“Oh.” She blushes. “Just this idea I have. It’s probably stupid. I don’t know.” She shrugs it away, as if her idea isn’t worthy of air-time.
“I’d like to know, if you want to share.”
Her lips twist as she considers. “I guess you did come out here and start building something from scratch.”
I laugh and make a circling gesture with my hands above the table. “This is a safe place.”
Jo laughs. “Okay, fine.” She opens her notebook and shows me sketches of what appears to be some kind of ranch. “It’s a wilderness therapy camp. For troubled youth. There’s an old ranch on the outside of town that’s for sale. It hasn’t been a working ranch in a long time, and the couple who lived there are moving to a retirement home. I just thought…” She trails off, shrugging.
“I think this is amazing, Jo.”
She peeks at me nervously, but a proud smile tugs at her mouth. “Yeah?”
“Are you kidding? Yes, a thousand times over. I came here and started building a place for people to go shop, eat, and throw parties. You’re thinking of something that will help people who need it. Young people. People who could one day be functioning members of society. That’s really special, Jo.”
“Thank you.” Her pleased smile warms my heart. She spends the next ten minutes telling me more about the wilderness therapy camp. We talk like old friends.
“Oh, geez,” Jo startles when she looks at her watch. “My shift starts soon.”
“Good timing,” I remark. Our wine is gone and the lemon bar has disappeared. If I run my tongue over the roof of my mouth, I can still taste its sweet, tart flavor.
Jo and I walk back to the hotel, since we’re both headed there anyway. She pulls her apron from her purse and ties it around her middle as we walk. We part ways with a hug in front of the restaurant.
For the next few hours, I return emails and look online at restaurant supply companies. I don’t look at my phone.
Wes isn’t to blame for what his mom did today, but it’s made me think. I promised Abby I knew what I was getting into, but do I really?
34
Wes
I frown at the phone in my hand, then slip it back into my pocket. Dakota has been missing in action all evening. It’s been a while since we spent a night apart, and I’m worried about her. As soon as dinner with my family is through, I’m going to get in my truck and drive to her hotel.
Five minutes later, I look at my phone again, checking to make sure my ringer is on and my volume is up.
“Wes, are you having fiancée troubles?” Warner, who is sitting across the dinner table from me, leans his chair back on two legs. We’re waiting for dinner to be ready and apparently Warner has chosen to pass the time by fucking with me.
“None of your concern,” I grunt.
This, of course, is the wrong thing to say to Warner. If he is fire, my response was kindling.
“Damn,” Warner says, snapping his fingers. “Just when I thought we were safe from Dickhead Wes. Better put my armor back on so I can be around you.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter under my breath as my mom walks back into the room.
“No can do,” Warner says cheerfully.
“What’s going on?” She’s studying the salty look on my face.
Warner says, “Dakota isn’t responding to Wes and he’s pissy.”
A look crosses my mother’s face, but it’s hard to describe. Or maybe I can identify it, I just don’t expect to see it. It takes me four long seconds to call her out. “Why do you look guilty?”
She blows out a heavy breath. “I went to visit Dakota today.”
“Why?”
She tips her head in Warner’s direction, telling him to get out. He listens, and since the rest of the family hasn’t come to the table yet, we’re alone.
I cup the back of my neck and roll my head in a slow circle. “What did you do?”
Mom pulls out the chair next to me, turns it so it’s facing me, and sits down. “Hon,” she starts, her eyebrows cinched together and concern adding to the creases around her eyes. “Do you believe in your heart that Dakota is marrying you because she wants to help you?”
“Yes.” It’s the truth, but there are other reasons too. Namely, the removal of her debt. But also, things between us have been crazy good. It’s not far-fetched to say that maybe one day, we’d be where we are now. We’ve just fast tracked it.
“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but she’s not. She’s in a mountain of debt and I think she’s marrying you because she plans to eventually divorce you and get away with enough to pay off her bills and then some.”
I laugh. I actually laugh. My mom balks, rearing back as if slapped.
“Well, I don’t think it’s funny.” She makes a face and straightens her shirt, which didn’t need straightening in the first place.
I place my hand on hers. “First off, I don’t even want to know how you found out Dakota’s personal financial information. Secondly, I’m aware of everything. I told her if she married me to help me get the ranch, I would pay off her debt.”
Mom covers her gasp by bringing her free hand to her mouth. “Wes, no. The ranch doesn’t have excess funds for that. We sold the land to Dakota in the first place to bring in more money.”
“I know, Mom, but I’ve saved nearly everything I’ve earned for the past fifteen years. I didn’t have expenses in the military, and I haven’t had much of a life since coming back here. I have more than enough to help Dakota. And what she’s giving me in return is worth far more than what I’m doing for her.”
Mom sits back in her seat, all the righteousness disappeared like air in a popped balloon. She opens her mouth to speak but closes it when my dad walks into the room.
“Did you tell him?” he asks, glancing between the two of us.
“Tell me what?”
Mom’s head shakes. “I was getting to it, but Wes just informed me he already knows about Dakota’s motives.”
My dad’s lips stretch back into a tight line. “Well, what’s done is done, and I’m not going back on it now.”
I start to ask what the hell he’s talking about, but he talks over me. “The trust was changed late this morning. The inheritor of this ranch can now be an unmarried direct descendent.”
I blink twice. My breath stalls. My gaze flickers from my dad’s stoic expression to my mom’s worried frown.
The silence stretches on, and it must make my mom uncomfortable because she says, “Wes, this will allow you to get what you want without having to—”
“I know what this allows me,” I say through clenched teeth. My elbows lean on the table and I breathe through a cupped hand. The heavy exhale is the only sound in the room, and it communicates my frustration more than words ever could.
“I don’t know what you’re upset about. You should be thanking your father. He’s getting you out of this mess.”
A few months ago I would’ve given almost anything to inherit the ranch without following the rule, but now it doesn’t feel too good. In fact, it feels like agony.