Page 10 of Whiskey Proposal

“Hutch wanted you back. Both of you.” A divot forms between Lane’s brows. “And he wanted to know his granddaughter.”

“He didn’t deserve to. Fuck.” Brooks puts his hands behind his head and paces the porch.

Lane doesn’t bat an eye. “I think he knew that too.”

“But he’s gone!” I nearly choke. “So what’s the point?”

He shrugs and it only fans the angry flames inside me.

“It seems to benefit you the most.”

“Not in the way you’re assuming. You underestimate how concerned I am about who’ll buy this place. Land in Montana isn’t cheap, and it’s in demand. We can’t make more. I was born and raised in Bozeman.” He shakes his head, his jaw hard. “I don’t like a lot of what I’ve seen there. Since I’ve caught a lot of breaks in life, I’ll pay it forward by not allowing locals to get priced out of their homes by high rollers. I don’t need the land or money.”

He says it so plainly, so matter-of-factly, that I snarl. Who can say they don’t need money? I’ve never not needed money.

I have to get out of this. I have a life in Denver. An apartment waiting for me. More accounts to pitch. “We can argue it. Sound mind and body and all that. He couldn’t have been in any state to sign anything.”

Lane nods. “You can if you have the time and money.”

I don’t have either. Brooks needs to focus on Hillary. He could use this damn house.

“Fuck it.” Brooks is shaking his head. “Forget all of it. I’ll keep figuring shit out, and you’re not marrying some guy you just met.”

Lane’s damn brow arches again. I shoot him a glare.

Brooks catches the exchange and goes still. “Emerson?”

I never wanted to step foot in this house again, but the cupboard under the stairs is probably still a good hiding spot. “I pitched him a holiday campaign. He didn’t accept it.”

Lane works his jaw back and forth. “I never gave you an answer.”

I prop a hand on my hip. “And why is that?”

Was it because his tongue had been down my throat? He certainly wasn’t going to work with me once I stood him up. It was a risk I took, and he proved me right by not following up. I proved myself right that skipping out on the date was in my best interest. I was totally better off drinking an old beer I found in the back of my fridge alone in my apartment.

Lane presses his lips together like he wants to say something. Would he if Brooks wasn’t here?

I pace to the end of the porch. I put my hands on the railing and close my eyes. Hillary’s laughter reaches me. She doesn’t make that sound often. Less and less every year, but she’s been here for half an hour and she’s having the time of her life. Brooks and I have hang-ups about this house, but she needs this.

What does Brooks need? A house with neighbors who don’t almost run Hillary down when she’s walking around the block. Less time at a job that keeps him away from home. His own business so he can work as a single dad. This house, as much as I hate to admit it, offers all of that.

I can give it to him. Brooks has done so much for me, and compared to him, what do I need?

A roof over my head and somewhere to plug in my laptop. I can do this. One more deep inhale and I turn.

“We marry, and when the sale is done, we divorce.” My voice is even.

Lane tips his head. “If that’s what you want.”

What else would I want? I scoot away from the house to the corner of the porch. “I’m not living here. I’ll get a place in town.”

The muscles in his jaw jump. “You have to live with me.”

I scoff. “I’m not doing that.”

“The trust says we have to stay here. Neither of us wants that, and Zack won’t police us at my place. He will if you rent a place in town. If there is one.”

Shit. It’s summer. The rentals are full of summer staff and tourists.