No Quick Fix (Torus Intercession 1)

“You were very young,” he said softly, those sweet, dark eyes of his missing nothing.

“Yeah, I was,” I rushed out, nervous, because I wanted him to like me and I was worried I was blowing it but also thought I owed him the truth and not the sugar-coated version of who I was. “And because she died, my dad needed more help than normal parents do, and so I’m really not sure if you want me to be the one who—”

“Well, I think that perhaps since you missed out on having a true childhood, having a redo with my girls might do you a lot of good.”

I’d missed that he was insane when I walked in the door. “I dunno about that,” I said, coughing softly. “I wouldn’t wanna mess up.”

His attention remained focused on me, so I plowed on.

“Which is why my plan was to take care of all the other crap you’ve got going on so you can focus all your attention on your girls,” I said cheerfully, and the ta-dah was implied. Clearly, I would be doing him a favor.

He nodded. “Which would be marvelous, except that where I’m failing right now is doing all the things I’m supposed to do for them in addition to my regular job, plus serving on the board of Darrow, plus this three-ring circus of a wedding.”

His nuptials needed a ringmaster was what he was telling me.

“The day-to-day running around is where I’m failing,” he said, sounding sad.

“Like how?” I pushed, wanting to know.

He shrugged. “You don’t want to hear all my—”

“No, I really do,” I assured him.

He stared at me, and it would have been unnerving, but I read it on his face—he was deciding about me just as his daughter had.

Quick breath. “All right, so two days ago, I was at a board of directors meeting, and even though I left on time—which everyone on the board was peeved about—I got stuck in traffic coming home and was late to get my kids.”

“So you need a chauffeur for your girls is what you’re telling me.”

“Among other things, yes,” he admitted, his grin almost embarrassed. “Because if I could have you sit on that board instead of me, I’d be thrilled, but that’s simply not possible.”

“Why don’t you just quit?”

“Because then they could take the company away from the girls, and I don’t want that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, the money I make there will send them both to college someday, which is vital, and it’s also their legacy. Darrow is the company their grandfather started, so I want it to stay in the family because it’s what Andrea wanted.”

Which all made sense except that it seemed to be making him miserable. “Is it more what she wanted for you and the girls, specifically, or about the land?”

“She wanted the land to be protected.”

I squinted at him. “Seems to me that if you gave the land to the state of Montana on the stipulation that it be turned into a park—I mean, wouldn’t that solve all your problems?”

“It couldn’t be mined that way, no, but neither could it be used by the ranchers who let their cattle graze on it now,” he pointed out. “Plus, the federal government might be able to come in and overturn the designation of state park status and allow the land to be strip mined.”

“I see.” I sighed, giving him a hint of a smile. “So you’re protecting it for your wife because that’s what she wanted.”

“Yes.”

“And so Cahill is your best bet long-term, then.”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Which is why the merger,” I concluded logically.

“Exactly.”

How did I ask any more when it was none of my business?

“You find this antiquated.”

I’d been staring at the toe of my right brogue boot and not at his sharp-angled face, but when he made the statement, my eyes returned to him.

“Arranged marriages still occur in this day and age, Brann,” he murmured, and my name sounded rich and warm, almost like a caress coming out of his mouth.

“Yeah, but not for trees and cattle,” I said, shrugging.

“I suspect for much less in certain parts of the world.”

“Yeah, but not in Montana,” I said, scowling at him.

“Regardless, Lydia is very nice, and she’s invested in the growth of the town and in being a caretaker of the community.”

He sounded so logical, and yes, she sounded great, but it was still not a good enough reason to marry her.

“The marriage is smart,” he said, and I had a feeling that maybe I wasn’t the one he was trying to convince. “It’s for the best.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you’re judging me.”

“I’m not,” I said honestly. “Only you know what’s best for your girls.”

He leaned on the counter, watching me. “We’re friends already, Lydia and I, which is an excellent starting point for any long-term relationship.”