.”

“You could try.” Grayson gave a deceptively casual shrug, gaze staying pointed. “If you don’t want to lay folks off and you can’t sell, why not try to make a go of it? I’ll stay on and help.”

“Thank you.” I swallowed hard. I had done little to earn his support or sympathy, but I wasn’t stupid enough to turn it down. “That’s very kind.”

“Not wanting to job hunt isn’t kind.” Grayson snorted. “The market for banged-up foreman is rather small.”

He’d left the ranch for a time in his twenties to pursue his fortune on the rodeo circuit, only to return with a new limp and haunted eyes. He could dismiss his accomplishments on the ranch, but he was damn good at his job. My father wouldn’t have kept him on all these years otherwise.

“Hell, I bet you turn down offers on the regular.”

“None that mean anything.” He gave another shrug, gaze cryptic. “Cook already quit, but if you’re hungry from the drive, I can wrangle you up something.”

“Nah. I can cook. Later.” I waved a hand. No way could I eat right now, nor could I stomach his pity. “I need to get out. Clear my head.”

“Two-day drive didn’t do the trick?” Eyes narrowing, he gave a barky laugh. “I could saddle you a horse.”

“God, no.” I shuddered at the thought. I had nowhere to go?—

Wait.

A glimmer of a memory snaked out and caught hold. And just like that, I knew where I was headed and what might help.

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