Mr. Jenson promptly arrived five minutes early. He was a distinguished man, short in stature and a bit portly, but surrounded by an air of no-nonsense. After a brief introduction, he cut right to the chase. “I did some digging last night and looked over your father’s will. It states that the ranch is to be left to his heir, Ember Thompson.”
“So, it’s a scare tactic?”
“It’s not totally without merit, but they’re grasping at straws. Desperately overreaching. It’ll never hold up in court.”
Perspective buyers filtered into the lobby, drawing her attention. The receptionist escorted them into the conference room, one by one, as they arrived. Ember worked to keep her hands from shaking, extending cordial, impersonal introductions. All the while, her internal thoughts spinning, convincing herself that behind their big, shiny belt buckles and arrogant smiles, they were all just men. Flesh and blood, no better or no worse than her.
I will not let them intimidate me.
Ember’s breath hitched, glimpsing a familiar face and a set of wide shoulders out of the corner of her eye. An odd sense of comfort tipped the corners of her lips upward.
Their eyes caught as Nash bypassed the reception desk, merely greeting the woman with a brief hello. He looked polished and relaxed, exuding a ridiculous amount of poise, dressed in a dark expensive-looking suit.
Still staring straight at her, Ember was engulfed by the sea of blue. Her pulse ticked at the side of her neck and a blush crept over her face.
The man was unapologetically masculine. A force of nature not to be reckoned with.
Confident.
Sexy.
As he started toward the conference room, the smile slowly slid from her lips like a swirl of ice cream melting over a sugar cone on a hot summer day.
Her brows furrowed.
A riff of confusion trickled down her spine.
Ember could barely hear her own voice over the hammering of her pulse when she twisted her head, leaning into Mr. Montgomery’s ear, asking, “Nash Harris wouldn’t happen to be NBH Exploration, would he?”
Mr. Montgomery looked toward the doorway. “Yes, I believe he is.”
Her hands balled into fists. A low whisper slipped from her lips, “Son-of-a-bitch.”
Mr. Montgomery cast her a speculative frown. “Problem?”
“No sir,” she bit from behind her clenched jaw.
Nash entered the conference room and made his way to the far side of the table where she stood. He extended a hand, but Ember rebuffed the cordial niceties, offering an icy glare in return.
He studied her thoughtfully, a touch of softness and offhanded amusement lurked in the creases of his eyes as he dropped his arm to his side.
“Miss Thompson, nice to see you again.”
“Wished I could say the same.”
“Now that we’re all here, let’s get this meeting started,” her attorney announced. The group of eight potential buyers took their seats around the table. “You’ve already met Miss Thompson.”
The drone of Mr. Jenson’s voice faded to the background. Minutes passed, her mind spinning out of control. Ember thought back, revisiting each of their previous encounters. She wondered why he never told her that he was trying to buy the ranch? Exactly how long had he known who she was?
On top of everything else, she privately scolded herself for being even remotely attracted to him.
Swamped with feelings of humiliation for thinking they shared some sort of chemistry, a connection, she looked everywhere but his direction, refusing to make eye contact with him. Her lips pursed into a stiff, blade-thin line.
Unfortunately, the more she forced her attention elsewhere, the more she understood what Mr. Montgomery had meant when he said she’d have to earn their respect. Each of the men, except Nash, surrounding the table was at least twice her age and bore the same aura of distinguished power and leadership.
Everywhere she turned, Ember found eyes filled with antipathy, contempt, and determination.
She’d never felt so insignificant.
So incredibly small.
And she didn’t like it.
“Miss Thompson also has a few things she’d like to add,” she heard Mr. Jenson announce.
Ember felt Mr. Montgomery’s hand gently close around her wrist like a rubber band, encouraging her to react. She wasn’t certain how long the attorney had been speaking, focus lost to the group of compelling figures lining the table.
In a blur, she stood from her chair, fighting the urge to squirm under their cumulative gazes. Struggling to keep her nerves from spewing from her lips in a rush of rambled words, she steadied her voice.
“Thank you for coming. Most of you had the pleasure of knowing my father and all of you know that, unfortunately, I did not. I’ll start by saying thank you for your condolences.” Ember squared her shoulders and took a breath. “As much as I’m touched by the thoughtfulness of your generous gifts and repeated calls of hospitality, I’d appreciate it if you’d all step back and allow me to grieve a man, an extraordinary man, I never had the privilege of meeting. I need this space. I’ve got a lot to learn about Walker Ranch in a short amount of time.”
An older gentleman at the far end of the table cleared his throat. “Don’t take offense, Miss Thompson, but ranching isn’t a hobby. You can’t expect to learn a lifetime’s worth of experience, skills that are handed down from one generation to the next, in a matter of a few months.” His curt assessment was delivered in a cool, chiding tone. Heads around the table bobbed in agreement. “Wouldn’t it just be simpler to sell the estate, fill your pockets, and move on?”
Another man added, “Your lack of knowledge could be a detriment to the ranch as a whole, the cattle, the employees, the value of the land. I could go on. In four months, it could all go to hell in a handbasket.”
The burn of their stares seared through her skin. Her heart raced. The harsh words of reality sparked a dark, rebellious streak of defiance and determination.
“Let’s not pretend that I’m not at a disadvantage. Clearly, I am. However, whether I sell Walker Ranch, or stay in the cattle business, or venture into the oil business, is none of your concern.” Fingers spread wide, she pressed the pads of her fingers against the table for support. “But, make no mistake, the same blood that ran through my father’s veins runs through mine. His strength and tenacity will guide me. My choices…my decisions, won’t be easily swayed by gifts, or a dazzling smile—” Her gaze snapped to Nash. She contained the urge to add nice ass. “—or a boatload of money.”
The mood in the room shifted.
“I plan to abide by my father’s wishes and stay the four months.” She shrugged a thin shoulder. “If it all goes to hell in a handbasket then I guess one of you will be right there, circling overhead, waiting for the chance to pick it clean. But if I were you, I wouldn’t hold my breath. Between Mr. Montgomery and the team of workers already put in place, my father left me and the ranch in very capable hands.”
Judging by the ambiguous look covering Nash’s face, she couldn’t decide if he was shocked or angry or just won the lottery, but regardless, he was the first to rise from his seat, acknowledging her statement. “I’m sure Monty will steer you in the right direction. Look forward to hearing from you, on this matter, in thirteen weeks.”