Page 113 of Mountain Wood

“Money, child. How much money do you want to keep this quiet?”

I knew she’d ask.

I could have stooped to Bryson’s level and blackmailed him with it. Posted the videos online and dragged him through the mud. But I’m not about to sully the entire Clyde-Smith family’s reputation when only one has played dirty. Reporting it to the cops wouldn’t have the same positive effect as reporting it to Stella.

“One million,” I say cooly. Dean looks over his shoulder and gawks at me like I’ve lost my head. I deadpan him. “Make it two million. I didn’t account for the insults he so crassly slung at me the other day when he threatened to… get me on my knees.” I cock my brow and look down my nose at Bryson.

“I’ll make it three if we can ensure this doesn’t go beyond this phone call.”

I think Dean’s about to pass out.

“That works. I’ll send you the information for a money transfer. Thank you, Stella. I appreciate your cooperation.”

“And I appreciate yours, Grace. Thank you for calling me instead of taking a more public and legal approach to this matter. You understand how these things can get…”

“Messy,” I say, letting her know that indeed I do.

“Yes, well, other than this little hiccup, you’re doing well, I presume?”

“Very. You?”

“As well as a woman in my position can be, I suppose.”

She has billions. She’s doing fine.

“Will I see you next month for our appointment?” she asks.

“I’m afraid I’ll no longer be going to that stylist.”

“Just as well. She botched my last color, and I’ve struggled to accept the honey highlights when I told her I wanted gold.”

Now I thinkBryson’sgoing to pass out.

Guess he didn’t know I spend every five weeks at the salon with his great aunt Stella, the owner of his balls, paycheck, and trust fund.

“Bryson,” Stella yells into the phone. “I expect you here by dinner tomorrow.”

“That’s impossible. No flights are—”

“Are you giving me excuses, boy? I said be here by dinner tomorrow. Snow or no snow, I don’t care ifyou have to walk. Be here or kiss your career, and your bank accounts, goodbye.”

She hangs up.

Dean’s eyes are wide as saucers as he stumbles back, lets go of Bryson, and gawks at me.

Tucking my cell away, I casually saunter over and grab the axe from the bar. “I missed you with the sledgehammer.” Then I sway my hips as I make my way closer to Bryson. “I promised my brother I wouldn’t miss again.”

I raise the axe over my head and Bryson takes off, bulldozing through the empty tables and fights to unlock the door so he can get out. I think he might have pissed himself.

When he leaves, I notice everyone’s staring at me, eyes huge and mouths open.

“Relax. I wasn’t really going to throw it at him.”

Lies.

Dean storms over and grabs my face, smashing his mouth to mine. “Holy hell, woman.”

I accidentally drop the axe, and it smashes his foot. I don’t even think he notices.

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