Clashing Hearts - Nicky James Page 0,18

land. Small town folks have a lot of pride. You go in guns blazing, he won’t listen. You need to make a no-pressure offer, then he might lower his defenses. At the very least, he’ll consider.”

“You know, you would have been the better choice for this one.”

Silence filled the line. Christian talked about pride, and it was something he had an abundance of that constantly got crushed or stepped on. For all his faults, he was a strong player in this company. Dad refused to see it, and I spent too much time ignoring it.

“Whatever you do, Lach, don’t try to get in his pants again.”

“Jackass.”

“I’m serious.”

“And I seriously don’t want in his pants now that I know who he is.” I stopped wearing out the floorboards and stared out the window. “Anything happen at work Friday I should know about?”

“Not really.”

We chatted for a few more minutes about random accounts and Dad’s visions. When we got off the phone, I was filled with an abundance of restless energy. It was too early to visit the brewery, and there wasn’t anything else in Jasper that interested me since skiing season was at an end.

I changed into my swim trunks and wandered to the indoor pool to do laps. I wasn’t a runner or a weight lifter, but I stayed fit by swimming and playing tennis.

The lodge’s indoor pool was quiet, and no one bothered me while I pushed through a hundred lengths. By the time I was finished, I sat on the edge of the pool, catching my breath with a world less tension in my shoulders and a plan for the following day.

Relaxed, showered, and dressed to impress, I headed out, figuring there was no better time to check out the local brewery and get a feel for this small mountain town. If I discovered there were plenty of accommodations in town and no need for a new lodge as Christian predicted, at least I could bring that information home. First-hand knowledge was better than Christian quoting facts he’d found online.

Besides, Dad would listen to me a thousand times over before he considered anything that came out of my brother’s mouth.

I found street parking a few blocks from the brewery and took my time wandering the street, taking in my surroundings, and noting all the storefronts, boutiques, and people milling about. It was clean, and the air was fresh. There was a boulevard separating either side of the road, and the shops sported sloped roofs and large windows. Not a single building was run down. Their paint was fresh, the colors vibrant and earthy, and there were open patios for restaurants everywhere.

It was too cold for my blood to even think about eating outdoors, but some people braved it.

When I was a few stores down from my destination, a clip-clopping sound behind me drew my attention. Spinning on my heels, my lips parted as I watched a horse-drawn carriage coming down the street. There were people in the back of the wagon, waving and smiling. Young and old. Children, parents, and babies.

The horses were giant and wearing blinders. Their driver was fully decked in denim with a cowboy hat and boots to match, reminding me of a particular man I’d seen earlier that day. Except it wasn’t Easton. This guy was much older and rougher around the edges—not half as attractive.

The sign on the side of the carriage advertised Campbell Stables and Riding School.

“Is this for real, or have I fallen back in time?”

“Oh, it’s real, all right. Three times a day on Saturdays and Sundays. Tourists just love it,” said a woman I hadn’t noticed, who was standing close by, holding a toddler on her hip so the little girl could see the wagon drive by.

“A horsey,” the kid said, pointing.

I glanced around, but the other residents of the town were unaffected by the appearance of a horse-drawn carriage in the middle of the road. Like it was normal or something. Meanwhile, I was convinced I’d been sucked back in time.

“Interesting,” I mumbled.

But when the smell of livestock hit my nose, it was less interesting. It was disgusting. I cleared my throat and held my breath, pitching a face as I ducked around the woman and her kid to find escape indoors. So much for crisp mountain air.

The brewery was impressive. Vast arched ceilings with cross beams and a natural wood finish invited comfort. Long, high tables stretched from one end to another. An oak finished bar top

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