Page 2 of Sweet Deal
“I’m open to any brilliant ideas you might have.” Jillian’s tone dripped with sarcasm.
“Hey,” Garret raised both his hands, palm open, “just stating the facts.”
The weight settled heavier on her shoulders. Her brothers had stepped up, finding love in the most unexpected ways through this bizarre family pact. It had worked for them, against all odds. Now it was her turn, or Jillian’s, or Kade’s. She looked out at the sprawling land just beginning to wake under the Texas sky—the land that held generations of Sweet history, the land her father had loved, the land her mother was fighting so hard to keep. She couldn’t let them lose it. She just couldn’t.
The Pacific Ocean stretched out below, a vast expanse of improbable blue meeting an equally flawless sky. At a favorite seaside restaurant for everyone who was anyone, perched high on the cliffside, the view from their table was designed to impress. A daily masterpiece served alongside pricey entrees and meticulously curated wine lists. James Henderson sipped his mineral water, the condensation beading on the delicate crystal. Everything here felt polished to a high shine, including, he was beginning to realize, the life he’d built.
Across the table, Blair adjusted the cuff of her silk blouse, the diamond on her left hand catching the California sunlight in a spray of dazzling, and very expensive, fire. She tilted her head, considering the linen swatch the wedding planner had left them. “The Egyptian cotton is lovely, of course, but I think the Belgian linen has a more… substantial feel. Speaks to legacy, tradition. Don’t you agree, darling?”
James nodded, his gaze drifting past her shoulder to the endless ocean. Legacy. Tradition. Here, those words seemed to translate to thread counts and import taxes. Back home, they meant two hundred years of ranchers working the same stubborn piece of Texas land, leaky barn roofs, the taunting aroma of fresh baked goods, and the easy, unpretentious laughter shared over iced tea on the porch. He hadn’t thought much about Honeysuckle in years, not really, too busy chasing the California dream. And he’d caught it. After years of late nights and long weeks, his firm thrived. Emblems of success for all to see, the sleek condo overlooking the ocean, tailored clothing suitable for a king, and the beautiful fiancée planning their six-figure wedding. He had everything he thought he ever wanted. So why did it all feel so… hollow? When all was said and done, chic condos, expensive linens, and having a wedding that made the society pages wasn’t much of a legacy.
“…And Henri insists that for the reception centerpieces, only white Phalaenopsis orchids flown in that morning will do. Anything less would be… well, unthinkable,” Blair continued, flipping through a glossy magazine featuring impossibly thin models draped in couture. “He assures me they have a dedicated supplier.”
“Sounds expensive,” James murmured, forcing his attention back.
Blair waved a dismissive hand, her bracelets chiming softly. “Quality always is, darling. We can’t skimp now. Think of the photos! Think of who will be there!” She leaned forward, her eyes bright with satisfaction. “Speaking of, I think seating Mother next to Judge Harrington would be a wise move, politically.”
He tried to picture his own mother navigating this landscape of social maneuvering and imported orchids. She’d probably ask where the corn bread was and if the band knew “Cotton-Eyed Joe.” The image brought a faint, wistful smile to his lips. The word legacy continued to bounce around in his head.
“Did you hear me, James?” Blair’s tone held a faint edge of impatience.
He searched for a plausible answer. “Sorry, just thinking about… logistics. Flying in orchids seems rife with potential complications.”
She laughed, a light, brittle sound. “Darling, that’s why we pay the best people to handle the complications.” She reached across the table, her perfectly manicured nails tapping his hand. “It will be the wedding of the century. Every bride in the country will want a wedding like ours.”
He had his doubts. Most people just wanted to live happily ever after with the love of their lives, regardless of whether or not the groom wore platinum cuff links. This wedding had become little more than a show. A carefully constructed statement of success and affluence, devoid of simple, genuine, even if often messy, connections mere mortals craved.
Memories of his youth flooded his thoughts. Summer nights spent cranking the ice cream machine on the front porch, laughing with friends in open fields, and swatting mosquitoes under a sky thick with stars, not city haze. The very things he’d once found boring and mundane suddenly seemed to be more full of life than the miles of ocean before them.
He looked at Blair, really looked at her. Beautiful, intelligent, ambitious—everything he thought he admired. Her focus was always outward—on appearances, status, the next acquisition. The perfect power couple. Except, his own focus had shifted inward, questioning the very success he’d achieved. The disconnect between them felt like a chasm.
“Blair,” he began softly, interrupting her rambling chatter on whether champagne or prosecco was more appropriate for the cocktail hour.
She looked up, a slight frown creasing her smooth forehead. “Yes?”
He took a breath. “I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?” Her frown deepened. “Decide on the champagne? Honestly, James, sometimes you—”
“No,” he cut her off. “I mean this.” He gestured widely, encompassing the restaurant, the plans, and the life they were building. “The wedding. Us.”
Lips painted the perfect shade of Notice Me red formed a silent O of surprise seconds before cool eyes narrowed. “I… see. Is there someone else?” It wasn’t asked with hurt, but with a kind of clinical curiosity, as if assessing a failed business deal.
“No. It’s not about someone else. It’s about me. This life… the one we’re planning… it’s beautiful, it’s enviable, but it’s not what I want.” He sighed, his words sounding harsh to his own ears. “It’s better to realize that now than years down the road.” He drew the napkin from his lap and set it on the table beside him. “I’m truly sorry, Blair.”
“Sorry?” Fury seemed to battle rage in her eyes, but somehow, he doubted it had anything to do with a lost love and everything to do with appearances. “What am I supposed to tell everyone?”
And there it was. Confirmation that his new reality was anything but real. Pushing to his feet and dropping cash on the table to cover the ridiculously priced water and her untouched mimosa, he looked out at the perfect blue ocean that matched his perfectly coifed fiancée sitting at the perfectly set table. How had he ever let his life come to this?
Chapter Two
“Honestly?” Rachel grumbled into her phone, steering the pickup truck carefully toward town. “If I have to vet one more potentialhusbandwho thinks this is some kind of reality show audition, I’m going to strangle someone.”
On the other end, Jillian sighed dramatically. “Tell me about it. The guy yesterday who on paper seemed to have potential, when I spoke to him wanted to know if the ranch came with mineral rights included in the one-year deal. Seriously? What we need is a miracle. And sooner than later would be good.”
“Miracles are in short supply, just like suitable, sane men willing to play pretend for a year.” Rolling into town, she hadn’t realized she and her sister had been grumbling at each other since she’d pulled away from the ranch. Truth was that they were both beyond frustrated. Wanting so badly to help the family, to do their share, and yet, unable to find the Holy Grail their brothers had.
As she passed Corn Hole Heaven, her aunts stood near the doorway, engaged in what looked like a very serious discussion with Mildred McEntire. Who knew what that was all about? Could be anything from pricing for their blinged out corn hole products, or the price of eggs, or gossiping about some local resident caught red handed doing something to make tongues wag. Though usually the one to do all the gossiping was Iris Hathaway, Mildred could definitely hold her own.
