That was the polite way of putting it. Fighting wars that needed fighting but that the US didn’t want to be officially involved in—or didn’t have enough regular troops to send in—was more accurate.
Ellie frowned. “You sound like the guy in that movie—the one who says he has a very special set of skills and he will find the guy who kidnapped his daughter and kill him even though he has nothing more to go on than a voice on the phone.”
Max laughed. “You’re talking about Taken. And yeah, it’s something like that. Maybe not quite as dramatic though.”
“Well, I have to say I’m quite shocked, Max Brannigan. Not at all what I expected you to tell me. I thought maybe you liked to jump off cliffs or rappel down waterfalls or scale skyscrapers the way your brother does.”
“No, I’ve never seen the appeal of doing that.”
“Then that means you aren’t crazy. Which is a good thing.”
“You don’t think it’s crazy to fight battles against terrorists—battles in which you might be maimed and mutilated before they kill you?”
He hadn’t meant to say that—or any of it. It was more than he ever said to anyone, his brothers especially. She swallowed, and he realized he’d rattled her. He didn’t like that. But it was too late to call back the words.
“Okay, I take it back. You are crazy.” She scrubbed a hand over one arm as if she was chilled. “Is that why you want to sell my farm? To get out of that life?”
He could tell her yes. Maybe she’d soften a bit in her stance toward selling. But it wasn’t the full truth. He was trying to make a change in his life. But he wasn’t trying to escape what he did. Not entirely. He just wanted more control over it.
“Not precisely. I want to open my own business protecting high-level clients in—let’s say questionable—situations around the world. Still risky, but not as much as what I do now. I need money to invest in start-up costs.”
He didn’t know why he was telling her that. It was more than he’d said to anyone in so long it kind of shocked him. But she loved her farm, and he wanted her to sell it. He thought she deserved to know why. And there was just something about her that made telling her these things seem natural.
She shook her head. “You’re a Brannigan. Your father was worth billions. How can you possibly need to sell my farm? You must have inherited a fortune.”
“I didn’t. The estate is in trust for the next five years. I don’t get a penny until then. None of us do.”
And he simply couldn’t imagine spending five more years doing contract jobs in the world’s hellholes. He wanted to call his own shots, build his own business. Choose the jobs his people took.
Her mouth had dropped open. “Wow. I think I may be just a little bit pissed at your father right now. I hope you don’t mind.”
He had an odd urge to chuckle. “No, I’m a little pissed at him myself.”
“If you’d inherited your share of the estate, you wouldn’t want my farm. I could keep paying the loan off and no one would care. Hopefully.”
“That’s probably true.”
“Couldn’t you get loans against what you stand to inherit?”
“Five years is a long time, Ellie. If the world economy goes bust for some reason, who knows what could happen to the estate?”
“I doubt it would go belly-up.”
“Maybe not. But I doubt a bank is going to give me money with that thought in mind.”
She looked fierce. “Have you even tried? Or was selling my farm the first thing that came to mind?”
She had him there. “It’s the most valuable thing I currently own. Of course it’s the first thing that came to mind.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay, I get that. But isn’t there another way? Can’t we think of something that helps me keep my farm until I can pay you back?”
“I could probably use the farm as collateral—”
“No,” she said fiercely. “Please don’t. If you do that, I might never get it back.”
He looked at the desperation in her gaze, at the way her pulse throbbed in her neck, and felt a wave of protectiveness sweep through him. Dammit, it was part of his programming to take care of those who needed his help. Always had been, even as a kid. Especially after Mom died and the randomness of the universe struck him with its unfairness.
She’d been going to get ice cream. Because she’d wanted her boys to have a treat. She’d never come home, and he’d never stopped thinking about how he could have stopped it from happening. That had made him super protective of his brothers, even when they didn’t want it. If anything was risky, ever, he insisted on going first. Jumping into the lake from the top of a cliff. Lighting the fireworks on July Fourth. Racing his bike over the huge jumps they’d set up.
If anyone was going to break a bone or lose a finger, he’d been determined it was going to be him. Not that his brothers let him get away with it all the time. It was easier with the younger ones than the three eldest, but he’d tried. He’d butted heads with James often because his eldest brother had stepped into a parent role after their mother died and wouldn’t be budged.
Now Max wanted to do something to protect Ellie from the fear of losing her farm. Dammit. Just like that, he was ready to throw himself off the cliff and into the water before anyone else.
“Then I won’t do it.”
She swallowed. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. I won’t use the farm as collateral for a loan before September comes. I’m not promising I won’t sell it then, but I will work to convince you that selling now is the best path for us both. All I ask is that you be honest with yourself. Look at the situation objectively.”
She didn’t speak for a few seconds. “I’ll try.”
It was more than he’d expected.
But she wasn’t done. “Why didn’t you come sooner? The year is up in September, and I’d have thought you’d have been here as soon as you found out.”
“I was busy.” Mostly that was true. He’d been too mired in work to come home and open an envelope. And after he’d heard what his brothers had gotten, he hadn’t been in a hurry to find out what sort of odd bequest Dad had left him. He still didn’t understand what he was supposed to do with a horse farm or how he was going to convince this woman to sell it.
Time to shift gears. “I hope you’ll pardon the phrase, but I’m so hungry I could eat a horse right now. Please tell me there’s pizza delivery around here.”
She grinned as she reached for a stack of papers sitting on top of some cookbooks. “I have a few menus. Take a look. And while we have plenty of horses, it would take too long to cook one.”
“Humor, Ellie?”
She shrugged. “I’m capable of it.”
He took the menus from her hand, being careful not to touch her this time. “Care to join me, or do you have other plans?”
She dropped her gaze for a moment. “No plans. I could eat pizza.”
“Excellent.”
She’d told him she would try to look at the idea of selling the farm objectively, but the truth was every time she tried to imagine herself selling, she reacted violently. Her heart squeezed and her mind rebelled. Her entire body was alive with one thought: no.
So why had she said it? She didn’t know, though maybe it was his soulful eyes or his deep voice that had made it seem reasonable to agree at the time. But she wasn’t going to sell. She was going to convince him to keep the farm until she could buy it back.
The pizza came and they sat on the back porch, eating slices and gazing out at the sun setting over the bluegrass. It was so beautiful it hurt sometimes. Horses grazed peacefully, tails swishing as they moved through the pasture.
Applegate Farm wasn’t just a farm to her. It was in her blood, her bones. How could she explain that to him? And yet she understood why he wanted to start his own business. Why he wanted to get away from fighting terrorists. Not that she imagined protecting CEOs was going to be a cakewalk, but it had to have fewe
r risks than constantly fighting battles on the front lines—and maybe he would be too busy running the operation to be the one going on assignments.
There were so many things she wanted to ask him, but she didn’t know how to even begin to do so. She’d never been anywhere outside the United States. There was always work to do on the farm and horses to train. Other than traveling for shows, she didn’t go anywhere.
“So you grew up here?” he asked, and she started at the unexpected sound of his voice.
“Mostly, yes.”
“Mostly?”
Now why had she said that? She cleared her throat and grabbed another slice of pizza. Too late now. And truth be told, she kind of wanted to talk about it. Maybe he’d understand her better if she did.
“Momma went through a phase. We moved to Louisville for a year or so when I was seven. She had a boyfriend—it didn’t work out.” She took a bite of pizza and chewed. “My daddy left when I was three. I don’t really remember him. We lived here with Granny and Gramps for four years, and then Momma met Stewart. He promised her grand things, but he never delivered—except for the time he took us to stay at the Seelbach Hotel in Louisville one weekend. I remember being very impressed with the grand staircase in the lobby and all the wood paneling. And then Momma told me that F. Scott Fitzgerald set some of The Great Gatsby there. Not that I understood what any of that meant at the time.”
“Sounds impressive.”
“Are you familiar with the book?”
“I saw the movie.”
“I remember the ballroom on the tenth floor where Momma said that Daisy had met Gatsby. It was so pretty. When I was old enough, I read the book—and promptly despised Daisy for being weakhearted and stupid.”
“Things you are not.”
She warmed at the compliment. “I don’t think so, no.” She sighed. “Other than that trip and the Kentucky State Fair, I hated Louisville. It’s a little over an hour away, so I got to come back on weekends, but I hated not living on the farm or being around the horses.”
“It’s peaceful here. I see why you love it.”
It was peaceful. Lonely too, though she wasn’t admitting that to him. It had been lonely for a long time now. It hadn’t been lonely when Momma was alive and well. They’d had so many plans. Her heart ached hard at the memories of all they’d had and all they’d planned.
“Oh, I wanted to show you something,” she said. “Be right back.”
She went into the house and grabbed the photo she’d found and then walked back outside. He was sitting where she’d left him, sipping a bottle of water and gazing at the scenery.
“I think it’s your mother.”
He took the photo and stared at it for a long while. “Yeah, it is. Wow, she was so young.”
“Probably about fifteen in that photo.”
“Right before she met my dad. They met when she was seventeen, but they didn’t get together for another ten years.” He was quiet for a few moments. “So she really knew how to ride, huh? Did she do what you were doing earlier?”
Ellie sat down again. “No, she didn’t ride five-gaited according to my mother. But she showed one of our three-gaited horses that summer. Won a couple of the classes and placed high in the others.”
“Do you mind if I take a picture of this?”
“No, of course not.”
He set the photo down and took out his phone. After he snapped a pic, he said, “I have to send this to my Aunt Claire. I think she’ll love it. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have it because I think if she’d had a copy, she’d have shared it by now.”
“I don’t know that there were any copies made at the time. That’s probably the only one there is. You’re welcome to take it and have it digitized.”
“Thanks. I might do that.” He set the picture on the table and leaned back in his chair. “It’s funny to think our mothers might have sat right here on this porch and watched the horses and now we’re doing the same.”
“I miss my mother,” Ellie said, her heart swelling. She wanted to bite her lip. Why had she said that? Why did she say so many personal things around him? He wasn’t her friend, though she didn’t really think he was the enemy anymore either. An enemy actively despised you. He did not despise her. And she didn’t despise him either. Not now.
“I’m sorry. People say it gets easier with time, and it does, but that’s such a hollow sentiment. It never stops affecting you.”
“No, it definitely doesn’t.” Ellie yawned and set her plate down, done with pizza and confessions for the time being. “I think I’m going to bed now. Thanks for ordering pizza.”
“Thanks for sharing it with me.”
Ellie started to speak but nodded instead when she realized she didn’t know what more to say. Then she turned and went inside and up the stairs to her bedroom, chastising herself the whole way for sitting outside and eating pizza with him. Yes, she’d resolved to be nice and win him over to her way of thinking about the farm. But that didn’t mean she needed to spend personal time with him, getting to know him and aching for him when he thanked her for showing him a picture.
Dammit!
Ellie did not want to like him. But she feared it was already too late.
6
Ellie didn’t sleep well. She tossed and turned and dreamed about terrorists with black robes that covered them from head to toe, brandishing automatic rifles and parading captured soldiers in front of a camera before lining them up and shooting them dead.
She knew that what terrorists typically did was far worse, but her mind wouldn’t go there. Thankfully.
After a restless night, she woke around five, as usual, but her heart was pounding and her eyes were as gritty as if she’d been awake all night. She told herself it was just the dreams and not the fact she’d shared pizza and conversation with Max Brannigan—and liked it.
In spite of the urge to turn over and go back to sleep, she knew that wasn’t happening as she pushed herself upright. She had horses to feed and work, and they couldn’t be ignored. She got out of bed and pulled on work jodhpurs, boots, and a sports bra and T-shirt before pulling her hair back into a ponytail and splashing water on her face. After she’d brushed her teeth, she went down the stairs and turned on the Keurig. The house was quiet and she crept through the kitchen, wincing at every creaking board. She didn’t want to wake Max. She had no idea how late he’d stayed up, but she hadn’t heard him come in.
She grabbed a mug and some cream. When she turned to put the cream back in the fridge, she gasped and jumped, nearly dropping the container.
Max stood there in a T-shirt and jeans, looking more awake than she felt at the moment. His dark hair was tousled, but his eyes were sharp.
“Sorry,” he said. “I heard you and figured it was time for coffee.”
She slipped her mug under the Keurig and popped in a K-cup before pressing the button. “Definitely is. And then it’s time to feed horses.”
“Can I help?”
Her fingers trembled as she reached for her coffee. What the hell?
Okay, so maybe it was a fantasy to find a partner who would get up early and have breakfast with her before helping with the horses, but Max was not the partner, and he wasn’t fulfilling her fantasy.
Still, it fit with her plans to involve him in the running of the farm, so why not?
“Sure. I can always use the help. I’m not paying you though.”
He snorted. “Didn’t think you would. The labor is free.”
“Because you own the place,” she said and then wished she hadn’t. They’d made progress last night, and here she was shooting it up with both barrels.
He shrugged as he got out his own mug and set it under the nozzle. “Well, yeah, I do. But anything I help you with benefits us both. We split the profits, remember?”
“Only for a year, which is already half up. Then you keep everything.”
“Which is why you should agree to sell sooner rather than later.”
Mind-blowing sex and then coffee.
Ellie frowned at the voice in her head. Not where she wanted her mind to go this early.
But her eyes had a different plan as they slid down Max’s back, over his fine rear end, and then back up to broad shoulders. When he turned to face her again, she took another sip of coffee and hoped her cheeks weren’t red.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. She would think about it. That was not a lie, even if she already knew the outcome.
Max’s brows drew down and then he laughed. “Sure you will. Humoring me, Ellie?”
She shrugged. Now why did he make her insides warm up when he joked with her? “I said I’d try to be objective. Maybe I’m perfectly serious.”
He snorted. “Nice try. You aren’t serious. Not yet. You’ll get there, but not overnight.”
“You never know.”
“I know,” he said, taking his coffee and going over to the table. “But I appreciate that you’re working at it.”
Now that just made her feel guilty. She wasn’t objective. Not at all. “Do you want some cereal? I have corn flakes and Cheerios.”
“Sure. Cheerios sounds good.”
She brought the box and milk, then retrieved bowls and spoons from the cabinet. He let her go first and then he poured his own. She didn’t look at him while they ate. She hadn’t had anyone at the breakfast table with her in over two years now. Miguel ate at home, and Lacey usually came out later in the morning.
“How big is this house?” Max asked as they ate.
“About four thousand square feet, I think. I close off most of the rooms in summer and winter. It’s just me, so it makes no sense to heat and cool all this space. In spring and fall, I open the doors and let the house air out. I managed to get a couple of the windows open last year, one at the front and one at the back, so there’s a cross breeze. I just haven’t had time to work on the others.”
Max (7 Brides for 7 Brothers Book 5) Page 5