As usual, Grandfather was sitting behind his desk, a newspaper propped up in front of him.
Grandfather was a creature of habit.
Brock’s stomach clenched with anger.
If he wasn’t careful, his future was staring right at him.
And it looked bleak.
Lonely.
Hell, it looked like marriage to a woman of his grandfather’s choosing.
“Brock!” Grandfather placed his weathered hand on the mahogany desk and stood on shaky knees. “Sit, sit!”
“I think I’ll stand,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Suit yourself.” Grandfather shrugged.
“No.”
“Pardon?” Grandfather’s eyebrows furrowed as he moved around the desk and crossed his arms. “What was that, son?”
“I. Won’t. Do. It.” Brock’s body shook. With rage. With dread. He knew the ramifications of saying no, but he couldn’t control the words coming out of his mouth.
His grandfather held out his hands as if to tell Brock to settle down, “Brock, you seem upset—”
“I’m beyond upset!” Brock took a step backward. “Find someone else. Though God knows why you think this is good publicity. We get enough attention from the twins, who seem to land themselves in every newspaper and magazine in the country.”
Grandfather suddenly went pale; his hand went to his chest and then with a strangled gasp, he collapsed.
* * *
Three hours after Brock thought he’d nearly killed his Grandfather by actually standing up for himself he was still in the office.
The EMTs were long gone.
Grandfather was going to be fine.
An anxiety attack.
From stress.
“What were you discussing when he collapsed?” the first EMT asked.
Brock had felt too sick to answer; he just shook his head and asked in a strangled voice. “Is he going to make it?”
“His heart’s just fine.” The other EMT was giving Grandfather oxygen, or at least trying to. Grandfather was fighting him every step of the way, saying he had just felt a tightening in his chest and then hot all over.
And now they were back to square one.
What should have been a brief meeting had turned into one of the scariest moments of Brock’s life.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Brock,” his grandfather lied.
His grandfather coughed and sputtered into a handkerchief, then stuffed it in the pocket of his three-piece suit. The sound of his leather seat giving way filled the office, as Grandfather leaned back in the cushions and placed his hands in front of his face, tapping his fingers against one another, signaling he was deep in thought.
Brock tugged at his suddenly too-tight tie.
“Shall we…go over the plans for the auction?” Grandfather asked with hopeful eyes. And just like that.
He got his way.
Again.
“Sure.”
“Oh”—Grandfather thumbed through a folder on his desk and waved him off—“I guess that can wait for later. First I want to discuss the ranch. I’m preparing it for your new family.”
His new family.
As in.
One he chose? Or his grandfather? He was afraid to ask. Afraid he’d yell again and really kill the old man this time.
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Grandfather thumbed through a few papers before his eyes lit up when he found what he was looking for. “Once you’re married, I’ll sign over the deed.” He slid a paper forward. “This is a list of all employees currently on payroll. They take care of the horses, chickens.” Since when did they have chickens? “Goats, the cock, and the mean old ass that Bentley won in a bet.”
“Bentley won an ass?”
Grandfather let out a heavy sigh. “He bet his brother, his version of an ass, and the other party bet an actual animal. Simple misunderstanding.”
“How did I not know about this?”
“You rarely come to my parties,” Grandfather said with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Parties? What parties?”
What alternate universe had he just stepped into?
Grandfather ignored him. “It’s good for these old bones to jump and jive every once in a while.”
Jump and jive? The hell?
“You’ve been busy,” Grandfather interrupted. Brock shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “You’ve been working yourself into the ground. I want you to take an official vacation until the press dies down a bit over this whole auction business.” A guilty look flashed across his face. “I assume they’re still downstairs.”
“Let me get this straight.” Anger started pulsating through Brock’s body once more. “First, you force me to participate in the auction in order to get us publicity and gain the trust of the board, and now you want me gone?” His grandfather wasn’t making any sense. None of it made sense. “What’s really going on?”