Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
MEREDITH
I freeze. Busted. I didn’t mean to be so quiet as I walked into the office, but I also didn’t want to disturb them. Maybe I thought if they were talking about Jules Creek and Crossroads stuff, it wouldn’t be bad for me to hear. I’m an owner, too, after all.
Thinking that just feels wrong. Yet Ransom knew how much all this meant to me. The ranch is my home. I helped name all the chickens. I bottle-fed the calves with Carlos. And the brewery… it’s a dream. But it’s never been mine. Only, now it is. Because Ransom was there for me once again.
Right now, I’m very much alone among the Cross brothers.
I edge into the doorway. Landry lowers his gaze and shifts.
Bowen tucks his chin into his hand like he wants to disappear.
Calder’s startled expression betrays his dismay.
Standing by Landry, I feel like the pauper I am in a room full of princes.
My hair is wild atop my head, styled in the most haphazard bun I’ve ever formed.
My worn jeans and my river-blue polo featuring the Jules Creek logo stick out like a crushed can among brand-new bottles.
My face must be red. Rosy. An embarrassed flush.
Calder defended me based on how broke I am and then defiantly clarified I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not anything to him.
“I-I’m sorry.” My voice shakes. I’m losing grip on my composure. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I got a call from Shirley, at the bank. She doesn’t have your number.”
I scurry away. The squeak of an office chair resounds, followed by the click of Calder’s heels. I put on a burst of speed, but not in time to miss hearing Landry’s, “Sure about that?”
Which comment is he referring to? Does it matter? We messed around, that’s all. He saved me from more stupid fantasies. I won’t get involved with anyone who isn’t committed or one hundred percent certain I’m his woman.
This day sucks. Yesterday sucked. Tomorrow’s going to suck.
My shoes hit the bottom of the stairs, and I power-walk to the production line on the other side of the stills.
“Meredith!”
I stop in front of the labeler. Where was I? I’ve got a day full of packaging, then cleaning, then—
My vision gets blurry. I blink it clear. I have a job to do. This place is partly mine now. Not all mine. I can’t afford it, and it doesn’t matter that I’ve dedicated years of my life to it.
A line of cans stretches along a belt to my left. Where was I again? Right. My job. I paused for a phone call, and that was why I overheard exactly where I stood with the eldest Cross.
Calder’s wall of heat is right behind me.
“You need to call Shirley back.” I can barely speak above a whisper.
“She can wait.”
I monitor the cans as they get grouped in sixes and rings are pressed on.
He can leave at any time and save my dignity.
I have work to do. It doesn’t help that my eyes are raw and scratchy this morning, as if I cried all night, or that I could barely roll out of bed, so mentally and physically exhausted I didn’t want to move from the sheets, which still smelled faintly like Calder.
I’ve been nothing but a beer can on the production line, getting scooted from one checkbox to another.
Fill. Check. Top. Check. Label. Check. Ringed. Check.
Check, check, and check. Today. Tomorrow. All weekend. Our busiest nights.
“I’m sorry.” His voice caresses me.
My sight gets cloudy again. I have this job and my pride. Nothing else is mine—not really, and definitely not Calder.
“For what?”
There’s a pause. “You know what.”
I shut off the line and face him. My heart hurts. Why do I keep wanting what I can’t have? “Is it that you said I’m not your girlfriend? That’s true. Or is it that you know I’m broke?” Also true.
“We didn’t say that.”
“Sure about that?” I sound like I’m five and mimicking Landry. “Or are you upset that your dad made sure I can’t be nothing to you.”
His eyelids slide closed for a second. “Look, I know this is hard—”
“You know what’s hard, slick?” I’m not going to be lectured by McBossy as if I’m some lovesick employee.
Calder’s not the only one who’s been through the wringer.
“You know what I don’t want to be doing?
Talking to you, a man who could save the entire Cross empire with his pocket change.
Each one of you could, but I can’t spare more than a couple hundred to toss into the pot.
You know what stinks? I buried my sister yesterday, and I’m at work today like a good little employee. I’m even wearing the shirt you hate.”
A sob wrenches out of me. Then another.
“Hey.” He reaches for me, but I jerk away.
Hot tears streak down my face. I pat my cheeks, and a horror darkens my mind. Oh no. No, no, no. I’m already pathetic around him—I can’t break down under the full weight of his attention. But it’s too much. Too much loss. So much heartache. Loads of stress.
Too much, too much, too much.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Meredith.”
I shake my head. “If you have any respect for me, leave me alone.”
Proud I could get that much out without my voice cracking more than three times, I race out of the brewery.