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“A minor one, yes,” I added. “But that is not just the reason she is in town. She’s there to finally do what we always expect her to do and take over the family’s business.”
Dad harumphed and shook out his paper. “Be careful with that one, Ethan. She was her father’s understudy for years and saw everything he did. I fully expect her to mirror her father’s dirty tricks.”
Oddly, I felt insulted on Mia’s behalf. “She is not going to stab me in the back, Dad. She’s not like that.”
He peered at me. “How do you know that? She is a Sullivan son. They do not care who you are or what you’ve done. They will step on you, trample you into the ground, and walk off as if you did not matter at all. Don’t expect them to look back either.”
Now, I was getting pissed off. Truthfully, I had no right to be so defensive—I did not know Mia at all—but my gut feeling told me that she was not a traitor. Why would she come clean and try to apologize to me when she had felt her dad had tried to screw my family over?
It's just a shame she didn’t show me the same mindset when I told her the full truth.
As much as I wanted to defend her a lot more—I had no fact to base my purported argument on then again, as much as I hated it, Dad was right—she was a Sullivan. The history between us was not a good one, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t let my guard down for trivial, unactual reasons.
Until Mia shows me that she isn’t like her dad, then I’ll believe her.
“I have to go,” I replied. “I’ve got to get back to the Meadery. You know it’s just past Harvest, and we’ve got a lot of restocking to do.”
“About that,” Mom began, and I suddenly tensed at the tone. It was thewhen-are-you-going-to-meet-a-good-woman-and-give-me-grandbabiestone. “I wish you would take some time away from the office and go meet someone. You’re getting older, Ethan.”
Sometimes, I wished my instincts weren’t so right.
“It’ll happen when it’ll happen,” I told her, kissing her cheek. “As for now, I have to get back into the trenches.”
Dad gave me another look, reminding me about Mia, but I pretended to ignore it and left the stodgy clubhouse. I was so glad I’d managed to escape the ‘your-mom-and-I-married-in-our-twenties’ lecture and hopped into my car. I knew Mom had the right to be concerned, but I was busy twenty-four, seven, three sixty-five and had put my romantic life on pause—the blip of what happened with Mia notwithstanding.
That was something I could never, ever, in the light of day, tell my parents. Mia’s dad might have had a semi-heart attack, but I was sure that story would send my dad to the grave.
While heading home, my mind refused to stray from Mia and the reaction she’d given me that night. My hands clenched on the steering wheel.
“Is it that she is conflicted about getting the best sex she’d had in ages, or is it that she’s conflicted that I was the one who gave it to her? She must have thought she was sleeping with the enemy…literally,” I mused.
The Bluetooth connection on my Range Rover connected, and I answered Benji’s call. “What’s—”
“They called, bossman,” Benji sounded giddy. “The Texas meat guys. They’re giving us up to Christmas on a trial run, three months to pair the best mead we have with five select cuts of steak, sirloin, tenderloin, flank, short rib, and rump. All we have to do is pair which cut goes with which, send our decision back, and they’ll take it from there. I printed out the updated contract; all you have to do is sign on the dotted line.”
I grinned, victory dancing before my eyes. “I knew they would. I’ll review the paperwork as soon as I get it.”
When we disconnected, I paused and shouted, “Yes!”
All the way back home, I brainstormed what cuts would go with our select meads, but then I wondered if we could go a step further. People usually love three stages of their meat, right—I used to be a strictly medium rare kind of guy—but Cole eats medium, and our dad loves rare; so, what if we went a step further and gave them pairs for all three preparations of their mead?
I would run the idea by Indie and Jenna later on, but all in all, today was a win.
ChapterTwelve
Mia
Nothing was going right—absolutely nothing.
The days seemed to trickle by with no word from the guys in Texas; Dad was being stubborn, Mom was getting frustrated, and to top it all off, Ryan came down while I was in the kitchen with his duffel bag over his shoulder.
My stomach sank.
“Hey, sis,” he grinned and kissed my cheek. “I’ve gotta go back to the Institute.”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop referring to the school as if it was a prison.”
“The town is called Fort Collins,” Ryan laughed. “It’s a prison.”
