Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Gracen whistled suggestively. “I guess we should stay clear of the workshop downstairs, too?”
Delaney didn’t reply other than a quiet, “Well …”
That only set their laughter off again.
“Get it,” Gracen murmured approvingly.
Yep.
That was the plan.
“Not sure how long I’ll be able to keep Malachi away, though,” her friend added. “Not once he knows Lucas is here, that’s all I’m saying.”
“You’ll manage it,” Delaney returned with a suggestive smirk. “I’m sure.”
Gracen shrugged under her loose, flower-printed blouse. “Oh, probably.”
For all his complaints about hating to drive long distances in the past, Lucas had none about making the trek on his last weekend of the month, that wouldn’t include coaching the peewee team, to spend it with her.
After that, who knew what would happen?
His proximity to Saint John—four hours away from her now—was a necessity. Currently. He made that clear to her, like it mattered to him, so she dared to hold onto the promise that something good waited for them on the horizon.
What it was …
Delaney couldn’t wait to find out.
But she would.
Lucas was more than worth it.
Chapter 34
“I know you said you wouldn’t take my calls this weekend,” came the familiar, crackly voice of the only solicitor Lucas would ever use.
The shakiness in Lawrence’s voice was the only show of his eighty-three years, over fifty spent acting as a lawyer. The Bluetooth in the Bronco made the man’s rattly voice more apparent when Lucas allowed the call through. He didn’t like to chat while he drove, but the trip from the bridge connecting one side of a small valley town to the other was just a short stretch away from the road leaving the town behind—into a mountain where he had already been forewarned provided no cell service.
If he had to answer the call, now would be the time.
“And yet, here you are—calling,” he noted to Lawrence as his navigational directions in the background told him to turn left at the end of the bridge in fifty meters. “I’d like to hope that means good rather than bad things.”
“That depends on how deep down a legal rabbit hole you’re willing to go with your father, Lucas,” replied the old lawyer who should have retired two decades ago.
Once my mind goes, the man would say.
“It’s an expensive, deep hole,” Lawrence added after a moment, “but I’m sure you’re already aware of those things. I know you’re a smart, sensible man.”
If nothing else, Lucas appreciated that his solicitor maintained a certain level of respect and professionalism, no matter the circumstances. He made Lucas feel like a friend whenever he visited the man’s offices in Rothesay just outside of the eastern side of the city, but sitting across from the age-weathered man who never showed up to work without his suit and tie was a good reminder about the wise.
“Of course,” Lawrence went on while Lucas remained quiet on the other end of the call, “the Dalton family secrets have padded my bank account in the past, so I do understand these grudges can hang on. It’s up to you, Lucas.”
Right.
“So, why did you call?” Lucas asked, bringing them back to the most important item at hand.
“I had breakfast with Hanny—”
“Chandler Timothy?” Lucas asked, calling his father’s lawyer out by name, despite the friendly nickname Lawrence used for the man that was well-known in his larger circles.
Lucas didn’t feel the same way—not to use it, anyhow.
It might have something to do with the Ronald connection, and not to mention, how the lawyer had threatened to keep Lucas tied up in fifteen or more years of litigation if he sold even one percent to anyone outside of his father. Fifteen years that would drain Lucas of most of his wealth just to keep control of who he sold his ownership of the brewery to.
The prick.
Lucas called the bastard’s bluff, anyway, and bought himself some time.
Hence, his visit to Lawrence.
“Hanny is a friend, he assured me it would be worth my while. I think it was.”
“I’d love to know how,” Lucas returned, “seeing as how the last month saw my face and name in the Telegraph Journal at least once a week painting me as some entitled, rich fuck trying to soak his father’s company for millions. Did you see those articles?”
Lucas was way over Ronald’s friends at the newspaper. Maybe the slander wasn’t as open and brazen as Lucas spelled it out to his solicitor, but the underhanded implications hidden between every goddamn line was unbearably clear to him.
“Did you consider that’s why Ronald got those articles printed in the paper?” Lawrence asked back.
Lucas blinked at the confusing question as he came to a rolling stop behind a Ford pick-up at the end of the bridge. “I’m sorry, what?”
Lawrence chuckled. “He knows it bothers you—do you think anyone who has worked with you from the time you were a young man until you sat in the high offices above them really believe, or are telling anybody else, that those things in the paper are true? In case you missed the other side of the equation in those pieces, the brewery has faced more than three walk-outs by employees since your departure, as well. Ronald knows he’s in hot water. Trust that.”