He waves me off. “A healthy reminder would do him good.” He points to Ginger. “So if she’s offering, take it. Woman always knew how to set those boys straight better than I did.”
“He’s coming around honestly,” I think of our heated kiss last night at the cottage. The tension and vulnerability I caught when we ran into Bonnie. “Probably just under a lot of stress with the busy season.”
“You’re not wrong there,” Connor offers. “He’s been carrying more than his share lately.” The way he says this almost makes it sound like a lesson or fact of life rather than something that is unfair or unfortunate.
I narrow my eyes, and I’m surprised to hear myself ask, “Why do you sound like you’re OK with this?”
He smirks, then considers his words. “Well, I wouldn’t say that exactly. Let’s just say it’s good to see Wilder holdin’ the land together—and damn well. There was a time I wasn’t sure hecared enough to.”
I absorb this information somewhat in awe. Unsure if I should be offended he’d lost his faith in Wilder—even if it was for a short time. Or if I’m honored he’s sharing this with me.
Before I could think of an appropriate response, Ginger nudges Connor with her elbow. “Oh enough of that, tell her somegoodstories about the boys.”
He laughs lightly and the two of them shift tunes to a handful of tales about life on the ranch, the boys growing up, and another tidbit or two about Carrie Thorne, his late wife.
But nothing else as to how she died.
“Can I ask about the Callahans?” I finally say after the bill is paid and we’re wrapping up lunch. Not that I think her accident and the Callahans are linked, but I can at least rule it out if they aren’t. “What’s the story there?”
Connor sighs like it’s a question he gets often. “It’s the river.”
“The river?”
“Blue River stretches through both properties, mainly through Blue River Ranch, which got its name because of the generous stretch of it running through our land. While Callahan Ranch has only a short, rocky end of it—barely enough for cattle in dry months.”
He holds up a finger as if to make something clear. “Now that’s no fault of mine where I built my ranch. A river always flows where it flows. But over the years, Boon Callahan started accusing me of diverting the water, building dams and whatnot as a way of hurting their ranch and livestock.”
Ginger shakes her head, like she remembers the wild accusations. “Their property is bigger. And their business was always better.”
“I’d never compete with that,” Connor agrees. “But I can’t help if the river isn’t big enough for it. My ranch is smaller because I took it into consideration from the start.” He takes asip of water. “And I sure as hell wasn’t about to sell my land for them to expand.”
“He tried to get you to sell?” I ask.
“Came in acting like he was doing me a favor, taking it off my hands. Things spiraled out of control after that. We had spies, break-ins, damaged property, and riled-up livestock. He’d hit every season.”
“Is it .?.?. still going on?” I think about the kind of stress this must put on Wilder, on top of everything else he’s dealing with.
Mr. Thorne shakes his head. “Nothing since his kids took over a few years back. Dusty and Ricky. There’s been plenty of mishaps on Blue River Ranch since, but nothing ties back to them.”
“How do you know? What if they’re really good at covering their tracks?” I don’t know why I’m so invested. But it just seems strange not to have answers. Like, how did the barn fire start where Millie was killed? What happened to Carrie Thorne?
The man across from me considers this, scratching his well- groomed beard. “Well, take a recently stolen golf cart, or a bush fence left a tangled mess.” He pins me with those blue eyes that match his son’s. “Callahans could have been Wilder’s first guess.” He perks a brow at me but it’s an amused one with a hint of a smirk. “But was it them, really?”
I roll my lips. “Right.”
His chuckle is lighthearted. “Other than .?.?.” he flicks his wrist in my direction, “recent events, most of the incidents on our ranch have been tied to either recklessness from inexperienced staff or just nature.”
It was kind of him to leave me out of the inexperienced staff example. But I don’t say as much. “Is there a way to make peace?”
“Would be nice, I suppose. But it’s not my decision to make.”
“Well, thanks for the background, Mr. Thorne. And forlunch.”
“It’s Connor, and it was a pleasure. Your brother is like one of my own, so you’re part of the family.”
My cheeks warm from his tenderness and it’s nice to be welcomed—despite myself.
They both walk me to my golf cart parked a few blocks down. Connor has my bags in one hand and Ginger’s arm in the other.
