King's Country (Oil Kings #4) - Marie Johnston Page 0,78
beautiful to waste on family drama. “Grams thinks I’m ignoring her.”
“And you’re still seeing me.”
“That’s all she needs.” My chest burned from the pressure of staying quiet. I’d have to tell her. Soon.
But not today.
I stood and held my hand out. “My stomach’s going to mutiny if I don’t get some lunch. Hungry?” I pulled her up but held on to her warm hand.
“I owe you a meal.”
“You don’t owe me a thing.”
“No, let’s go to the diner on Main. My treat.”
The local diner wasn’t an expensive meal, but I hated wasting her hard-earned cash on food for me. I had a fridge and freezer full of food. But if she stayed with me, and if she forgave me when I finally came clean about the trust, she could buy the whole damn restaurant.
Chapter 14
Bristol
I sat in my pickup and rubbed my clammy palms on my jeans. It was time to meet with Richard Lang about the options for my ranch. My business. I had to run it like a business, and as Dawson said, like it or not, I needed to know what my options were with regard to financing and agriculture programs.
Pop hadn’t been good at this stuff and he’d played it off like he was a lone wolf that didn’t need any help. He’d also bitten the hand that had tried to feed him. I’d learned nothing from Pop other than what not to do.
But I’d learned one more thing on my own these last several weeks. My land was good, my cattle would bounce back, and I could do more with my life than just try to survive one season at a time. Once the ranch was in the black, I could grow, and I could give back to the world. Maybe not to the people who’d shunned me my whole life, but I could be in a position to aid those who felt helpless to help themselves.
So that was why I was here. I wasn’t going to antagonize the only people in town that could help me. They didn’t want to work with me, but the last few weeks of dressing a new way and showing my face in a town I’d lived in my whole life shouldn’t be for nothing. This was me. I wasn’t Pop, and I wasn’t the Bristol Cartwright they’d all stereotyped me as. I decided who I was.
Pep talk over, I gave my palms one more swipe and got out. The heat of the sun kissed my face. Dawson was going to meet me at the deli two blocks from the bank after the appointment. I’d parked closer to the restaurant than the bank. It was a beautiful day and these sandals kept me cooler than heavy boots.
I passed the vehicles parked along the curb, not looking at any too close. I was nervous enough without wondering who I knew that would bear witness to this show. I was willing to do business with Big Dick Lang, but if he insisted on being an asshole, then I could burn an afternoon and go to Billings.
I wasn’t powerless. Dawson had ingrained that into my head. The bank had the money, but they also needed clients like me to make money. Inhaling a steadying breath, I opened the glass door to the bank. A wall of frigid ozone-laced air smacked me in the face. Goose bumps spread over my body. In my boots and work shirt, I wouldn’t have been fazed.
An older woman smiled at me over a tall desk at the entry. “May I help you?”
“I have an appointment with Mr. Lang.” I’d called the man Big Dick my whole life. Mr. Lang left a sour taste on my tongue. Depending on how today went, I might never call him that again.
She smiled. “You can go on back. They’re waiting for you.”
They? My heart sped up. I could face Big Dick. I was ready for him. Who else would be in there?
If Dawson had snuck in on this meeting, I’d be irritated. His support was everything to me, but I didn’t need to be coddled through town. I’d lived here my whole life just like him. If people treated me like shit, then—
I approached an office with glass walls. Big Dick sat behind a desk. His black suit coat gaped open to reveal the buttons straining to hold the panels of his shirt together. He looked up and spotted me. Lifting his chin, he slanted a glance across his desk.