The Mechanics of Mistletoe - Liz Isaacson Page 0,77

that question was blatantly obvious—she’d pushed Bear Glover away.

The worst part was that he’d let her.

No, the worst part was that she didn’t know why she’d pushed him away. The reason lingered right on the edge of her mind, but she couldn’t grab onto it. It danced into the darkness every time she looked at it.

Anger rose within her that this glorious, amazing moment had been tainted with self-doubt and insecurity. Anger, Sammy knew what to do with. She let it grow and burn out of control as she sat in her truck, and she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be figuring out.

The anger allowed her to focus on the task in front of her. Completing tasks passed the time quickly, and if Sammy could stay busy enough and angry enough, she wouldn’t have to wonder if she loved Bear, and she wouldn’t have to examine why she’d deliberately put distance between them.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Bear looked out the window at the gray sky. It echoed how he felt inside, and he struggled to pay attention to what Ward said. His cousin stood near the far wall in Ranger’s office, using a clicker to move through a set of slides he’d prepared for their annual budget meeting.

Sometimes, when major decisions needed to be made around the ranch—like when Bear had torn down the original homestead and built a brand-new one three times as big—all of the Glovers got involved. There were twelve of them, and they all had a vote on huge things that would take a lot of ranch money and resources.

Bear and Ranger got swing votes if necessary, as did Ward and Cactus, as they were the second-oldest brothers on each side of the family. They’d never had to use those swing votes, though, and Bear was grateful his family got along as well as they did.

“Bear?”

“Hmm?” He pulled his attention from the clouds, which should open at any moment and start to pound the ranch with rain. He looked at Ranger, but he nodded toward Ward, because it was him who’d spoken.

“Sorry,” Bear said, his unrest quaking inside him. It had been three weeks since Sammy’s father’s accident. Bear had texted her a few times, but when he got one-word answers, no calls, no explanations, and nothing else, he’d stopped.

He’d missed Halloween with Lincoln, and that actually sent anger through him. It was November now, and he knew Sammy celebrated her birthday this month. He desperately wanted to be there, and he’d actually been toying with the idea of presenting her with a diamond for her birthday.

Not anymore.

“Do you think we’ll need to call in the family for the Ranch Home?” Ward asked, exchanging a glance with Ranger.

“I don’t see why we would,” Bear said. “Everyone approved this place, and we’re not building a new house. It just needs to be remodeled.”

Ward nodded. “I could send an email at least.”

“Sure,” Bear said, looking out the window again. “Send an email.” He didn’t care. He just wanted to drive down to town and see how Sammy was doing. Maybe it he went about four o’clock, he could hug Lincoln too.

His jaw set, because he knew he wouldn’t do it. Sammy had been upset with him for stepping in and helping her father, who had fallen. She wouldn’t appreciate him just showing up at her shop out of nowhere.

You’ve done it before, he told himself, but things were different now.

“Okay,” Ward said. “I’ll get that out today. Our twenty percent investment this year went to Texas Instruments. We’ve seen the strongest return from them in the past decade, and we haven’t invested there in three years.”

He continued with the investment portfolio, but Bear was familiar with all of it. Every year, the Glovers took twenty percent of their calf sales and invested it in a Texas-based company. Ranger had learned this trick from his father, and Uncle Bull had been an amazing investor. He’d taken the money the ranch had earned from the oil sales and quadrupled it in only five years.

Ranger and Ward now ran the investment arm of Shiloh Ridge, and that was how they kept their bank accounts healthy, everyone paid, and constant improvements around the ranch.

“And last,” Ward said with a sigh. Bear turned back to the wall where he’d been presenting, a distinct impression that that frustrated sigh was meant for him. “We’re going to remodel the five central cowboy cabins this winter too. The flooring hasn’t been replaced in fifteen years, except for