Walker sipped his coffee and stared around the tiny café on the main drag through Woodstock. “It’s very quaint here. Are you sure this would make a good investment?” he asked, his voice lilting with the British accent he’d acquired from growing up beneath his father’s tutelage, who was from across the pond.

His father, Leo Allard, nodded firmly. He removed his black-rimmed glasses and smoothed his hands back through his greying hair. “We’ve been eyeing properties close to White Mountain for years. And it just so happens that this town, in the past few years, has increased its tourism and profits by a rather large margin.”

“And the reason for that would be?”

“A few very successful businesses, including a restaurant—Jaybird’s Roost.”

Walker arched a brow arrogantly. “Doesn’t sound very up-scale to me.”

“No, it doesn’t, but a name can be changed. It’s in the perfect location. There used to be a lodge near it, but it was shut down. The owner of the restaurant was interested in the lodge, but he’s never had enough money.”

Walker spun his coffee cup around on the saucer, watching the passersby outside the window. It being January, he could tell the walkers were mostly locals, but come the spring and summer, the town had the potential to be flooded with tourists. “And you want to offer to buy it for him? Have him run both?”

Leo stared pointedly at his son. “Have you learned nothing from me in all the years you’ve worked beneath me?”

“Of course I have, Father. I was merely curious how you would convince this man to sell his restaurant, one that seems to be doing quite well without any aid from us.”

“The way I always do. Make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

Walker nodded but kept his thoughts to himself. Over the years, he’d grown tired of arguing morals with his over-eager, egotistical father that the way the Allards did business was wrong because all they ever did was make more enemies wherever they went. But his father refused to listen. He wanted to own properties that would make him and his other investors rich. Walker tried a long time ago to get out from under his father’s shadow but was roped into the life. His mother died when he was young, and Leo was all he had. A cold, hard man who didn’t care for a son but wanted a business partner. A legacy.

“Have you spoken to the owner yet?” he asked finally.

“No, but I have a meeting with the bank first thing in the morning. I want you there and I want you to run it.”

“Me?” he asked, surprised. “Why?”

“Because when we purchase this restaurant and the lodge, you will be in charge of getting both up and running before summer hits. I already have a list of potential customers and have promised them a very special trip up to the mountains. I expect you to make it happen,” Leo stated as if he was merely asking Walker to pick groceries up from the store, not potentially ruin many people’s lives so they could make a profit.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this—to be on my own, I mean.”

“You are nearly thirty. Do you wish to be under my thumb forever?”

Walker sulked. “No, but you have never let me be in charge of any of these properties. I am merely curious about your reasoning to let me start now.”

“Sooner or later, a son must take over from his father, as I did from mine.”

Walker drank his coffee to avoid opening his mouth, replying inappropriately, and upsetting his father. He’d been in a decent mood lately, and Walker liked to keep him so. Leo in a bad mood made everyone around him miserable.

“I hear you’re having troubles at home,” Leo commented.

“Troubles?”

“Your man, what’s his name again?”

“Douglas?”

Walker was used to a certain lifestyle—or rather, a certain lifestyle was expected of him. When he’d purchased his oversized home on the outskirts of a nearby small town, he’d hired a man who was essentially his assistant and butler. He hated having someone waiting on him at home, but the man was twenty years older than Walker, had kids and grandkids, and was quite a fun fellow to chat with in the evening. After a few months, Walker became used to Douglas and was very fond of the older man. He was also quite handy in assisting with business matters.

“Yes, him—exceptional man. He tells me you fired another cook.”

“I had the same meal four times in a week,” he explained, though it was a lie.

“Ah, that is unacceptable.”

Walker agreed outwardly, but inwardly, he couldn’t have cared less; but he wasn’t the one who complained of the repetitive meals to the point it made his life miserable. “I’m seeing Georgette this evening.”

“And how have you found Ms. Tindal?”

“She’s beautiful, I’ll grant her that,” he mused, thinking of her long, luscious, black waves of hair and the bosom she insisted on almost exposing each time they met. “I’m afraid we have yet to find any real common ground, though.”

“And what of the other two?”

Walker tilted his head, remembering the dates with the other two potential women Leo wanted his son to date, Brittany Kraus and Helena Landon. “I’m afraid it’s the same with all of them. They’re intelligent, no mistake there, but I’m missing that connection.”

“You might not have a connection, as you put it,” Leo grumbled. “I expect you to choose one as your bride-to-be by the annual holiday party. You are an important man from an important family. When I die, I expect my legacy to carry on, which means you must find a wife and have a son.”

“What if I have daughters?” Walker asked and watched his father’s cheeks redden.

“If you have daughters, then so be it, but you need a son. Have five children, have ten. I care not, but this is your duty as an Allard.” His father removed his wallet and laid a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “I expect to see you tomorrow morning bright and early, no matter how well your evening goes.”

Walker watched him exit the café and walk to the black sedan waiting at the curb. A man stepped out to open Leo’s door and his father slipped inside. The waitress came to collect the bill.

“Keep the change,” Walker told her.

She looked at the check and the fifty-dollar bill. “Sir, are you sure?”

“Yes, I insist,” he said warmly and smiled. “Have a wonderful rest of the day.”

The bell above the door chimed as he stepped outside into the blustery cold air. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he wandered down the sidewalk. Small town atmospheres were his favorite, or they used to be before his father began to ruin them one by one. There was a charm that couldn’t be found anywhere else. If he’d had his way, he would’ve found a job where he could work with computers or do something with his hands. He hated being an investor. Hated the markets. Hated the men and women he worked with. Hated all of it. He had tried to escape this life, but his father always found a way to drag him back, claiming he was the only heir. He needed Walker, promised they would change and shape the business together.

That promise had been made five years ago and Walker had been foolish enough to believe it.

All the wealth he had in the world was tied up in his father’s company. If he wanted to leave, he would have nothing to start over with, and the idea frightened him and excited him at the same time. He craved adventure. Backpacking across Europe, seeing the world.

He turned the corner to explore more of the town before heading home when he spied a bar across the street. “The Eight Ball… interesting,” he murmured and hurried across to get out of the cold.

There was an empty seat at the bar, so he hopped up on a bar stool. The bartender meandered over, laying out a napkin for him, and handed him the drink menu, a cheery smile on her face. “You new around here?”

“Just visiting,” he explained, glancing over the beer menu. “I’ll take a White Mountain ale, if you please.”

She bobbed her head, blonde curls covering her face, and drew out the bottle, popped the cap, and set it in front of him. “What’s a fancy suited man like you doing in Woodstock?”

The question sounded nice enough, but there was an edge to her words he’d be an idiot to miss. “Business trip.”

“Business trip.”

“Yes,” he said uncertainly.

“You part of that group of suits buying up people’s places?” she snapped, her smile still in place.

Walker felt the air grow colder and the room seemed to shrink. The few people in the bar had fallen silent at her words, and he hunched his shoulders, regretting his decision to stop in. “I work for an investment company, yes, but I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Right, sure you don’t. Enjoy the beer, it’s on the house. Then get the hell out of this bar and don’t come back.”

He needed the beer now more than before, and as he sat there, feeling eyes on his back, he drained it. The flavor was bold and pretty good. He spied the bartender near the end of the bar speaking on a cordless phone. She glared at him before turning her back on him as if afraid he would read her lips. He pulled out a twenty and laid it under his napkin for her and left the bar before it could get any uglier inside.

His truck was parked down the road from the café, and he swore he felt angry eyes on him his entire walk to it. The drive home was less than pleasant and when he finally parked in his large garage, he was exhausted and in no mood for a date.

“Ah, there you are,” Douglas greeted, his British accent stronger than Walker’s. Dogs barked from inside the house as Walker moved past him and into the kitchen from the garage. “You appear distraught.”

“It happens when an entire town suddenly rises up with pitchforks and torches,” he muttered, slipping out of his wool suit jacket. Three dogs rushed to jump up and lick his face, mutts all of them, and well over sixty pounds. “There’s my boys.”

He scratched each one in turn, their brown and black mix of fur following him as he moved through the kitchen. The all-brown one was a mix between a lab and a pit bull named Legolas. There was a black and white malamute mixed with several other breeds named Strider, and the last one was a runt compared to the other two, his brown, tan, and black fur a swirl of colors. He was part lab and part mystery. His name was Gimli. They were all about five years old and had been adopted from the local shelter. The best part about his dogs was that they were very selective of who they liked, and so far, none of them liked any of the three women he dated.

Douglas took his jacket from him and followed him through the mansion, the dogs in tow, their nails clacking on the floor. “That sounds rather exciting if you ask me. Very adventurous.”

“Until they catch me,” he added, tromping upstairs. The pack of dogs followed, yipping and barking excitedly as they played. Walker grinned and moved easily around their bodies, used to his dogs always trying to get him to play or pet them.

“Your date will arrive in a few short hours.”

“Do you think there’s any way I could cancel?”

“Do you wish to have her call your father and complain about a missed date?” Douglas warned. “Out of the three women your father has deemed best suited for his son, Ms. Tindal appears to be the one with the…how to put this nicely?”

“The one with the biggest mouth?” Walker supplied.

Douglas laughed deeply. “Yes, those are the appropriate words, I think.”

“Damn. I guess I’ll suffer through, then, for the good of my sanity.”

“There is a slight complication with tonight,” Douglas informed him as they entered the master bedroom and Walker stepped into the large walk-in closet. All three dogs leapt onto the large, king-sized bed. Maybe he should take a picture of the dogs on his bed and show it to the women? That would be a decent turn off.

“And what might it be this time?”

Douglas cringed as Walker unbuttoned his sleeves and moved onto his shirt. “Your cook.”

“Hell,” he muttered. “We haven’t hired a replacement yet?”

“No, we have not. Might I suggest I order takeout for the evening? I’ll place an ad on Monday to find a new one.”

“Put in the ad this time that the person must be flexible.”

Douglas grinned and nodded. “I will do so. Dinner will be here before your date arrives. Have no fear.”

“With you around, I never do.”

Douglas exited the room, whistling for the dogs. “Who wants dinner?”

The three barked and raced after him down the hall, leaving Walker alone to ponder his night. He stepped out of his wool pants and browsed through his clothes. The day had been cold and he was in the mood for comfortable, warm clothes. He found a dark pair of designer jeans and a heavy black sweater to go over a red button-up shirt. Once he was dressed, he grabbed his black boots, pulled them on his feet, and walked back downstairs, following the smell of something delicious.

“How the bloody hell did you get this here so fast?” he asked.

Douglas was in the middle of plating the potatoes and steaks with green beans as he replied, “Magic. It’s how I do everything around here.”

“Are the dogs put up for the evening?” Though it was his home and he felt he should never have to lock his dogs up for anyone coming to see him, his father scolded him the first time he let the dogs run rampant when Georgette arrived. They’d growled and barked at her for a solid twenty minutes before she said she would come back later. Walker hoped she wouldn’t come back, but of course, his father was called and he was given another Allard lesson on manners. Now his dogs had to stay upstairs in his bedroom until the date was over.

“Yes, they’ve been out to take care of business and have fresh bones to keep them occupied.”

The clock struck six and the doorbell rang a second later, setting the dogs off upstairs. “Right on time,” he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Walker reached the front door and opened it. “It took you long enough,” Georgette complained as she stomped inside, shivering from standing out in the cold for a mere moment. Her heavy fur coat slipped from her shoulders, and Walker forced the smile to remain on his face when he saw what she wore underneath.

“If you wore something a little more substantial, you might not freeze to death,” he suggested and kissed her politely on the cheek, taking her coat in his other hand to hang in the hall closet.

“Where is your man? Why wasn’t he here to open the door?” She glared upstairs as the dogs continued to bark. “I don’t know why you keep those animals around.”

“He’s busy in the kitchen at the moment. I can step into his shoes for a few minutes and answer my own door,” he said through gritted teeth and pointedly ignored her comment about his dogs. He hung her coat up and cringed when she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Oh! You’re so warm. I think I might just settle in here.”

Walker prayed she would move before he had to do it for her and embarrass her.

“Ah, Ms. Tindal,” Douglas announced, and Georgette’s arms disappeared from his torso. “Dinner is ready for you both in the dining room. Your usual red tonight?”

“Yes, yes, Douglas, thank you,” Georgette said with an obnoxious wave of her hand.

Walker wanted to marry, but he told his father over and over he wanted to find a wife for himself, a woman he could stand for more than a few hours. Maybe even a woman who wasn’t a spoiled brat and accustomed to a life of leisure and being waited on hand and foot. The Tindals weren’t as wealthy as the Allards, but they came from old money just the same. Leo had his money on Georgette. Walker wanted to tell him not to hold his breath.

“Shall we?” He offered her his arm, and they strolled into the lodge-style dining room with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the grounds around his home. He pulled out her chair as Douglas poured two glasses of red and returned to the kitchen for dinner. “Should we drink to anything special this evening?” he asked once he took his seat.

“To many more nights enjoying each other’s company,” she purred and raised her glass.

Walker clinked his glass against hers, but when the time came to drink, he sealed his lips. Her words sounded innocent, but that slinky black dress told him a completely different story. The past few dates with her had been the same. She’d tried to get him into bed, and he politely thought of excuses for her to leave. He was running out of ideas, though, and worried he would have to come clean and tell her that though he found her quite attractive, she was not the woman he wanted to marry, let alone fall into bed with. He knew her type, had been with them before. The second he took her to bed, she would think he belonged to her.

Douglas brought out dinner and they ate, chatting about their days and her plans for spring. She technically had no job and spent her days spending her family’s money and, from what he understood, being a terror to the house staff. She told him a while back about her prospects of finally doing something with her business degree, but nothing ever happened with that plan.

When dinner was finished, Douglas cleared the plates away and brought out two slices of chocolate cake and coffee.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t,” Georgette fussed.

“Why not? It’s dessert and it’s the weekend,” Walker argued.

“I’m on a diet.”

“What for? You’re thinner than a bleeding tree.”

She beamed and he bit his tongue instead of the cake. His eyes watered and he cursed himself mentally for saying anything at all. “That’s because you haven’t seen all of me.”

Douglas cleared his throat loudly from the kitchen doorway, and Walker breathed a sigh of relief as Georgette’s hand, which had been creeping closer to Walker, fell back to her lap. “Sorry for the intrusion, sir, but you have a phone call.”

“Can it wait?” Georgette complained.

“I’m afraid it’s your father,” Douglas said with a faint wrinkle to his brow.

Walker swallowed his mouthful of cake and washed it down with his coffee. “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” he told Georgette and stood from the table. He stepped into the kitchen behind Douglas and hung his head as the door closed. “How do you always know when I need to be rescued?”

Douglas tapped the side of his nose. “Intuition.”

“How long before she gets annoyed enough to leave?”

“Ten minutes? Perhaps more. Here,” he said and handed him a glass of amber liquid. “Take this and hide in the pantry for a while. I’ll collect you when it’s safe.”

Walker didn’t argue. Douglas was a better man than he deserved. The pantry was large and had a convenient stool in there for him to use. He could go to his office, but he would have to pass through the dining room again and Georgette would most likely follow him, insisting on speaking with his father to know why he’d interrupted their date. As he sipped the brandy, he mulled it over in his mouth while he examined his life closely. Sitting in a pantry, hiding from dates… this was what his life was reduced to.

Many men in his position would take every chance they had to sleep with these phenomenal women, but Walker had had his time as a playboy. The routine grew old, and after a while, all he wanted was someone he could come home to at the end of the day, someone he could snuggle with on the couch before a roaring fire. Someone who wouldn’t drive him insane with pointless talking for hours on end. He wanted a kiss to mean more, to set him alight and make him feel…anything.

Georgette was not that woman.

A while later, the door opened and Douglas poked his head inside. “She is at the door, ready to leave, but insists you leave your business long enough to wish her farewell.”

“That I can do.”

He shot back the rest of his brandy and sauntered away to wish his date a fond goodnight, not looking forward to when he would have to see her again.

* * *

Walker was uncomfortable and the meeting had barely started. Leo sat beside him as the banker typed away on his computer before them. The meeting had started five minutes ago, and they were currently finding out how much was owed on the restaurant loan as well as how much the seller was asking for the lodge.

“It appears,” the banker, Mr. Sanders, finally said, “the lodge currently has a price tag of two million on it. It has been on the market for a while, however, and I’m certain the seller would be willing to negotiate.”

“And the Jaybird’s Roost?” Walker asked, trying to sound as authoritative as his father.

“That is another story altogether. The owner had placed a hefty down payment, but over the years, his payments have grown smaller. He’s barely covering the minimum amount due each month.”

“How much is owed?”

“With interest? Nearly eight-hundred-thousand,” Mr. Sanders said. “It appears they have a few other debts from their house and their daughter’s culinary education, as well as Mr. Wilson’s other debts from renovating the restaurant.”

Walker’s leg bounced nervously. He couldn’t do this, could he? Be this heartless to people clearly in need of proper assistance?

“Walker,” his father whispered harshly.

“Yes… we are interested in purchasing the lodge property as well as the restaurant that was originally part of that property,” he announced. “The hotel I presume we will have to purchase from you, of course, and the rest will be taken care of once we purchase the loan.”

“I’ll have the appropriate papers drawn up for you. If you would wait here? Once we have everything ready, we’ll need your lawyer to go with ours as we acquire the hotel property first. As far as the restaurant, I’m afraid that falls on you to remove the current owner.”

Walker thanked the man, a forced polite smile on his face, and tugged at his suit jacket.

“Once this is taken care of, you’ll have to spend time hiring new staff for the lodge and the restaurant,” Leo said.

“The restaurant has a full staff,” Walker said, confused. “Why would I need a new one?”

“You know how we do things, son. You get rid of the old and bring in the new. People you can trust, who you can control,” he said matter-of-factly. “You will let them all go.”

“Their chef is the reason it does so well. I can’t simply get rid of him.”

Leo turned a stern gaze to his son, removed his glasses, and leaned closer. “You will do as I tell you to. That chef can leave his recipes and everything else behind, but he goes with the rest of the staff. Chefs are easy to replace, as you well know. You go through, what, one a month?”

Walker’s lips thinned in annoyance. “I am not a restaurant and my chefs only have to cook for one person. This is an upper-scale restaurant with an amazing reputation. You truly wish to put it on the line when we’re about to reopen the lodge for the summer?”

“I trust you to do what is necessary and find the right person for the job.” Leo cleaned his glasses with a small, white cloth before he placed them on his face. “Was I wrong to trust you so soon?”

Walker stilled, feeling his chance at freedom slipping away. “No, you were not.”

“Good. By tomorrow, you will be in control of the lodge, which we’ll have to rebrand, and this Jaybird’s Roost. I suggest you change the name as well so it matches the lodge.”

“Not only am I laying off a decent number of people, you wish me to rub salt in their wounds.”

“This is business, Walker. You can’t take it personally.”

“Maybe not, but I’m fairly certain they will.”

“Go take a walk.”

Walker frowned. “What did you say?”

“I am telling you to take a walk and clear your head. You’re not in your right mind, and if you continue to fight me at every turn of this deal, I will have another take it over. Is that what you wish?”

Walker rose and buttoned his jacket as he said, “No, it’s not. You’re right, I’m not thinking clearly.” He nodded to his father and stepped outside, but all the cold air did was remind him that the people he would lay off would face a jobless winter when it was cold. What happened if they couldn’t pay their bills? If they lost their heat or their homes? His father might not have a conscience about making such quick, harmful decisions, but Walker didn’t want the reputation his father had. Ruthless. Cold-hearted.

Walker would go through with what his father wanted, but he wouldn’t like it. The day would come when he could break away from this mess and find his own way to do business—the correct way. One that didn’t leave him stuck with a woman he didn’t like as a wife and being hated by the hundreds of people he’d put out of business and fired.

Resolved to make it through this deal, if only to prove to his father he was no longer a child, he walked back inside and signed the papers that would give him the lodge. Later that afternoon, they would purchase the loan of the restaurant, and in a few days, that too would be theirs.