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As we careen over the prairie, I smile.
This life is fucking great. I’d never do something to risk it. No matter how blue her eyes are, or how cute she looked mad at us. What I have is perfect. I’d never throw it away for a woman.
The meeting with the investors goes as planned. They’re pleased with last quarter’s profits, and they have pretty perfunctory feedback when Shane produces the budget for the next fiscal year. Shane wraps up, taking the lead as he always does in these meetings, before shutting the computer down. I breathe, desperate to take the tie and sport coat off.
“Hate these monkey suits,” I grunt, shrugging out of it.
“You’re literally wearing sweatpants underneath,” Clint drawls.
“And my up top bits are the ones that hurt,” I respond, giving him the finger.
Shane laughs. “Landon, you haven’t spoken once in one of those meetings. I’m sure you could show up wearing a full-on costume, and they wouldn’t know who you were.”
“Thanks for the confidence boost, Shay,” I sigh.
He smiles. “You’re welcome.”
“You two idiots need to shut the fuck up and talk to me about the Foster place,” Clint barks.
I do, in fact, resent being called an idiot. I turn to Clint. “Dude. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is this. We just showed all of those investors, who have the ability to do wild shit to our company, that we’re on track to add seven hundred new horses by next July,” he growls. “What the fuck do you think we’re going to do with them? Put them on a fucking diet and tell them to be nice to each other so we can pack them on this ranch like sardines?”
“Clint,” I say, my voice serious now. “We’re going to figure it out. We always do.”
“Yeah. The solution that I figured out was to buy the ranch next to us. I thought you said the bank was going to foreclose?” He shoots a look at Shane.
Shane shrugs. “That’s the intel I got.”
“So why haven’t they fucking foreclosed?” Clint hisses.
“It’s a small town, Clint. The Fosters are well known and well liked. I think that the bank is probably trying to give them every chance to fix it before they actually pull the trigger.”
“Fucking small town politics,” Clint barks. “I thought we left all of this shit behind in Rebel Creek.”
“Clint, come on.” I blow out a breath. “It’s a small town. Same as Rebel Creek, but the cast of characters has changed.”
In response, Clint snaps. “I’m going to check on the bark.”
With the sound of boots clomping on the hardwood floor, he’s gone.
Shane and I exchange a look. “I think he needs to go back on those meds.”
“Yeah? I volunteer you to suggest it to him.”
I grimace. “No fucking way.”
“Then we get grumpy Clint. Forever.”
“It won’t be forever,” I say quickly. “Just until we figure this out.”
“There’s not really anything to figure out.” Shane leans back, his fingers drumming on the dining room table. I hop to the fridge, pulling us out two Coors, and settle back in, handing him one. He takes a long sip.
“I could take that girl from the bank out again,” he muses.
“Banging the loan girl does not seem to be working in our favor.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
