One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(4)
She didn’t usually involve her best friend for life, Carina Decker, in her covert ops, but today was an exception. Because today’s resort VIP was Knox Briscoe—a cousin of Carina’s whom Emily had never met, and Carina had only seen a handful of times, though they’d grown up a couple hundred miles from each other. He was about to sign on with Carina’s dad as the heir apparent of the resort, making him Carina’s future landlord and Emily’s newest boss.
Since Carina was eight months along in a pregnancy that had supersized her whole body from her ankles to her face, stealthiness in this covert ops mission was not easily achieved. So, once Emily had gotten the call from the security guard manning the resort’s cameras that Knox had arrived, Emily and Carina had settled for spying on him from a window in the bridal gown shop Carina operated in the resort’s lobby.
A shiny, black sedan matching the description the security guard had given Emily came into view on the long road through the property leading to the circular driveway in front of the resort’s main building.
Carina nudged Emily in the ribs. “This is exciting. I’m glad he’s here, and I’m proud of my dad for putting the rift behind him. Whatever my dad, Uncle Clint, and Grandpa Tyson fought over that made Uncle Clint leave, it’s been more than thirty years. That’s ancient history.”
Ancient history that was still shrouded in silence and speculation, Emily added silently. To the best of her knowledge, no one but Tyson, Ty, and Clint knew the reason for the fight—and Clint and Tyson had already taken that secret to their graves.
Carina wrapped an arm around her belly. “With a new generation of Briscoes coming along soon, it’s time for the family to forgive and move on. And I think Knox represents a new era of greatness for our family and for our business.”
Carina was right. Probably. Knox’s private equity firm’s investment in Briscoe Ranch might just be the monetary boost the resort needed to propel it to the next level in luxury destinations. Including the building of the dream restaurant that Emily had been working toward at the resort for a decade. Only weeks earlier, Ty had finally, finally, agreed to give Emily the space to build her restaurant at the resort. All they needed now were investors. Knox’s timing couldn’t be more perfect—unless it wasn’t.
“You don’t think this all feels too good to be true?” Emily said. “I mean, I get that Knox is family, but the man’s amassed a net worth of millions by buying and flipping failing businesses. How can we trust him not to sell us all out?”
“I was skeptical when my dad first told me his plan, but I trust my dad. And I trust his lawyers. They’re too business savvy to make it possible for anyone to sell the resort away from the family.”
When the car rounded the driveway and came to a stop, Carina and Emily crowded together, ducking their heads low in case either Knox or his driver looked their way.
Emily already knew what he looked like from photographs accompanying write-ups and interviews in business magazines, as well as the occasional photograph of him attending a charity ball or museum opening, posted online on Texas society blogs. From what she’d seen, Knox was loaded with money, charm, and ambition. An impeccable business reputation. A scandal-free personal life. By every account, he’d made his fortune the most ruthless way possible—fair and square.
None of that research, however, had prepared her for the sight of him.
Knox Briscoe stepped out of the back seat of the sedan one long leg at a time. He buttoned his black suit jacket and surveyed his surroundings, looking far more intimidating in person than the confident, intellectual spirit that his photographs conveyed. He was younger. Larger. His features were darker and more brooding. His leather shoes were as shiny black as the paint job on the limo, as slick as his black cowboy hat and suit.
“Oh, wow,” Carina said on a breath. “I forgot how much he looks like my dad.”
Emily had been too wrapped up in ogling him to notice, but now that Carina mentioned it, he did look a lot like a young Ty Briscoe back before he’d gone bald. “The Briscoe genes are strong, there’s no doubt.”
“What are you feeding him and my dad at their meeting?” Carina asked.
Emily flushed with a sudden, rare case of insecurity as she considered the lunch menu she’d created for the meeting. How could she possibly feed Knox Briscoe pheasant? He looked like he dined on nothing but porterhouse steaks and the tears of his enemies. “Brine-roasted pheasant with an heirloom sweet potato puree and a wild mushroom reduction.”
“Sounds tasty.”
“Everything looks tasty to you these days. You’re an eating machine, but look at Knox. I can’t pair him with that menu.”
Carina snickered. “He’s not a wine.”
Definitely not as decadent and sweet as wine. He had the muscular grace of one of those hard-core Crossfit athletes who bench-pressed semi-truck tires in his spare time and had a single-digit BMI rating. He probably didn’t even drink wine. He definitely didn’t eat sweet potato purees or mushroom reductions. Though he should. It would probably do him a world of good to indulge his senses like that.
Just like that, inspiration struck. “That man needs peaches.”
Specifically, the late season peaches she’d gotten that morning from her orchard supplier in Fredericksburg.
“Come again?” Carina said.