Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Lane
Present day . . .
No one’s seated. Not me, not Zack, not Brooks, and not the woman who stood me up two weeks ago.
As my oldest niece would say, Emerson Langley left me on read.
Our date didn’t happen; neither did a reply to my text.
I don’t know why she changed her mind, but I read her unspoken message loud and clear.
I fucked that situation up, and it’s only going to make this harder.
Only Zack and I know what’s coming, and it’s going to land like a shit bomb between these two.
Acid swishes in my stomach. I should’ve eaten something, had more than a quick coffee from town.
I’m paying for it now, but I’m going to pay for a lot of secrets I’ve kept.
I lean against the porch railing. The oldest Langley is pacing the space, Brooks’s heavy work boots thumping on the ground. His daughter, Hillary, runs after the chickens. They’re used to people, but not a delighted middle schooler who wants to love and cuddle them.
As for Emerson, she’s radiant. Anger suits her, but not nearly as much as when her eyes are hazy and her lips are puffy from a kiss. That’s when the green in her hazel irises sparkles. Emerson Langley wears a lot of emotion on her face, and she’d probably be furious to hear that.
“Okay.” Zack crouches on the end of a rickety rocking chair.
He’s primed and ready to bolt at one creak of the wood.
“I’ll get on with the basics. First, your dad’s cremains are in an urn in the house.
He had that all arranged as well, and I can oversee the inurnment, but Lane asked me to wait.
His cremains are ready to pick up. I left that information for the funeral home in the house. ”
Brooks and Emerson both nod, neither hiding their grimace.
“As for the trust he had drawn up for the house and property, there are some, uh, stipulations that may cause some upset.”
Emerson snorts and looks away. Her gaze lands on Hillary stalking Ethel, a Rhode Island Red. Fondness fills Emerson’s expression. She loves her brother and niece. From the research I’ve done, there are not many more people in her life. Knowing how she was raised, that makes sense.
Hillary wraps her arms around the chicken, and a flutter of worried clucks comes from the others. A ghost of a smile plays over Emerson’s lips.
“Auntie Em! I caught her.”
“Ethel only plays hard to get.” I should keep my mouth shut, but the distrust in Emerson’s gaze when it’s on me isn’t sitting right. “She’ll be content to be lugged around like a purse now that you’ve caught her.”
Both Langley siblings have me pinned under their stares. Brooks is as tall as me, but he’s bigger. My hobby is rebuilding old pickups and muscle cars; his must be just muscle.
His hair is a darker brown than Emerson’s, but they have the same eyes, nose, and mouth. She’s willowy and withdraws when she’s upset. He flares out more, like a cobra on steroids. Hillary shares the same facial features, but her hair’s darker than both of theirs.
“Ethel?” Hillary giggles. “What are the other chickens’ names?”
Brooks clears his throat. “We’ll get all that info soon, Hill. We’ve gotta let Mr. Beckford talk.”
Zack’s features pinch like he’d rather discuss the chickens’ names, and he probably would. “Yes. Right.” He sucks in a breath. “As it stands, all but five acres of the land and house will pass to Brooks, to include the ranching operation.”
Another snort leaves Emerson and her gaze sweeps the pastures like she’s counting the dwindling number of cattle through the trees around the place.
“The house and five acres will be yours, Emerson,” Zack says.
“It’s yours,” she tells Brooks. “I don’t want any of it.”
Brooks’s nod is faint, but a crease bisects his brow. “What are the stipulations?”
“Yes, about those. I’m afraid that Brooks, Hillary, and you must reside in or around Huckleberry Springs. Basically in the zip code.”
Brooks just smacks his lips against his teeth. He must’ve already been thinking about moving if Emerson offered him the house.
If only it were that easy.
Brooks’s eyes turn flinty, and he shakes his head, turning away. It’s one thing to move on his own accord, but his estranged dad manipulating the decision probably isn’t welcome.
“Wait.” Emerson holds up a hand. “Does that mean Hutch expected me to live here too?”
I grind my molars together. Acid reaches my throat and dread fills my gut.
“Yes, and . . .” The paper in Zack’s hands shakes. He draws in a fortifying breath. Brooks turns back around, and Emerson takes another step closer to the lawyer. They sense the impending doom. Zack clears his throat and wets his bottom lip. “You’d have to be married.”
Emerson barks out a laugh so loud it startles Ethel. Hillary has to put her catch down or get wacked in the face by Ethel’s wings. “That’s not happening. I’m not married, and I’m not just grabbing some guy off the street so I can have this shithole.”
Regret crosses Zack’s face, and not for the first time, I wish I could’ve talked sense into Hutch.
“You can’t just marry anyone,” Zack says weakly. “He had someone specific in mind.”
Emerson screws her face up. “Who?”
Zack flicks his gaze up to me. The poor guy has been through enough. I’ll take this one. “Me.”
Emerson
Shock vibrates through me like a thunderclap, but the sky is clear. The sound of the bugs and the frogs I used to catch is drowned out in static, and I’m left facing the last man to have let me down.
Everything the lawyer said streams through my head. House. Five acres. Live here. Married.
To Lane.
Anger rises so hot and swift I can’t believe I’m not a human torch, burning this place down. All my dad had to do was pass away quietly and quit haunting my life. Instead, he tosses a rock through the window of my quiet life.
Lane Foster? I couldn’t go on a date with him, yet now I have to marry him? And the whole time in his office, he knew who I was? When he left me an Are we still on? text, he didn’t mention, Hey, by the way, someday, we might have to get married. Well then. He deserved to be stood up.
“Fuck. That.” I storm down the porch stairs and nearly twist my damn ankle when my pointed heel hits a rock. If I got taken out by my pride, that would be fitting.
Brooks’s angry voice rises behind me. Hillary’s frozen in place, probably scared. That gets some logic to slap my brain.
I spin and go toward her instead. “Bunny, it’s okay.”
Her big eyes shine. “Daddy’s mad. You swore.”
She’s been raised by my brother, yet somehow she doesn’t have fuck as a normal part of her vocabulary. “I know. We got some upsetting news, but we’ll work through it.” I crouch in front of her, keeping my legs together to not flash the birds. Does my ass look good from behind? Would Lane notice?
Eat it, asshole.
I grip her arms. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Do we get to move?”
My heart wrenches. Get to. She’s been getting teased at the Denver school she attends.
The girl’s always been better with animals and books than people.
But moving to Huckleberry Springs? Where everyone knows her business, and there’s only one clique and that’s the entire class?
If she doesn’t fit in here, it’ll be miserable. I would know.
“I don’t know,” I answer just as a warm shadow falls over me.
Her gaze lifts beyond me. “You’re getting married to him?”
I crane my head around. Lane’s standing several feet away, but he still towers over me.
“No,” I say, staring directly at him.
His eyes narrow like it’s a fucking challenge. “A moment, Em?”
He says it like he knows good and well why I didn’t give him my full name. Dammit. “I’m busy.”
A dark brow cocks, but Zack and my brother approach. I rise and cross my arms.
“We should hear everything,” Brooks says cautiously, like he’s waiting for me to blow up again.
All the facts in the trust won’t calm me down. “Fine.”
I only approach as far as the railing and cross my arms. I aim the most reasonable expression I can maintain toward Zack so he can continue. And so I can avoid the man I ghosted.
“Uh, yes.” The lawyer peers at his papers.
“If you don’t marry, the house will go on the market, including the land and ranching operation.
The same would happen should you divorce.
The house must be sold rather than become part of any divorce settlement.
” My stomach drops. That would screw Brooks over.
“Like Brooks, to inherit, you’ll need to live in town.
However, after marrying, the trust does not prevent a sale of the house and surrounding acres for fair market value as long as both you and Lane consent to the sale.
” He shoots me an apologetic look. “Uh, other than that, sell for fair market value. Yep. That’s about it.
You can read the specifics in the copies I’ll email. ”
“Thank you, Zack,” Lane says quietly. “We’ll discuss everything.”
“Any questions, give me a call.” Zack scurries off the porch and veers toward his car. I wish I could leave with him. “I left my info on the railing. My office is downtown. Stop in or call.”
I nod and meet my brother’s livid gaze.
Brooks works his jaw back and forth, but his gaze softens when it lands on his daughter. “Hill, we’re going to talk on the porch. Stay here with the hens.”
“There’s a rooster over there,” she announces proudly.
“Jack,” Lane says. “His name is Jack.”
I don’t care.
Ugh, I actually do, and I hate it. The chickens don’t deserve this either. “Who takes care of them?”
Lane’s arms hang at his sides, but he’s tense. Afraid I won’t like his answer? “I’ve been watching over everything.”
Another surprise, and somehow it feels just as bad. Is he after this land? Go through me, likely knowing I’ll agree to sell him the house, and then he’ll buy out, or push out, Brooks from the rest? That’s not the nice guy he presents to the world. “You coerced Hutch.”
“No,” he says so softly I could almost believe him. He starts for the porch like he expects us to follow him.