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“I barely know them,” I say, truthfully. “But I really want to talk to your brother. Make sure the story I’m doing on the ranch is balanced.”
“What you need to get is out of that ranch as quick as you can, hon. Those boys are all sorts of messed up. Especially Trey.” She shakes her head sadly, and it seems she’s forgiven me for being there about the Hollisters since I don’t really know them. “It’s such a waste, because all four of them are hunks. Even the youngest one.”
I know I shouldn’t inquire further. I know it. But I can’t help myself. I wouldn’t be a journalist if my curiosity didn’t get the better of me regularly. “What do you mean?”
Amber leans back in, something like sick glee on her face that I asked. “Let’s just say I know exactly how overprotective and creepy that Trey is. You’d be best getting out of there soon as you can and get back to your own business.” She stands back up straight and shrugs. “Just some free advice for you.”
Again, the urge to defend the Hollisters is on the tip of my tongue. I grip the breakfast bar and force a smile. The aluminum edging is cool under my hands. “Thank you for the advice,” I finally say. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
She gives me a short nod and turns to fill up a glass of the iced tea I ordered. “No problem, hon. Jed should be in any minute. I’m sure he’ll chat with you for a few minutes.”
The desire to poke at her, even a tiny bit, to get more information about why she thinks Trey Hollister—who, as far as I can tell is as nice and chivalrous a man as I’ve ever met—is creepy. But before I can come up with a way to do so without sounding overly defensive—or, even worse, interested in Trey—the bell over the door rings and I turn to look.
The man who enters the diner is a couple years older than Amber, but I’d bet every dollar in my wallet that he is Jed Burke, her brother. He shares the dark blonde hair, and dark brown eyes. And they have the same nose and sharp jawline. He’s good looking, if not to the same degree as the Hollisters.
“Jed!” Amber calls out, confirming my suspicion. “You got a surprise meeting over here.”
As his sister nods toward me, Jed’s eyes narrow. But he doesn’t turn around and leave, thankfully. Instead he comes and takes the stool next to mine.
“I’m meeting who, exactly?” he asks, eyeing me up and down just a little too long for my comfort.
But I hold out my hand anyway. “Jessa Long, nice to meet you Mr. Burke.”
“Jed,” he says, taking my hand and shaking it half a second too long. Like the Hollisters’, his hands are callused and carry scars. He’s a man who works with his hands for a living—not someone who manages his ranch without getting out and working. “I’ll have my regular,” he says to his sister. She nods and disappears into the back.
“The waitress and the cook, I bet she stays busy,” I say.
“How can I help you, Miss Long?” Jed asks, getting right down to business. Apparently talking about how hard his sister works isn’t the icebreaker I was hoping it would be.
“Jessa, please,” I say. “I’m out here writing an article about the Lazy H—the Hollister ranch. But I want the piece to be balanced. And I hear you’re the man to see about the other side of the story.” It pains me more than I imagined to say that. Silly as it sounds, I’m already firmly in the Hollister camp. But I take pride in my work. If writing a good piece means listening to the Hollisters’ detractors, then that’s what I have to do. “I’m interested in their new environmentally-focused changes. Trying to get a handle on how their neighbors and the rest of the town feel about all of it.”
He grunts and relaxes somewhat. “I’d say you’ve come to the right man.”
“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” I ask, pulling my little digital recorder out of my purse.
“I’d rather you not,” he says gruffly, eyeing my digital recorder suspiciously.
Dammit. It is so much easier when they let me record them rather than taking furious notes. But Jed Burke doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to argue. In fact, my purpose for being here made him look far more irritated than when he walked into the diner. “Sure, no problem.”
I drop my recorder back into my purse and turn back to him. He watches me with narrowed eyes. What the heck have the Hollister brothers done to make this man so suspicious, so angry at the mere mention of the ranch?
Poised with my pen on my notebook, I ask, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Jed, but it seems to me like you’re not a big fan of what the Hollisters are doing out there. Can you talk me through why?”
“The bullshit they’re trying to pull out there is affecting everyone’s business around them. Fucking up my business most of all.”
I start at the anger in his tone, and swallow hard. “I see.”
“They’re fucking with my water rights, and they’re screwing with my business. Everyone’s so damn enamored with how trendy and fashionable they are with all this green nonsense. So, all the big customers are contracting for their beef. As if the only thing that matters is how goddamned good for the environment what they’re doing is. A damn marketing ploy, that’s all it is, I guarantee it. The Hollisters don’t g
ive a shit about their neighbors, and I bet they care even less about the environment.”
“Jed!” Amber says, stepping out of the kitchen with two plates in her hands full of food. “Watch your mouth in my restaurant, mister.”
Amber shoots me an apologetic look, but I guess I can’t blame him. Not if his business is really being harmed. I give her a reassuring smile, and she relaxes and heads to one of the tables to deliver the meals.
“And, they just up and cancel the long-standing agreement we had between our ranches—an agreement our granddaddies started—to share their water. As I wouldn’t help with some kinda stupid project they wanted to do to conserve water. A stupid project that would cut into my bottom line,” Jed continues, this time without the profanity, at least.
I nod and do my best to look like I sympathize. Really, he’s lost the environmentalist in me, and it happened the second he sneered at the word green. But I try to keep an open mind—green is hard to care about when you’re having trouble meeting your bills. Jed hasn’t said that, exactly, but the insinuation is there for sure. “That must be really difficult.”
