"You don't hate me," he said.
She yanked the headphones off and tossed them behind her. Luckily they landed on the bed. "What?"
"I said, you don't hate me."
Both hands, accented by goth purple nail polish, slammed down on her hips. "Who told you that lie?"
"I just know, Nicki. And I wanted to stop by and say . . ." He opened his arms and gave her a cheesy grin. "See, I'm still here."
"Did you come bearing bribery gifts again?"
"Nope. I just brought this." His open arms surrounded her as he pulled her in for a hug. As expected, she froze like a Popsicle. Then he kissed the top of her head and whispered, "I love you, Nicki. You can be as mad at me as you want, but I'm still going to love you. Never doubt that."
He kissed the top of her head again, let her go, then stepped away. "Night, baby sister. See you tomorrow."
Before his feet hit the top step, she slammed her bedroom door. He paused. When he heard her let go of a huge sob, everything inside him told him to go back in there and console her.
Baby steps.
In order to gain her trust, he couldn't overwhelm her. He just needed to continue to reassure her that he loved her and he was here to stay.
God and the NHL willing.
Chapter 9
Family meetings were never fun. Especially when they were called at the crack of dawn and you'd had only a few hours of restless sleep.
Surrounded by aging casks of Merlot and Cabernet, Jordan grabbed one of the big wooden chairs at the center of the extra long farm table in the barrel room. In the past, the room had been part of the event center. Small weddings and private parties could be held here. Though a bit on the cool side, the oak walls and barrels made for an attractive rustic décor, and the fragrance of aging wine added a nice touch.
He hadn't even had time to make a pot of coffee this morning before Ryan sounded the alarm. Sipping the slightly bitter brew made from the heavy-­duty office coffeemaker, he glanced around the table. His brothers looked to be in no better condition than he. On the other hand, Aunt Pippy, an important member of the family though not an official member of the new board of directors, looked bright-­eyed and ready to take on the world in her gold and orange dress, blue plastic headband, and red suede ankle boots. Then again, if she was really that bright-­eyed, wouldn't she have noticed that nothing she had on matched?
Stifling a yawn, Jordan took a long drink and prayed the java gods would do their wakey-­wakey dance in a hurry.
He'd spent half the night finalizing things for tonight's date with Lucy. While he worried his plan wouldn't come together, he now had to focus on the reason they'd been summoned to the vineyards on such short notice.
Ryan came into the room with a frown and a cardboard box he set down at the head of the table. As he settled his palms on the surface, his broad shoulders visibly slumped. "I didn't ask Nicki or Riley to join us today because, well, I just don't think they need to be involved. Since they're both under eighteen, it's up to us to take care of things."
"Good thinking," Aunt Pippy said, then took a slug of coffee.
"As much as I'd like to be standing here telling you that everything is great," Ryan said, "I can't."
Jordan hated starting out the day on a sour note. But it didn't look like any of them had a choice.
"Declan and I spent all day yesterday going through the ledgers and bank accounts and . . ." Ryan folded his arms across his chest. "Well, there's just no other way to say it except someone's been stealing money from the company. A lot of money."
"Define a lot," Parker said.
Ryan lifted the lid off the cardboard box and withdrew a folder. And even though Jordan was sure the specific amount had kept Ryan up all night, his brother read the figures printed on a stack of papers.
"Somewhere to the tune of a hundred and fifty grand."
Obscenities flew.
Parker wanted to know, "Was the money taken in large or small amounts?"
Ryan shrugged and Declan took over. "The paper trail is hard to follow. There's no direct path. It's going to take further investigation with someone more skilled at this kind of thing than any of us."
"Did Mom and Dad make investments that weren't properly documented?" Ethan asked.
"There's no sign of that." Declan lifted his mug of coffee and took a drink. "It looks like someone knew the system and figured out how to work it."
Jordan glanced at those gathered around the table. "Who had access to the accounts?"