Lone Star Holiday Proposal

Mellie sat down at the small table in the center of the room. “I’m glad I have a chance to talk to you today. I just wanted to let you know that I’m definitely not letting the Courtyard go. It’s not for sale. Not now, not ever.”

Raina felt a swell of relief flood through her. “You’re serious? Everything’s going to be okay?”

She’d heard, along with everyone else in town, about Homer Winslow’s financial issues and how he’d put Winslow Properties into financial jeopardy. It had only served to increase her anxiety about her position here.

Mellie nodded. “Definitely. Even if Winslow Properties’ resources won’t stretch far enough, and I believe that with some restructuring they should, Case has assured me that he will back us financially if need be.”

Raina didn’t quite know what to say. She filled two coffee mugs, put them on the table with shaking hands and sank into her chair. This was incredible news.

“I’m sure you know how much this means to me, Mellie. Thank you for telling me now. It’s the best Christmas present I could have imagined.”

“I thought it best to give you peace of mind as soon as I knew, and I wanted to do it myself. I know how much it means to you to be here and how hard you’ve worked.”

“But what about Samson Oil? Are they going to back off now? Seems they’ve been busy buying up everything that’s for sale around Royal and some of what’s not.”

Mellie nodded her head. “Yeah, I know. It certainly looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“And why? Everyone here knows the land isn’t worth squat for oil, and with the drought even ranching isn’t so viable. What are they thinking? Do you know who is behind it all?”

“No, all I know is that their attorney, Nolan Dane, is one stubborn guy. Every time we say no to selling, he bounces straight back with another offer. Honestly, if I hadn’t taken over from Dad, Winslow Properties’ portfolio would be looking very slim indeed.”

Raina gasped out loud and reeled at the name that had come from Mellie’s mouth. Nolan Dane? A giant fist clutched at her chest and squeezed tight, making it nearly impossible to draw breath.

“Raina? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, feeling anything but. She forced herself to take a breath, drawing it all the way in before letting it out again. “A-are you sure Nolan Dane is their attorney?”

“He’s certainly the person we’ve been dealing with. And I’ve heard from a few of the stall holders and retailers here that he’s been sniffing around, asking all sorts of questions about the operation and about Winslow Properties. He won’t have any excuse to come out here now though. Our lawyers sent him a message today categorically stating that the Courtyard is not, and never will be, for sale. At least not as long as I’m running things,” Mellie confirmed before taking a long sip of her coffee. “Ah, this is good—just what I needed. I have a meeting with our board in—” she glanced at her watch “—oh, heck, twenty minutes. I’d better fly! Thanks for the coffee. I’ll see myself out.”

Raina remained glued to her chair in shock as Mellie put her mug in the sink, grabbed her coat and headed out of the store. Nolan was acting for Samson Oil? Did that mean that everything he’d done had been in the pursuit of getting an edge on Winslow Properties and buying the Courtyard?

She felt sick as she remembered how open she’d been about her situation. About how much all this meant to her here, to be able to start up her business again after the hellish year she’d had. And all the time he’d been planning to rip it all out from under her. Pressure built up inside her chest, growing bigger and more painful until a sob broke free. She clapped a hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to hold back the grief she felt at Nolan’s betrayal.

She’d really thought he liked her—and JJ. And all along he’d simply been using them both. This hurt far worse than anything Jeb had done. He’d made empty promises, sure, but never anything like this.

Raina tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling of the old barn, willing the burning in her eyes to stop before the tears that already blinded her began to fall. Man, she could pick ’em, couldn’t she? Did she have some sign over her head, visible only to losers and liars that said, “Soft touch and fool”?

After Jeb she’d sworn never again. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes—not when she had JJ to consider. She’d guarded herself and her privacy, spurning male attention on the occasions it had been offered, making it clear that her son and her business were her sole priorities. Until Nolan.