The Slade Brothers: A Complete Small Town Contemporary Romance Collection Read online

  I find the car that’s been provided for me just outside the building. It’s a shiny silver Tesla and I can’t wait to have it packed up so I can get on the road, driving toward a better life. I place my box of office supplies in the passenger seat and climb behind the wheel, heading for my apartment.

  The weekend passes quickly and by Monday morning, the car is packed up and I’m dropping off a check to pay my rent for the next year. I have the trunk of the car crammed full of clothes, shoes, makeup, and jewelry. My little box of office supplies has been moved to the back. The passenger seat holds my purse, a tote bag full of snacks and drinks for the drive, and an envelope containing the paid rent receipt and keys for the place that’s been rented for me for the next year.

  I program the GPS with my destination, fill up with gas, and hit the highway, ready to meet this Mr. Drake Slade and conquer Colorado so I can get back to the new fancy life waiting for me in Los Angeles at the end of the next 12 months.

  Everything is looking up. There’s no doubt in my mind that I can do this job. Sure, Colorado isn’t the place of my dreams, but I can do it for a year in order to get to where I really want to be: the top of the Mason, Lawrence, and Howe Law Firm, looking down on California from my big office in the sky—maybe even with Gavin on my arm—while stepping on all the little Jeremys of the world. Life has never looked so promising.

  Two

  Drake

  “GOOD morning, sir,” Harrison, my advisor at Slade Brewery, says as he walks into my house, shaking my foot as he passes the recliner I’m sitting in.

  “What’s good about it?” I ask, being the bitter smart-ass I am. I pick up my cup of coffee and take a sip.

  “And what exactly is so bad about it?” he asks, sitting on the couch at my side. Harrison has been with the family—and the family business—for as long as I can remember. He’s more than just an advisor for the company; he’s an advisor for my everyday life. He’s like my own personal assistant. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without him, but I’d never let him know that.

  “The sun is shining,” he continues, “birds are chirping, and the temperature is warm. This is the kind of day that makes me count my blessings.” He leans back and smiles as he looks off toward the window. The blinds are down, but they’re open, sunlight streaming through, lighting up the dust like specks of glitter.

  I scoff at his statement, and that causes him to cut his eyes toward me.

  “You, my boy, are bitter and cynical. Are you ever going to get out of this bad mood you’ve been in for the last four years?”

  “Highly doubtful.” I sit up, kicking down the footrest as I do so. I rest my elbows on my knees, holding my cup of coffee in both hands. “So, what’s new in the world of alcohol?”

  He shakes his head but lets the prior subject drop as he sits up. “I’ve been in contact with the firm, and they’re sending someone to replace Burns this coming week. I’ve already got you on their schedule for Thursday afternoon.”

  “Did you tell them that I refuse to come into town? If I’m going to have to take time out of my day to meet with this new lawyer, it’s going to be on my terms.” My voice is firm and even, making sure he understands that I’m not giving an inch on this.

  He nods once. “I did,” he replies.

  “Fine.” I finish the rest of my coffee and set the cup on the coffee table between us with a loud thud. “Anything else that needs to be brought to my attention?”

  “I don’t think so. Everything is running smoothly at the brewery. The beer is brewing and the whiskey is just waiting for the formalities.”

  I chuckle as I think about the whiskey we’ve been working on for ages. A good whiskey isn’t made overnight. It takes years to age. If this lawyer can’t get this expansion underway, then I’ll have enough whiskey to last my family a lifetime.

  You see, we don’t have enough room to keep producing beer and whiskey. That’s why I need this expansion. We’ve cut way back on the amount of beer we’ve been producing because we’ve had plenty in stock. But that stock is now dwindling. We need our beer production to go back up, and the only way that can happen is if we stop making whiskey or move somewhere else entirely. But if we stop the whiskey, that’s 10 years wasted, and I refuse to waste 10 years.

  “And this new lawyer, he understands the predicament we’re in, correct?”

  “I relayed the message, sir.”

  “And he’s sure he’ll be able to get the job done, despite the locals hating me, my family, and this business?”

  He nods. “It’s worth a shot.”

  “Worth a shot?” I ask, turning to face him. “It’s the only way, Harrison. If this doesn’t go through, we might as well kiss this business goodbye. Our stock is getting smaller by the day.”

  “I completely understand, sir. Rest assured, I’ve done my job. Let’s just hope this new lawyer is the shark they say he is.”

  I stand and take my cup to the kitchen, pouring a fresh cup. “Coffee?” I ask as he follows along behind me.

  I turn to look at him as I pick up the bottle of whiskey, pouring just a tad into my coffee.

  “Hitting the sauce a little early, are we?” Harrison has known me since I was a boy. He doesn’t exactly approve of the way I live my life.

  “I don’t need your judgments, Harrison,” I say flatly.

  I hear him take a deep breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shake his head. “I guess I’ll be off. You know, enjoying my life instead of wallowing in the past.” He turns without another word.

  I lean against the kitchen counter and sip my coffee as I watch him walk out. When the door slams behind him, I decide a shower is in order. I take my cup to the bathroom with me and set it down on the counter as I start the water. As it heats up, I yank off my shirt and look myself over in the mirror. I look jaded and bitter. My tanned skin is wrinkling around my eyes, my beard is long and overgrown, and my dark hair is starting to gray around the temples from the hard life I’ve lived. I look rough and haggard. I guess Harrison wasn’t too far off when he said “bitter and cynical.”

  I turn away from my reflection and finish undressing before stepping into the shower. The hot water pours over my head and I close my eyes, giving myself over to the heat and relaxation. For the first time this morning, I just let everything go. I don’t think about the past or the future. I don’t think about the stress the company is causing me to feel. I don’t think about what Harrison said, or what the locals think. For once, there’s nothing. It’s silent, and it’s much needed.

  I wash off quickly and end up sitting in the shower, just letting myself waste some time and absorb the heat. God knows my body needs the relaxation. When the water begins to run cold, I step out and get dressed for the day. I pull on a pair of jeans, my dirty work boots, a white sleeveless undershirt, and a flannel shirt. I add a leather belt and pull a hat on my head before heading outside to get some work done.

  I live in the country, and my house is completely private. There’s a long gravel drive that’s at least three miles long. There’s nothing but wheat fields as far as the eye can see. Where the fields end, the mountain range begins. It’s absolutely breathtaking.

  There’s a big red barn just to the side of the old farmhouse. At one point in time, it housed many horses, but the last 20 years or so, it’s been empty. I’ve been thinking about filling it again, but the barn needs a lot of work before that can happen.

  I walk over to the barn and pull the doors open. I’ve been working on mucking the stalls and repairing the old, rotting wood piece by piece. I head up to the loft and flip on the light. I open the doors to let some sun and air in, then plug in the power saw to start cutting the wood I’ll need for the day. After I’ve cut what I need, I carry stacks downstairs and get to work on repairing the stall doors. For each one, I replace all the hinges and hardware, hang the door, and oil it up so it opens easily without any squeaking. By the end of the day, all 12 stalls have new doors. Since I spent all
of last week building new stalls, the entire ground level of the barn has been rebuilt.

  I stand back and check out my handiwork. All the workbenches have been refurbished, and all the stalls and doors are brand-new. Instead of heading back upstairs to start my work there, I opt to crack open a beer, blare some loud music, and get to work on putting everything back in place.

  I’m on my sixth beer when my older brother, Colton, walks in.

  “Damn, are you going deaf in your old age?” he teases as he grabs a beer for himself and jumps up onto the workbench to sit down.

  I turn down the music and pick up my beer. “Not yet. Is that something I need to prepare for? You would know,” I joke. He’s only a couple years older, but I’ll never let him forget it since he wouldn’t let me forget it growing up.

  He holds up his middle finger and takes a long drink.

  “Where’s Milly?” I ask, leaning my shoulder against a horse stall.

  He waves his hand through the air. “She’s with the new nanny.”

  “Another one?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  He doesn’t reply, only nods.

  “How many nannies can one guy burn through? What are you doing to these poor women?” I ask around a smile. My brother is not easy to handle, and he’s only gotten worse since his wife passed away, leaving him alone with their one-year-old daughter.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about it, man.” There’s a long minute of silence between us. “The barn is looking good. You must’ve been working nonstop on this.”

  I look around. “Yeah, it’s something to do.”

  He looks at me. Really looks at me. “Is this something you’re doing for you, or is this something you’re doing in the hope of—”

  “Don’t even say her name,” I threaten.

  He holds up his hands. “I was just asking, man. I mean, she was the one who wanted horses, right? You’ve never shown any interest in raising horses.”

  I finish my beer, toss it into a nearby trash can, and grab another from the cooler. “It’s just something to do. Yeah, I’m fixing up the barn. That doesn’t mean I’ll be buying horses anytime soon. Hell, I was thinking about putting an apartment in the loft upstairs, though that doesn’t mean I’m putting ads in the paper. It’s all just something to keep my hands and mind busy. Pass some time.”

  He nods once. “Ah, I get it. Why don’t you go out and make some friends around town?”

  I scoff. “Yeah, like that’ll happen. Why don’t you go make some friends around town?”

  He snorts. “Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”

  Our family is the most hated family in this town. It’s all over a bunch of bullshit too. Years and years ago, back when my family started building the brewery, some locals swore we built on their land. They say my great-grandfather paid off the zoning commissioner and got him to move the property lines. In their eyes, our brewery is on land we stole from them. Of course, it’s been so long now that all the original people involved have passed, but that hasn’t stopped the rumors or the dirty looks we get from their descendants. In my mind, I picture each family sitting down at Christmas dinner and telling their next generation the story of how the Slade family stole their land.

  “So, what you been up to?” I ask, needing to take my mind off of this town.

  He shrugs. “Nothing much. The garage has been keeping me busy.”

  Colton got tired of this small town and the way everyone in it looked at us like we were diseased, so after he married, they moved to a neighboring town and settled down. He opened his own garage with a sliver of his cut from our substantial family fortune and has been living there ever since. I don’t blame him for needing to distance himself from this town. I should’ve done the same thing, but I got stuck with the largest portion of the business when he ran off to get married instead of sticking around and helping Dad when he was needed. He was the eldest son who refused his destiny. I was the second-eldest who was more than happy to take what the oldest rejected.

  “Have you talked to Wyatt lately?” Colton asks. Wyatt is our younger brother. He’s absolutely crazy—the wild child out of us boys. He’s the type who will take any dare—no matter how stupid or dangerous—just to make everyone laugh.

  I shake my head as I lift my beer and take a sip. “No, why?”

  He laughs. “He called me last night. Guess where he was?”

  “Fuck if I know,” I laugh out.

  He chuckles. “His ass was sitting in a Florida jail.”

  I shake my head and rub my eyebrows with one hand. “What? How?”

  “Party boy decided to get drunk and take a page from that movie Coyote Ugly. He got up on the bar and started singing and dancing. When the bouncers tried to get him down, he refused and started a fight that destroyed the whole damn club. A riot started, and the police broke out the police vans, all of it.”

  I laugh long and hard. “Oh, shit. What’s his bail set at?” God knows we have the money to cover it, but I can’t resist the opportunity to tease him relentlessly.

  “He’s waiting for the judge to decide. He’ll be there until Monday at least.”

  “I tell ya what . . . that kid has lived his life way better than either of us.” I point at him as I toss my empty can into the trash and grab two more from the cooler.

  He joins in on my laugher. “I’m tellin’ ya. Makes me wish I would’ve done some things in my life differently.” A sadness settles over his face.

  “Yeah, but if you had, you never would’ve met and married Haven. And you wouldn’t have had Milly either.”

  He doesn’t say anything. He just nods his head as he stands, lips pressed into a thin line. “Well, I’m going to get out of here. I just wanted to stop by and fill you in on Wyatt. I’d better get back home.” He takes the beer I handed him and pops it open as he moves toward his truck.

  “Careful driving home, man,” I shout to him.

  He laughs. “Okay, Dad,” he teases.

  I lean against the barn door and watch as he backs out of the driveway. When he’s down the road a ways, the silence of the night settles around me. I forget how quiet it is out here until I have company and they leave. The silence is almost haunting. Deafening. Coming from a large family with four brothers, silence is lonely.

  I shake off the chills running up my neck and shut down the barn for the night. I head into the house, and it’s just as quiet as the barn was. My old hunting dog, Tatum, lifts his head off the floor when I walk in, but he’s old and lazy. He doesn’t move to welcome me.

  “Hey, boy,” I say, bending down and patting his head as I pass. He lets out a small groan. “You hungry?” I ask, looking down at him like he might actually answer me. I pour a bit of kibble into his bowl and place it on the floor. His eyes follow me, but he still doesn’t move.

  “Ugh, fine,” I grumble as I pick up the bowl and move it directly in front of his nose. He rolls from his side to his belly and begins to eat, lying down. I laugh as I stand up and grab the bottle of whiskey off the kitchen table. I twist the cap, take a swig, and set the bottle down with a deep breath. “Whoo, that’s some good stuff, Tatum.”

  He looks up at me but doesn’t stop eating.

  I decide I’d better find something for dinner. I haven’t had any food all day—only coffee with whiskey, then beer, and now, some more whiskey. I open the fridge and pull out a steak. I toss some salt and pepper on it and throw some butter in my old cast-iron skillet. I cut up some peppers and onions and toss them into the pan, then throw the slab of meat on top. I place the lid on the skillet and move toward the bedroom. Stripping out of my clothes and boots feels amazing. My back is sore and my feet are tired. It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long year—er, I guess a long four years.

  I sit on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but my plaid boxers and open the bedside table. Inside the top drawer, pushed to the very back, is a picture frame. I pull the frame out and turn it over. The picture inside takes my
breath away and causes a sharp pain to radiate through my chest.

  Casey Edison. The woman I wasn’t enough for. The woman who made me fall in love, only to rip out my heart and stomp on it when she left. In this picture, her long blonde curls are blowing in the breeze. Her plump red lips are turned up in a big smile. Her blue eyes are sparkling with the sun shining against them. Her white summer dress is being blown back by the spring breeze, showing me the perfect outline of her body: long legs, curvy hips, toned stomach, and perfectly round breasts. She’s standing out in the old garden—her garden. The one that’s now overgrown—a field of weeds since she hasn’t been here to take care of it. When she left, the world stopped for me. Nothing mattered. Nothing matters, because I wasn’t enough. Not for her. Not for anybody. This is my life. I am and will always be bitter, cynical, alone.

  Anger washes over me and I toss the picture back into the drawer. I slam it closed and push myself back up. That’s all I have to do: keep fucking going. As I walk into the kitchen, I grab the bottle of whiskey, drink away a little more of my bitterness, and take my place at the stove. One side of my steak is cooked perfectly, so I flip it over and replace the lid before leaning against the counter, staring off into space and wondering how the hell I ended up like this.

  My eyes land on an old family photograph that’s hanging on the wall. It’s a picture of my mom, my dad, my brothers, and me. First, I look at my mother. She passed away from breast cancer when I was 15. She was a kind, patient, loving woman—the type of person every woman aspires to become. Then I look at my dad. Even in this picture, he looks aged, tired, and angry. Bitter. I guess I know where I get it. Then I look at myself. I’m only 10 or so in this picture. A boy. A boy who was always happy and smiling. Growing up, our family already had billions in the bank from the brewery and investments, but if you looked at how we lived, you never would’ve guessed it. We lived just like everyone else, and our home was an old two-story farmhouse. We had land, a barn, animals . . . everything you’d expect to see. While my dad was at the office, the boys were expected to take care of the animals and the land. I guess that’s how we became the hard workers we are now.