LITMIR.BIZ

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looked at him as if such a kindness were out of character for him. “It’s just my contact lens. It’s been bugging me the whole day.” She squinted at him with her one good eye. “I’ll be fine.” Wyatt may lay claim to being the ladies’ man of the family, but even Chaz had been around enough women in his life to know when the word fine—especially when said in that tone—meant anything but.

      She’d been making conversation—or trying to—the whole afternoon. Be nice, he told himself. He did admire her ambition, and she was clearly talented. Normally he liked direct people—when he wasn’t in complete disagreement with them, that was. “If you want to be a swanky, respectable baker, why hide out in Matrimony Valley? Wouldn’t it be better to have your shop down in Asheville, where the swanky, respectable brides are?”

      “Do you try hard?” One hand planted itself on her hip again. “Or does being such a curmudgeon just come to you naturally?”

      He laughed at her choice of words—he liked that Yvonne gave as good as she got. But she hadn’t answered his question, and that told him something.

      Rather than press his luck, Chaz directed his attention over to Dad and Pauline. The couple stood gazing dreamily out over a nearby balcony. A harrowing thought came to him, and he turned back to Yvonne. “Those two didn’t think about getting hitched here, did they?”

      Now it was Yvonne’s turn to laugh—a musical, full-hearted sound he found himself enjoying a bit too much. “You don’t get hitched at the Biltmore,” she replied. “And no, even if they could afford it—which no one I know can—it isn’t really their style, wouldn’t you say?”

      She gave him another lopsided look—squinting with one eye, glaring with the other—as she tucked her hair behind one ear. The shoulder-length honey-blond locks that had been up in a ponytail in the bakery were down now, held back with a bright blue headband. September could still be surprisingly warm in this part of the country, so she and Pauline were both in brightly colored dresses. Pauline’s was some sort of purple pattern while Yvonne’s was a pale yellow that lit up her skin and made the blue of her eyes stand out. Not that he noticed. It was mostly that he felt out of place in his black jeans, white shirt and boots. Stark and practical beside the breezy colors the rest of them wore. Dad? In khakis? It was as if they’d gotten off the airplane in another universe.

      “Look at them,” Yvonne said, nodding toward their respective relatives. “They’re like teenagers.”

      He scoffed. “No offense, but my experience of teenagers is that they let their urges overpower their brains and make choices everybody regrets later.”

      Even the squinted blue eye flashed fire at that. “They’re grown-ups, Chaz.”

      It was the first time she’d said his name. She drew the z out, her hint of a Southern accent giving it a swingy quality. She was on the opposing team here, and liking her—even a little—only made things more complicated, right?

      He decided it was time to dive right into it. “You’re really okay with this? With them?”

      She hesitated just a second before replying. “Of course. But it’s pretty clear you aren’t.”

      Dad was holding Pauline’s hand, leaning close to her and saying things that made her laugh. No, giggle. It was both amusing and a little bit sickening. Shades of Wyatt turning on the million-watt charm. Had he ever in his life—even as a teen—been that smitten?

      Chaz stepped back and scratched his chin. He focused on facts. “It’s been awfully fast.”

      “Some might say that.”

      A tiny crack in the wall of support she’d been showing. “And you’re a hundred percent okay with how fast?”

      “It doesn’t matter what percent okay I am with it. Hank and Pauline have every right to get married as fast or as slow as they like.”

      That was another crack, as far as he was concerned. He turned to face her squarely. “I wasn’t asking if they had a right—of course they have the right. I was asking what you think of it.”

      They locked gazes for a long moment. He didn’t look away or back down because he knew she was deciding how honest to be.

      “I think it’s brave.”

      Brave, huh? That answer told him a lot.

      * * *

      The good news was that even the worst day could be salvaged by a very good steak, and the meal in front of Chaz was excellent. Dad had said a heartwarming grace over the food, thanking God for his new family.

      The prayer woke Chaz up to the unsettling notion that soon he would be related to the woman whom he’d just spent the afternoon with matching wits.

      “I’ve been reading up on how they handed down the estate a few years back,” Dad said as they talked about the grandeur of the Biltmore property. “Pretty amazing how a place that large is still privately owned.”

      It made sense that Dad would notice that. The succession plans for large establishments like their own Wander Canyon Ranch in states like Colorado and Wyoming were a huge issue. Chaz himself had been trying to broach it with Dad for the past two years. “Who owns it now?”

      “The owner who came back and turned it into the tourist attraction it is now left it to his son,” Yvonne offered.

      “Smart move to keep it in the family,” Dad said. Chaz was inclined to agree, but something in his gut noticed his father’s tone wasn’t entirely casual.

      “I think it’s always the best thing to do,” Pauline said. “Yvonne lives in the house my sister and I grew up in, and I love that it’s stayed in the family. Everything is so transient now. Family homes hardly ever happen anymore, don’t you think?”

      “Where’s your mom now?” Chaz asked Yvonne.

      “She lives in Charlotte, where my two sisters have settled.” Yvonne reached for the bread basket, and he watched her inspect the rolls with a baker’s professional eye before selecting one. “Janice and Rita run a super successful chain of boutiques there.”

      She said super successful with just enough of an edge to let Chaz know there was some tension there.

      Pauline jumped in. “Have we told you where we’re going on our honeymoon?” she asked in a bright, let’s-change-the-subject tone. “We’re going to Paris for a whole month.”

      “Paris, France?” Chaz couldn’t hide his surprise. Dad didn’t travel—before. Dad was easily, willingly turning himself inside out to please Pauline. Was that really how love worked, turning sensible men into complete fools? Mom claimed to love Hank with all her heart when she was alive, but she’d never transformed into someone he didn’t recognize like Hank was doing lately. Dad was becoming a complete stranger, and that lit a slow spark of panic deep in Chaz’s gut. “For a month? That’s a really long time to be away from the ranch.”

      Hank drew in a big breath. “Been giving that a lot of thought, actually. I’ve been thinking it might be getting close to my time to retire. Hand the ranch on down.”

      Is that why I’m here? Maybe Dad wanted to work it out together before bringing back a plan to Wyatt.

      Dad cleared his throat. “Course, they say it’s always best if the acreage stays intact. You don’t want to split it up if you can help it. My granddaddy bought that land,” Dad started explaining to Pauline. “My father worked it after him. It’s the Walker legacy, that land is.” He turned back to Chaz. “It’s time that Wyatt and you stepped into those boots. Without me, that is. And my honeymoon is a good time to get that started.”

      Dad had listed Wyatt first, putting an unnatural emphasis on Wyatt’s name. Chaz’s pulse froze for a moment. Dad had just said the ranch would stay undivided. The hairs on the back of Chaz’s neck prickled. Blood was about to win out. Over the thing he cared about

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