Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Tuesday, Landry …
Jorja should have expected it.
Her father had berated her in front of others in the front office weeks earlier, when she asked to approach the Carpenter Ranch, making her feel as if she was delusional.
This time was no different.
She pivoted smartly on her Manolos and marched out of their headquarters, quaking, but with her head held high, not shedding one tear until she was safe in her townhome.
Her father’s demeaning treatment continued during the required weekly family dinner that night in front of Clem, who was visiting for a few days, her mother, and their cook and staff.
It only strengthened her resolve.
“I’ve discovered I’m not hungry. Thank you for dinner.” She stood and set her napkin by her plate.
After waltzing out of the dining room, Jorja and drove to her place where she changed from the knee-length pink eyelet sheath, natural espadrille wedges, and minimal gold jewelry to an old tee and shorts.
She opened a very nice Cabernet.
Clem arrived shortly thereafter with his duffel bag.
“I’m only here for a few days and I’d rather it be time with you. I’m spending the night.” After changing into gym shorts and a ratty t-shirt, he poured himself a glass of wine and joined her on the veranda.
Soothing jazz played through a Bluetooth speaker.
“You’ve got this, sis.” He dropped into the chair across from her, took a sip, and swallowed slowly.
“This is exceptional.”
“I might have filched it from Mom and Dad.”
He laughed and raised his glass to her.
“They’ll never know. Dad can be a real son of a bitch when someone opposes him or his plans.”
“I remember how he treated you when you decided to pursue being a doctor instead of joining Ogden-Keller. You shattered his dream of a fourth generation at the helm. Total maverick move. I was so proud of you. Look at you now, Clem, how many people you help. You inspire me.”
“I’m proud of you , Jorjie,” he said, using his nickname for her.
“You’re going to be the fourth generation leading the company. You’ve told me that’s what you want. You’re well on your way and will wear him down by continuing to prove yourself. Dad fights it. Tonight was another example of that. I told him that what he should be doing is embracing your drive, taking you under his wing.”
“How did he respond?”
“He told me to mind my own business. I heard you’re negotiating with the Carpenter Ranch. How’s that going?
“What else did Dad say?
”
Clem seemed to weigh his next words.
“He said that negotiating with Rake Carpenter will teach you what it means to fail. To hate.”
“Hate? He said that?”
“Yes.”
She savored the sumptuously balanced wine and let the ‘fail’ comment slide; it was petty.
She had failed at numerous things and considered them learning experiences.
“Damn. Dad’s bitter. Is it because Silas Ogden didn’t purchase all of the mineral estates? Or is it because the Carpenters recovered poverty do more than thrive?”
Clem sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding the glass between his hands.
“I think it’s both. I believe Dad wants more power. More wealth and influence. Where does it end? Dad told me said that you want a truce. He’s outraged.”
“I want a truce, too. A permanent one. Rake Carpenter has a made it a provision of the lease. It’s time to let bygones be bygones.” She leaned toward her brother.
“I refuse to carry it any further.”
Clem rolled back into his chair, and regarded her for a moment, then smiled.
“You know, it’s a genius move.”
“It is.” She returned his smile.
“Is Rake Carpenter the ranch’s representative?”
“Yes.” She stretch a little and readjusted her position in the chair.
“So, you’ve met him?”
“Several times, and his niece, who will share ownership with him and his brother Lee when she comes of age. I’ve also met their attorneys. One of them is Nettie’s boyfriend.”
“Nettie seems to be a good judge of character. What does think of Rake Carpenter?”
“Uh, she likes him.”
“And what is your impression of him?”
A few seconds passed before she answered.
“Well, in all honesty, it’s evolved. I find him to be smart. Ethical and hardworking. Strategic.”
“You like him.”
She gave her brother quick dismissive smile.
“He’s nice.”
“No …” Clem shook his head.
“No. There’s more here. You’re attracted to him. You have trouble keeping still when I mention him or ask questions. When you talk about him.”
Dammit.
Her brother was too intuitive.
“He’s good looking, but after the deal is negotiated there will be no reason to stay in contact.” Liar.
“Other than you want to. Stop lying to yourself, sis. Does he feel the same about you?”
“He may have expressed that.”
“You’re trying to be coy with your brother. It’s not working. I’ve known you since you were born. After the lease is signed, you might want to explore the pull between the two of you. Something is definitely cooking. The ‘tell’ is your commitment to a truce. The old Jorja Ogden would never have considered that, much less agreed to it. I like this new aspect of you.” He divided the last of the bottle between their glasses and held it up.
“Empty. Did you filch another by chance?”
Busted.
“Maybe a case.”
“That’s my Jorjie. I’ll open another bottle, and while I’m up, I’ll see what I can find for us to munch on since dinner was abysmal, courtesy of Dad and the pile-on from Mom.”
Her giggles quieted after Clem went inside.
Doubt reared its head.
The other provisions Rake wanted were no issue.
But thanks to Clem’s talk with their father, she now knew that the truce was the sticking point.
Fine. She would go to war for the lease, for Rake, and the Carpenters and Ogdens.
For herself.
And legal would sign off on the lease as written, burying the long-standing animosity between the two families, forever.
F riday, a Week Later, Ulen …
His goal was romantic and cozy, but not over the top, after all this was technically their first date.
It felt as if he had known her forever because he was that comfortable.
Jorja had expressed that she felt the same.
Since going back to Landry their frequent after-dinner calls went on for hours and were far-ranging and deep.
He fell asleep content, only to dream nightly and vividly of the two of them.
Cold morning showers became routine.
The table on the back screened-in porch was set.
The fan rotated lazily, creating a gentle breeze during the comfortable evening.
Café lights glowed softly against the high ceiling’s inside perimeter.
He skipped lighting candles throughout the house and on the porch, believing that music was enough.
The playlist that Skye had created and sent him—titled “Sexy Times”—played out of the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen and through another on the porch.
As uncomfortable as his niece had made him by putting together sultry songs that evoked strong emotion, he was grateful.
Tonight called for something special.
The Wagyu beef and fingerling potatoes were prepped.
The salad, made from tomatoes, basil, and shallots, all from the garden, was ready to toss together with a balsamic dressing.
There was also a loaf of crusty bread from the bakehouse.
After coming in from work out with the wranglers all day, he showered, then baked a brown butter cake, eager to share one of his favorite desserts with her.
Rake glanced at the clock on the oven as he opened a bottle of wine and decanted it, as recommended by the wine guy in town.
Jorja was due soon.
A triple knock had him grinning and striding purposefully to the front door.
Nervous, he took a deep breath.
Tonight was a big step after days of negotiations that resulted in a consequential decisions.
The lease was signed.
The Carpenters and Ogdens agreed to honor the truce.
The woman he spoke to daily and dreamed of nightly was here.
He opened the door. “Hey, love.”
“Hi.” Jorja grinned from ear to ear as she stepped into his arms, positioning her head at his heart space and hugging him fully, enveloping him in her evocative scent.
He kissed her on the top of her head, then rested his cheek there.
“We feel so right.”
“We do.” She pressed deeper into him.
“Keep that up and dinner will be later.”
She gazed up and slid her fingers into his hair.
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
“Not at all.
Jorja cupped his head, applying delicate insistent pressure, and whispered against his lips. “Kiss me, Rake.
”
He grazed her forehead, then inhaled her sweet breath as he brushed his lips overs hers, savoring the essence of her.
Her lips parted—an invitation—and he slipped his tongue inside, seeking intimacy.
She moaned softly. Jorja’s tongue played with his, arousing him even more.
Heart pounding and breathing hard, he pressed his arousal into her core and braced her against the wall.
Jorja voice was husky, and her eyes were dark pools.
“Seems like you missed me.”
“I did and I’m lookin' forward to showing you just how much.”