by Jillian Neal
Beverly shook her head. “Dear, I’m certain Meridian isn’t interested in hearing about our stock issues.” The sharp edges of her pointed smile were enough to make Meridian bleed. Jack instinctively pulled her closer. “Just the woes of running a business, of course.”
Meridian squared her shoulders against Jack, and he eased back. The woman didn’t need his protection no matter how badly he wanted to provide it. She leaned in for the kill. “I can sympathize.” She went so far as to pat his mother on the hand. “You should try keeping up with stock that moves of its own accord, not to mention that barrels don’t frequently get lost or killed by storms, snakes, and coyotes. As for taxes,”—she took a slight sip of her punch as if she were thoroughly enjoying the conversation—“cattle ranchers pay full sales tax on equipment, feed, medicines, and then pay land tax on every acre. Of course, we are aware that without paying taxes we wouldn’t have roads to drive cattle trucks on, fire stations that help with spring burns, schools, police, hospitals—since cattle ranching is a dangerous job—and every other foundation of civilized society. So, I do know a thing or two about running a profitable business that benefits us and the community, Mrs. Denton.”
Jack’s heart gave a thunderous applause. “I forgot to mention that her undergrad is in business with a specialty in supply chain management. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
“Well, you know, I wanted to help the family cows,” she sneered at his father.
J.D.’s booming laughter filled their end of the dining room. “You should hire her, Palmer. Surely that would get the boy back to Kentucky.” He gestured to Jack like he was one of the Wedgewood salad plates—an item to be loaned out as they saw fit. Jack made no effort to hide his eye roll. Perhaps movement would remind all of them that he was a real, live boy who’d cut his own marionette strings.
“Perhaps I should,” Palmer spoke between his clenched teeth, and Jack couldn’t remember ever having so much fun at River Chase.
“I appreciate the offer”—Meridian seemed to be having almost as much fun as Jack—“but Jack and I both love working together for Holder County.”
Jack nodded. “I’ve never had a job I found more fulfilling, and I’m not just saying that because I get to work with her every day, although that is priceless to me.”
J.D. was still chuckling. “Oh, come on, son, everyone can be bought for something. Name your price for you and Meridian coming to work for Denton Distilleries.”
Palmer huffed and puffed like the wolf in children’s nightmares. “You mind your own whiskey, J.D. It’s always been easier for you to spend my money than your own.”
J.D.’s eyes sparkled with what appeared to be greed. “I just want to hear the kid’s price.”
Jack’s eyes fell to Meridian. He just needed a hit of her lethal intelligence and her brutal beauty before he turned back to the ugliness of the conversation at hand. “We aren’t for sale, Mr. Hirsch.”
Ellen came to her husband’s rescue. “Bev, how are we with the donations for the art auction? I’ve narrowed down two of the”—she waved a perfectly manicured hand as if to shoo away a fly—“art auctioneer sites. Although one is entirely too eager if you ask me. I plan to bring it up briefly at the ladies’ tea later in the week.”
Jack’s mother pulled on her best admonishment expression. “I wouldn’t do that. We don’t want to take away from Tiffany’s gathering.”
“I suppose you’re right. We are running out of time. That was my concern.”
“The auction will go off without our having to take away from the bride-to-be. She’s been through so much already.” She shot a pointed look at Jack. “What is the charity this year?”
“The Getton Gallery, same as last year. It’s for their new wing. You know the one they built a few years ago was somewhat unsightly, an oversight by the director apparently.”
Bev gave a knowing nod. “Yes, well, I heard the director spent rather a lot of time in Paris last year, so perhaps it would be more prudent for her to stay in Louisville and do her job.”
“I heard the same.”
Ah, how the wealthy loved their pet charities. A way to appear benevolent to the onlookers while doing nothing but lining their own pockets on the back end. Jack was certain Denton would be paid mightily for supplying the whiskey for the event where the new and unneeded gallery wing was revealed.
As the appetizer courses were whisked away by the staff and bowls of the chef’s famous—at least in Kentucky—Greek egg and lemon soup were placed before everyone, Jack’s mood improved slightly. It was one of his favorite dishes, but he doubted his parents even knew that.
Meridian was seated close enough to him that he felt her stiffen beside him. Trying not to call any more attention than was already being directed at her, he leaned and brushed a kiss on her cheek which was the perfect cover for his question. “What’s wrong?”
She turned to him with a loving smile he refused to put much stock in—she was a decent actress after all—and spoke between her teeth, “Do I eat this or put my hands in it?” Confusion and irritation fought for dominance in her eyes. One always begat the other.
Since there were still several dinner guests rather interested in the two of them, Jack matched her grin. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” he stated audibly. That did absolutely nothing to quell the panic in her eyes, but it definitely made it appear that she’d whispered her affections to him and he was responding. He looked down at the soup as if he’d just noticed it was there. “Oh, this is the egg and lemon soup I was telling you about on the flight this morning. I’m so glad you’ll get to try it. I’m no good at making it, or I would’ve fixed it for you before.” He downed a hearty bite. “Give it a try,” he urged.
She managed a nod and did reach toward her silverware, but she didn’t quite get to the spoon. It took quite a bit to shock Meridian. He’d seen her prosecuting cases that would have baffled most. Occasionally, the most shocking things would come out of someone on the stand, and she handled them all like she had ice water running through her veins. But his vow had her wide-eyed and staring at him like he’d just announced his intention to set the table on fire for fun.
He gripped her thigh and gave a gentle nudge trying to wake her out of her stupor. That worked somewhat. She did at least start to eat.
“This is really good soup,” she even admitted a few minutes later. “I bet Mama could teach us to make it. She can make everything.”
“I’m on board for a Leigh Holder cooking class anytime.” Jack meant that sincerely. He loved being around her family anytime they would have him.
His mother’s eyes narrowed, and somehow her nose rose even higher in the air. Of all the things that should’ve irritated her, he wouldn’t have thought him learning to prepare soup would be one of them.
The dinner misery and gossip droned on for another two hours. Meridian was constantly fidgeting and smoothing her dress until Jack was concerned she was going to rub the silk thin. As much of a possessive asshole as it made him, the thought of her thighs suddenly being visible to anyone but him had him tipping the glass of iced sweet tea harder than was advisable. He needed the slap of ice to cool him off.
Chapter Twenty-One
Certain she was overthinking every single thing, Meridian continued to let Jack telling her that he loved her too pummel her mind. There was such confidence in the way he’d said it. Like he said it all the time without any doubt. Not without thought but without question. As if he did not only love her, but he knew she felt the same way about him. It was actually genius. No one suspected that she’d been about to dunk her fingers in the soup.
And god, it was really good soup. Ugh. This night, this stupid estate, his insane family…it was all too much. All she really wanted was to climb into her favorite sweatpants and curl up with a new season of The Great British Baking Show now. Since that was absolutely not going to be happening, she resigned herself to whatever else was heading her way.
The gentle tense
of his bicep as Jack cut a bite of the bourbon pecan pie heightened her awareness of him. The fork slipping between his lips, the flex of his ridiculously perfect jaw, the tender smile he gave her just before wiping his mouth on the linen napkin were all some kind of bizarre pie porno or something. So, maybe sweatpants and British television weren’t all she wanted. “Are you okay?” he whispered discreetly from behind the napkin.
No. Nope. Definitely not. “Yeah, I’m just a little tired,” she lied.
He immediately set down his fork. “We can go.”
Clearly, he was also losing his mind because they were still trapped at a table with his parents and half of the population of Louisville. “Not yet,” she admonished.
Concern tensed in his dark brown eyes. He gave her a hesitant nod. “Just say the word and we’ll go upstairs.”
It was actually kind of sweet that he was so willing to whisk her away, but she was a little tired of all the gawking and whispers. If they left, all of these people wouldn’t bother to whisper anymore. They’d just say whatever it was they were thinking outright. She might not really care what they thought, but she wasn’t going to make being bitchy easier for them.
The heated suspicion that she was being stared at crawled up her back. Meridian turned to try to catch someone in the act. Instead, she was the first witness to Tiffany’s frantic head shake and her shoving back from the table. “What?!” gasped from her as she turned to face the woman who had to be her mother. “How could you?” Taking to her designer heels, she whisked away. As the room fell silent, the click of her heels announced her speeding up as she moved through the entry hall. The slam of the oak front door shook the rest of the house.
The quake seemed to shake Brenton into action. “Tiff?” He raced after her.
Everyone sat in stunned silence. All eyes turned toward Tiffany’s family. Her mother waved it off like it was no big thing. “Just wedding nerves,” she assured.
Meridian’s eyes met Jack’s. “That wasn’t nerves,” he whispered.
“Do you think he’s cheating on her?” It was the only thing Meridian could think of that might’ve elicited that reaction.
“I doubt that, but I certainly don’t know.”
Before Meridian could contemplate further, his mother grasped his hand. “I think you should go check on her.”
Jack’s face contorted into irritated confusion. “Why? It has nothing to do with me.”
“I think it might,” Beverly insisted.
Meridian recognized Jack preparing to go into full legal battle, with irrefutable evidence, as to why he had nothing to do with whatever was up with Tiffany. But he didn’t get the chance. Brent returned and headed directly toward Jack. He shot a nervous glance around the room before leaning between Jack and Meridian. “Tiff wants to know if she can talk to you.”
Jack’s mind scrambled. None of his past experiences had given him any training in how to handle his ex-fiancée requesting to talk with him a few days before her wedding to another man.
Offering Meridian a nervous glance, he tossed his napkin down in his plate. “Do you mind coming outside with me?”
“Not at all.” Meridian folded her napkin, stood, and took Jack’s hand. He couldn’t help but make comparisons. Going to talk to an ex would’ve had Tiffany threatening to tell her father about Jack’s behavior. Meridian did not seem intimidated at all.
He reminded himself that of course she wouldn’t be. They weren’t a real couple. Nothing about this was a reality. If only he didn’t long for it to be his reality more with each passing moment, he would’ve been able to handle Tiffany with a lot more ease.
Following after Brent, he guided Meridian out of the dining room. Every single eye in the room trailed their footsteps. When they were out of earshot, he caught up to Brenton. “What is this about? I haven’t spoken to Tiffany in years.”
Brent stopped short and turned around. “My sister let it slip that the Fitzgeralds are divorcing. Tiff’s completely freaking out.”
Meridian’s cringe echoed Jack’s internal one. That was why a marriage to Brent was so important. They needed access to a legendary PR spin to avoid their stocks bottoming out. A tug of empathy pulled on Jack’s heartstrings. He felt sorry for both of them. The children of the barons were nothing more than game pieces moved at will of the markets and the whims of their parents.
Tiffany had always been the ideal pawn. She always did whatever her parents wanted without question. That was part of what Jack came to despise about her. She had no thoughts of her own. Until that moment, someone running out on a dinner party would’ve been all she gossiped about for weeks on end. Until it was her. Until it was your own world shattering around you. Until every grain of sand slipped through your fingers. Until every string unraveled. Then running was the only choice. He’d been there. He knew.
He still wasn’t certain what her parents ending their marriage had to do with him, but he supposed he was about to find out. They were heading toward the ivy-walled center of the award-winning Denton garden. Following Brenton under the lavender trellis, Jack tried to draw a deep breath. Tiffany had a well-known and well-proven temper.
Instead of righteous indignation, he was met with a woman shaking with tears. Her hands trembled. Brent rushed toward her, but she waved him off.
Turning her tear-stained eyes on Jack, she drew a shaky breath. “Why did you…call off our wedding?” Her voice fractured on what he suspected was the truth he was certain she was not prepared to hear.
It would only crush her further, so he flipped through the largest reasons—I didn’t love you. I refused to be a pawn for my parents anymore. I can barely stand to be around you—and scrubbed his hand through his hair instead. “We…would’ve been a disaster together.” There. That was another truth.
She gave him a shuddered nod. “Okay. Then, why did you propose?” Another round of tears threatened her eyes.
Jack looked helplessly at Meridian. He didn’t know what to say. Surely Tiffany did not really want the real answer to that. Meridian squeezed his hand. “She deserves to know the truth. Her whole world was built on lies,” she whispered.
Tugging at his tie, he went on with it. “It, uh, was what I was”—he cringed—“instructed to do.”
To his shock, a hint of relief dried a few of her tears. She turned on Brenton. “What about you? Why did you propose?”
Brent bought himself a few seconds by clearing his throat. “I think you’re beautiful, and smart and sweet.”
Tiffany managed to roll her swollen eyes. “At least he told the truth.” She threw a manicured hand toward Jack. With that, she whisked from the walled garden.
“But I am telling the truth,” Brent called after her.
They all followed her out. She took off at a run. Jack knew better than to chase her. His family had chased him, and it had only made him run farther faster.
“What do I do now?” Brent demanded.
Meridian answered before Jack could think of any advice. “Let her go. I’m sorry. I get that you really might be in love with her, but she has the right to figure this all out on her own.”
“Do you really love her?” Jack asked. “Or did your family jump at the chance to have a tie to Fitzgerald Whitney Distributions?”
The weight of the truth hung Brenton’s head for a few breaths, but he snapped it back up to stare Jack down. “Both. It’s both.”
“Then give her some time. Maybe you two can find something good to hold onto in all of this.”
“I don’t even have a ride,” Brent whined.
Meridian and Jack both rolled their eyes. Jack slapped him on the shoulder. “Can’t help you there. I was flown here.” He grabbed Meridian’s hand as she started back toward the house. “Come with me,” he begged.
She spun back. “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere but back inside there.”
And there it was—that genuine, dazzling grin that accompanied her nod. “Sure.”
Brent backtracked to them. “Can I say something before you two go?”
“Sure,” Jack agreed.
“You need to get her out of here.”
Jack had been expecting a threat to stay away from Tiffany, something he would’ve gladly complied with, but he was dumbfounded with Brent’s demand.
Meridian edged closer. “Why do you say that?”
Shaking his head and gesturing to the vast lawns and buildings around them, he said, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s this place. I mean, look at what they did to your brother. And to you,” he added suddenly. “I used to be so jealous of you, especially after your engagement to Tiffany Fitzgerald was announced. It made me furious that you never seemed like you cared about her. I would’ve treated her better.”
“I know you would’ve,” Jack assured him.
Brent’s head lifted. “But now that I see the way you look at her,”—he nodded to Meridian—“I get it.”
“You get what?” Meridian urged.
“The way you’re supposed to look at the woman you love. I don’t know if even I look at Tiff the same way you look at her. So, maybe you should just get her out of here now. Maybe it’s River Chase. Maybe…it’s all of our parents. I don’t know.”
Still processing every word Brent had said, Jack prompted, “What don’t you know?”
“Don’t let them ruin what you have. They seem to ruin everything good. Everyone’s furious that she’s here anyway. I don’t see how you two are going to be able to get away unscathed.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Meridian refused to outwardly display any of the three-tailed tornado of emotions that whipped through her. Her hand was still clasped safely in Jack’s as he walked her farther and farther away from the estate house. He said nothing, so she remained silent as well.
Moonlight filtered through the maple tree branches casting an otherworldly glow on the path as they walked. She had no idea where they were going, and nothing frightened her more than the fact that she was willing to follow him anywhere without question.