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Suddenly, it seemed important to get her out of this room as quickly as possible. “How about some coffee?” He started toward the hallway that would lead to the kitchen.
“It’s a little late in the day,” she said.
“Okay, something to drink.” He looked back over his shoulder at her. “I’ll see what I can rustle up.”
He waved for her to follow as he started down the hallway. Once he was halfway to the kitchen, it hit him that she might not want to come this deep into his house. With their family history, he wouldn’t blame her. It was almost a relief to hear the tap-tap of her heels on the wood floors behind him.
The kitchen was something he was proud of. He and his wife had redone it a couple of years before her cancer diagnosis. It was probably already out of date, but they’d at least brought it into the current century. He couldn’t say the same for his living room.
Once he was in the kitchen, he headed to the left, where the refrigerator and pantry were. He was already doing a mental inventory of the contents of his refrigerator. He wasn’t the best housekeeper, and as the ranch had started to struggle, he’d gotten rid of the woman who came in once a week and did all his grocery shopping, laundry, and cleaning. As a result, his refrigerator was usually filled with to-go containers and sodas.
The sound of heels on the kitchen tile reminded him that Bobbie was right behind him. Water. Bottled water would be perfect. He stepped back and looked at her.
“I have water, diet soda, and regular soda,” he said.
“Water will be fine.”
Grabbing two bottles of water, he pushed the refrigerator door shut with his elbow. Bobbie was standing just inside the doorway to the kitchen. He nodded over to the small table in the breakfast nook that had a view of the pond. His house overlooked it, as did Chase, Elijah, and Everest’s homes. Phoenix and Cassady’s houses were across the street.
“Impressive view.” Bobbie pulled out the chair directly facing the window. He couldn’t blame her for taking that spot. That was his favorite place to sit when he ate breakfast.
“Thank you,” Gus said.
He took the seat next to her. He could have sat directly across from her, but that would have obscured her view.
After sliding a bottle of water over to her, he uncapped his and took a long sip, suddenly self-conscious of his every move. This woman seemed to have that effect on him.
“My family is at odds over this whole property thing,” she said, staring out the window with a thoughtful expression. “Forty percent of revenue is a bit much, wouldn’t you agree?”
He would agree, and he’d told his kids as much. They were far angrier about all this than he was, although he did think it was unfair that the Ludington family had been profiting off his family’s land for decades.
“I had no idea the land wasn’t ours,” she said.
Her gaze shifted to his face then, and anything he might have prepared as a response flew right out the window. That one look just scrambled all his brainwaves.
But her brainwaves were apparently fine because she sounded both eloquent and calm as she continued. “If I’d known, I would have spoken up long ago. I believe in doing what’s right, and it was wrong what my father-in-law did to your family. I cannot, in good conscience, rip you off. The property is yours.”
“It just seems like we could come to some sort of reasonable arrangement without lawyers,” he said, guessing that was where she was going.
Bobbie took a deep breath and nodded. “My late husband was pretty old school, as was his father. Neither of them would have believed in communicating through attorneys. It has nothing to do with what it’s costing us.”
“It seems to have worked out well for Brendon and Georgia.” Gus smiled to let her know he meant that in a teasing manner. “They’re both dating our attorneys now.”
She didn’t respond at first, having shifted her stare back to the pond behind his house. Finally, she said, “I suppose you’re right about that.”
“My dad would have been the same,” he said. “You would settle things like men over a couple of beers. You shook hands, and that was that.”
Now she was looking at him, and Gus wondered if he was doing that thing again. Sometimes he was a bit backward when it came to relations with the opposite sex. He’d never had to worry about impressing a woman, having married the only girl he’d ever loved. But both his daughters had asked him numerous times to stop calling waitresses “hon’.” Even his sons had started to call him on some of his behavior.
Misogyny, they called it. Back in his day, it was just plain old sexism.
But if that bothered her, she didn’t show it. Instead, she said just one word.
“Trust.”
Trust. The word caused his eyes to widen a little. He had to backtrack to get the context of what she’d just said. They’d been talking about men agreeing to things over beers. Beers and handshakes.
“Trust?” he asked.
