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)
“I’ll be driving tonight,” Lucas said, speaking only to the server as he handed his menu over. “No drinks, thank you.”
“Got it,” she replied. “Anybody else ready?”
Refusing to engage his father more than he had to took conscious, consistent effort from Lucas. Especially when Ronald ordered four glasses of whiskey for the table, and a bottle of red wine that would apparently go well with the steaks. The lawyers waited until their clients had ordered before they, too, opted for the special coming out of the kitchen. Once she had all the orders noted into the tablet in her hands, Marley left with a promise to me back soon with drinks.
“No better time, then?” Chandler asked Lawrence.
Lucas’ lawyer’s bushy brows lifted high at the question when the man across the table lifted a legal file to place on the table between them.
“Might as well get a start on it, Hanny,” Lawrence agreed.
The boring legalese that started to be tossed back and forth between the lawyers at the table was a bit much for Lucas. There was a reason he never made a bit for law school when college came up in his life a while back. He wouldn’t apologize or make excuses for zoning out when Chandler opened the file and started with a glossary of terms that could be expected in the final agreement between Lucas and his father.
Instead, his mind traveled to Delaney.
Had the doctor seen her yet?
Did she know if her pregnancy had been lost?
The universe had a special way of fucking with Lucas like nothing else could or did. He should put his attention on the conversation at the table, and the question Ronald had just asked Lawrence about the thirty-day window for the money to be transferred, but all Lucas could think about was the woman he’d called home.
He even checked his phone, using the distraction of the other men at the table to his benefit, just in case Delaney had sent a text message.
But he found nothing.
The not-knowing added on top of the dinner that would be surely full of careful conversation to keep the peace with Ronald left Lucas on edge.
Just a little.
And maybe a bit distracted, too.
“We’re going to have to discuss that,” Ronald said gruffly, folding his arms over his chest across from Lucas. An irritated stare landed on him, bringing Lucas back to the conversation at hand.
“We’re discussing what, now?” Lucas asked Lawrence.
The lawyer shifted his stare from Lucas to Ronald, but then down at the table when he filled in the blank, saying, “The Jacob Dalton Foundation. We’re talking the trademarks and other things. There could be future problems with the same and its connection to—”
Lucas turned his attention on Ronald.
Zero to sixty in a blink.
Had his father done that on purpose?
It didn’t even matter.
“Do you hate us that much?” Lucas asked Ronald.
He hadn’t expected the frank question if the way his stony expression cracked with surprise was any indication. The other two men at the table shifted awkwardly in their seats, one clearing his throat while the other resituated the water glass away from his plate even though he had yet to drink a drop from it.
Ronald, to his benefit, didn’t look away from Lucas. “How I feel about you or your brother has little to nothing to do with the brewery’s registered—”
“Oh, get off it,” Lucas snapped. “How did you even get wind of the foundation when nothing has even been announced? The non-profit registry only came through a few days ago, for Christ’s sake.”
“Easy,” Lawrence muttered under his breath. “We are in public, and nobody wants to get kicked out of this establishment. Some of us eat here regularly. Keep it in mind.”
Right.
Then they might not be allowed back.
Shame, Lucas thought.
He couldn’t care less.
“The brewery’s IP lawyer has alert systems in place should anything come up that challenges the trademarks or other registered marks of the Dalton Brewery company,” Chandler explained, shrugging. “The filing, and your approval, is a matter of public record.”
“I’ll change the name,” Lucas deadpanned, moving in the opposite direction.
It didn’t matter.
The foundation didn’t have to be named after Jacob to memorialize him and the difference Lucas wanted to make for young men and boys just like his brother.
Ronald moved in his seat, grunting something under his breath to the lawyer beside him. The table quieted when the redhead from earlier returned with a tray full of drinks, and the bottle of red wine. Once everyone confirmed they were happy, she left the table once more with a promise that the food shouldn’t take more than an hour.
Fuck.
That long?
Lucas managed to keep his complaint to himself.
Someone else, not so much.
“There’s barely three mouthfuls of whiskey in there,” Ronald bitched about the glass of liquor with more ice than whiskey.
Chandler chuckled at his client’s despair. “Ah, oh, well. Take the drink you wanted Lucas to have—he’s not interested.”