Cowboy Baby Daddy

“Because my father and I had a verbal agreement when I was younger, when I started my education, that I was the one who would take over when he was gone,” I said.

“Uh huh. Well, your father must have had a reason for not reflecting that in his will.”

“A father’s word to his daughter is more binding than some piece of paper after he’s died,” I said. “I would like to know my options, please.”

“Well, there aren’t many. All of the paperwork I have at my disposal here requires agreement from both parties. A mutual settlement, if you will,” the lawyer said. “I do have paperwork you could serve him with that would take him to court under the pretense that you feel he is mentally incapable of running the company. But, that would mean you were declaring him mentally unfit, not merely unintelligent on the subject.”

“I could argue that. My stepbrother’s a nut,” I said.

“Miss Harte. I cannot imagine the heartache you are going through. I have not lost my father yet, but my advice to you is—”

“I am not paying you to be my psychologist,” I said.

“Technically, you aren’t paying me at all. Your father’s company is, which has been passed along to your stepbrother. So, your stepbrother is paying me.”

I had to choke back my words and steady my breathing. Simply hearing that statement being put together made me sick to my stomach, and for a split second, I wanted to slap my purse across his cheek. No one understood. My father bound me to this company. I’d read every book, devoured every manual, took every class, and studied every single piece of equipment he’d ever crafted. I sat at his feet while he worked, cuddled in his lap while he looked over files, and even helped him order things as a child so I could familiarize myself with what he did to feel closer to him.

Furthering his legacy in this company was all I had left of my daddy, and Christian was ripping that from me.

“What would I have to do to get you to represent me in this matter?” I asked.

“I represent the company, Miss Harte. Not your stepbrother. Yes, the owner of Harte To Heart is paying me, but he has to seek out my counsel in order to utilize my services.”

“So, you’re not on billable hours with him right now with anything regarding the company?” I asked.

“No, Miss Harte. I am not.”

“Good. Because I’m about to put you on billable hours for something I’m going to hire you for. Is that a conflict of interest?” I asked.

“No, it is not.”

“Good. Look into my other options that would not force me to declare my stepbrother mentally inept. I have no issues taking him to court,” I said.

“I’ll take a look at the options, prepare the paperwork, and give you a call, Miss Harte.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for your bill,” I said.

I picked up my purse and left the office the same way I had come into it the day before; I marched down the hallway with my head held

high, and my shoulders rolled back. I didn’t want anyone thinking they could trample over me during a time when my emotions were running high. That was when people took advantage of women most. People thought that emotions made women weak and wild-minded, and I was anything but.

I was more mentally clear than ever right now. I knew what my father’s company needed, and I would stop at nothing to make sure Harte To Heart obtained it.

I took a deep breath when I got into my car, settling my mind before lunch. Greyson had called that morning expressing a want to take me out, and I figured I could use someone in my corner. I needed to get out and about to clear my head, and I could vent to Greyson in the process.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, kissing me on the cheek.

“Hey,” I said, sighing.

“Long day?” he asked.

“Long couple of days. The wills were read yesterday, and it’s taken me some time to figure out what to do about it.”

“Ah, the plight of a business owner,” he said.

“Nope.”

“What?” he asked.