“He never married again, obviously. He didn’t date, either. I’d say he fucked his way through Western Montana. I didn’t keep track, but I agree that he had a thing for…barely legal women.”
Chance runs a hand over his face and my stomach sours. A rich old guy flashing his cash—and his dick—would definitely interest some women, no matter how young.
“Then why did you stay? I mean, you could have just up and left,” Miles says.
Chance pokes at a piece of chicken on the platter. “I never loved my dad. He was pretty much always an asshole. But I loved the land. Still do. Dealing with him was the sacrifice I made for what I wanted out of life.”
“To be a cowboy,” I say.
“Rancher.”
“If the big hat fits…” Miles points to the Stetson sitting on the counter.
Chance shrugs.
“Well, don’t let that man put you off your food,” Mom gestures to the bowls and platters before us. “Tell me about Carly.”
“I can do that,” I tell her, “but we should talk about Greg and our plan for getting the plane back in the air.”
I’d rather talk about the gorgeous brunette, but we’re here in Seattle for a reason. We only have a week and need to get on it. Fast.
“The way we figure, Austin will fly the routes,” Miles says. “I’ll work with you, Diana, on putting out a job posting and getting someone hired. Meanwhile, Chance can go beat the shi— crap out of this Greg guy.”
That lifts the mood and we all laugh.
“Sounds like a plan,” Mom says. “I especially like the part where Chance kicks Greg’s butt. I can call up the applicants we didn’t accept when we hired Greg. Should hopefully only be some phone calls. And maybe some background checks. Eat up, boys. We’ve got work to do.”