Page 9 of Whiskey Proposal

My heart wrenches. Get to. She’s been getting teased at the Denver school she attends. The girl’s always been better with animals and books than people. But moving to Huckleberry Springs? Where everyone knows her business, and there’s only one clique and that’s the entire class? If she doesn’t fit in here, it’ll be miserable. I would know.

“I don’t know,” I answer just as a warm shadow falls over me.

Her gaze lifts beyond me. “You’re getting married to him?”

I crane my head around. Lane’s standing several feet away, but he still towers over me.

“No,” I say, staring directly at him.

His eyes narrow like it’s a fucking challenge. “A moment, Em?”

He says it like he knows good and well why I didn’t give him my full name. Dammit. “I’m busy.”

A dark brow cocks, but Zack and my brother approach. I rise and cross my arms.

“We should hear everything,” Brooks says cautiously, like he’s waiting for me to blow up again.

All the facts in the trust won’t calm me down. “Fine.”

I only approach as far as the railing and cross my arms. I aim the most reasonable expression I can maintain toward Zack so he can continue. And so I can avoid the man I ghosted.

“Uh, yes.” The lawyer peers at his papers. “If you don’t marry, the house will go on the market, including the land and ranching operation. The same would happen should you divorce. The house must be sold rather than become part of any divorce settlement.” My stomach drops. That would screw Brooks over. “Like Brooks, to inherit, you’ll need to live in town. However, after marrying, the trust does not prevent a sale of the house and surrounding acres for fair market value as long as both you and Lane consent to the sale.” He shoots me an apologetic look. “Uh, other than that, sell for fair market value. Yep. That’s about it. You can read the specifics in the copies I’ll email.”

“Thank you, Zack,” Lane says quietly. “We’ll discuss everything.”

“Any questions, give me a call.” Zack scurries off the porch and veers toward his car. I wish I could leave with him. “I left my info on the railing. My office is downtown. Stop in or call.”

I nod and meet my brother’s livid gaze.

Brooks works his jaw back and forth, but his gaze softens when it lands on his daughter. “Hill, we’re going to talk on the porch. Stay here with the hens.”

“There’s a rooster over there,” she announces proudly.

“Jack,” Lane says. “His name is Jack.”

I don’t care.

Ugh, I actually do, and I hate it. The chickens don’t deserve this either. “Who takes care of them?”

Lane’s arms hang at his sides, but he’s tense. Afraid I won’t like his answer? “I’ve been watching over everything.”

Another surprise, and somehow it feels just as bad. Is he after this land? Go through me, likely knowing I’ll agree to sell him the house, and then he’ll buy out, or push out, Brooks from the rest? That’s not the nice guy he presents to the world. “You coerced Hutch.”

“No,” he says so softly I could almost believe him. He starts for the porch like he expects us to follow him.

“Who died and made him boss?” I mutter to my brother.

“I think the lawyer answered that.”

We exchange a look and grudgingly follow Lane. I’m more careful on the stairs. If I take a spill, I’m going to flash him something I was ready to throw at him after the pitch.

I don’t get near him. The sun’s a traitor and it rests between two trees, shining right on Lane, making his blue eyes even more piercing.

I cross my arms again, but I feel like hugging myself. “I’m not marrying you.”

“Or you can marry me and sell it to Brooks. For reasonable market value.”

The determination that was floundering gets stomped. “Why? Why this stupid trust?”