Resisting Mr. Tall, Dark & Texan

“All right, then.” He straightened to his full height. “I need you.” He towered over her now because she remained in the chair on the far side of his desk. She considered rising to face him. Upright, after all, she was only a few inches shorter than he was and could almost stand head-to-head with him.

But no. She stayed in her seat. And concentrated on projecting calm determination. “You don’t need me, Ethan. Not really. You’re going to be fine.”

He shook his head. “Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie …” And then, with a heavy sigh, he folded his long, hard frame back into his fat leather swivel chair. “How about a bonus? A … severance bonus. Stick with me a little longer, you walk away with more cash.”

Do not ask, her sternest inner voice instructed. But money was money. She’d been flat-broke once. She never, ever wanted to go there again. “How big of a bonus?”

He named an eye-widening figure.

She let out a strangled laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I am serious as a failed blowout preventer.”

Okay, she was weakening now. Genuinely weakening. Plus, well, she did feel a little bad about letting him go to Montana without her. He had big plans for Montana. Maybe she ought to stick with him through that, at least ….

There was a gleam in those dark eyes now. He knew he had her. “Think of it, Lizzie. You know you can always use a larger cushion. Startup costs multiply. They inevitably turn out to be more than you projected.”

Okay, he had a point there. “How long would I have to stay on?”

He gave an easy shrug. “Oh, I’m thinking a few more months should do it.”

“A few months—as in three?” She was the one scowling now.

His rueful smile could charm the habit off a nun. “Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking. We’ll discuss it more later.”

“But Ethan, I—”

He made a show of eyeing his Rolex. “Whoa, look at the time … .”

“Ethan—”

“I’ve got that meeting with Jamison in five. You should have reminded me.”

“A minute more,” she piped up desperately. “Let’s just get this settled.”

“Can’t right now. Sorry.”

“Ethan—”

“You have my offer. Think it over.” He was already on his feet again.

“But I have thought it over and I—”

“Sorry. Really. Got to go.” And, again, he was out the door before she could pin him down.

Lizzie slumped in the chair.

But only for a moment—and then she was drawing her shoulders back, smoothing her hair that tended to frizz, even in the relatively low humidity of West Texas. She was not giving up on this. Today, one way or another, she was going to finish giving her notice.

Put it in writing, her sterner self insisted. That way he would have no choice but to accept the inevitable.

But no. She just couldn’t do that. Not to Ethan, who was not only her boss, but also a true friend, the one who had come through for her in a big way when she most needed some help and support.

She would get through to him. After all, he couldn’t escape her indefinitely. Especially not given that she lived in his house. No matter how hard he tried to avoid her, he had to come home eventually.

The meeting with Roger Jamison went well, Ethan thought.

Roger would have no trouble holding down the fort while Ethan was in Montana. And later, if things went as Ethan planned, he would formally name Roger to replace him as Traub Oil Industries’ chief financial officer.

After the meeting with Roger, Ethan could have returned to his corner office, but Lizzie would be there at her desk, guarding his door. And waiting to continue explaining how she was leaving him.

Forget that.

He was meeting his stepfather, Pete Wexler, for lunch at the club at noon. So he went on over there an hour early. He got a Coke and sat out on the clubhouse front patio and enjoyed the late-May sunshine.

Pete showed up a few minutes early and he grabbed Ethan in a hug. “This is great,” Pete announced. “Good to get away from the office, get a little one-on-one time.” Pete clapped Ethan on the arm as he released him. “Shall we go on inside?” He gestured toward the wide glass doors.

Ethan led the way. They got a table with a nice view of the golf course.

And as soon as they put in their order, Pete started telling him what he already knew. “You’re leaving Thursday.”

“Right.”

“Your mother and I will try to get away Friday morning. It’s important to both of us, to be there for your brother’s wedding.” Corey, born third in the family after Ethan, was getting married on Saturday. Corey and his bride, Erin, were settling down together in Thunder Canyon, a great little mountain town not far from Bozeman. There was already a big Traub family contingent in the Thunder Canyon area. Ethan had cousins there, and his older brother, Dillon, the doctor of the family, had settled there, too. Pete was still talking. He named off Ethan’s remaining siblings. “Jackson, Jason and Rose are going to make it, too. The whole family will be there … .”

Ethan sat back in his chair and listened to his stepdad ramble on and thought about how long it had taken him to accept Pete into the family. At least twenty years.

But eventually, Ethan, like his four brothers and his sister, had come around. How could he not? Pete was a good man. A kind man, with a big heart. He doted on Ethan’s mom and had consistently been there for his stepchildren.

The hard fact, Ethan saw now, was that it had taken him a couple of decades to forgive poor Pete for not being Charles Traub. Ethan’s dad had been tall and commanding, a self-made millionaire before he was thirty—back in the day when a million bucks actually counted for something. He’d died on an oil rig twenty-eight years ago, when Ethan was nine.

Pete had been there for Ethan’s mom, Claudia, from the day that the accident happened. And that had stirred up the town gossip mill in a big way. Ethan and his brothers had suffered no end of bloody noses and black eyes defending their mother’s honor and, by extension, Pete’s. At the same time as they stood up for the man, they were all secretly suspicious of Pete’s motives.

But in the end, there was no denying that Pete Wexler was a rock. He was no maverick. He liked to take things slow and steady, which, in terms of TOI, sometimes drove Ethan nuts. Still, Pete adored Ethan’s mom and he’d been a fine husband to her for twenty-six years now. Last year he’d had a heart attack, which freaked them all out and made them all the more aware of how much he meant to them.

Now, Pete was fully recovered and taking better care of himself. Back around the time of his heart attack, he and Ethan’s mom had talked about retiring. But not anymore. Pete was feeling great lately. And for the foreseeable future, they would be running Traub Oil Industries together, Pete as chairman of the board and Claudia as CEO.

Ethan knew they depended on him, but he was through waiting to be the boss. And he was a damn sight more adventurous about the business than either his mother or Pete would ever be. He’d dedicated his life to TOI, learned the company from the ground up. And he’d been CFO for six years now. It was enough. Exploration and development was the key for him. If he wanted bigger opportunities, he needed to create them. And thus, the trip to Montana.

Their food came. They dug in.

And that was when Pete brought up the resort. “About this Thunder Canyon Resort opportunity. Your mom and I have looked over the material your brothers put together.” Dillon and Corey had been pushing to get some TOI capital invested in the resort. “Do we really want to take on a failing hospitality venture at this point?”

“We wouldn’t be taking it on exactly.”

Pete smiled. “Sorry. Figure of speech. But you know what I mean.”

“I do, Pete. And come on, I wouldn’t say the resort is failing. In fact, the numbers show improvement over the past year. And they got McFarlane House hotels to invest. I’ve been in contact with Connor McFarlane, second in command at McFarlane House. He’s committed to seeing the resort succeed.”