Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I parked, grabbed my wallet and phone from the passenger seat, and got out. That’s when I saw him—Big Daddy. I didn’t need anyone to tell me who he was. He was leaning against the truck parked across from my car. I didn’t know how I’d missed him until now. And I couldn’t believe it had taken us this long to have a run-in.
Deciding I better get it over with, I walked over. “Good morning. I was wondering when we’d run into each other. I’m Cohen Mi—”
“Yeah, I know who you are,” he cut me off.
Even knowing about our family histories from Brody and the other people around town, it surprised me that someone who didn’t even know me could speak to me with such disdain in his voice.
“Yes, of course you know,” I pressed on. “I just figured, from some of the things I’ve heard about the Mitchells and O’Ralleys since I came to town, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to have a friendly chat so you can see that, regardless of what happened in the past, we can have a perfectly friendly—”
“I don’t want anything friendly with a Mitchell.”
His jaw tensed, his gaze shot daggers, the sort of look that made it clear he wasn’t looking at me but at some idea he’d already made up in his head.
“You think I’m some damn fool? Yeah, your ilk have always been the sweet-talking kind. We get a rap for our temper, but y’all go on with your fake smiles and friendly manner, gettin’ away with hell. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
Considering how pissed he was acting toward me, a guy he’d just met and wasn’t even interested in giving a chance, I couldn’t say it warmed me up to him either. But if he was trying to intimidate me, he had another thing coming. “And what is it, exactly, that you think I’m doing?”
“What your family has done for over a hundred years—try and bring down the O’Ralleys. I’m sure you know all about that. From day one they had it out for us—first getting close to Dorothy, making a side deal, tryin’ to kill my granddaddy, stealing the recipe. I know your granddaddy was up to no good too, and don’t try and deny it. Your mama getting close to me, probably to bring information back to your daddy.”
I didn’t appreciate what he’d said about my mom, but I took a deep breath and said, “My family is—”
“Always causin’ trouble,” he cut me off before I could say it was complicated. “Now you’re suddenly here, outta the blue, opening Mitchell Creek back up, continuing where your daddy left off. You can cut the cool, slick Mitchell act because I’m onto ya, and don’t you think for a second I’m not.” His face was slightly red, and I could tell he was getting himself even more worked up, and damned if the old man wasn’t doing the same to me.
My pulse raced, and I bit back the angry, sharp reply on my tongue. Instead, I crossed my arms and cocked a brow at him. “Sounds like you got it all figured out.”
“O’Ralley has been my family’s pride and joy for a hundred years. You’re not gonna run us out of business.”
“I have no plans to. If fact, if you’re willing, I’m sure there are ways we could work together.”
He blinked rapidly a few times as if he hadn’t expected my reply and didn’t know how to answer it. Hell, all these years, and neither family had been willing to work together? Business was business. I got that. You had to fight your way to the top if you wanted to be successful, but damn, I couldn’t believe none of them had been willing to even talk to each other before. They’d carried this damn feud on like it was still a hundred years ago and the wounds were fresh.
“O’Ralleys don’t work with Mitchells,” he practically spit at me.
“I’m not a typical Mitchell. Before I’d been told I inherited this place, I didn’t even know what being a Mitchell meant. I didn’t know we made whiskey, or who my family was, and I sure as hell didn’t know about a damn feud. I’m not here to run you out of business. I’m here to run my own, and I couldn’t care less who stole whose woman. As for my mom, I don’t think she’d do what you accused her of. I was young when she passed, and hell, maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t want to think that’s true. If you want to believe it, you go right ahead. Have a good day, Mr. O’Ralley.”
Without another word, I walked toward the store. My hands were fisted and my breathing pushing out too fast.
I was pissed at Big Daddy for making assumptions about me. Pissed at my own family for all the dirty shit they did, angry with my dad for never coming for me, with my mom for not telling me, while in the back of my mind, fucking Brody was there with his sweet, mischievous grin and sinful kisses and listening ears. All I could think was what Big Daddy would do if he knew we were spending time together, and how in the hell this whole fucking thing was going to affect us, when that wasn’t supposed to matter. Damned if it didn’t, though.