Chapter 10
maverick
“There’s something off about her that’s icky,” Joy says when I hang up after speaking with Celine.
“Icky?” I muse.
“It’s a gut feeling, Mav, and I can see why you like her. Celine’s gorgeous, sure, but she has an unpleasant undercurrent.”
“Stop with the drama, Joy. Celine’s harmless.”
My sister snorts softly as she refills our coffee cups.
Her boutique is closed on Mondays, so we usually have breakfast together. It’s a tradition, and one that we seldom break.
I throw another log into the outdoor fireplace and watch the flames catch. The fire dances inside the long, modern hearth built into the stacked stone wall, flickering light across the slate tiles beneath our feet.
The table between us is solid wood—blonde, worn, and smooth at the edges—surrounded by sculpted white chairs, which Joy insisted on because they look like branches.
Beyond the edge of the covered patio, the view opens wide to the west—the Rockies stretched like the spine of the earth, purple-shadowed and snowcapped this early in the spring.
It’s quiet except for the soft rustle of the citrus trees that are close to the porch, and the hum of wind rolling down the mountain slopes.
Joy leans back in her chair, watching me over the rim of her mug. “I’m serious. Celine is clingy and slippery.”
“She just lost her father. Her marriage is…well, you know how that is.” I take a sip of coffee.
“Her marriage is in a ditch because he’s an alcoholic and she’s…weird.”
I chuckle. “Weird can mean anything.”
Joy pulls the tie from her bun with one hand, letting her dark blonde hair fall in soft waves around her shoulders. She slides the hair tie onto her wrist like a bracelet. “I just don’t like her.”
She absently rakes her fingers through her hair as she talks, then gathers it all back up and twists it into a high knot, securing it with the tie she just removed.
“Celine is just…well, she’s na?ve.”
Joy rolls her eyes. “Why is it men see a woman with a damsel-in-distress look and immediately assume she’s innocent?”
“Probably because it makes us feel like big, bad protectors,” I say with a crooked smile.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I hear myself again—ripping into Aria with cruel judgment she didn’t deserve.
Sure, she’s not as polished or conventionally beautiful as Celine, but that gave me no right to call her unattractive.
The way her eyes had gone blank and flat still unsettles me.
And when she told me she took my insult as a compliment?
I’d have kicked my own ass if I could’ve.
“Look, I admit I don’t know Celine all that well,” I offer, trying for neutrality.
Joy gives me a look that says Please.
“What?”
“The rumor is that you do know her…biblically.”
I sigh. “She’s married.”
“I know that. Doesn’t mean people aren’t talking.”
Wildflower Canyon can be a small town in the worst way. “Right now, all I need to do is keep things civil so I can buy Longhorn Ranch. Celine and I aren’t close, but we’re friendly enough. If I can get her sister not to throw a wrench in the sale, I’ll be set.”
Joy’s eyes twitch at the corners, a silent expression of exasperation. “Sometimes I forget how…focused you get when it comes to business.” She softens a beat later. “And how the man I know, the one Elena sees? No one else gets to.”
She’s not wrong. I have tunnel vision, which is how I made something out of our ranch.
I didn’t have any advantages. No parents to guide me.
No college degree to help me. Hard work got me here, and it’s what’s going to ensure that Kincaid Farms keeps growing, stays successful, so I never have to worry about providing for Joy, keeping the lights on, and making sure there’s food on the table.
“What’s the sister like?” Joy asks.
I toss my shoulders. “No clue.”
“I heard from…someone, not sure who, that Hudson was engaged to the sister and then came to Wildflower Canyon and met Celine.”
I smirk, shaking my head. “You gossiping now, Joy?”
She gives me a withering look. “Ever since Rami died, there’s been nonstop talk about the Delgado family—and half of it happens in my boutique.
Short of shoving earplugs in and offending half my clientele, I get a front-row seat to the latest issue of The Wildflower Canyon Scandal Newspaper on the regular. ”
But I consider what she said, and once again, I wonder about the stories Celine has told me and everyone in Wildflower Canyon about her sister
Maybe some of the old-timers would know better, but then again, Aria has been gone for—
Why the fuck do you care about their family dynamics? Snap out of it, Mav. You’re helping out Celine so you can get Longhorn. And let’s face it, Aria is no one to you.
My phone buzzes, and I look at the message I just received.
Celine: Thank you so much for agreeing to be here, holding my hand during the will reading. I’m nervous about Aria’s reaction. It’s going to get ugly.
Me: I’ll see you in an hour.
I put the phone aside.
Joy raises both her eyebrows in query. “So…what does she want?”
“They’re reading Rami’s will today, and she thinks he may have cut her sister out. She’s nervous about how Aria will react and wants me there.”
“Christ,” Joy mutters. “That sounds like horse manure—and more than a little manipulative, don’t you think?”
I shrug. “I don’t mind being there for the will reading,” I say drolly, not quite denying her accusation. “It’s a convenient way to find out who Rami left what to—and who I’ll need to convince to sell me Longhorn.”
“Always eye on the prize?”
“Always,” I agree.
Joy looks at her watch and sighs. “I have a call with a buyer in fifteen.”
“I need to check something in the office for a minute before I head over to Longhorn.” I start to collect the plates and glasses.
We have someone who comes once a week to clean and do the laundry, but we do all our cooking and dishwashing. Neither of us is spoiled, and we like our privacy. I couldn’t live like Celine and Duke do with a housekeeper and others living in the house with them.
As I put the last dish in the dishwasher and Joy puts the food items in the fridge, she looks at me seriously. “Tell me something. If you were in trouble, who would you call?”
“You.”
She grins. “Besides me.”
I think about it. “Cade, Elena, maybe even Duke if push comes to shove. Kaz, though, he’s…weird.”
“So, not Celine.”
“Come on, she can barely take care of herself.”
Joy sighs.
“What exactly are you worried about?”
“That you’re going to marry—”
“Whoa!” I cut her off. “I told you my interest in Celine is simple. I want to buy Longhorn.”
Joy exhales. “I just…sometimes get worried that I’ll lose you.”
I pull her into my arms and hug her. “Joy, there’s no world in which that’ll happen. You’ve got me until I don’t have breath in my body and maybe, somehow, even after that.”
I hear her sniffle. She pulls away. “Ugh! I hate getting emotional.”
This is her standard tactic when she feels she’s going to cry.
I smile warmly at her and cup her cheek. “I love you, too, squirt.”
She growls at the old nickname—claims she hates it—but I’m pretty sure she secretly likes it.
I finish some work in the office, check in with my ranch foreman, and then thirty minutes later find myself at Longhorn Ranch.
It’s a lovely spring day. Chilly but clear. It tricks you into forgetting how hard winter was.
The sky is a spotless blue, and the air smells like a promise—because soon we’ll be planting, kicking off the long, stubborn cycle of sowing, growing, and praying the land pays us back.
Around here, spring doesn’t just mean flowers and thawing ground. It means debt coming due, seed costs rising, and the hope that by fall, there’ll be enough to sell, enough to survive, and maybe even enough to breathe easy for a while.
Nadine nods at me when she sees me.
She’s sitting on the porch, going through a tablet. I like her very much, and I’m hoping she’ll become an asset, managing more than just the farm and orchard at Longhorn when I buy it.
“How’s it goin’, Nadine?”
“It’s goin’.”
I smile at her and tilt my chin toward the house. “How are things inside?”
“Same ol’, same ol’.”
“Except Rami is gone and his oldest daughter is here,” I remind her, aware that I’m uncomfortable saying Aria’s name aloud.
She chuckles. “Except that.”
I walk into the living room and hear the clinking of ice and glass. It’s only noon, so I guess Hudson is already pouring bourbon like it’s water.
“Mav.” Hudson lifts his glass in a toast. “You here for the dog and pony show?”
Celine floats into the living room, dressed in a black dress that hugs every curve. Her hair is coiffed to perfection. She’s wearing fire-engine red lipstick. The diamonds around her neck, wrist, and on her ears shine as brightly as her eyes do, which are shimmering with tears.
She’s in her mourning ensemble.
I can’t help but compare her to the woman who had worn a black dress as well. Her hair was in a braid. She wore no makeup. Her eyes were flat, blank. She wore no diamonds.
I don’t have a type when it comes to women.
I like having sex with women whom I can talk to, though not always.
I don’t mind casual hookups, but I’ve also had relationships—though my companions might call it an exaggeration—that lasted a couple of months with women who I enjoyed both in and out of bed.
But none of the women I’ve been with in the past years have intrigued me more than Aria.
“Mav.” Celine goes on tip-toe and hugs me and lingers. “Thank God.”
I set her away from me when I see Hudson smirk.
“I didn’t know I was the Almighty.”
“You might be today,” she purrs, sliding her arm into mine and walking me to a couch. “Mac’s on his way in a bit. He wants Nadine and Earl here…God only knows why.”
I don’t like how dismissive she is of people who work hard and get their hands dirty so she can wear diamonds, but I’m keeping the peace with her, so I refrain from telling her off and simply say, “They were with Rami for a long time.”
She sits next to me. “Would you like a drink?”
On cue, we hear the soft rattle of ice from Hudson.
He’s by the full bar tucked into the corner of the living room—a piece that wouldn’t be out of place in a five-star hotel.
The oak counter gleams under the afternoon light, flanked by high-backed leather stools that still carry the faint creak of old conversations.
Behind it, an antique mirror reflects the room in hazy fragments, its shelves lined with jewel-toned bottles—bourbon, vermouth, tequila—all waiting like silent witnesses to the dramas they cause.
“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee.” I sprawl on the couch, getting comfortable. I’m used to being here with Celine and Hudson, or at their place in Aspen, where Celine entertains a lot. Her parties are fun. Good food, wine, and company. She’s an excellent hostess.
Celine calls out to Vera, who comes into the living room after a moment. “Yes?” She’s not exactly impatient, but there’s a flash in her eyes.
“Can you set up the coffee service right away? Mav would like a cup.”
Vera looks at me. “Black, no cream, no sugar?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Vera.”
She only nods in response and walks away.
“Hudson, darlin’, can you get me a glass of champagne?” Celine orders as she strokes her neck, diamond necklace and all, with a manicured hand. “I’m parched.”
Like a dog on command, Hudson brings her a glass of sparkling wine. She thanks him sweetly.
He gives me a measured look. “You staying for the will reading?”
“I asked him to,” Celine interjects with a pout. “You know she’s going to cause some kind of drama.”
Her husband snorts.
“What?” Celine narrows her eyes.
Hudson raises a hand, palm out. “Nothing.” Then he groans. “I need to take a piss. I’ll be back.”
Celine screws up her nose. She waits until he’s out of earshot to look at me with defeat in her eyes. “He’s so…uncouth. He used to not be like this. I…I’ve decided to divorce him.”
I raise a brow.
“It’s just come to an end. It’s just too much and….”
I shrug in response.
I thought it came to an end years ago, but I don’t pass judgment. People should do what they’re comfortable with.
“It’s going to be a mess,” she continues. She moves closer to me and rests her head on my shoulder. “We had a prenup. Papa insisted. Hudson gets nothing…so, you know, he’s not going to let go that easily.”
I shift so she has to raise her head. I don’t mind a woman who’s touchy-feely, but not a woman who’s married to another man. “You got a lawyer?”
She nods. “Rony Kramer.”
I know Rony. He’s a sought-after divorce lawyer in Aspen, handles all the celebrity breakups.
“Does Hudson know it’s comin’?” I feel sorry for the man, despite how I feel about him. He’s broken, wasted. There seems to be something missing inside him, a hollowness he can’t fill.
She rolls her eyes. “If he doesn’t, it’s because he’s too drunk. He’s given up and…I don’t have the energy to work on it. Papa’s death has been”—she sniffles—“so hard…and a wakeup call to live my best life before it’s gone.”
She leans into me again, and this time I let her ‘cause she’s crying, and it would be rude to push her away.
“I spoke to Aria this morning. She’s plannin’ on stayin’ here, Mav. I can’t believe it.”
She’s stayin’? For how long? Why?
“I think she wants Hudson,” she adds, her voice quieter now.
That pulls a dry laugh out of me. “I highly doubt it.”
I can’t imagine any universe in which the stoic and somber Aria would be interested in a yahoo like Hudson.
She lifts her eyes to me, they’re flashing with irritation. “You don’t know her like I do.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” This is not a hill I want to die on. Whatever is going on between these two sisters is none of my business.
Vera comes back with a cup of coffee for me.
“Thank you, Vera.”
She smiles at me. “You’re welcome, Mav.” She shakes her head as she looks at the woman sitting next to me and, almost on a sigh, says, “Celine, I have set up coffee and petit fours in the piano room.”
“Thank you,” Celine replies pleasantly.
Vera is still shaking her head as she leaves us.
I take a sip of coffee and glance at my watch. “What time’s Mac gettin’ here?”
She looks at her Bulgari watch. “In about half an hour.” Then reaches out and grabs my hand. “You’ll stay, won’t you?”
“Of course.” I give her a reassuring smile.
She throws her arms around me. I have no choice but to return the hug.
As we’re pulling apart, the air in the room shifts.
I look over Celine’s shoulder.
Aria is standing just inside the doorway, her expression twisted into something between disgust and disappointment.
The sneer on her face gets to me, and I have to curb the urge to yell, “It’s not what it looks like.”
But what can I say? I’m friendly with your sister because I want to buy Longhorn, like that sounds any better!