Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
GRIFFIN
From the time that James buzzed Ford’s hair, he slipped into the role of being Willow’s dad.
He held her almost every waking moment, eyes brimming as he told her about her mom.
At night, he wouldn’t let her out of his reach; he slept with his arm dangling over the side of the Pack ‘n Play so her little fist could grip his finger.
All the Dupree men from Dad down to Bronco wore cowboy hats to the funeral. The head-shaving videos wouldn’t be posted for a few days—and Ford didn’t take his hat off a single time—so, for now, the public was none the wiser.
At James’s request, there wasn’t a black dress in sight. Apparently, Sage had despised the tradition and told James, “Heaven isn’t something to be sad about. It’s home.” So, to honor her, the women wore floral dresses, the brighter, the better.
It was at the potluck Heidi and Scott hosted where everything started to fall apart.
All day, I’d caught Ford watching—his gaze moving from James to my mom to me with that careful, calculating glint.
I knew that look. I’d grown up under it.
It was his ‘I’m about to meddle’ look. I knew it so well I’d be willing to bet my own ginger locks that he was concocting a scheme to get me to move back to Seddledowne.
As if my being here would magically heal my family’s hearts.
But my presence wasn’t going to resurrect a wife.
Sure, it would make my mom happy, but at the sacrifice of my own happiness. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Seddledowne. At times, this place brought out the best in me. But the highs weren’t high enough to counterbalance the lows. And when I was low, I was low.
For example, last night I undid all the progress Bowen and I had made with one word: Bozo. That’s right. When he outshot me by one clay target, I cussed and called him Bozo.
Thing is, it wasn’t even an accident. When that old dig surfaced, I told myself not to say it—and said it anyway. In front of Jules. I felt like a complete jerk. She said it was just a trauma response and not to be so hard on myself.
But that was the thing: the longer I was home, the more triggered I was and the harder it got to keep it all in.
When Mayor Massey—all five-foot-three inches of him—cornered me by the punch table, I knew for certain that Ford was up to no good.
“Griffin,” Mayor Massey said, enunciating so forcefully that bits of dinner roll escaped with the vowels. The man appeared completely oblivious to the cornbread crumbs in his mustache or the streak of mustard across his forehead. “Long time no see. How’ve you been, son?”
Nothing grated on me like a man who wasn’t my kin calling me son. Still, my Southern upbringing wouldn’t let me snub him.
“Doing well.” I ladled some of the creamy lime concoction Heidi brought to every church picnic into a plastic cup. “And you?”
Mayor Massey patted his ample stomach. “The wife keeps me fed. Can’t complain,” he hummed. “Can’t complain. But look at you.” He grabbed my forearms and shook, making my drink spill down the front of my pants. He didn’t even notice. “When are you going to stop growing?”
I’d quit growing two years ago, but I laughed. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“While I have you here,” he started. “I thought I might run something past you.”
Here it comes.
“Sure.” I freed an arm to brush off my pants. “Shoot.”
He rocked back on his heels and puffed his chest. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard that Seddledowne is getting its own paid fire department.”
“Really?” I raised a brow. “How are they funding that?” A paid department came with a hefty price tag—equipment, salaries, benefits—which was why towns like Seddledowne usually made do with volunteers.
“Well, you know,” he hedged, scratching his neck, which had suddenly broken out in raised, splotchy hives. “We’ve received some generous support from a few… very civic-minded citizens.”
I huffed. “Civic-minded citizens.”
More like one citizen. Who was so wildly rich he could fund an entire fire department just to entice his nephew to move back home and still have plenty left over for whatever ridiculous project he dreamed up next.
Would my uncle seriously do that?
I glanced over at Ford, who thought he was so covert—hiding in a huddle of Gramps and his buddies next to us, discussing rabbit hunting.
Which was rich, considering Ford hated rabbit hunting.
Said the dogs sounded like they were fleeing a chainsaw massacre in the woods, and rabbit tasted like chicken’s deeply disappointing cousin.
Oh yeah, this had Ford Dupree written all over it.
I pursed my lips and gave him a look that said, I’m on to you and I’m not falling for it.
He smirked and blew me a kiss as if to reply, we’ll see.
I narrowed my eyes and lifted my cup in a silent toast. You’re right. We will.
There was nothing he could offer me that would tempt me to come home. I was too happy in Phoenix. Besides, Jules needed to be close to Vegas to commute in for meetings and photo shoots. I couldn’t wait to watch her do her thing at the job she loved.
“—and we simply can’t find a suitable candidate for the position. So what d’ya say?” Mayor Massey said.
Crap. I’d missed his entire spiel, having a silent standoff with my uncle.
“I’m sorry.” I scratched my jaw. “I was distracted. Could you repeat that?”
I thought he might swallow the bite of ham-and-cheese biscuit he’d just taken.
Nope. “I said, we were wondering if you’d be willing to be our new—” a piece of ham hit me in the cheek, “—fire chief. The salary starts at…” He looked to the side, like he didn’t want to repeat it.
“$350,000,” he mumbled. “With benefits.”
Forgetting that there was pork dangling from my face, I nearly swallowed my tongue. “Ex-excuse me?”
I wasn’t ready to be a fire chief. I had less than three years of firefighting under my belt.
Most guys worked their way up for fifteen before they even got close to that title.
And I didn’t know a single chief anywhere making that kind of money.
Maybe in some massive city full of skyscrapers and traffic jams. But in a town like Seddledowne, where there were arguably more cows than people? It was downright laughable.
Mayor Massey sighed, and I couldn’t fault him.
Repeating—now for the third time—a salary that was probably triple what he made had to sting, especially with retirement creeping up on him.
“Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” He sounded more annoyed by the number than I felt.
“Though I was instructed to mention it’s… negotiable.”
I released a single guffaw. “So you’re saying I could ask for more?”
He exhaled through his nose. “Yes.”
When I looked at Ford this time, he smiled and tipped his hat.
I snorted.
Maybe another man wouldn’t mind that level of blatant nepotism. He’d take the money and run. But finding happiness outside of this town, away from my insanely rich and famous family, had taught me one important thing about myself.
I didn’t want a handout.
Especially one as ridiculous as this.
I looked back at Massey and simply said, “No, thank you.”
I attempted to sidestep him, but the man cut me off, blocking my exit. “But… but why?”
“Simple,” I said. “I don’t want a job that’s handed to me. I want to know I earned it.” Before he could counter, I added, “And I like it in Phoenix. Other than July and August, the weather is beautiful, and there’s no humidity or bugs.”
Yes, there was the occasional scorpion, snake, and tarantula.
But I’d take those over having a squadron of gnats dive-bomb my eyeballs the second I stepped out the door, mosquitoes chewing up my legs like I was their personal all-you-can-eat buffet, and sweating through my underwear before I even reached the sidewalk, June through September.
Massey got a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. “No humidity or bugs?”
“That’s right. And the scenery out west is incredible. Have you ever seen a saguaro up close?”
Three minutes later, the mayor was looking up retirement communities in Scottsdale.
But more importantly, I was proud of myself.
I’d left Seddledowne a scared boy who had no clue how he was going to make it on his own.
Every obstacle I’d overcome had turned me into a man.
A man who didn’t need to ride the coattails of his uber-rich relatives in order to make a name for himself. A man who couldn’t be bought.
Ford’s scowl had carved deep lines across his forehead. I gave him a wink and tipped my own hat. Imaginary, of course. I’d taken the real one off the minute the funeral was over.
Unlike the rest of the men in my family, I was not a cowboy at heart.
I filled Jules’s glass, said my goodbyes to Mayor Massey, and headed back outside. But the women must’ve moseyed off somewhere, because I was the only one out there. The glass door slid open behind me, and I turned… to see Ford walking out.
I sighed. “Don’t even bother. You’re just wasting your time.”
“C’mon, Griff,” he said, voice smooth. “You’re seriously going to turn down that kind of money?” The look in his eye told me he would not let this go. Not until we hashed it out.
I set the glasses on a small metal table and folded my arms across my chest. “Yes. I am.”
He studied me. “Mind if I ask why?”
I could give him the same Life Is Better Out West spiel I’d just given Mayor Massey, but that wasn’t the real problem here. “Because unlike everyone else in this family, you can’t buy me off.”
“Ouch.” He chuckled, but I could tell it stung. “You really think that about me? I try to buy people off?”
I didn’t want to hurt him, but I also didn’t want to have this conversation a single time after this.
If I ever came home, it would be because I wanted to, because the time was right, not because I was manipulated.
Regardless of how well-meaning it might be.
“You bought us all cars when we turned sixteen—”