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Annoyance rumbles in my throat—half sigh, half growl. As a finance manager, trust in my clients is imperative for us to work together. “If you want my help, you’ll have to provide more than vague responses. I’m not willin’ to get involved with anything illegal.”
He runs his hands through his hair, and sighs. “I assure you I’m not involved in anything illegal. It’s a long story. Can’t we open a new bank account? I can add you as a signer.”
“What?” I ask horrified.
“Isn’t that what I’m payin’ you for?”
“No, it’s not what you’re payin’ me for,” I say, standing. He slides behind me. “I’m not an accountant. I don’t write checks, and pay bills. I invest. I’ll call Marty and see if she will pick me up. Call me when you have your affairs in order.”
His strong hands push into the top of my shoulders, encouraging me to sit. “Please,” he says with desperation. “I can’t trust anyone else.”
As I sit, he stays behind me. His presence distracts me from his words, but a second later, they crash into me. He knew where I worked. He planned this. I spin on the stool and face him. “You lied to me.”
“I’m sorry.” While he said the words, his smile tells me he doesn’t feel apologetic.
“I’m willin’ to accept your apology if I get an explanation.”
His forehead crinkles. “Promise you won’t leave.”
“I can’t do that.”
The heavy sigh from his lips, along with his sad frown, warn me whatever he’s about to say is something he doesn’t like to talk about. “My grandfather is Edgar McCoy.”
I’d already figured he was related to the cattle moguls when my boss laid into me. “That isn’t much of an explanation.”
“You’re bossier than I remember,” he laughs.
“And you’re as elusive as I remember. Do you want my help or not?”
“I do.” He scrubs his face with his hands and exhales loudly. “When Granddaddy died, his grandchildren received a trust fund that would be granted to us at twenty-six. Granddaddy hoped we’d be mature adults by then and wouldn’t be tempted to blow it all. The fund has been managed by a trustee who also happens to be McCoy Cattle’s Chief Financial Officer. I turned twenty-six last month and cut ties with the McCoys for good. They’re bad people.”
“Why?” I press.
He hesitates until I grab my purse. “My father, and years of family drama I’d rather not discuss,” he admits, which I’m positive was difficult for him.
“I’m sorry, but I’m still not sure why you’d come to me. I’m not an accountant.”
“I don’t want anything to do with my father. He hasn’t claimed me as his own since I was twelve-years-old. And I don’t want to do business with any friends of my father’s. Around here, that’s kinda difficult. I found out where you worked, and I knew I could trust you.”
I smile on the inside, which is ridiculous, but if he found out where I worked, he must have been thinking about me. Knowing that makes me deliriously happy.
Understanding washes over me. Where he’s coming from is a tough place to be. These small cow towns are great for raising families, but everyone knows your business. His father not claiming him since he was twelve explains why I never knew Battle was connected to the cattle McCoys. The severed relationship between father and son breaks my heart.
“That’s why you didn’t want anyone else at my office to handle your account?”
“Yes.”
His life sounds like a pretty darn ugly mess I shouldn’t get involved with, but I want to help him. As pushy and controlling as they are, I can’t imagine feeling alienated from my family.
“I’ll help you, but you still need an accountant. I know someone who has no idea who your father is.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. If Ginger knew, believe me, she would’ve told me. She’s a CPA and works alone.”
He tilts his head. ”Your friend Ginger’s a CPA?” I nod. “Huh, I would’ve never thought.”
“Oh, now, Mr. McCoy, you didn’t put my friend in a box, did you?”
