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“So you came to warn me, huh?” I say, keeping my tone light despite his meddling. Landon might’ve mentioned something, but Damian is very protective of our little sister.
He gives a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t really give a damn about this situation.” Damian’s eyes flick to mine briefly before darting away. “Why is it even a situation?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Damian has always been emotionally clueless. As Lee says, his emotional intelligence is that of a teaspoon. There’s no way he’d understand why McKay’s presence is problematic. I can already imagine him blurting out something obtuse like: “Genie’s not your family.” Relationships outside his little bubble are incomprehensible to him.
“You don’t have to worry about it,” I say tiredly, hoping to end this pointless conversation. “I have everything under control.”
He sets his jaw stubbornly, skepticism brewing in his eyes. Some things never change.
I sigh, softening my tone. “What’s on your mind?”
“The last time you had things ‘under control,’ you lost the vineyard,” he says accusingly.
I clench my jaw, biting back a scathing retort. Fuck, we’ve been over this a thousand times. “I didn’t lose the vineyard. I just decided not to buy it. Now can you please leave?”
“It was supposed to become part of the Harris estate. Now it belongs to Landon and Holden Miller,” he presses, a hint of his old resentment creeping in.
I let out a sharp laugh. “Landon, our brother-in-law and best friend? Wow, I can’t imagine what it would be like to become your enemy.”
“And Holden, don’t forget Holden owns it too,” Damian adds pointedly from above me, his jaw tightening. Some things never change.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. How could I forget their mysterious feud? They used to be inseparable until Holden went off to college and they inexplicably stopped speaking. Damian still refuses to share what happened between them. But it’ll be interesting to see how they interact when forced together again once Holden returns next year.
“You need to let things go,” I say wearily.
Damian’s eyes flash with anger. “This is just like everything else. You don’t give a fuck about anything.”
I bite my tongue to keep from snapping back. He couldn’t be more wrong, but it’s pointless to explain that other things matter more to me. I choose to focus my energy on the small brewery, the orchard, and the farm—more than enough for one person to manage.
That’s exactly Damian’s problem. He wants to control everything, as long as it means bossing people around. The only thing he actually enjoys doing is working at the ski resort, which he’s damn good at. I just wish he’d leave the rest of us be.
“There’s more to life than the bottom line,” I tell him before taking a large bite of my sandwich. “Try having a life.”
“It’s not like you have a family like Lee,” he says dismissively, but I see a flash of envy in his eyes that disappears just as quickly as it showed.
“Are we going there?” I ask, swallowing. He’s older than me, yet I don’t see him settling down anytime soon. “You’re still sleeping around with the guests.”
“I find it relaxing,” he says with a careless shrug.
“Until you knock someone up.” I give him a pointed look.
“That was Landon, not me. I’m careful,” he states, glancing around shiftily.
The doorbell rings, and Damian slips out the back as I go to answer it. My breath catches when I see McKay standing there, looking beautiful in a cozy sweater and jeans that hug her curves. Her chestnut hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders. I have to tear my gaze away, reminding myself I need to keep my distance, no matter how strongly I’m drawn to her.
“Hello?” I stare at her, caught off guard. “Are you lost?”
She shakes her head, chestnut waves swaying. “Grandma sent me with cookies.” McKay lifts her hand, and I see she’s holding a bag of pumpkin cookies, my favorites.
“Thank you?” I say uncertainly, eyebrows raised.
“Earlier, I told her how we met and she wanted me to come thank you for taking care of me when I needed it.” She presses her lips together bashfully. “Actually, I really appreciate what you did that night. I’m not usually like that, you know?”
“What exactly are we talking about?” I dare to ask, rubbing my neck awkwardly. “You drank a lot, came on a little too strong while we walked toward your house, and then there was the striptease.”
“I stripped?” she squeaks.
“Nah, but you talked a lot.”
