“Your grandfather wasn’t responsible for your father’s failings.”
“You’re right. He wasn’t. But even the smallest gesture would’ve meant a lot to my brother and me. To my mom. A little help with money. Some sympathy. One goddamned kind word. The only words your husband ever offered were advice about how my mom could’ve held on to her man.”
“Maybe it was good advice.”
“Yeah? Did he offer the same helpful suggestions to you when he kicked you out and moved his new wife in?”
She gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. “Shane Bishop! How dare you!”
“It’s Harcourt,” he muttered, already pissed at himself for lashing out at an old woman. He opened the door of his truck and slid in. “I know you hired a curator for Providence, and I know why you did it. A cute move, but a waste of money.”
“It’s what your grandfather wanted!” she yelled, any pretense of civility gone.
“What he wanted was to piss me off. So I guess he wins again.”
Shane slammed the door and drove away, leaving Jeanine Bishop glaring after him. God, he sometimes wondered if he ever should’ve started this. He hadn’t wanted anything from the Bishop family, and when he’d been informed about the land inheritance, his first word had been no.
No, he didn’t need anything from his grandfather. More than that, he didn’t want anything. He’d told the lawyer to start the process of selling the land. But in the days that had followed, Shane had reconsidered. Why shouldn’t he get the land? Didn’t he deserve something to go along with all the pain of being his father’s son? And if his brother ever reappeared, he’d deserve something, too. Shane had been named the sole heir, but did he have the right to give it all away without even talking to Alex?
That was when the insult had sunk in. The sharp stab of his grandfather’s final stubborn point. The land, but not the money. The Bishop legacy, but not the comfort.
That was when Shane had gotten pissed.
If his only recourse had been to sell it, he would have. But his lawyer had presented another possibility, to challenge the change to the will, and Shane had jumped on it. Hell, maybe he didn’t deserve the money, but he knew for damn sure that a bunch of falling-down buildings didn’t need it more than he did.
No matter what Merry Kade might think.
Shit. He’d known better than to touch her. She was going to be pissed enough when she found out who he was. And now there was this between them? Thank God she’d stopped him before it had gone any further.
He had to talk to her tonight. He’d been too busy to go out to Providence this morning. Or else he’d been too chicken, still uncertain exactly what had happened the night before. Had he pushed her too hard? Had he misread the signals?
He’d also been painfully conscious of the fact that at 2:00 a.m., desperate for sleep, he’d finally let himself imagine what might have happened. He’d imagined her beneath him, her nails digging into his back, her voice crying his name as he buried himself deep inside her. Now he’d have to face her as a friend, and pretend that hadn’t happened, and hope that the sight and sound of her didn’t arouse him.
He growled as he pulled up to the curb of the Stud Farm. Cole’s truck was there as well, so he wasn’t the least bit surprised when his best friend popped through the front door and raised his hand in greeting.
“Hey,” Shane said as he got out of his truck. “I guess it’s been a couple of weeks. How’s it going?”
Cole’s limp seemed to have completely disappeared, and Shane nodded as his friend walked down the sidewalk. “It’s great,” he said. “Sold off most of the yearlings and moved the rest of the herd up to the high pasture, so I can take an hour or two off. How about you?”
“Busy season, but it’s good. Listen, is Merry home? I need to talk to her.”
Those words wiped all the open friendliness from Cole’s face. His jaw clenched and he stared hard at Shane. “Christ, man.”
“What?”
“I thought Grace was just being paranoid. Damn it, Shane, are you moving in on Merry?”
“No!” he said automatically. Then, “Wait. What do you mean, ‘Damn it, Shane’?”
“Come on. You’re not exactly the kind of guy we’d choose for Merry.”
“We?”
“Yes. We. Merry’s kind of a little sister to me now.”
“And what the hell am I?”
Cole crossed his arms and glared at him. “You’re my friend, but you don’t exactly have a great history with relationships.”