Page 140 of Ice Me Out

I folded my arms over my chest and leaned back in my seat, waiting for her to blow my fucking mind. To be honest, it was already blown. I was waiting for her to run over it with her little Miata and put it in reverse.

“It all started with my great-great-great-grandfather, Bo Gray. After emancipation, he patented several inventions in agricultural equipment. He used his wealth to strategically purchase properties. He acquired farmland throughout the Midwest and South, and timberland in Washington territory and British Columbia. Are you keeping up?”

“So far. Please continue.”

“He watched his parents spend their lives working land they would never own. He believed that if he owned enough land, it would one day repay his family a hundredfold. And… it did. His eldest son, Bo Gray Jr., continued where his father left off. This was made possible by profits from his father’s inventions, timber production, farmland leases, and liquid gold.”

I raised a brow. “They found oil on one of the properties?”

She nodded with a laugh. “Ironically, it was the one everyone thought was the least valuable. Bo Gray Jr. was getting ready to sell it, but he figured he’d have the land surveyed first.”

“And?” I asked, leaning forward in my seat.

“The surveyors found oil.”

“I don’t believe it,” I said, shaking my head.

“Believe it. It’s a running joke that he almost sold away our future.”

“Okay, so your family strikes oil. What next?”

“My great-grandfather, Bo Gray III, was an intellectual. His obsession wasn’t land. It was education. He became a physician and made sure his children understood that wealth could be inherited, but knowledge had to be earned. His children became civil rights attorneys, an architect, a pediatrician, and then… there was my grandfather.”

“Uh-oh. Don’t tell me he was the black sheep of the family?”

“He was the spoiled baby of the family who didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps. He wanted to become a musician. So, his father invested in my grandfather’s music career, and second to the oil, that proved to be the second biggest investment my family made.”

“I take it your grandfather did pretty well for himself?”

She polished off her beer—the same beer her family owned.

Damn. I knew Vera came from wealth. But this? This is fucking insane.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“How well are we talking?”

Vera held up a hand to pause me. “I need something stronger before we get to the rest.”

“Tequila?”

She nodded rapidly. “Bring the bottle.”

I excused myself and made a beeline to the bar. I reached over and grabbed a bottle of tequila from the well. Braxton raised a brow.

“Don’t ask,” I insisted. He shrugged nonchalantly and placed two shot glasses on the bar top. “Thanks.”

I shoved the shot glasses into my pocket and passed through the kitchen, retrieving Vera’s first course.

“You good, bro?” DeAndre asked, side-eyeing me as he worked the line.

“Perfect,” I replied before rushing out. I found Vera exactly where I left her. “Brought reinforcements.”

She smiled wryly. “What have you prepared, Chef Sweet Hart?”

I snorted and set the plate before her. “I wish I could take credit, but I can’t. This is a DeAndre original.”

“It looks delicious,” she complimented, placing her linen napkin in her lap while I poured our shots.