by Jillian Neal
“Family always matters, and I want to prove our relationship to your family.”
He slowed the truck to make a U-turn back toward the country club. “This is more than I should ever have asked you to do.”
“You didn’t ask me. I’m asking you if we can go into this club and prove that we may’ve gotten a slow start but we’re on fire now. I don’t like people doubting us. That bothers me.”
“Why?”
“I like firm foundations for everything important in my life.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll build you one, even if I have to gather materials from the lions.” He went on with the warning that was brewing and bubbling angrily in his gut. “We have to be on constant alert. No one at this club owes me any favors. Their very existence is a monument to my mother.”
Meridian narrowed her eyes in determination. “Maybe it’s time for the monument to become an effigy.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Meridian’s nerves continued to weave themselves into complicated knots as they passed through massive stacked stone pillars that marked the entrance to Hearst Stone Country Club. Jack’s pallor tinged a little green, and Meridian wondered if asking him to bring her here was a huge mistake.
She gnawed her lip to keep from speaking that thought aloud and focused instead on what they were going to face that evening. It’s always better to know what weapons your opponent has at their disposal both in the courtroom and outside of it. Her law professors had hammered that lesson home repeatedly. Never put yourself in a position to be caught off guard.
Jack interrupted her internal strategizing. “The only part of this I’m going to enjoy is parking this truck right in front of the club and telling the valets not to move it.”
“We don’t have to do this if you think it’s a bad idea,” finally poured from Meridian’s mouth. She wasn’t accustomed to doubting herself, but she was entire atmospheres outside of her league. “We’ll do whatever you think is best. I trust you.” She’d wanted to say those three words to him since last night, and now was definitely the time to say it.
“Thank you for that. I think you’re right. We need to know what’s going on, but I need you to follow my lead. No matter what I say.”
“Okay.” Meridian found it oddly reassuring to be able to vow that to him. Trusting anyone outside of her family was so far beyond her comfort zone, but it was also not nearly as frightening as she’d always believed it would be.
There was a massive ode to some kind of gothic cathedral in the distance, but Jack stopped the truck at a long row of golf carts. “This is new.”
“What’s new?”
“There used to be a circular parking area in front of the club. This has all been redone since I was last here.”
“Maybe they knew someday you’d pull up in a kickass Chevy Cheyenne that would totally ruin their weird-ass haunted house, so they put in this golf cart raceway to foil your plans.”
Chuckling at her explanation, he beamed at her. “You’re still so incredibly dangerous, and I can’t seem to care,” he informed her, though his tone was more smitten than concerned.
“How am I dangerous? I’ve never even been to a country club. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
He laced their fingers together. “You are dangerous because of how fast I’m falling for you.”
Thrilled with that, a grin spread the width of her features. “Well, you’re pretty irresistible yourself, District Attorney.”
“I thought you wanted that job?”
“I’m rethinking that. See, that proves how dangerous you are.”
He gestured to the castle atop the hill glaring down at them. “Let’s go be dangerous together. They deserve it.”
“Should I pretend to be Mata Hari?” Meridian laughed.
“As long as you’ll continue to pretend that back at River Chase. Preferably, the part about her being an exotic dancer to get men to talk.” Jack’s smirk made her believe this entire night was going to be worth it.
She waggled her eyebrows for him. “And will you pretend to be a foreign spy I’m seducing for information?”
“I keep trying to tell you, I’ll be anything you want, honey.”
“Wait. When did we start dating?” Meridian spoke through her teeth as they climbed out of the truck. They needed to get their stories straight.
Jack didn’t get a chance to answer. Some guy coming off the golf course handed his club back to a caddy and began pulling off his glove. Disbelief hung in his forced smile as he approached. “Jackson? Is that really you? Welcome back to the real world. I heard you’d broken down out in cattle country. Hey, if you’re looking for a place, my father has some recent real estate investments you could discuss with him.”
Jack did a decent job of turning his grimace into something akin to a polite smile. “We’re just meeting someone here. I’m not moving back. How are you, Deke?” They exchanged a handshake. “This is my fiancée, Meridian Holder.” He settled his hand on the small of her back. The reassurance in the warmth and familiarity boosted her waning self-confidence that she’d be able to handle this.
“Yeah, I heard about you.” Deke shook Meridian’s hand next.
She gave him a polite chuckle. “Probably shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
Deke gave no response to that at all. “I can give you a ride up to the club.” He gestured to his cart.
“Thanks.” Jack sounded like he’d prefer to be trampled by wild horses. They climbed in the back seat of the golf cart. Meridian tried to act like she rode in golf carts all the time despite the fact that she’d never been on one in her life. She missed her horse.
“How are your parents? They were up here last night, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to them.”
Jack and Meridian shared a quick glance. So, his parents had been at the club and not out at Bellemenson. “They’re…as good as they’ll ever be.” The truth in that statement held staggering weight, and yet Deke smiled and nodded his approval. How different the world must appear when people weren’t willing to pull back the polished exterior and look below the surface.
“That’s great, man.”
“When did they change the drive-up?” Jack gestured to the monolithic fountain and landscaping that blocked anything larger than a golf cart from the club.
Deke’s brow furrowed. “Your parents’ landscaping company did this a couple of years ago for the Christmas Gala.” His tone indicated that Jack should’ve known that. “It was so great of them. Your dad donated the whole thing.”
Jack’s features morphed to a statue of bitter gall. Meridian had a pretty good idea why, but she’d have to ask later.
Deke parked the cart right in front of the gothic disaster. “Hey, tell Greer we’re on for next week.”
Jack helped Meridian out of the cart before responding, “I’ll let you pass on your own messages since I am not my brother’s personal assistant. Thanks for the ride.”
Pride welled through Meridian. That assuredness and his take-no-prisoners approach made her want to find them another hidden-away rooftop. “These people wouldn’t know the real world if it slapped their ass and told them to call it daddy,” she assured him. “And let me guess, your father doesn’t have a landscaping company.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did for as long as it took him to funnel money through the shell company to avoid paying taxes while also writing off the donation of tools, equipment, and labor. I’d bet my next three paychecks that he had the River Chase gardeners actually do the work while letting the tax documents show that they’re separate employees of two different companies.”
“Damn, that’s…shady as fuck,” Meridian whispered.
The castle-sized doors opened at their approach. “Welcome to the world of extreme wealth,” Jack agreed. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
They were greeted by four people all wearing Hearst Stone uniforms. An older gentleman looked as if Jack’s arrival was the se
cond coming. “Jackson, I cannot tell you how thrilled we are you’re here and for the unveiling too. You always did have impeccable timing.”
“The unveiling?” Jack sounded thoroughly nonplussed.
“Your parents’ portrait will be unveiled in the Riviera Room at eight.”
“Were the four already in there not enough?”
Meridian bit her lips together to keep from laughing.
Shock shadowed the man’s hazel eyes. “Well, you know, we wouldn’t be able to do what we do here without them, so we’re always happy to show our appreciation.”
Jack ground his teeth. “Are my parents attending this unveiling?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Good.”
Jack wrapped his arm around Meridian and guided her away from the man. She tried not to appear impressed with the grand entry hall, far more posh than anything at River Chase and yet every bit as money-drenched. The Hearst Stone fixtures operated under the belief that weight denoted wealth. Heavy stone, iron, and dense black hickory bedecked every surface. Her heels sank deep into the Persian rug, like quicksand under her feet.
Her heartbeat echoed her quick footsteps as they headed down an expansive hallway with low-slung leather sofas and marble tables.
“So, what’s up with the portrait thing?” she whispered for lack of anything else to say.
Jack stopped and eased her to an offset corridor. He looked concerned.
Meridian shook her head. “Sorry. I’ll stop asking so many questions. You can tell me later.”
“No, honey. It’s fine. I just have to be careful. All of the major whiskey barons have portraits painted and then the club purchases the portraits at a prearranged price at an auction. Then they write it off as a business expense since they’re using them to decorate their establishment. Only they buy them at a massively inflated price of which they only pay a small percentage of. Everyone who attends this auction knows how it works.”
“So, your father not only cheats on his own taxes, but he shows other companies how to as well?”
“It’s all a part of the whiskey web. We just have to make certain we don’t get trapped by the spiders. So, no more questions until after we escape, okay?”
“Sure.”
He brushed a tender kiss on her lips. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
“I’m fine. I promise.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jack had a plan. He was going to prove that the only way to get through hell was to keep walking and to tell the truth.
They entered the largest dining room in Hearst Stone. The golf course view glimmered from the ten-foot windows surrounding three sides of the restaurant.
Tiffany waved to them from their table, and Jack’s stomach turned ominously. God, how had he ended up back here? After this trip, he was going to have to figure out how to get the staff what they needed without having to go to River Chase. It was all too much.
One of the waiters pulled out his and Meridian’s chairs. He waited on her to sit and then followed suit. Whatever Tiff and Brent were up to, he was here to play, and he was going to win.
“Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Denton?” A beverage attendant approached the table. Jack was oddly pleased that he didn’t know most of the staff by name anymore.
He turned to Meridian. “They only serve Denton whiskeys here.” Looking up at the attendant he stated, “I’ll have a club soda,” loudly enough for the room to hear.
“I’ll have the same,” Meridian said. “With a twist of lime.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jack smiled to himself as he watched Meridian use one of her best lawyer tricks. She initiated conversation stitched together with concern. “So, how are you two after everything that happened Saturday evening? It’s a lot to deal with.”
Tiffany, who loved attention almost as much as she loved money, preened. “You are so right. It is a lot to deal with.” She seemed to have made a quick recovery from her thoughtful introspection at River Chase.
Jack wasn’t going to make it through this dinner without vomiting. He downed a quick sip of the club soda as soon as it landed on the table.
Meridian gave her a sympathetic nod. Jack was certain he was the only person at the table who noted the placating in her movement. He took another sip to cover his smirk.
“I’m sure. Have you made any decisions on the wedding?” Meridian was a decent actress, but patience would never be her virtue.
Brent cut in, “That’s part of why we wanted to talk to you two.”
Now they were getting somewhere. Jack braced his arm on the back of Meridian’s chair. “What is it that we can help with?”
Tiff waved Brent off. “We can at least wait until we have food,” she admonished. Jack knew that was her way of informing the table that she had not received enough attention to be ready for someone else to step into the spotlight. Meridian seemed to sense this as well.
They exchanged a quick, knowing glance. “We ran into Farrah last night,” Jack informed her. If she wanted attention, he was happy to let her have it.
Tiffany bristled, and Jack narrowed his eyes. She really ought to learn to be careful what she wished for. “Yeah, we were supposed to meet her at that bar,”—she waved her manicured hand as if Watershed and her sister were a fly that needed to be batted away—“but I was just…too upset to come.” She even choked up some fake tears to decorate her false declaration.
Brent handed her his handkerchief. “My parents are making certain everything is handled so there’s nothing for you to worry over, but I know it’s just a devastating situation. I think we should go on with the wedding. A month in Ibiza will be good for us. We can take our minds off of all of this and let someone else deal with the divorce. It’s too much for you.” They really did deserve each other.
The waiter came to the table and went on for five full minutes about how pleased he was to see Jack. “I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Jack drawled, “but I assure you I won’t be back for at least as long as I’ve been gone.”
That finally shut him up long enough for him to let them know which dishes were available that evening at The Hunt. Meridian shot a concerned glance his way. Jack leaned in and brushed a kiss on her cheek. Then he whispered, “If you like seafood, the scallops are great, but the oysters aren’t worth the hassle. If not, go for the smoked tortellini.”
She gave him an adoring grin as he eased away. “I love you too,” she informed him. Jack’s heart threatened to pound out of his rib cage. She was just copying his move from the dinner party. Surely, that was it. But god, it sounded so good, and then there was the fervency that lit in her eyes as she stared at him.
It was dangerous to believe her. He’d never get over her. Never. And yet, he let himself have the moment as if it were true.
“I’ll try the scallops,” she told him, not the waiter. He’d had a few business-related dinners with her over the years, and he knew that Meridian was not a woman who allowed anyone to order on her behalf. She didn’t allow anyone to do anything on her behalf. She’d just handed him a holy grail. She trusted him enough to take care of her, and he would never let her down.
He managed to make the order and even add his own, which given the state of his heart and mind was nothing short of a miracle.
Tiffany made a pouting face that Jack recognized, and he bet Brent and the waiter did as well. “I was really hoping y’all would have the sea bass.” She went as far as poking out her bottom lip. Jack made no effort to hide his eye roll.
“I’ll see if we have any in the back, Miss Fitzgerald,” the waiter assured her.
She immediately perked up and told him he was her favorite.
The waiter seemed pleased with her assessment. “Can I bring you the appetizer tray this evening?”
“Definitely,” Tiffany urged without asking anyone else at the table their preference.
Fully aware every eye in the room was poised on their table, Jack eased Meridian cl
oser. A Denton son and a Fitzgerald daughter at this bizarre summit meeting would fuel whiskey gossip chains for the next decade. God, he missed Oklahoma.
No longer caring that he was being somewhat rude, he turned to whisper in Meridian’s ear again, “I can’t wait to go home.”
She lit up like a firecracker on the Fourth of July. “Me either.”
The arrival of the appetizers did nothing to soothe Jack’s homesickness. It both pleased him and struck him as odd that the place that had raised him would never fill him the way the wide open plains and Oklahoma sunsets made him whole. Indulging himself in another glance at Meridian, who was dipping a piece of bread in infused oil, he understood. It wasn’t the sunsets or the wide open spaces. It was her. Her against the backdrop of a technicolor sky, wild and free. That was his home.
Tiffany shook her head. “I just don’t know how you eat like that and stay thin-ish.” There was heavy emphasis on the ish, and Jack seriously considered cramming Tiffany’s mouth full of the bread she was avoiding.
Meridian laughed in her face. “I’m not really the kind of woman who feels the need to fit into some societal preconceived, misogynistic idea of what a woman should look like. Plus,” she leaned in for the kill, “Jack hasn’t complained.”
Lifting his eyebrow in lustful appreciation, he chuckled and then went on with his plan. “I love everything about her. I’m pretty sure I have since the day I first saw her. She was in one of the barbecue joints out where we live devouring a pork sandwich. It’s the first time in my life I’ve been jealous of a food.”
Shock betrayed the glare Meridian had fixed on Tiffany. “You remember that?”
“Of course. I stood there and stared at you while you ate for ten minutes before I finally came over to introduce myself. Remember?”
She laughed. “Yeah, but you said you didn’t want to interrupt my lunch.”
