Cass resisted the urge to ask when that would be. Clingy and needy were not two adjectives she wanted added to her personal bio. Instead, she offered a wry smile. “You know where I live, cowboy.”
* * *
Chance sprawled in the overstuffed leather chair, looking far more at ease than he felt. He could see the reflections of his brothers’ faces in the highly polished surface of the mahogany conference table. His siblings ranged against him on the other side—all but one, and his face dominated the wide screen monitor on the wall. Chance studied them. Phones were ringing in Clay’s office and he looked not only distracted but uncomfortable, as well. Of those arrayed on the other side of the table, Cord was the only one who would meet Chance’s gaze directly. Chase had his smartphone out, thumbs flying as he texted or surfed the web or did something. Cash looked bored as he stared out the window over Chance’s left shoulder.
“This feels an awful lot like an intervention.”
“It doesn’t have to be, Chance.” As the oldest, Clay took the lead. He sighed, the sound not quite synced with his image. “I’m in the middle of the budget battle. I don’t really have time for this petty squabble.”
A burst of laughter erupted from Chase, and he paused in his texting. “You callin’ the old man’s squabble petty, Clay?”
“I am in this instance. Chance, you’ve stalled long enough. Just file the papers, foreclose on the place and get done with it.”
“But you forget, Clay. There’s a pretty girl involved. I think brother Chance is letting his little head think for him.”
Chance glared at Chase and jumped in before his oldest brother could. “You’re one to talk, bro. How many times have we bought your way out of woman trouble?”
With a negligent shrug, Chase focused once more on his phone. “Whatever. But I’m tired of these command performances. I’m in the middle of negotiations for a new resort property, and I damn sure don’t need to be jetting back and forth.”
Cash cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “Look, Chance, I know you like the girl. Hell, you’ve been with her almost every night since you got back from Chicago. I’m betting she’s a pretty good—”
Before he realized what he was doing, Chance reached across the table and grabbed the front of Cash’s shirt, his hand fisting in the folds of expensive Egyptian cotton. “Shut. Up. Cash. I know damn good and well you’ve been tracking me. That ends now. Today. You hear me? I’ll handle this. In my own way and in my own time.”
“No.” The single word cut through the tense atmosphere. Cyrus Barron filled the doorway. “You will do this my way and in my time.”
Chance released Cash and faced his father. The old man looked right through him. His heart pounded as anger surged up from his gut. “Why is this such a big deal?”
“It’s a big deal because I say it is.” Cyrus stalked the rest of the way into the room and stopped at the head of the table. He stared at his middle son, and his face twisted as if he’d stepped in manure. “That old bastard died before I could settle the debt between us so I’ll settle it with his brat.”
Wanting to pound his fists on the desk, or on his father’s face, Chance clenched them at his sides and breathed instead. Forcing his anger down, he looked for the right argument. If the old man figured out Cass was important to him, all bets were off.
“Cassidy Morgan plans to sell the place and return to Chicago. She has a herd of cattle. Once they’re sold, she can pay off her father’s medical bills. We can buy the place from her with one offer and a certified check.” He didn’t back down from his father’s glare.