Free The Sticky Cowgirl (Lone Star Sweets, Book 2) by Lissa Matthews

wasn’t the same as this.
    The cowboy finally spoke. “What about your boss? Mr. Turner, is it? Can I talk to him?”
    Samuel smiled, wishing he could have Brandt take over this conversation. “Mr. Dawson, my boss isn’t Mr. Turner. He’s been dead for several years. Brandt Worthington owns the company now and he’s not going —”
    “Did you say Worthington?”
    That certainly piqued Jock Dawson’s interest. Curious. “Yes, sir. He’s my stepfather. He worked for Herb Turner for many years and… It’s a long story, sir. Needless to say —”
    “Call him down here,” he demanded.
    Samantha’s father was nothing less than impatient and definitely used to getting his way. Samuel couldn’t remember a time when he’d been interrupted so much. He even tried to see it as rude, but he couldn’t. He liked the rancher. He would’ve rather met him under different circumstances, but his respect for the man given what he was trying to do for his daughter, made him a man worth giving a little leeway too. “Mr. Dawson —”
    Jock stood. “Son, you call him down here now, please, or I’ll go floor by floor until I find him.”
    Well, that wouldn’t end well. Samuel leaned forward, linking his hands between his knees. “Do you know Brandt?”
    “I do.” The answer was sharp, pointed, and short. “Used to be my best friend.” Samuel’s interest was more than a bit intrigued by that. Even though he knew Brandt to be an uncompromising man, one who laughed rarely, and one who expected nothing less than a hundred and ten percent effort always, Samuel admitted this was the first time he’d ever considered the life that Brandt might have lived before Bitsy and Samuel Stevenson had been brought into the Worthington life.
    You know Jock Dawson will do it, too. “Give me a moment, and I’ll get him.” Samuel didn’t have his hand on the phone firmly enough before the man in question stepped into his office.
    “Jock? Jock Dawson?”
    Jock spun around. “Brandt, you son of a bitch. What do you mean goin’ after my daughter this way?”
    “Your daughter?” Brandt appeared confused, but seemed to quickly catch on. “That little bakery girl? She’s…? Now, hold on, Jock. I didn’t know she was your girl.”
    “Don’t hand me that horseshit. She’s the spittin’ image of Marie.”
    Marie? Who was Marie?
    “I’ve never met your daughter. Samuel has been dealing with her.”
    “Still can’t look those you’re screwin’ over in the eye, huh?”
    “This is business, Jock. What you’re talking about is ancient history.”
    The other two men in the room might know what and who they were talking about, but Samuel didn’t have a clue. He settled on the edge of his desk, content to watch the show. Clearly, there was something more going on now than he’d imagined there would be when Jock and Brandt came face to face.
    When Jock said he knew Brandt, Samuel hadn’t pondered how or when, but he couldn’t deny he was very curious.
    “I don’t care what it is. You back off.”
    “I can’t do that”
    “Can’t? Or won’t? You never did know when to give up.”
    “This isn’t personal, Jock. I need that space and you need to help her see reason. We’re trying to be fair and give her the means to start over.”
    “Your young man over there tried to explain all that. I’m not interested in your reasons. I just want you to leave my daughter alone.”
    “I told you, this isn’t personal.”
    Jock shook his head. “You’re still a son of a bitch. Haven’t changed a lick. When you can’t get what you want nice and easy, you throw money at it. Maybe it didn’t start out that way, but it’s personal now.”
    Brandt’s gaze hardened and Samuel felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees. There was no give in his step-father. Never had been. Looking at Jock Dawson, Samuel would bet he was the same way.
    “It was nice seeing you again, Jock. Do your daughter a favor and talk her into taking