Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms #2)(2)

I knew all about his damn distillery—it had been my idea.

“Oliver is like family,” my mother said. “You’ve known him since you were born.”

“That’s not my fault.” I took a gulp of rosé.

“I think Oliver’s nice,” said my younger sister, Frannie, perennial sweetheart.

I shot her a dagger-eyed look. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“Who’s Oliver again?” asked Frannie’s boyfriend Mack. Actually, they’d just gotten engaged, so he was now her fiancé. He worked as CFO at Cloverleigh Farms, which was our family’s business and encompassed not only a farm but a winery, an inn, and a wedding venue. I was kind of surprised he didn’t know about this deal my dad had struck. He’d been in on several meetings I’d had with my dad about starting a small batch distillery here, meetings that always ended in disappointment for me.

No matter how much I argued that a distillery would be a great addition to our overall business and give us a modern edge, the fact remained—the money wasn’t there.

“Oliver is my best friend’s son,” my mother said to Mack with fondness in her voice. “And he’s so charming.”

“So was Ted Bundy,” I reminded her.

“Smart, handsome, successful.” My mother went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “He’s really made something of himself.”

“Which isn’t that hard to do when your last name is Pemberton,” I muttered, stabbing a grilled spear of asparagus with my fork.

“Pemberton like the soap company?” Mack asked.

“Exactly.” I pointed the spear at Mack. “And his middle name is Ford. How hard can it be to find success when you come from not one, but two, massive family fortunes?”

“Now Chloe,” my mother admonished. “Nell said he used his own money to start the distillery.”

I snorted. “His own money. Right.”

“Much the way you used your own money for your college education,” my dad pointed out, a rueful grin on his face. “Family money is family money. Ours just happens to be Sawyer money, not Pemberton money. It doesn’t go quite as far.” He laughed at his own joke.

“That’s different,” I argued. “Yes, you paid for my undergrad, but I paid for grad school, didn’t I? I took out loans like a normal person does, and worked while I went to school so I could start paying them back. I’m still paying them back!”

“And we’re very proud of you,” my dad said, sipping his rosé. “But that’s another reason why partnering with Oliver is a good idea. You know I wish we had all the extra cash you’ll need to open a distillery here, but we don’t. Not if you want to do it right. Mack can attest to that.”

Mack looked guilty. “Sorry, Chloe. I can’t argue there—if your heart is set on that expensive copper equipment and you really want to do this sooner rather than later, I think an experienced partner is a good idea.”

I didn’t want any damn partner—I was fiercely independent and wanted to do it on my own, proving to everyone that I could. But I was running out of patience, which had never been one of my virtues.

I set my wine down. “Okay, fine. An experienced partner might be a good idea. But why does it have to be Oliver?”

“Oliver is a natural choice,” my dad said. “He and I spoke about your ideas a bit when Mom and I were visiting Nell and Soapy last month in Harbor Springs. He happened to be there at the time. Then out of the blue, he called me yesterday. Said he’d given it some thought and had a proposal for me.”

My jaw hung open. I didn’t know what I was more miffed about—that my father had shared my ideas with Oliver in the first place without telling me, or that the two of them had made this deal behind my back, effectively hijacking my idea.

Typical men!

“What’s the exact proposal?” I demanded stiffly, trying to keep my cool.

My dad finished chewing, swallowed, and took another sip of wine before he answered. “He’ll teach you what you need to know about the business, and when he’s confident you’re ready, he’ll go ahead with the partnership and get you started up here. And he’ll put up half the money.”

“That gives him all the power,” I bristled.

“Not at all.” He leaned back in his chair. “Look, if you aren’t interested, you don’t have to do it, but then there will be no distillery at Cloverleigh. I promised your mother I’d slow down, think about retiring. She’s got travel booked for us already this fall, as soon as tourist season slows down. I can’t take on a project of this magnitude at this point in my life, personally or financially.”

“The doctor said he needs less stress,” my mother put in, patting his shoulder. “More time off. We talked it over last night, and we think this is brilliant. Oliver’s offer is very generous. Would you have preferred we turn it down?”

“No,” I admitted, crossing my arms over my chest. “I just wish you’d have talked to me before telling him I’d do it.”

“You’ve wanted this for years, Dimples,” my dad reminded me, using his old pet name for me. “Why be stubborn about this? It’s the perfect solution. Right, Mack?”