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As we walked, I asked, “Who is this man?”
“His name is Brandon West, and he owns the ranch next to mine,” John said. “He hates the air I breathe, and I have suspicions about why. First is that I am doing better than he is, even though he’s got a similar operation alongside his beef production gig, but what I think he hates the most about me is that I came from nothing while he suckled a silver spoon all his life.
“His folks own probably half of Houston’s top communities, have stocks in every automotive plant, and own an oil field somewhere. To know that a guy who came from rags is doing better than he is has stuck in his craw.”
“Ah,” I nodded. “And what is it about him being petty?”
“He’s always petty,” John replied. “It could be a tree hanging over his fence, or a bull might have strayed over there, leaving tracks on his lawn. The pettiest thing he had ever done was track me down to tell me my birds were crapping on his bulls. First, I don’t have birds, and how in God’s green earth am I supposed to control that? I was ready to raze his land and salt his fucking fields at that point.”
“Like the Romans did at Carthage?” I laughed.
“Yep.” He said just as we came to his office door, and he pushed it in.
I entered to see a man as tall as John, with dark hair and cold blue eyes. He was handsome, objectively, with his high cheekbones, a narrower nose, and firm jaw jutting arrogantly, but his eyes held ruthless savagery. Behind him stood a woman with dark brown hair down to her back, Mediterranean tan skin, and…just as spiteful as the guy.
“Mister West and Maria,” John said calmly. “This is a surprise. Would you care to tell me what the cause of this unexpected visit is?”
John was as cool as a cucumber, but I—and I think everybody else heard the true meaning of his words.What the fuck are you doing here?
“The fencing on the east line.” Brandon’s voice was cold and pompous. “I thought you had agreed to change it, and it is still crumbling. You must take care of it before one of your mediocre animals wanders over to my herds.”
“We’re taking care of it,” John replied. “This could have been an email instead of you coming over here.”
“I believe it warranted a face-to-face because this is a second warning. If it gets to a third, the law will be involved,” West said.
I could not guarantee it, but I swear I heard John’s teeth grind, but the way his jaw worked, I was sure that was the case. “The soil is full of clay, West. We needed to get the right amount of lime it would need. It will take some time.”
“I assume you are a smart man; get it done,” West stood, looked at me, and then returned to John. “And it is Miss Hernandez to you, Maxwell.”
Fury lashed through John’s eyes; his tone was as warm as Antarctica this time. “And you will make an appointment to see me instead of waltzing into my home as if you own the place.”
“This hovel?” West laughed mockingly. “Oh, please. Now, if you will excuse us—”
“You’re excused,” John growled.
The two walked out, sharing smarmy looks, and John closed the door behind them. He then turned to me, his lips bloodless. “Now you see why I am not fond of that guy.”
“My gran would say he’s gotten a stick so far up his ass; you can see it when he yawns,” I replied.
A corner of John’s mouth ticked up, and he circled his desk to slump in his office chair. Pushing it away to stretch out his long legs, he tilted his head to the side and began rubbing the side of it. “I don’t know what to do with that asshole, y’know, aside from rearranging his nose, which will call all the hounds of hell he and his rich papa have at their disposal down on me. Even worse, he’s been badmouthing me around our circles for years, calling me some hooligan, and I would have to prove him right.”
I perched on the edge of his desk, and he gave me a tight smile. “See, from what I know, that smartass went to Yale or Dartmouth or some rich Ivy League shindig when poor little ol’ me only went to Texas A&M, with a year between, just because I had to get my business up and running.”
“Well, you’re doing better than he is,” I said. “He’s probably jealous.”
“He’s an entitled asshole who is petty and likes to throw up problems in my way every step he can do,” John grumbled while reaching for his cordless and jabbed a number. “Ben, can you get Carlos and Scotty up here double-time…yes,hecame over with his passive-aggressive; well, my mistake, there was nothing passive about it. He’s on about that damn east fence.”
He waited a moment, then nodded. “I’ll see you in fifteen.”
I felt it was my time to go and said so. His face fell a little, but he nodded. “I understand. I’d wanted to show you more of the ranch, but we got blindsided a bit.”
“We did,” I agreed sadly. I did want to have more time with him, but this matter was one I knew he had to take care of urgently to avoid another visit—or lawsuit—from that prick. I got to my feet, brushed his hair, plucked out a strand of hay, and then showed it to him.
He laughed.
“Next time, I want the full tour,” I replied. “I want to see what you’ve created.”
“And you’ll get it,” John replied, his expression slipping to sly. “Maybe even more. Just tell me when you’re free.”
