Page 8 of Reclaiming My Wife

Stunned, my jaw dropped open. I’d had a feeling that Harry was going to be a hard nut to crack, but really? Not having a family was going to be my downfall?

“Harry, with all due respect—”

He held up his hand. “You’re upset. I can see that. I haven’t made my decision, but your competition is happily married with two kids and a strong family ethic. You, on the other hand, are notorious for your one-night stands and randy behavior. I want to see you prioritizing what’s important in your life. I’ve decided to hold my final decision for a few months.”

A few months? What did he expect me to do? Get married and knock up my wife so I could buy his land?

The thought was a low blow, and pain lanced through me. Pain. Not the anger I expected.

What Harry didn’t know was that there had been a time when family had been a priority. When I’d promised to love a woman until death did us part, but it wasn’t our death that parted us, and I wasn’t planning on walking down that same path again anytime soon.

Relationships sucked.

No. That wasn’t true. Relationships were fine, it was the getting married part that sabotaged them. It was like a couple of rings and a marriage certificate turned everything to shit.

Before I could argue more, Harry rose and held out his hand. “We’ll speak again, Brendan. Until then, reflect on your life. When we get together again, I expect you to have a compelling argument for how you plan to balance your work responsibilities with the rest of your life.”

A plan?

The old man wanted me to make a fucking life plan in order to buy his ranch?

He was bat shit crazy.

Instead of saying something that might get me kicked out of his home, I shook his hand and nodded. What could I say, anyway? I’d planned to devote the rest of my life to the ranch, and I had no idea how in the hell I’d convince Harry that a family just wasn’t in my future.

I just wasn’t husband material. I’d already proven that.

Jillian Quinn. There were months where I didn’t think of her at all, and then there were weeks where I couldn’t get her off my mind. After a year of mourning my failed marriage, I put it behind me. I buried myself in the ranch. Sometimes, I buried myself in women. I did whatever I could to forget what I lost.

And now, I was supposed to reflect on how family fit into my future? Hell. Maybe I could convince Harry that the Ward family’s future was with my sister, and I had no doubt that one day she’d drag someone down the aisle. When Kim was focused on something, she didn’t let anything stand in her way. God help her future husband.

When I got home, a familiar car was parked outside our white plantation-style home. Gordon Silverman, my good friend and our family lawyer.

“Silverman,” I grunted as I unfolded myself out of the sports car. “Did we have plans?”

“No. I have news.” He grimaced. “And you won’t be very happy about it. Let’s grab a beer.”

“What is it with you and my sister? Why is everyone drinking before noon?”

“Trust me, you’re going to need it.” He clapped me on the back as we headed inside.

Gordon and I grew up together. He was the son of a ranch hand who’d worked for us. We learned to ride horses together, and we were also little terrors to both the ranch and the town. We both left for college in the city. The only difference was that I came back.

I didn’t even want to think about what he was here to tell me. I’d asked him to go through my father’s finances, so I’d know just what we were dealing with. I’d also asked him to comb through Dennis Blackwell’s background, so I could check the man out. Harry might have forged a new relationship with his son because he wanted to reconnect, but Dennis didn’t give a damn about family. If he was getting close to his father again, there was a damn good reason. And now I knew that reason.

Dennis wanted to keep the Blackwell Ranch. The question was why.

In the kitchen, I cracked open two bottles of beer and handed him one. There was some leftover chicken salad, so I put together two sandwiches and passed one to Gordon. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

Leaning against the counter, Gordon reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder. As he took a bite of his sandwich, he slipped the folder of papers toward me. I flipped it open, and my stomach immediately flip-flopped. It definitely wasn’t what I expected.

“I’ve seen my marriage license, Gordon,” I muttered. “It’s not a big surprise to me.”

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