LITMIR.BIZ

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old man certainly could be as scary as a terrorist at times. His psychological methods of wearing you down had honed Nick’s stubborn streak to never give up. Never quit.

      Unfolding the letter, he read the first two paragraphs. Unable to stomach more, he crumpled it up, his palm now shaking with anger, and threw the paper toward the empty fireplace. His father’s portrait, stern and stately, hung over the mantel.

      “Damn you to hell, Silas,” he said hoarsely to the painting. “Damn you.”

      Clever bastard knew Nick would not accept the ranch, and would sign his birthright over to Dan and leave nothing behind but dust in his wake. Except Silas hit on the one thing he knew would guarantee Nick would stay—challenging him not to fail.

      You are the only one who can save the Belle Creek from foreclosure or development, Nicolas. I leave this world counting on you. Don’t disappoint me and fail at this one thing I ask of you.

      All his life, the old man warned Nick would become his biggest disappointment. Never once did Silas say he was proud of Nick. Or even that he loved him.

      Eyes wet, he stared at the portrait. “Why couldn’t I ever be good enough for you?”

      All the medals he’d won, the missions he’d accomplished, the work he’d done with the teams, and Silas never said a word. Never reached out to the son who’d stormed out of here, angry at a father who thought him useless.

      Until now.

      Too late.

      He should call the lawyer, tell him he didn’t want the ranch and arrange to have Mohler deed it over to Dan. Dan and his ice-cold wife could have the place and decide to sell. Nick retrieved the letter and fished out his phone, ready to contact the man. And then a face stabbed at his brain.

      Shelby. If he did this, Shelby would be homeless. He wasn’t certain if Dan would let Shelby and Timmy stay at the ranch, rent-free.

      Nick smoothed out the paper and glanced at the letter again.

      I’m counting on you. Things are very bad at the Belle Creek.

      How bad was bad? The ranch never failed to earn money.

      For the next half hour, he sat at the desk, ruminating over the tremendous responsibilities Silas had saddled him with. Nick took out a piece of paper and a pencil, and began jotting notes. Seldom one to make snap decisions, he called Dan on his cell. Minutes later, his cousin joined him in the study. Face sullen, Dan crossed his arms at the chest and didn’t look at him.

      He leaned forward, keeping his voice low and earnest. “I’m sure this comes as quite a shock, Dan...”

      “I’ve worked here for years, and Belle Creek is my home,” Dan snapped. “How do you think I feel? Silas shut me out again. He never listened to me, or agreed to implement the ideas I had to make the ranch more child-and family-friendly. He was stuck in the past. And now everything I’ve poured into the ranch is about to go up in smoke. If you sell, I’m left with nothing. Nothing!”

      “I haven’t decided yet about selling.”

      “This is my home,” Dan said tightly. “My family’s home. More than yours. But it’s said and done. You going to sell?”

      Loaded question. “I need to evaluate all the angles.” Nick studied his cousin, seeing the worry lines denting his face, the purple shadows beneath his eyes. It wasn’t right. Dan had managed the ranch for years, and for Silas to cut him off entirely had been cruel. No matter what his father’s intentions, Nick knew he had to win his cousin’s loyalties first.

      “I’ll make you a deal.” Nick tapped the pencil on the desk. “First thing Monday, I’ll go into town, see Kurt Mohler and draft a legal agreement. You and your family stay here at the Belle Creek, with you as manager of the ranch, and as soon as the bank is paid back, I’ll increase your salary by fifty percent and give you twenty-five percent of the ranch’s profits as soon as its operating in the black.”

      No tension left those rigid shoulders. “And if you sell?”

      “You get ten percent of the cash left over from the sale, after the bank is paid.” He thought of Jake and Shelby. “I’m offering similar deals, with less percentages, to Shelby and Jake.”

      Dan blew out a breath. “That’s a sweetheart agreement for you. I get a much smaller percentage if you cut everything and sell.”

      “It’s more than fair. Call it an incentive to keep the ranch operational. But the agreement also includes stipulations.” This was the hard part, and he wasn’t certain if Dan, who had run the ranch as he’d pleased, would agree. “Your salary goes into a fund to help operate the ranch and that includes paying the salaries of the stable hands. You’ll still live at the house, rent-free, and you’ll have an allowance for food, spending money and necessities. It’s the only way I can corral the expenditures until we come up with a way to pay back the bank. I’m going to trust you to help the ranch get back on its feet, but you have to trust me, too.”

      His mouth flattened as Dan leaned back. “You just returned, Nick. Why should I trust you won’t sell and run off?”

      “The legal agreement. It will bind us both here. First, tell me why Silas had no money. He was never one to carry debt. What happened?”

      His cousin didn’t meet his eyes. “Who knows? It’s expensive to run a ranch these days. If that’s all... I have to talk to Felicity about all this.”

      Dan pushed away from the chair, clearly finished with the conversation. He left, but in a considerably better temper than when he’d first walked into the study.

      Nick watched him leave, his mind clicking over the facts like a well-oiled machine. Now was not the time for emotions, and Dan’s were running high after the funeral.

      He had savings. But not even close to sixty thousand dollars. And Dan and everyone else seemed loathe to provide any information about why the ranch had slid into such dire straits.

      Tucking his phone away, Nick left the study to change his clothing. He took the letter, hoping to get answers from the one person he knew would tell the truth.

      * * *

      She knew he’d come knocking at her door someday. All the years since he’d been gone, Shelby kept telling herself Nick would return. Now he stood on the landing outside her apartment, a big man taking up half the front window Silas had installed when he’d renovated the place ten years ago.

      Why did he have to do it when her eyes were swollen and red from crying, and her hair a frizzy mess?

      He’s not here to seduce you, she warned herself. Shelby crumpled up the tissue and threw it in a wastebasket, then opened her front door.

      Tall and leanly muscled, he wore a clean black T-shirt and blue jeans. Gone was the somber funeral attire. Somehow she liked this better. It was a clear reminder of the cocky man he’d been, the one who had almost coaxed her into sex all those years ago. A wicked-looking pistol was tucked into a holster at his leather belt.

      He was carrying and the sight of the weapon comforted her a little. With all the vandalism at the ranch, it was good to have a man around who knew the business end of a pistol. Dan was hopeless when it came to guns and Felicity was too squeamish. Jake knew how to shoot, but he joked he was a lover, not a fighter.

      Shelby’s hungry gaze traveled down from the flatness of his stomach and the muscles rippling beneath the tight T-shirt to the polished brass buckle with a bucking bronc on it. Her gaze traveled a little lower to the interesting bulge just below...

      Did I just look at his crotch? Oh, stop it, Shel!

      Fortunately, he didn’t appear to notice. Nick’s expression was all business. “Shelby, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need answers about the ranch.”

      She stepped aside as he walked in. Typical Nick. Direct, no dancing around, but clearly stating his intentions.

      Except

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