Max (7 Brides for 7 Brothers Book 5)

by Lynn Raye Harris

  Still, if she looked at it objectively, she could understand his confusion. He wasn’t a horseman, and racehorses made more sense for a tycoon like Colin Brannigan to have invested in.

  Ellie cleared her throat, uncertain how much to say. “My mother and yours were good friends. When my mother needed an investor, your dad was there. She offered the farm as collateral, and we’ve been paying the loan back faithfully ever since.”

  It was much more complicated than that, but Ellie wasn’t telling him any more than he needed to know. Some things were too private, and too heartbreaking, to discuss with strangers. Even a stranger who was the son of the man who’d helped out at a very bad time.

  “I didn’t know that. He didn’t explain it in the paperwork he left me.”

  Ellie twisted her hands together in her lap. “I will pay you back, Mr. Brannigan. I send in the money every month, or as much of it as I can—and I hope to buy the loan outright in the near future.”

  He was frowning. “How soon?”

  She hesitated. It was nothing more than hope and speculation at this point. “I-I don’t know. A few months. Maybe a year.”

  If she was lucky. If Champ kept working the way he was going and she won the five-gaited stake at Louisville in August. If someone offered to buy him once he did, though the prospect of losing such a talented colt hurt on many levels. So many ifs to get where she needed to go.

  Max’s frown grew deeper. “I’m not interested in running a horse farm, Miss Applegate. You can buy the loan back now—or we can discuss liquidating the property and settling the debt.”

  2

  She was gazing at him with a deer-in-the-headlights look. Max didn’t like the way his gut twisted over the look on her face, but dammit, he wasn’t running a charity. He had plans of his own. He wasn’t sitting around and waiting for her to get the money or for the terms of the contract to expire. He’d done his time in the trenches, fought his battles, and it was time he did something for himself for a change. Past time.

  James and Gabe were tycoons in their own right, but he’d never been interested in running a business. That had changed in the past few months. He was tired of busting his ass for someone else’s vision. He had his own vision. A high-end protection firm—diplomats, billionaires, captains of industry, the kind of people who needed a certain kind of protection, especially when they were traveling in hot spots around the world. He and his people would provide it.

  This was something he could recruit his old SEAL buddies for, a way to give back and give jobs to veterans who couldn’t quite leave behind the danger and intrigue of life lived on the edge. Not many people knew what it was like to live a high-octane life and then come to a full stop. But he did. The men he worked with did. That’s why they took crazy jobs in war-torn locations. Why they fought for the highest bidder.

  He thought he had a better way, but he needed the money to get started. He could ask James or Gabe, sure, but neither of them had asked for help from anyone when they’d started out. No way was he going to be the brother who needed an assist starting his own company. In a family as driven as his, he’d never live it down. And then there was the fact they didn’t actually know what he did. If he asked for money, they’d insist on knowing everything.

  It was enough that they thought he was working security in volatile places. Hell, maybe they suspected he was a contract soldier, but no one ever asked and he never confirmed it. And he wasn’t about to go into detail for anyone. Maybe Finn, if Finn ever wanted to know, because his baby brother was a Navy pilot and understood what it was like to serve.

  Ellie Applegate was looking at him like he’d just kicked a puppy. It didn’t make him feel good. He thought of the clause in the contract that stated he had to visit Applegate Farm before he could sell it, and his aggravation at his father grew.

  “Liquidating the property? What does that mean?”

  She sounded very calm and unemotional, which he suspected meant she was anything but. He also suspected she knew precisely what he meant. And yeah, he felt like an ass for even suggesting it. But he needed the money. He had quite a bit of his own from all the foreign jobs since he’d left the military—but it still wasn’t enough to get his business going and employ the people he needed.

  “It means we can sell the farm and discharge your debt. You go your way, I go mine—”

  “And where would I go? You’re talking about my home.” There were two bright splotches in her cheeks, and he realized she was definitely not calm. It also occurred to him that she wasn’t exactly aware of the terms of the contract he’d gotten from his father.

  “You wouldn’t be homeless, Miss Applegate. You get half the proceeds from the sale—which would probably be substantial considering this property is located so close to Lexington.”

  There had been a sign as he’d driven through on the way here that proclaimed Lexington as the Horse Capital of the World. Good for her. Good for him.

  She looked stunned. That was the only word for it. Her pretty mouth dropped open and her green eyes widened. He had the oddest urge to sweep her up and kiss her, but no way was he giving in to that urge. He had no doubt where she’d aim her knee if he even tried. He’d just watched this wisp of a woman handle a thousand-plus-pound animal like it was a puppy—and he wasn’t about to test her reflexes anywhere near his balls.

  “I… Half the proceeds? Why?”

  Max was beginning to get pissed. Not at her, but at the old man. His father had left him a hell of a mess—and Colin certainly hadn’t told Elinor Applegate a bit of what he’d planned. Max could keep it from her, but it wouldn’t change the terms or what had to be done.

  He hadn’t understood any of it when he’d pored over the documents, but he’d figured there was no way Elinor Applegate wouldn’t want half the money right now. He was beginning to wonder about that assessment, however.

  “It’s in the contract my father left me. If we sell right now, you get half the money. All we have to do is call in an agent, get it appraised, and get it on the market.”

  And since he didn’t expect any of that to happen fast, he’d spend some time here as his father had requested.

  Her fingers had curled into fists. “This is my home. I don’t want to sell it, though I don’t suppose that’s up to me, is it? You come in here all arrogant and certain of yourself, and you want to sell my farm because you don’t know what it means to love something so much you’d sacrifice everything you have rather than part with it.” She snorted. “You rich boys are all the same. Think you can have whatever you want and to hell with the consequences to anyone else.”

  Max hadn’t been called a rich boy in so many years that he had to do a double take. He’d been on his own, paving his way in the world, for over a decade now. He’d served his country with distinction, and he’d gone through more hell than this woman could imagine. Rich? Not yet. Entitled? Hardly. Not to mention that her tone pissed him the fuck off.

  “You don’t know a thing about me, Miss Applegate,” he said coolly. “Not a goddamn thing. And I don’t know a thing about you, but I’m not blind. You have nothing more than some fancy prancing horses here, and while I don’t know much about horses, I’m pretty sure those can’t bring in much money. Not like racehorses. I suggest you cut your losses while you can and find a smaller place where you can keep a couple of animals and continue doing whatever it is you do with them.”

  “Whatever it is—” She shook her head as if to clear it. Then she stood, her entire body vibrating with anger. And, yeah, it was wrong of him, but there was something slightly exhilarating about her anger. Her eyes flashed fire and her chin quivered before she clamped down on her reaction. “You need to leave now, Mr. Brannigan. Get off my property and stay off. You can send your realtors and you can list my farm, but I’m not cooperating with any of it until I call my lawyer and find out exactly what you can and can’t do. I have a mortgage and I’m not in default—and I’m not accepting your word as the final authority
just yet.”

  Max towered over her as he rose from the couch. “First of all, it’s my property. Second, I’ve got some bad news for you, sweetheart,” he said, and her eyes narrowed. Whether it was the bad news or the sarcastic endearment causing it, he didn’t know. And he really didn’t care. “Or maybe it’s good news to you. I can’t sell this farm for a year from the date of my father’s death without your agreement—”

  She sucked in a breath, and he knew she was surprised. But he kept going before she could respond.

  “—but I also own this place. So long as I do, I’m not staying in a hotel.”

  Outrage shone from her eyes. “You can’t stay here.”

  He took a step toward her. She didn’t flinch or back down. He admired that about her. It fired his blood, made his heart beat faster. What was it about this woman that got beneath his skin? He didn’t know, but no way was he letting her win this round.

  “Yes, I fucking can.”

  “Here’s your room,” Ellie said, throwing open the door to the large bedroom on the ground floor of the house. She was mightily pissed but handling it well. Or so she thought. Maybe she’d thrown the door open a little hard. It had slammed into the doorstop with enough force to send it careening back again. She caught it and stepped aside to let him enter.

  The entire house needed updating, but this room probably needed it most of all. The plaster was cracked, the walls were yellow, the floors still had 1970s shag carpeting on top of the hardwood, and there was no overhead lighting. The windows had been painted shut years ago, and she hadn’t managed to get them open yet. No time, really. It was also hot because she’d shut off the vents to keep her costs down.

  The bed was old and the mattress had seen better days. She folded her arms over her chest and refused to feel even the tiniest bit guilty as Max walked into the room and dropped his duffel bag. A duffel instead of Louis Vuitton suitcases. Yeah, that had been a surprise. He might be rich, but he didn’t quite act like it.

  Except for the part where he wanted to sell her home. That thought worked to harden her heart and erase any possible sympathy as he turned around inside the room and studied the walls. He’d insisted he was staying, so she’d given him a room. The worst room.

  “Saved the best for me, huh?” he said softly.

  She sniffed. “Yep, nothing but the best for you, Mr. Brannigan.”

  “I think you should call me Max if we’re going to be living together, don’t you?” One handsome eyebrow quirked up, and she felt a little ache begin in the pit of her stomach. Why oh why did he have to be so damned pretty?

  “Max it is. I’m sorry there’s no en suite bath here.” No, she wasn’t. The more uncomfortable he was, the better. “There’s a half bath in the hall, but you’ll have to go upstairs for a shower.”

  “And will I be sharing the bathroom with you, Ellie?”

  Her skin prickled at his use of her name. It was the first time he’d called her anything besides Miss Applegate. She began to think maybe she’d made a mistake in accepting his invitation to call him Max. Because he was now going to call her Ellie, and the way he said her name, all deep and growly, did things to her insides that she’d rather not think about.

  “Thankfully, no. I have my own bathroom.”

  She’d been embarrassed earlier when she thought of the run-down state of the house and having him in it, but now she hoped it worked to run him off. A couple of nights on that lumpy old mattress in this musty old room and he’d surely decide to head off to a fancy hotel in Lexington and park his privileged ass there for the duration.

  She hoped.

  “Convenient.”

  Her temper spiked at his sarcastic tone. “If you think I’m giving up my room so you can have an en suite, milord, you’re crazy.”

  He held up both hands. “Nope, didn’t think that at all. Just stating a fact.”

  Like hell he hadn’t been needling her.

  “You’ll have to do your own shopping,” she said. “There’s not much in the fridge, and I don’t cook.”

  “I’ll need a key.”

  “I’ll get you a key the next time I go into town.” She had a spare in the kitchen drawer since she couldn’t afford a housekeeper anymore.

  He glanced around the room again. “Wouldn’t you like to have something smaller and more modern? A place where you don’t have to worry about what might break next or how much it’s going to cost to update a room?”

  Her heart froze. “This house has been in my family for four generations. No, I don’t want something smaller or more modern. If you feel your accommodations aren’t modern enough, you can go find a hotel. Or update the damn room yourself.”

  She had a strong urge to slam the door and storm off, but she managed not to do it. Max had arched an eyebrow again. She wanted to march over there and smooth it back down with her finger. Then maybe she’d skim his strong jaw before dropping her hand and—

  What? No! No way in hell did she want to touch Max Brannigan. Just because she hadn’t had a date in the two years since Momma died was no reason to start having fantasies about this man. He was all wrong. Totally wrong. She’d dated a rich boy in college, and she wanted nothing to do with that kind of entitled jerk again.

  Rich boys cared about themselves and their toys, nothing more. This one was even worse. He already came from a supremely wealthy family, and yet he wanted to sell her farm so he could have even more money. Colin Brannigan had been worth billions. Even if his seven sons had split the fortune, it was still a lot of money. More than most people would see in a lifetime. Hell, if Max never got a penny from Applegate Farm, he wouldn’t miss it. How much money was enough for one man anyway?

  “The accommodations are fine,” he bit out. “But I’ll need that key today, not whenever you get around to it.”

  She lifted her chin. “I want to see where it says you need my permission to sell.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t trust you. Because you might sell it anyway and then what could I do about it?” She shook her head. “No key until you show me.”

  She thought he might blow up, but then he laughed suddenly and her insides warmed at the sound. Which made her mightily sore with herself.

  Do. Not. Smile. At. This. Man.

  “You can read the entire contract. Call your lawyer if you like. I’ll have my dad’s attorney fax over a copy. I own Applegate Farm, but I can’t sell it until September—unless you agree. After that, I can do what I want.”

  Her heart squeezed painfully. He owned it lock, stock, and barrel. But she still had time. Somehow it didn’t make her feel any better. “Do I still have the right to buy back my loan?”

  Because it occurred to her that if Colin Brannigan was dead and Max Brannigan owned the farm outright, perhaps it was up to him how much money she had to come up with. She hoped she was wrong. Prayed she was wrong.

  He stared at her for a beat too long, and her stomach did a slow sink into her toes.

  “Your loan is null and void, Ellie. You’ll have to buy the farm at a price I set… up to the appraisal amount.”

  3

  Max raked a hand through his hair as he stood in the center of the room Ellie had shown him to. She’d disappeared approximately two minutes ago, her face going white before she’d lifted that stubborn chin and told him she had work to do. Then she’d faded away and he’d been left standing there, feeling like an asshole.

  He took out his phone and called up his list of favorites. Then he hit Knox’s number and waited. Knox answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, man,” his brother said. “You back in country?”

  “Yeah. Got back a few days ago.”

  Knox didn’t wait to go in for the kill. “Did you open the envelope?”

  “Sure did. Standing in the middle of my inheritance now.”

  He thought his brother snickered. “What did you get?”

  “Nothing as cool as your Indian.”

  �
��Well, I ended up with something even cooler than that, don’t forget.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Knox had met Erin when he’d gotten the Indian out of storage and gone for a ride up the Pacific coast. Somehow his brother had ended up falling in love. Not at all what Max would have expected from Knox, aka the guy who always had a ready smile and a new woman on his arm whenever Max saw him. The idea of falling in love and settling down was so foreign to Max that he couldn’t comprehend how it had happened to his brother. Brothers, since it seemed as if Luke, Hunter, Gabe, and Knox were all in committed relationships now.

  Mind-boggling.

  Max remembered his parents being happy, but that had ended when his mother died. His father threw himself into work and was never happy again. Not that Max had realized that when he’d been growing up, but he knew it now. Love had broken his father. It would break his brothers too if they let it, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.

  But love would not break him. Of that he was certain. You had to have a heart to fall in love—and his had been hardened beyond repair in the hell of war.

  “So what is it?” Knox asked. “What was the grand prize in your mystery envelope?”

  “A horse farm. In Kentucky.”

  They both knew that Mom and Aunt Claire had grown up in Kentucky, but they’d never been there themselves. It occurred to Max that he didn’t actually know where in Kentucky his mother was from. Apparently it was somewhere around here if she’d known Ellie’s mother. He’d have to call Aunt Claire and ask her.

  “Wow. Never knew Dad was into horses. Any Kentucky Derby winners in your future? Should Erin get a hat?”

  Max went over to the window—the rippled window because the glass was old—and looked out at the bluegrass. “Not unless they change the rules to allow prancing down the homestretch.”