“We can’t make a decision like that on the fly,” Nick countered.
“Understandable. You all need to talk about it. In the meantime, my assistant, Everett Keller, is checking into the Laramie Inn. We’d like to have dinner locally. So if you could recommend a place with fresh fish. Shrimp. Scallops. Salmon.” MR picked up on Sage’s distaste. “Something wrong?”
Sage shook her head. Nope. Nothing to see here.
But the ever-probing venture capitalist wouldn’t let it go, so Nick placed a comforting hand on Sage’s spine. “Sage got sick on shrimp early in her pregnancy. Just thinking about it makes her ill.”
An understatement if there ever was one. She couldn’t even look at recipes. Never mind photos of the cooked food. And she was a chef! Hopefully, the malady would pass. But for now, a simple whiff made her toss her cookies. Pronto.
“I see,” MR said.
When clearly she didn’t.
Eager to discuss something other than her continuing battle with morning—or in some cases, evening—sickness, Sage wrote down the name of a bed-and-breakfast located a short distance away. “They have an executive chef that’s on par with the best in Dallas, and the menu and wine list to go with. You’ll need reservations. But if you tell them you’re here to do business with Nick and he recommended it, I’m sure they’ll find a way to fit you in this evening.”
“Thanks.” MR looked grateful.
“No problem,” Sage said.
She’d do whatever she could to help Nick.
Short of ruining everything and marrying him, of course.
* * *
“MR IS RIGHT,” Hope Lockhart said, a short time later, when Sage and Nick went over to her brother and sister-in-law’s home. The four of them gathered in the kitchen of the Victorian, while one-year-old Max sat in his high chair and ate his dinner of green beans and diced meatballs.
A crisis manager and public relations expert, Hope had guided the family through several calamities since first meeting them the previous summer. “While there are many customers who won’t care whether you or Nick ever tie the knot, there are others who will be up in arms over it,” Hope told them gently. “You don’t want to lose any potential business right out of the gate. Not if you want this venture to be a success.”
“Think of the plus side,” Garrett added, from his place at the stove. Winking, he gave the boiling pasta and spaghetti sauce another stir. “Mom will be delighted.”
It was all Sage could do not to groan. “Did you all tell her yet?”
Garrett shook his head. “Like we said a while ago at the store, that news is yours to deliver, sis. I just wouldn’t wait too long.”
“Want to do it now?” Nick asked, as he and Sage turned down an invitation to stay for dinner and left.
The sun had set, leaving the quiet residential street bathed in the yellow glow of the streetlamps. Stars shone overhead.
Feeling the need for some support, Sage tucked her hand in Nick’s and rested her chin on the solid warmth of his upper arm. “First, we need to talk about what we’re going to do.”
He caught her other hand and turned her to face him. “I don’t expect you to marry me, Sage.”
But clearly, she thought, it was what he wanted. A simple solution to a very thorny problem. “You heard what MR said. If we don’t, your deal with her firm is likely off.”
Nick shrugged, a distant look coming into his eyes. Sage felt about a million miles away from him. She didn’t like it. In an effort to understand what was going on with him, she asked, “Did you ever tell MR you felt trapped here in Laramie?”
His broad shoulders tensed. “Not in so many words.”
“So she inferred it?”
He nodded curtly.
Which had to mean, she knew Nick pretty well. Pushing aside a surge of unexpected jealousy, Sage gently pushed for more information. “Why would she do that? What did you tell her?” That you haven’t told me?
“When I first approached Metro Equity Partners we talked a lot about the fact that the store, the custom boot-making operation and the ranch have been in my family for four generations. The fact that the women have always run the mercantile operation, the men the ranch.”
“But at some point all that changed.”
“When my mom and dad died in the accident when I was ten, my oldest sister, Erin, took over everything. She sold off all the cattle, but she ran the store.”
“She also raised you and your three older siblings, right?”
Nick nodded gratefully. “Along with her own kids, yeah. But when she married Mac Wheeler and they added a set of twins and another baby to the three they were already raising, Erin needed to take a break from running Monroe’s for a while, and just concentrate on her family life and custom boot-making—which she really loves.” He released a breath. “So at my suggestion, she spun her custom boot-making operation off into a separate business entity, while I took over at Monroe’s. And when she and Mac moved to Amarillo for his work, I put aside my own plans to work for a big corporation in Dallas or Houston, and stepped in permanently to run things here.”
“No one else could do it?”
“It wouldn’t have made sense. I was the business major in the family. My brother, Gavin, studied medicine. My twin sisters, Bess and Bridgett, are both nurses. Plus, the three of them all needed to be closer to the hospital and their patients, so while they got places in town, I moved back to the ranch to take care of the horses, too.”
This was something he rarely talked about. “Doesn’t sound like you had a lot of choice,” Sage said.
He shrugged. “I’m the youngest. It’s my turn. And the way I figure it, a business is a business. And since my goal is to build Monroe’s Western Wear into what it could be—not just what it is—I’m okay with it.”
She understood concessions, because she had made more than a few of her own. Often unhappily. Knowing the kind of resentment that could fester, long-term, she asked, “Would you be okay with losing this venture capital deal because of conditions I put on our arrangement?”
His expression inscrutable, he worked his jaw back and forth. “I’ll find other investors.”
It wasn’t that easy. If it had been, she sensed he would have done this five years ago, when he first took over the family business.
She ignored the quiver, low in her belly, her need to comfort him in a very elemental way. “How long did it take you to interest Metro Equity Partners?”
“Eighteen months or so.”
Which, Sage knew, could feel like a lifetime when you weren’t getting what you wanted. She couldn’t bear to see him disappointed. Not when she was getting everything she wanted—primarily,
