Chapter 2
TWO
MEREDITH
Molly slaps her hand to her chest. “That’s not him, is it?”
“Yeah.” My answer comes out breathless. His headshots don’t do him justice—not that I’ve snooped on him over the years.
“God. His photos are a vibe, but he’s just…”
“Yeah.” An exhale ekes out of me.
You deal with your family, and I’ll deal with mine.
Indignation sparks hot across the back of my neck.
He can’t just waltz in and disregard me.
This place is my life. Calder walked away twenty years ago.
I was there, hiding and listening. Technically, Ransom screamed at him to leave, along with his two brothers.
They’d all been fighting about Holly and Ransom getting married mere months after their mom died.
Calder listened and gave up on his dad, the ranch, and the brewery. He’s a man who’s probably used to power and authority, and he just dismissed me in the place he’s ignored for twenty years.
“What a dick,” I grit out through clenched teeth and push off the stool.
Molly’s eyes flare wider. “You’re not going to talk to him, are you? He looks like he eats souls for lunch. It’s one o’clock and he’s starving.”
“It’s one o’clock and my patience is gone.” I tug my polo down. I should’ve worn my nicer pair of jeans. These have a small hole in the back pocket.
Damn. What underwear am I wearing?
Before I wonder if my yellow panties are visible, I propel myself up the stairs. My jeans could be pristine, and they still wouldn’t compare to his suit. I could be in an evening gown, and he’d probably give me a look just as disdainful.
“Such an ass,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
I find him in Ransom’s office. The door bounced open after the slam, thanks to settling over the years, and I nudge it wider.
Calder’s back is to me, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the window that used to be a hay door.
He’s standing frozen in the middle of the room, across from a wide oak desk, as if he were charging for the desk and the loss of his dad suddenly struck him upside the head.
My heart stutters as the smoky scent of Ransom’s cigars curls across my nose. Tears prod the backs of my eyes. I haven’t broken down yet, and I won’t cry in front of Calder. For one, I’m an ugly crier, and he’s so beautiful that I’d only feel worse. And two, guys like Calder exploit weaknesses.
He hasn’t seen me, and I capitalize on the chance to look him and his wide shoulders over. A man should not look this impressive from behind. He even stands with authority.
I lift my chin. I may feel like that thirteen-year-old girl intimidated by three college-aged brothers, but I have authority too. A little bit. Hopefully more than it feels like, now he’s here.
“You could’ve called first.”
His head tilts to the side—not fully looking over his shoulder, just enough of a jolt to tell me I surprised him. Has he been hit with nostalgia just like me, the smell of a Montecristo cigar transporting him back in time?
He moves around the desk, surprisingly quiet for such a big guy. Without saying a word, he unplugs the laptop and neatly twists the cord into a small bundle.
“What are you doing?” I ask, unwilling to be a spectator to whatever he’s planning.
Again, he doesn’t respond. He starts rummaging through drawers.
Despite my growing anger, I take another moment to observe him more closely—the older version of that cocky college kid I despised when my sister first dragged me across the state to help her best friend.
His lips have a naturally arrogant tilt beneath a strong nose that may have been broken at least once.
The guys were all in college when Holly and I came to Scandal, but from the stories Ransom shared about raising three rambunctious sons, it’s a possibility.
The dark hair combed off Calder’s head has enough style that it almost appears unintentional.
He’s on his third drawer when I charge toward the desk. I press my hands on top and lean over. “You can ignore me all you want, Calder, but when it comes to this brewery, everything is my business. What. Are. You. Doing?”
That makes him pause. A dark brow arches.
He withdraws a small green notebook and flips through its pages.
It’s the password notebook. Ransom updated it only as much as he was forced to.
Calder tosses it onto the computer then lifts his gaze to mine.
Once again, all the air is sucked out of the room.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and warmth blooms across my skin.
I’ve never had his full attention, not even back when he was raging at his dad about Sawyer and me moving into the house he grew up in—the house I still live in now.
But it’s been twice in one day, and I’m going to need two to three business days to recover.
I don’t need this right now. “Well?”
He blinks. Did I catch him off-guard? He clenches his hard jaw. “The brewery is no longer your business.”
My mouth drops open, yet, at the same time, a growing wave of pleasure crashes over me. His deep growl is pure sin.
I push all that out of my mind. “Ignoring the fact I’m the brewmaster and the taproom manager, and that I worked morning, noon, and night with your dad, are you willing to bet on that?”
Ransom wouldn’t have left me out of the brewery. The doors of Jules Creek remain open because of me and all the hours I’ve put in over the past five years.
I do the same thing Calder did when he walked in: I give him a pointed and derisive once-over. “I would think a man in your position wouldn’t make assumptions without all the facts.”
He narrows his eyes and fine lines crinkle at the corners, giving him an even more devastating air of authority. A quiver works its way down my spine.
“Jules Creek isn’t yours.”
“Do you know if it’s yours?”
“He would’ve told me if he changed his will.”
“Oh? Talk to him that much, did you?” I ask sarcastically, but doubt creeps in.
Did Ransom start talking to his kids and not tell me?
What if he didn’t change his will after he married Holly?
He mentioned a trust, said I’d be taken care of for all the help I’ve given him over the years, and I didn’t ask for specifics.
It felt obtrusive, and I also thought we had time.
Calder’s right eye twitches. He picks up the laptop. “Until you can prove differently, I’m in charge.”
I don’t have much of an argument besides, Are not! “That has to stay here.” I hold my hands up as if I’m letting him know this is a neutral area. “Your dad didn’t like technology. I have no idea when he last backed that thing up, or if it can access a cloud other than if you carry it through fog.”
He looks down at the old laptop and dismay ripples across his face, as if he’s truly noticing its age.
That thing is a brick. When it runs, it sounds like a jet plane, and the guy at the computer store in Williston hated to see Ransom coming.
But Calder’s dad refused to buy a new one.
There’s no memory left on the device itself, so the desk is cluttered with USBs and external hard drives.
Sadness wells inside me. It feels as if Ransom knew he’d only have to tolerate the outdated device for a little longer.
I finally spy a crack in Calder’s rigid facade.
“Goddammit,” he mutters.