He figured it was hit or miss to the man actually being around. Considering that last election season hadn’t gone in his father’s favor, McLintoc Miller had been taking to golfing with his buddies and doing more “war room” sessions to gear up for the next round. Personally, Sal didn’t get the obsession with winning office, but that was why he wasn’t the brains of the business.
Or at least that was what his father always liked to tell him. Sal certainly didn’t appreciate those comments, but there was a reason Solomon had been chosen to be the heir to the company and not Sal.
Then again… things were changing. If Sal proved himself, maybe he would have a chance at the top spot and his brothers would stop treating him like a muscle-headed afterthought.
Fat chance.
“What is it?”
“Hey, Dad,” Sal said, opening the door and letting himself in. McLintoc Miller was in his favorite chair, reading another biography about some rich dead guy. Sal had learned to stop asking which dead guy, as usually all the stories ended up pretty much the same. And Sal actually liked reading, despite what people assumed about him. “I wanted to bring up a personal issue with the new hire from the last budget discussion we had.”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
Sal couldn’t help but be surprised at his dad’s sudden response. It was laced with both vehemence and irritation, and Sal couldn’t think of what he had done to earn such ire right off the bat.
“Um… no?”
“Son,” his dad said, closing his book and giving him the most admonishing look Sal had been on the receiving end of in quite a long time. “I am dealing with an all-out coup from your brothers and our board. Serious stuff involving the future of our business. There’s so much to be worried about with those three determined to upend everything that I’ve worked to build that I don’t have the time or the patience to hear about whatever little squabble you’ve had now.
“For Pete’s sake, you’re twenty-six now, Salvatore. Man up. I can’t keep holding your hand like you’re a child. Even Simon is out doing things of his own volition, even if they are a waste of time.”
Sal swallowed, a deluge of reactions rushing through him. He was the biggest of the Miller sons, but why did his father always make him feel so small? Like he was still that skinny, high school runt who everyone said didn’t even look like a Miller. It wasn’t a good feeling, and he just so desperately wanted his father to be proud of him. Why was that too much to ask?
“I’m sorry,” he ground out, all of his anger deflating. This was why he wasn’t the heir of the empire. He was too dumb, too childish. “What can I do to help? I want to be useful.”
Dad sighed, rolling his eyes before sitting up. “Fine, if you really need me to hold your hand. What you need to do is establish dominance and stop acting like such a pushover. Win over at least some of the workers because they all seem to be drooling after Solomon’s new benefit package and the twin’s obsession with updating all of our perfectly fine equipment.
“Show them that they don’t need all that stuff, and in the end the more we make, the more job security they have. In the long run, your brother’s plans will leave them with less than they have now rather than more.”
Sal wasn’t exactly sure how that worked out, but he wasn’t going to argue.
His dad continued, “After all, we’re not socialists. We’re true-blue Americans, and we work hard for our country and freedom.”
“Right. Of course. I will do that, and I’ll keep at it until it works. Failure is not an option.”
“You’ve got that right.”
Nodding, Sal excused himself and headed back out, but as the door to his dad’s study closed, he couldn’t help but feel entirely exhausted. Except exhausted didn’t seem to do his mood justice. Worn. Inside out. Deflated.
Well, whatever the right phrase was, he was pretty sure that he could use a nap. And then a workout. Nothing like a session in his personal gym to forget his worries.
He certainly had plenty.
It took Sal about two days to gather himself and figure out the start of his plan. He figured the best place to begin was to confront Silas or Solomon and tell them that they needed to shape up. After all, there was a chance that they were just so punch-drunk from their lady friends that they weren’t thinking straight. Maybe, if he was concise and direct, he could shed some light for them, and their family could go back to being a family instead of two conflicting factions.
He could always hope.
Stealing himself, he headed up to Solomon’s office. Normally he didn’t make a habit of going over to his brother’s wing, but he figured uniting his family was a pretty good cause. Of course, when he got there and knocked on the door, it became clear pretty quickly that he wasn’t in.
He had to be off to the city again. Drat. It seemed like he spent more time there than home lately. That certainly wasn’t helping.
Oh well, there was always Silas. Chances were he was just going off to his morning ride. And if that failed, well, Sterling would be up in a few hours.
Nodding to himself, Sal headed out the door. Silas’ truck was still in their extended garage, so that bode well, but he had no idea where his brother was on the ranch. He supposed he could text the elder twin, but he didn’t want the forewarning, giving his brother a chance to make up some sort of excuse as to why they couldn’t meet.
Well, if his brother was out on a ride, he had to return to the stables eventually. Especially since he wasn’t riding on his favorite horse, Amaranth, as she was still recovering from her injury last summer.
Feeling pleased to have a plan, Sal grabbed one of their spare golf carts and headed towards the stables. He’d been skeptical when Solomon had suggested the little things as a way to cut down on their emissions in riding around the ranch, but the carts turned out to be pretty fun. Besides, Sal saw how much his mother had giggled when she’d first gotten her flowery one and, well, if it made his momma happy, he was alright with it.
It took longer to get there than it would in a truck, of course, but he wasn’t in a hurry. For the past year and a half, Silas had taken to horseback riding in the morning, racing his twin or just exploring around the ranch. Sal didn’t entirely get it, but he didn’t begrudge his brother in enjoying the horses. They were magnificent creatures.
When he arrived, he heard noises inside that indicated a human was in there along with all the mounts. Perfect. Striding in, he was all ready to confront his brother only to see that it wasn’t Silas at all.
No, instead it was the last person he ever wanted to see. Just his luck.
It was the crazy girl, the one who had tackled him, mucking out a stall and humming to herself with her earbuds in. She gave no indication that she even noticed him standing there and that irritated Sal for some reason.
Striding over, he cleared his throat once, twice, then a third time while rapping on the stall’s partition before she jumped, yanking her headphones from her ears.
“Jeeza-Louise! You really move silently for a hench chap, don’t you?” she exclaimed, hand over her chest.
Her accent and slang startled him, and he found his eyes automatically scanning her over again to catch anything he missed after their rather tumultuous first meeting. She wasn’t wearing the usual button-up and khakis that Elizabeth sported, or the jumpsuit that other workers wore. Instead she was wearing a sort of fitted gray tank that looked like it might have once been white, and thick black leggings. It was a skin-tight outfit, and he found his eyes being drawn appreciatingly to places where it wasn’t polite to stare, and that irritated him too.