Was she flirting with him? Because embarrassment aside, Rick was tempted to brush the dust off his rusty skills and give it a try.
“Are we betting again?” he asked.
“Depends if there’s something good on the table.”
Yep. That was definitely flirting. She waited for him to reply, and Rick opened his mouth. Nothing. He had nothing. Was it possible to be any worse at this?
“I should probably go track down Jax,” Lana mentioned when Rick’s mouth refused to help him one bit.
“Good luck with your meeting.” Rick jutted his head toward the brand new pickup barely visible as it headed down the mountainside, parallel to the snow art. “That’ll be Jax. If he’s being too difficult, make him meet you at Dirty Joe’s one morning. Jax usually doesn’t go there unless someone forces him.”
Dirty Joe’s was the most popular hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in town, guaranteed to be claustrophobically busy at all times. If the drinks weren’t so good, no one would even try to step inside.
“You’re an amazingly helpful person, Rick,” Lana told him.
“Just trying to be a good friend.”
Wait. No. Noooooo. He’d used the f-word. The friend word. Why? Not that he had a chance with this woman, but why would he do that?
They stood there, the distance between them only a couple of feet apart but far too much. Rick wasn’t sure when thinking Lana was beautiful had shifted into trying and failing not to stand too close to her. The fact that she was stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, standing too close to him too, made it all the more confusing.
He almost did it. He almost opened his mouth and told her she was amazing.
Instead, Rick ducked his head, and he walked away.
* * *
Her cousin Silas Thomas was a man sigher.
Now, in her life, Lana had met many a man sigher. The one man in a room full of others hell-bent on making his feelings perfectly clear with a loud, heavy sigh every time he shifted position. A dramatic hand over the back of his neck. Feet kicked out in front of him because the only way for a man sigher to function through his distress at his current situation was to spread and spread some more.
More times than she could count, Lana had sat at in a conference room, recrossing her legs so the pointy end of her high heel could jab into the offending leg of a man sigher getting his spread on. But when stuck on the far side of the table, or worse, on a video call that spanned multiple cities across three continents, a toe nudge and an unimpressed look couldn’t cut it.
And boy, were there a lot of men sighing now. Just none as emphatically as Silas.
“Ms. Montgomery…” their chief financial officer, Travis, started to say.
“Just Lana, Travis.” She waved off Travis’s phrasing with a little flap of her hand. “We’ve known each other forever.”
“Since you were in diapers.” The old man’s lips curved.
“Nonsense. I came out in Gucci or not at all.” Her comment earned a look of annoyance from her cousin Silas. Silas, who had been annoyed since the call started. Silas, who wouldn’t. Stop. Sighing.
Travis scrolled through a document on his phone—the same document they all had access to. “I’ve been looking at the budget for the Moose Springs project, and I’ll admit to having some concerns.”
“This is ridiculous, Travis.” Silas’s tone was sour. “Forget the numbers. Lana’s pet project is already making more work for the rest of us. I already had to cover for her at the investor meeting in Brisbane.”
“You weren’t covering for me,” Lana said firmly. “You were at a party on a yacht, holding a glass of champagne. All you had to do was represent the company and keep your mouth shut.”
“I’m fairly sure that’s why there were so many models on the boat,” race car Killian said, hiding a smirk behind his fist. “To keep you distracted from ruining Lana’s hard work.”
The man sigher turned into a man sputtering in indignation.
“I’m in charge of acquisitions, Silas,” Lana said. “If you’re going to step on toes, I’d prefer it to be ones that turn less of an eye toward foot care.”
“Meaning stay off her Jimmy Choos, cousin,” polo Killian added.
The problem with a family business was that everyone was family. And family gave a certain level of familiarity that could quickly derail these sorts of meetings. Lana pushed ahead, refocusing the conversation.
“I’m not asking for the Moose Springs account to be made a priority, only that the cash inflow be adjusted for some unforeseen conditions.”
“Lana, what exactly are these unforeseen conditions?” This strong female voice could cut through any sigh, even those offered so expressively and generously.
Lana focused on the screen where her mother was sitting.
While both her parents had made a very positive and very lasting impression on Lana’s life, Jessica had been the most influential. Theirs was a family that cared about one another, but they always—always—put the business first. They might hug at family gatherings, but they had no problem cutting one another off at the knees if it was for the good of the Montgomery Group. No one’s job was secured; it was earned by hard work, dedication, and loyalty. Like a honeybee’s nest, each of the worker bees had a part to play.
And working hardest was the queen bee herself, Jessica Madison-Montgomery.
In a world where self-made millionaires and billionaires could be found every time one turned and sneezed, Langston Montgomery was old money. Much older than the Madisons, who had practically built half the city of Chicago after branching beyond their European estates.
Lana had never known if her parents had married for love—although she knew they loved each other now—or if they were part of a subtly arranged marriage in a time when such things were going out of style in their social circles. Maybe it was a mutual appreciation of each other’s shrewd intelligence and extreme business savvy. Either way, when the Montgomery and Madison money came together, under the watchful eye of Lana’s mother, the Montgomery Group exploded overnight.
Theoretically, with the wealth gathered by the Montgomery Group’s holdings, no one in the family should have ever needed to work a day in their lives. But that was not the way they operated. The group’s money wasn’t hers. A bee’s hive was where the hardest work happened, not a place to sit and let squander.
Lana would still be negotiating a deal the day they put her in the ground.
“I need to tread lightly,” Lana informed her mother. “The town hasn’t taken well to the project, and I need to bring them on board. Or somewhere in the vicinity of the ship at least.”