Wander Canyon Courtship Read online

  “You want to go visit some fancy house?” Chaz asked, swallowing back “instead of going fishing?”

  “Pauline’s all excited about it.” Dad scratched his chin as if, like Chaz, he wasn’t quite sure what the allure of walking all around someone else’s property was. “I’m gonna need you along so I don’t drown in girl talk.”

  So Yvonne was going. He still didn’t know what to make of that woman. His mind kept replaying their conversation. His brain kept bringing up the picture of her eyeing him like she had him all figured out—bright eyes blazing, chin raised in defiance, hands planted on curvy hips. Under other circumstances, he might have found her amusing, even attractive. But here, she was just another of the army of people who seemed to be trying to marry Dad off as fast as possible.

  A rebellious part of him hoped Wyatt would do what Wyatt always did—end up knee-deep in some sort of ranch problem. Maybe he could play that into necessitating the next flight to Colorado.

  His sense of loyalty won out, however, and he managed a flat-sounding “No problem.”

  Dad forced a grin. “I want you to spend time with Pauline. Get to know her better.”

  Dad was trying so hard to make this work. While Chaz had tried to hide his resistance to this new relationship, Dad’s forced grin told him he hadn’t quite succeeded. Dad wanted him to bubble over with enthusiasm, to look at this whirlwind courtship as an exhilarating launch. They’d met online, for crying out loud. Even if it was a Christian seniors dating site, could anything like that really be trusted? To Chaz the whole thing smacked of a leap off a dangerously high cliff. “Give me a few minutes to change.”

  Ten minutes later, he found himself walking down Aisle Avenue with Dad. As he passed all the wedding-named shops—the Love in Bloom Flower Shop, the Sweet Hearts Ice Cream Parlor and even the Catch Your Match fishing outfitters he’d optimistically stopped in to purchase a few new flies that now would get no use—Chaz felt his spirits fall. The whole idea of this wedding had bothered him from the first, and Dad’s obvious hope that coming here would curb his resistance was a losing proposition.

  As if their unappealing destination wasn’t bad enough, a white van with the words Bliss Bakery painted on the side in swirly letters sat parked in front of the bakery. Yvonne and Pauline stood waiting beside it.

  “Yvonne decided this’d be the best car to take all of us,” Hank explained at Chaz’s gape of surprise.

  “No kidding,” Chaz said, unable to come up with a better response.

  “It’s one of those convertible numbers where the rear seats and cargo bay can be switched around,” Hank pressed.

  As it turned out, the vehicle was surprisingly comfortable—if you didn’t pay attention to how Hank and Pauline snuggled in the back seat as if he and Yvonne were dropping them off at the junior prom.

  The mountain roads made for tricky driving, and more than once Chaz fought the urge to grab tighter hold of his armrest. Even under good circumstances, he was a terrible passenger, always preferring being behind the wheel. More than once Yvonne gave him a look when he tensed up over how she took a turn or checked the mirror before she changed lanes. Cut me some slack. I’m way out of my depth here, he wanted to yell, but clamped his mouth shut.

  Forty tense minutes later, he, Dad, Pauline and Yvonne got out of the van to stare at the biggest house Chaz had ever seen. Mansion really was the right word for the place. It was practically a castle, with monstrous manicured lawns and acres of formal gardens.

  And the rooms. Of course they had to tour the rooms. It seemed as if they went on forever, each one fancier than the last. He counted twenty-four chairs at the dining room table just off a fireplace that looked big enough to roast an entire steer. The oohs and aahs around him told Chaz some people clearly thought the tour was fascinating. He just wasn’t one of them.

  “The estate does over two hundred weddings a year,” Yvonne offered as they walked through yet another ballroom-looking space. She kept rubbing one eye as if it were bothering her. “I’d consider myself hitting the big time if I got to do even one of them.”

  “Could you do it?” he wondered aloud. “Do a cake for something as big as this place holds?” The sheer size of any party held here probably needed a whole team of bakers.

  She sighed. “Not yet. But I’d sure like to. Be a swanky, respected vendor able to pull off a venue like this? It’s definitely a goal.”

  She fussed with her eye again, blinking and rubbing it so much that he felt compelled to ask, “Are you okay?”

  She looked at him as if such a kindness were out of character for him. “It’s just my contact lens. It’s been bugging me the whole day.” She squinted at him with her one good eye. “I’ll be fine.” Wyatt may lay claim to being the ladies’ man of the family, but even Chaz had been around enough women in his life to know when the word fine—especially when said in that tone—meant anything but.

  She’d been making conversation—or trying to—the whole afternoon. Be nice, he told himself. He did admire her ambition, and she was clearly talented. Normally he liked direct people—when he wasn’t in complete disagreement with them, that was. “If you want to be a swanky, respectable baker, why hide out in Matrimony Valley? Wouldn’t it be better to have your shop down in Asheville, where the swanky, respectable brides are?”

  “Do you try hard?” One hand planted itself on her hip again. “Or does being such a curmudgeon just come to you naturally?”

  He laughed at her choice of words—he liked that Yvonne gave as good as she got. But she hadn’t answered his question, and that told him something.

  Rather than press his luck, Chaz directed his attention over to Dad and Pauline. The couple stood gazing dreamily out over a nearby balcony. A harrowing thought came to him, and he turned back to Yvonne. “Those two didn’t think about getting hitched here, did they?”

  Now it was Yvonne’s turn to laugh—a musical, full-hearted sound he found himself enjoying a bit too much. “You don’t get hitched at the Biltmore,” she replied. “And no, even if they could afford it—which no one I know can—it isn’t really their style, wouldn’t you say?”

  She gave him another lopsided look—squinting with one eye, glaring with the other—as she tucked her hair behind one ear. The shoulder-length honey-blond locks that had been up in a ponytail in the bakery were down now, held back with a bright blue headband. September could still be surprisingly warm in this part of the country, so she and Pauline were both in brightly colored dresses. Pauline’s was some sort of purple pattern while Yvonne’s was a pale yellow that lit up her skin and made the blue of her eyes stand out. Not that he noticed. It was mostly that he felt out of place in his black jeans, white shirt and boots. Stark and practical beside the breezy colors the rest of them wore. Dad? In khakis? It was as if they’d gotten off the airplane in another universe.

  “Look at them,” Yvonne said, nodding toward their respective relatives. “They’re like teenagers.”

  He scoffed. “No offense, but my experience of teenagers is that they let their urges overpower their brains and make choices everybody regrets later.”

  Even the squinted blue eye flashed fire at that. “They’re grown-ups, Chaz.”

  It was the first time she’d said his name. She drew the z out, her hint of a Southern accent giving it a swingy quality. She was on the opposing team here, and liking her—even a little—only made things more complicated, right?

  He decided it was time to dive right into it. “You’re really okay with this? With them?”

  She hesitated just a second before replying. “Of course. But it’s pretty clear you aren’t.”

  Dad was holding Pauline’s hand, leaning close to her and saying things that made her laugh. No, giggle. It was both amusing and a little bit sickening. Shades of Wyatt turning on the million-watt charm. Had he ever in his life—even as a teen—been that smitten?

  Chaz stepped back and scratched his chin. He focused on facts. “It’s been awfully fast.”

  “Some might say that.”

  A tiny crack in the wall of support she’d been showing. “And you’re a hundred percent okay with how fast?”

  “It doesn’t matter what percent okay I am with it. Hank and Pauline have every right to get married as fast or as slow as they like.”

  That was another crack, as far as he was concerned. He turned to face her squarely. “I wasn’t asking if they had a right—of course they have the right. I was asking what you think of it.”

  They locked gazes for a long moment. He didn’t look away or back down because he knew she was deciding how honest to be.

  “I think it’s brave.”

  Brave, huh? That answer told him a lot.

  * * *

  The good news was that even the worst day could be salvaged by a very good steak, and the meal in front of Chaz was excellent. Dad had said a heartwarming grace over the food, thanking God for his new family.

  The prayer woke Chaz up to the unsettling notion that soon he would be related to the woman whom he’d just spent the afternoon with matching wits.

  “I’ve been reading up on how they handed down the estate a few years back,” Dad said as they talked about the grandeur of the Biltmore property. “Pretty amazing how a place that large is still privately owned.”

  It made sense that Dad would notice that. The succession plans for large establishments like their own Wander Canyon Ranch in states like Colorado and Wyoming were a huge issue. Chaz himself had been trying to broach it with Dad for the past two years. “Who owns it now?”

  “The owner who came back and turned it into the tourist attraction it is n
ow left it to his son,” Yvonne offered.

  “Smart move to keep it in the family,” Dad said. Chaz was inclined to agree, but something in his gut noticed his father’s tone wasn’t entirely casual.

  “I think it’s always the best thing to do,” Pauline said. “Yvonne lives in the house my sister and I grew up in, and I love that it’s stayed in the family. Everything is so transient now. Family homes hardly ever happen anymore, don’t you think?”

  “Where’s your mom now?” Chaz asked Yvonne.

  “She lives in Charlotte, where my two sisters have settled.” Yvonne reached for the bread basket, and he watched her inspect the rolls with a baker’s professional eye before selecting one. “Janice and Rita run a super successful chain of boutiques there.”

  She said super successful with just enough of an edge to let Chaz know there was some tension there.

  Pauline jumped in. “Have we told you where we’re going on our honeymoon?” she asked in a bright, let’s-change-the-subject tone. “We’re going to Paris for a whole month.”

  “Paris, France?” Chaz couldn’t hide his surprise. Dad didn’t travel—before. Dad was easily, willingly turning himself inside out to please Pauline. Was that really how love worked, turning sensible men into complete fools? Mom claimed to love Hank with all her heart when she was alive, but she’d never transformed into someone he didn’t recognize like Hank was doing lately. Dad was becoming a complete stranger, and that lit a slow spark of panic deep in Chaz’s gut. “For a month? That’s a really long time to be away from the ranch.”

  Hank drew in a big breath. “Been giving that a lot of thought, actually. I’ve been thinking it might be getting close to my time to retire. Hand the ranch on down.”

  Is that why I’m here? Maybe Dad wanted to work it out together before bringing back a plan to Wyatt.

  Dad cleared his throat. “Course, they say it’s always best if the acreage stays intact. You don’t want to split it up if you can help it. My granddaddy bought that land,” Dad started explaining to Pauline. “My father worked it after him. It’s the Walker legacy, that land is.” He turned back to Chaz. “It’s time that Wyatt and you stepped into those boots. Without me, that is. And my honeymoon is a good time to get that started.”

  Dad had listed Wyatt first, putting an unnatural emphasis on Wyatt’s name. Chaz’s pulse froze for a moment. Dad had just said the ranch would stay undivided. The hairs on the back of Chaz’s neck prickled. Blood was about to win out. Over the thing he cared about most in the world.

  Chapter Three

  It was as if a bomb had just been dropped in the room. Yvonne didn’t fully understand what was being said, only that it was large and unexpected and volatile.

  In the chair next to her, Chaz was practically rattling with cold, barely held-in-check alarm. He stared straight at his stepfather and said very slowly, “What are you saying?”

  The tone sent a chill down her back. Pauline set down her fork and gave Yvonne a brace yourself look.

  Hank straightened as he met Chaz’s glower. “I’m saying I want you to manage Wander Canyon Ranch while I’m gone and when I retire.”

  “Manage,” Chaz repeated.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Manage isn’t own.” Chaz’s voice somehow managed to get lower and colder.

  Hank didn’t flinch. “No, it’s not.”

  Yvonne had the vision of two enormous bulls stomping and snorting at each other, each waiting for the other to charge. She busied herself with the irritable contact lens, needing something to do rather than watch this unfold. Why had Hank done this in front of her and Pauline? This should have been a private conversation between Chaz and his stepfather.

  She realized, at that moment, what was actually happening. A surge of compassion rose up in her chest for Chaz. What a blindsiding blow to receive in front of strangers.

  Hank cleared his throat. “The land is best kept in one piece, son. You know that.”

  It seemed a cruel detail that Hank chose to use the word son at this moment. Chaz tightened his grip on the steak knife he was still holding, his knuckles white and his forearms flexing.

  “A choice had to be made,” Hank continued. “One we all knew was coming someday, so I chose to make it now. We all want it to stay Walker land, don’t we?”

  “My last name is Walker,” Chaz practically ground out through his teeth. “I have never, ever regretted changing my last name. Until now.”

  Chaz put the knife down on the table in something just short of a slam. “Seems I’ve never been anything more than a stepson after all.”

  “Chaz,” Pauline began, scrambling for calm Yvonne saw no signs of coming.

  “Don’t!” Chaz shot back, scowling at her as if she’d put Hank up to this. “Don’t you even—”

  “Don’t you talk like that to my bride,” Hank growled back with a force equal to Chaz’s tone. “I get you may be upset.”

  “May be?” Chaz shouted. People around the restaurant began to stare. Yvonne and Pauline traded cautious looks, wondering what to do if one of the men would stalk from the room or throw a punch.

  Yvonne sent a prayer flying up that Chaz and Hank would remember they were in public and miles from home. It seemed that Chaz somehow overheard her prayer, for he lowered his voice, but still jabbed a finger at her and Pauline.

  “Is that why you did this here? In front of them? So I wouldn’t haul off at you like I want to right now? Manage Wander Canyon? Manage? No wonder you bailed on fishing. You know what I would have done had we been alone. Well played, Dad.” Chaz spit the final word out with such bitterness Yvonne felt it stab her chest. “You always did know how to drop a bomb.”

  Yvonne looked to Hank’s reaction. He looked pained, but not ashamed, or regretful, or in any way unsure of his decision.

  Auntie P. wasn’t marrying into a tangle. She was marrying into an all-out war.

  * * *

  Yvonne could barely believe they didn’t leave right there and then, but it was as if neither Chaz nor Hank would flinch first. Eat? Now? She was practically nauseous from the anger flowing between those two men.

  She’d never been so grateful to lose a contact lens in her life. She didn’t even bother to really look for it, just pounced on it as a reason to wrap up this torturous meal and go home. There wasn’t a dessert in the world worth staying at this table for.

  “I’ll drive,” Chaz declared as they reached the parking lot, grabbing the keys out of her hand when she pulled them from her bag. At least it would give him something to do—he’d probably implode from just having to sit steaming in the passenger seat.

  Only that left her in that passenger seat as she directed Chaz home along the back roads toward Matrimony Valley. The van echoed with an icy silence, Hank and Pauline huddling in the back seat holding hands and exchanging wary looks. Chaz gripped the steering wheel and drove with careful, angry precision.

  And silence. He merely nodded at her directions to turn here or there, barely uttering a word since they left the table. Even with half her vision blurred, Chaz looked angry enough to walk the forty-some miles back to the valley.

  Now what? Yvonne’s brain spun in a dozen directions trying to figure out what to do next. Short of enduring the drive in ragged silence, there seemed to be nothing to say or do. There was no way to make this less awkward. There simply was...

  A dark mound loomed into her headlights without warning. “Look out!” she cried and Chaz stomped on the brakes, but not before a heartrending thud and bump announced they’d hit whatever it was. Chaz wrestled for control of the van as it screeched into a slow-motion, tilting arc that veered it off the road.

  Yvonne yelped as she was knocked against the van door, and Pauline and Hank gasped as they were tossed about in the back seat. The airbags deployed and deflated in a heartbeat, leaving Yvonne stunned by the sudden whack back against her headrest. For a moment she couldn’t breathe.