Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Your brother set me up on the computer and introduced me to YouTube. I must’ve tried ten techniques that strangers on the screen recommended. But then I went to the laundry, trying to remember how your mom got everything so clean. Baking soda, Borax, and a lot of elbow grease did the trick.”
To say my dad loves me is an understatement. Taking the dress from him, I hold it to me as I hug him with my other arm. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”
“Perfectly clean?”
“Yes, but also perfect for the wedding.”
My head might hurt from drinking too much last night at a mildly wild bachelorette party that involved me drinking too many Blow Job shots without using my hands and having Deputy McCall driving most of us home—I sat in the front seat this time and was on siren duty— last night, but I arrive to the transfer of ownership meeting with our attorney on time. The meeting is being held at our kitchen table, but I’m still here along with my dad and Baylor. Barely.
I’m handed a pen before the lawyer goes through the paperwork to explain. The percentages don’t add up. “It’s supposed to be thirty-eight percent in my name, correct?” I tap the numbers on the page. “This says fifty-one percent.”
The door opens. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“Griffin.” I jump from my seat and run into his arms. “What are you doing here?” I cry into his shoulder. Getting married sure does bring out the emotions.
“Hey, baby sis.” When I step back to give him access to my dad and brother, he says, “You’re getting married. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I’m so tempted to text Tagger and share the good news, but he’s at the elementary school signing Beckett up for school and taking a tour to get him more comfortable before it starts in the fall.
As soon as they take their seats again, I hug him. “I’ve missed you so much.” Even though I’ve grown up since last seeing him, he’s bigger than I remember. Dark hair like my dad once had, and Baylor’s mop top. His eyes are blue like mine, and the spark I remember so vividly being in his eyes has returned to be a part of the festivities.
Griffin Greene is not someone we can keep up with. His life has led him all over this earth and back again. He left like Baylor after my mom’s death, but we didn’t get many texts after that, and fewer calls came through. I have no idea what he’s been up to.
And due to all that needs to get done, I’m not sure we’ll have time to catch up.
The attorney calls us over and goes through the numbers again to show me how it got to fifty-one. “Baylor is transferring thirteen shares. Griffin is doing the same. That puts it at fifty-one.”
My head swivels so fast on my neck to look at Griffin that I think I twinged it. Rubbing it, I ask, “You did that?”
“It only makes sense. Like Baylor has said, you’ve earned it. We keep some of it in our family name, but you deserve it, Christine.” He nods toward the document. “Go ahead and sign, and let’s make this official.”
I take the pen and sign my name. I don’t think it sinks in that this ranch is mine like it is my dad’s. I gave up a lot to be here, to pick up the pieces when no one could. I never imagined I’d get this kind of payoff.
When I walk the lawyer to his car, he stops and looks around like he wants to make sure we’re alone. “I have one more thing for you.” He digs into the pocket of his briefcase and pulls out more documents.
“What is it?”
“A prenuptial agreement from Mr. Grange.”
The words strike like a slap across the face. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”
“Time is of the essence, but I think he was wise to protect the assets.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What asset are we specifically talking about?”
“The ranch, the business, the farm, the orchards, and the houses on the property.”
“There’s only one house.”
He replies, “For now.”
I find the statement as confusing as this whole surprise prenuptial agreement. There was never a mention of anything or protecting ourselves from the other. So to say this feels like a blindside . . . a Mack truck hitting me and coming back for a second round is more fitting.
Taking the papers, I say goodbye and march straight into the house and up to my bedroom, ready to give Tagger a piece of my mind. If he doesn’t want to share, fine, we won’t share a damn thing, including that bed I was promised.
I flop on the bed, my head still pounding from too much alcohol last night and pull the papers from the envelope. Holding them above my head, I start to flip through pages but land on one—the division of assets. Should I have seen this coming? He’s in finance, so it would have been a stretch. Otherwise, it’s not in his character to surprise me with last-minute betrayal-nuptial agreements.