The Rancher’s Inherited Family (McCall Ranch Brothers Book 1) Page 2

  They were resilient, he had to give them that. They always had been.

  Trevor trailed after Carson and Randy reluctantly, running his fingertips along the plaster of the walls beneath where the pictures hung and trying not to look at much of anything else. He didn't want to see any more reminders. Sitting down in his father's study was going to be bad enough.

  He was even surer about that as soon as they stepped over the threshold.

  “Jeez,” Carson said, letting out a shaky breath. “This is a blast from the past.”

  “Right?” Randy said, glancing around the room as if he expected their father to pop out of one of the shadowy recesses of the room at any moment, to scold them for being in his study when they knew they weren’t supposed to be.

  If Mr. Barnes was rattled by the supersized dose of James McCall, however, he didn’t let it show. He walked purposefully around the boat-sized mahogany desk, where Trevor imagined he could still see his father’s stern face, and sat right down. The lawyer rolled the overstuffed desk chair closer and removed a stack of papers from the briefcase placed there for just this occasion. Looking at Trevor and his brothers again, he was all business.

  “Let’s get right down to it, shall we?” he asked, using that pompous, vaguely British accent that made Trevor want to smack him a time or two.

  “Yes,” Trevor answered for all of them with no trace of a smile. “We shall.”

  The lawyer was already perusing the papers. “As I’m sure the three of you are aware, your parents did quite well for themselves and left considerable assets behind.”

  “Gee, what a nice way to remember the folks,” Randy said sourly. Carson shot him a warning, disapproving look, but Trevor found himself smirking. Pissed-off Randy was one of Trevor’s favorite Randys.

  "Fortunately for you lot, or perhaps unfortunately, depending on how you look at matters, your parents were well-prepared for all eventualities, even that of their deaths. All their ducks are in a row, so to speak, including the will.” His keen glance swept the brothers. “Which is ironclad, I might add."

  “Okay, that’s a good thing, I guess,” Carson said, as ever the only one making a real effort to be agreeable. “What do we need to know?”

  “It’s simple. The house, the ranch, and all the assets are all tied together. They’re a package deal.”

  “Okay…” Carson said again, although he sounded more uncertain now.

  "The terms are simple as well," Mr. Barnes went on, clearing his throat. Trevor leaned forward in his chair, studying the lawyer's face closely. Though he’d never been good at reading people, he had an idea that, for the first time, Mr. Barnes was nervous about the news he had to deliver. A faint sheen of sweat dotted his forehead, and he reached up and tugged at his collar, loosening his tie.

  “So?” Trevor said, pressing hard now. “You going to tell us what they are?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. All three of the McCall brothers, all of you, that is, must reside on the ranch for one full year, or the property and everything that goes with it will be auctioned off. That would mean losing ownership of your parents’ multi-generational ranch,” he said, eyeing each brother in turn. “Letting go of their legacy.”

  A silence followed, so complete that Trevor could almost believe all the air in the room had been sucked into a vacuum. He could also have said with one hundred percent certainty that not one of them had expected an outcome like this.

  It was infuriating, and it took everything in him not to jump up and say so. The fact that this highfalutin lawyer could present the information so matter-of-factly proved how little he understood about the lives of the McCall brothers. None of them lived in Winding Creek anymore, for starters. Each had responsibilities of his own to see to. It was so like their parents to try to force them to give all that up to satisfy some kind of from-beyond-the-grave kumbaya. Trevor would have dearly loved to point those things out to good ol’ Mr. Barnes, and plenty of other things besides, but before he could get a word out, Randy beat him to the punch.

  “I’m sorry, but is this some kind of joke?” the youngest McCall asked, leaning forward with a dangerous look on his face. “Because if it is, it’s not funny. Not in the slightest.”

  “No, no joke. I don’t make jokes when it comes to this sort of thing. It wouldn’t be appropriate,” Mr. Barnes said in an oddly prissy voice.

  "So we're supposed to uproot everything? Is that it? We blow up our lives, or we blow apart our parents' legacies. Is that what you're telling us?" Randy asked. Now he didn’t sound particularly angry, just tired and very much resigned.

  “I’m sure your parents didn’t mean it that way. And besides, there’s something of a contingency here. As long as one of you immediately moves back to stay, the other two are permitted a grace period to wrap up your affairs,” Mr. Barnes blustered, throwing his hands up in the air as if to stop further protests.

  "It's okay," Trevor said in a voice so low, it was almost a growl. As it was, the words weren’t loud enough to get through the racket the others were making, which was escalating with alarming speed. He watched them for a moment, then stood abruptly, clapping his hands to get everyone else's attention.

  “Hey! Maybe you guys didn’t hear me. I said I’d do it, okay? You two take care of what you need to take care of—and get back here as soon as you can.”

  “No, but what about you, man?” Carson asked, looking exactly the way he had as a little boy fighting tears. “You have your own stuff, right? What are you going to do about your construction business?”

  "Don't worry about that," Trevor answered grimly. "I've got a good foreman. Very good, actually. We can work something out to keep things up and running. If it needs to be done, I'll do it. For you guys, okay?” he said, giving his brothers a meaningful look. “Not for them. For you."

  3

  Lacey starred at Mr. Barnes, willing herself to understand what he was trying to tell her. She’d been in Mr. McCall’s office on the ranch plenty of times, but never in such a capacity as this. Never for business in which she played an integral part, something she still had trouble believing was really happening. When the lawyer had told her about the money Mr. and Mrs. McCall had left her in their will, he’d come to Lacey’s apartment to give her the news. Being in her late employer’s office this way made things feel a little too real.

  “Ms. Cameron? Are you quite all right? Are you hearing what I'm saying to you?”

  “Yes!” she answered, speaking a little too quickly and too loudly to sound exactly calm. “I’m sorry, I’m listening. I’m just not sure I understand. You’re saying...what, exactly?”

  "I'm saying that the McCalls expressed a wish to have your family stay on and take care of the property for the next year. They were very fond of your family, you know. After all the years that you, your mother, and your grandmother have looked after the place."

  “Yes, they were always very kind, but—”

  "And, as you can imagine, it's not easy for the boys to leave their lives to come back home for a year," Mr. Barnes continued.

  Lacey had to hand it to him. He could be awfully persistent when he wanted to be—the kind of man who wouldn't take no for an answer. She supposed that was part of what made him so good at his job. There was no way the McCalls’ final document was the first oddball will he'd been in charge of, although she wouldn't be surprised to learn that it was high up there on the list.

  “Of course, I’m sure it must be so strange. Especially on top of everything else,” Lacey said, keeping her tone agreeable. She tucked her hands discreetly underneath her legs, feeling the roughness of the distressed denim of her jeans in contrast to the smooth leather of the chair. Disagreeing with people wasn’t in her nature. So much so, she couldn’t figure out how to tell this man that she wasn’t planning on sticking around in Winding Creek for much longer.

  Three weeks had passed since she'd learned about the money the McCall parents had left to her, but she hadn't wasted time putting
it to good use. Receiving that money had almost felt fortuitous, as horrible as it was to even think such a thing. It had given her the opportunity to begin the life she had been fantasizing about since she was old enough to dream up a potential future.

  “You’re too right about that,” Mr. Barnes agreed, his eyebrows knitting together sympathetically. “So you can see why we wouldn’t want to cause any more upheaval. The boys will need some continuity in their lives, and you and your family, Ms. Cameron, represent exactly that.”

  "But you don't understand, Mr. Barnes. I wasn't planning on staying on the job. My mother and my grandmother have moved to Florida. My grandmother's health requires her to live in a warmer climate than here, one that's warm year round, and with my mother being fond of theme parks, it's a win-win. And I'm going to start a bed and breakfast in town,” she added, sitting straighter and making a point of squaring her shoulders. “I've already bought it. It's being renovated as we speak."

  “Well, that sounds lovely,” Mr. Barnes said, his small frown suggesting that it didn’t sound lovely in the slightest. “But you don’t have to run off this very instant, do you?”

  “I mean, I can stay on for a little while, long enough to get them on their feet and maybe train in someone new—”

  The lawyer’s frown changed to a broad smile. "Good! Wonderful! It's settled, then. Why don't we go tell Trevor? He'll be staying here on his own for the first couple of weeks, until his brothers get their affairs enough in order to join him for the rest of the year."

  Mr. Barnes stood abruptly, apparently satisfied enough with his temporary solution not to press matters any further. He beckoned for her to follow him, and she did so, her knees shaking with adrenaline and something that felt a lot like dread. She hadn’t expected to be moved from this conversation to one with Trevor McCall quite so quickly. If she had known things were going to go like this, she might have set a harder line from the start. At this point, though, she couldn’t imagine how to put the brakes on things.

  Even as they moved quickly down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen, Mr. Barnes was calling Trevor’s name.

  "Yeah! I'm in the kitchen, Barnes. Maybe come in here instead of shouting? I'm trying to make myself some lunch, and it's going badly enough without you giving me a headache."

  “Is that...is that him?” she asked, practically running to keep up with the lawyer’s long strides.

  “Sure sounds like it, doesn’t it?” Barnes chuckled dryly. “The two of you have known each other since you were younger, haven’t you? Must be why the McCalls wanted to retain your services.”

  “No, I wouldn’t say that, exactly. We were around each other some, that’s all,” Lacey said breathlessly. She wasn’t that fond of thinking back to the days when she’d been a little girl following after her mother while the McCall brothers ran the ranch like little lords. Back then, they’d hardly seemed to notice that she was alive. She saw no reason to expect things to be any different now, especially seeing as she was only their deceased parents’ help.

  As they entered the kitchen, Trevor spoke without turning from his perusal of the fridge to greet them. "What do you say, Barnes? Any idea where the fixings to make a good sandwich would be? I forgot how backward my folks were when it comes to organizing the fridge."

  "No, I can't say that I do, Trevor, but fortunately for us both, I've got someone with me who might be able to do the trick. Do you remember Lacey Cameron? She's in charge of looking after the house these days, but when you were younger, her mother and her grandmother were here. The Cameron family has a long history with yours."

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Hi, there.” Trevor, practically inside the fridge now, waved over his shoulder without so much as turning around to acknowledge Lacey. Either he was really that wrapped up in his sandwich-making, or he was already intending to give her as little of the time of day now as he had when they were younger. Whichever it was, Lacey felt the old, familiar sinking in the pit of her stomach. She could remember telling herself in her younger days that being ignored by the cute, popular boy wouldn't hurt her anymore when she was grown. Here she was at twenty-five, and it didn't feel any better now than it had then.

  Her mind went back to their unfortunate almost-collision at the gateway to the ranch on the day he had returned for the reading of the will. She’d been foolish enough to harbor some hope that Trevor might remember her, that he’d think about their encounter and put two and two together.

  Now she realized how foolish that idea had been. It was no better than the stupid daydreams she had allowed herself when she was younger, still dangerously close to being a child. She had been young enough to believe in fairytales then. She should have known better than to believe in them now.

  She tugged at a strand of long blonde hair falling into her face, nervously twirling it around her finger. There was another bad habit she hadn't been able to shake, much to her mother's chagrin. She was tempted to turn and walk out of the kitchen and never look back, but she couldn't quite make herself do it. The McCalls had been good to her family over the years—very good, in fact. It wouldn't be right to leave them in the lurch now, no matter how insecure she was feeling. She could only imagine what her grandmother would say if she knew that Lacey was even entertaining such an idea, and it wouldn't be pretty.

  “What do you say, Ms. Cameron?” Mr. Barnes said in a low, solicitous voice, and Lacey jumped as he nudged her in the side with one meaty elbow. “Would you be able to help Mr. McCall here find what he’s looking for?”

  “Don’t, Barnes,” Trevor called irritably from his position inside the fridge. “Don’t call me Mr. McCall. I hate that nonsense. Just call me Trevor. That’s my name. That goes for you, too, Ms. Cameron.”

  She raised her voice a little to answer. "That's fine, but if I'm supposed to call you Trevor, you might as well start calling me Lacey. I'm not any more comfortable with those formalities than you are. Your folks never talked to me that way."

  The comment was followed by a beat of charged, awkward silence during which Lacey wished with all her heart that she could melt into the pretty tile floor and disappear entirely. She didn't know what Mr. Barnes had been expecting from her where the McCall brothers were concerned, but if this wasn't proof that she wasn't prepared to take them on, she didn't know what was. She had always been more comfortable melting into the background than being the center of attention, and it had worked well for her during her years of service.

  Now, though, Mr. Barnes seemed to want something more from her. Here he was, already thrusting her into the limelight with the McCall brother who had always made her the most nervous of all of them. She shut her eyes briefly and pictured the bed and breakfast, waiting for her to come and breathe life into it. That was where she wanted to be. As far away from this mess as she could get.

  "All right then, Lacey," Trevor said in a smooth, rich voice. If he was angered or shaken by her mention of his dead parents, it didn't show. He stood upright, finally turning away from the fridge's contents to give her an appraising look.

  She searched his face quickly for any sign of recognition but saw nothing. Not from when they were younger and not from their two cars almost colliding. She saw nothing more in his eyes than what one might expect upon meeting a stranger. Even so, she wanted to squirm under the weight of those strikingly dark eyes but made herself hold her ground. It didn't matter that he was more handsome now than ever before. This was a temporary thing. Temporary, she reminded herself savagely.

  “All right?” she echoed, feeling stupid and slow.

  “Yup, all right. As in, all right, how’s about you help me find what I’m looking for in this here fridge? I’m as hungry as a bear.”

  “Of course. But...but I should tell you, I won’t be staying on long. Just long enough to help you and your brothers get reacclimated and find a replacement. I’m moving.” She backtracked. “I mean, I’m opening up a bed and breakfast. I won’t be working here for much longer.”


  The words came out in a rush, totally unplanned and woefully inelegant. Behind her, Lacey heard Mr. Barnes sigh and understood that the man had had every intention of keeping that bit of information to himself for the time being. Quite possibly, he had been hoping to convince her to change her mind before the McCall brothers should ever learn of her plans.

  If that was the case, though, the notion was his and his alone. Lacey had made her intentions clear, and she didn't intend to change her plans.

  “Are you, now?” Trevor asked in that same rich, almost lazy drawl. He looked at her closely as he spoke, and she felt the urge to squirm grow exponentially.

  “Yes, I—I am,” she stammered.

  “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, that’s a shame.”

  And, for perhaps a split second, Lacey wondered if it was.

  4

  “What’s the matter, bro? You don’t sound so hot,” Carson laughed into the phone.

  “Gee, thanks,” Trevor answered, more than a little ticked off. He didn’t love Carson’s joviality, not when Trevor and Trevor alone was still managing things at the ranch. Truth be told, though, it wasn’t really Carson he was annoyed with. This past week, he’d been ticked off in general, any little thing enough to make him want to fly off the handle. It was part of why he had sequestered himself in the barn even though his workday was finally done. He didn’t trust himself at this point to be around people without losing it.

  “Come on, man, I’m not trying to be a jerk,” Carson laughed again, a sympathetic note creeping into his voice. “But I’m serious. You don’t sound so hot. What gives?”