Reckless (Mason Family 3)

I look at my eldest brother, my eyes pleading. It only makes Holt start laughing again.

“Come on, Holt,” I beg. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t make me talk to Anjelica. She’s mean.”

Wade sighs as he gets up to refill his coffee cup. “Okay. Enough. I don’t have all day to waste. What are we doing with the Banner property? Is it a go or not?”

“Knowing very little about the Banner property other than what we’ve said here today because I’ve been neck-deep in the label shit,” Oliver says, folding his hands in front of him, “I think we should keep looking. It’s not wide enough to do anything with, and zoning in that area is a nightmare.”

Oh, Ollie.

I sigh.

I don’t want to start sharing my opinion with my brothers because then they’ll want to discuss it. They’ll expect me to contribute. Every time I do this, I think they see potential in me, and I don’t want that.

Then again, if I don’t share my opinion, Holt is likely to listen to Oliver. And Oliver is wrong.

“Zoning is a nightmare,” I say, still trying to talk myself out of opening my mouth, “but there are two things to consider.”

“Two things? Please share with the class,” Wade says, sitting back down.

I look at him. “First, the director of building and zoning is retiring—or so says Bill Hendershott. We had lunch last week while you guys were golfing with Gramps.”

Oliver’s brows lift. Holt nods appreciatively. Wade looks impressed.

“What were you doing having lunch with Hendershott?” Oliver asks.

“I played basketball with his son, Mikey, back in high school. We keep in touch a little, mostly on social media. Anyway, Mikey was in town, and they wanted to have lunch and catch up, so I did. You’re welcome.”

Wade tries to hide his chuckle.

“The likely replacement seems to be Zaraton, and she eats out of our, meaning my, hand. Second,” I say, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible, “the Banner area may not be wide enough right now, but it will be.”

My brothers stare at me silently.

I straighten the collar of my shirt. While I may not love business stuff and I avoid getting involved, the moment when I impress them is usually pretty great. I can’t lie.

This is no exception.

“The three hundred acres or so to the east of the Banner property—the one held by the Greyshell Trust—they have a problem with access,” I say. “Right now, they access it through the Banner parcels, but that will be shut down as soon as someone buys it and nixes the permission. Greyshell knows that. They’re landlocked on all other sides, and from what I hear, they’ve pissed everyone else off with the diplomacy of a wounded badger, and no one will give them a right-of-way.”

Wade narrows his eyes. “You’re missing something. They’re legally entitled to access. Even if they can’t access it through the Banner parcel, the county will have to ensure they can get to it.”

“Yes, you’re right,” I admit. “They have legal rights to access the property, but they do not have a legal right to run dirt bikes and four-wheelers through there, which is what they’re doing. It’ll cause a bunch of problems, and they know it.”

Oliver sits back down. “So, what are you saying, Boone?”

“I’m saying that if you send the right emissary to whoever controls Greyshell, that maybe they’ll sell to you too.” I sit back in my chair. “It won’t be cheap, but think of all you could do with Banner and the three hundred beside it. That area hasn’t been incorporated yet—meaning the price is as low as it’s going to get. The city is encroaching, which we know. I would think it would be better to get Banner and Greyshell than just Banner. And I think that getting both of them is very much worth our time.” I smile at them. “But what do I know? You’re surprised I’m even here.”

I thought about saying that I’m just a pretty face, but even I have to admit that our faces are a little too similar to isolate my own. I’m more debonair, though.

I should’ve led with that.

Holt’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. This—my knowledge about land acquisition, not my debonair looks—is speaking his language. I halfway wonder if his girlfriend, Blaire, has to talk business to him in bed to get him turned on.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Wade says, grinning. “You do know how to work.”

“I never said I didn’t know how. I just said I don’t like it,” I say.

Oliver smiles. I can tell it pains him. “You do realize it makes it that much more asinine that you refuse to cooperate on anything when you come in here and actually contribute on this level.”

“I realize,” I deadpan.

Holt laughs as he picks up his pen. “I like this, Boone. I’ll have legal get started on finding out who controls Greyshell, and we’ll go from there.”