Merit (Treasure State Wildcats Book 4)
Merit: Chapter 27

I hated Fridays. Almost as much as I hated Saturdays.

I’d run out of work to do this week, and there were still three hours left in the day before I had to go home to a quiet, empty, lonely house. Maybe tonight I’d rent a movie. Maybe I’d make myself a fancy dinner for one. Maybe I’d put on a pair of old sweats and stare at the wall.

Whatever activity I didn’t do tonight would be there for tomorrow.

I’d kill for a big project to tackle. Something that would occupy my mind for countless hours. I needed work. Desperately. Work was the only thing that had kept me going over the past seven weeks. It had been a distraction through the grief. And we were limping into our slowest time of year.

My office was clean, the scent of orange and lemon thick in the air from the solution I’d used to dust and polish my desk. The window was so streak- and spot-free that the pane was basically invisible. A person could eat off the hardwood floor. I’d even used an air sprayer on my keyboard to clean out the dust and crumbs.

Maybe my cleaning spree could continue at home. I’d started following a cleaning fanatic on TikTok the other day. She’d posted a video about deep cleaning a washing machine that I’d wanted to try out. Last night, I’d used her method to scrub my baseboards.

Maybe cleaning could become my new hobby, at home and work.

Most of the fall cleanup for Adair was complete. The inventory in the nursery had been safely stowed in our greenhouse. The prep work for rose propagation was finished. All of our equipment was parked in the shop, where our mechanic would ensure it was all in excellent working order before next spring. And the seasonal employees were off to enjoy their winters. Most of the younger crew members would be working at the local ski areas, manning chairlifts and hitting the slopes as soon as we had our first big storm.

The weather was cold, but we hadn’t gotten more than a skiff yet. Nothing for the plowing crew to fret over. Though even if we got dumped on, it wasn’t like I’d be out clearing parking lots and sidewalks.

No, I’d be stuck in this office, trapped within these walls, begging for something—anything—to pass the time.

I missed school. I missed volleyball. I missed Meredith.

And mostly, I missed Maverick.

I missed him so much there were times when it was hard to breathe. So I did everything in my power not to think about him. Not to worry and wonder.

Was he okay? How was he coping? Did he miss me too?

“Nope.” I shut down that line of thinking and stood from my chair, walking out of my office. Maybe Dad had something I could do. Maybe I’d clean his office next. The coffeepot in the break room could use a vinegar wash.

I was halfway down the hallway when Samantha’s voice carried from the reception desk.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jefferies.”

Jefferies. Jefferies was my client. What was she apologizing for?

“I’ll talk to Declan and get this straightened out immediately. And I’ll replace out if we can assign another designer with more experience to your account.”

I stopped before I reached Dad’s office doorway, breath lodged in my throat. What the hell was happening?

“You know how it is,” she said, an eye roll in her voice. “Boss’s daughter.”

Wait. Had she just insinuated to my client that my only qualification was being Declan Adair’s daughter? No fucking way.

“Declan will want to fix this. Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll talk to him right now, and we’ll get back to you before the end of the day. I’m so sorry this happened. But thanks for calling and bringing it to my attention.”

To her attention? When had she decided she was running this place? And what the hell was that comment about being the boss’s daughter?

My lip curled as my heart began to pound, angry, harsh beats.

Her phone clicked into its cradle, then came the rolling of wheels on the floor as she left her desk. Samantha came up short when she saw me standing in the hallway.

“What was that about?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

She straightened, raising her chin. “Mr. Jefferies said he was overcharged, and he’s pretty mad about it.”

“He wasn’t overcharged.” I’d prepared and sent that invoice myself, having triple-checked every line.

Jefferies was a huge pain in the ass. He was demanding and rude. He changed his mind every thirty seconds and routinely forgot his own decisions, forcing me to backtrack and rework the design plan—every iteration of which I’d done for free. He’d been charged a single design fee despite endless revisions, plus the labor and materials.

“That’s not what he said.” She shrugged and waltzed into Dad’s office without knocking.

I followed, my jaw clenched so hard I’d have a headache before the end of this meeting. But I stayed quiet, standing in the threshold, as Samantha explained the situation to Dad.

He didn’t so much as glance at me for an explanation. He just hummed and put on his glasses before shaking the mouse on his computer to pull up the Jefferies account. He clicked a few times, then leaned closer to read the screen. “Well, I’ll give him a call to smooth this over. We can refund the design fee or something. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, Declan.” Samantha wore a smug grin when she turned. “Excuse me.”

It took everything I had to keep my mouth shut as I shifted out of the way so she could leave. Then I closed the door. “There’s nothing wrong with that invoice.”

“It’s no big deal. Small project. We’ll waive the design fee and make the customer happy.”

“I’ve already waived six revision fees.”

Dad’s eyebrows came together. “Oh. Really?”

I opened my mouth, about to launch into the details of the project, but stopped myself before I could speak.

Did it matter? He knew I’d been standing here this whole time. And his first inclination was to believe Samantha. To waive a fee. To fix a mistake that didn’t exist.

Why was it so hard to talk to my dad at work? He was my dad. But since I’d started at Adair this spring, our relationship had slowly changed. He was a boss who didn’t seem to trust me.

“Why didn’t you ask me about the invoice?”

He took off his glasses, setting them aside. “What do you mean? We’re talking about it right now.”

“After you listened to everything Samantha had to say, while I was standing here, and you didn’t ask me a single question. Is that how you handle customer complaints for other designers? Or is that just for me?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to calm the waters.” He leaned his elbows on his desk, nodding to one of the guest chairs.

I ignored them both, too pissed off to sit.

Dad frowned. “I know you don’t like Samantha much. She told me there’s some history there with Maverick. I’m staying out of it. But you two will have to figure it out.”

“It’s not about Maverick.”

Did I like Samantha? No. Not even a little bit. Did it bother me to think about her with Mav? Yes. Whenever I let thoughts of them together slip into my mind, the jealousy was so strong it made me sick to my stomach. But my dislike of Samantha was mostly because of how she acted at Adair.

“We’re never going to ‘figure it out,’ ” I told him, air quotes flying. “I just heard her tell Mr. Jefferies that the reason I screwed up was because I’m the boss’s daughter. Because I’m incompetent and the only reason I have this job is nepotism. She’s not a team player, Dad. She’s been stirring up drama since her first day.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

“And if it doesn’t change?”

“Then I’ll let her go.” He lowered his voice. “But, Steve, no matter what, you are my child. For a while, people are going to think you’re only here because you’re my daughter. And they wouldn’t be wrong.”

No, I guess not. But I wouldn’t have come to work at Adair if I’d been someone else’s daughter. The reason I loved it here was because of him. Because when I’d been a kid, my favorite days had been when he brought me along to work.

What career would I have wanted if there hadn’t been Adair? I hadn’t ever let myself ask that question.

“That invoice is correct,” I said. “I’ll deal with Jefferies. Samantha never should have taken that phone call. She should have transferred him to me.”

Dad nodded. “You’re right.”

I stood a little taller. “Thank you.”

“Now will you sit down?” He motioned to the chair. “I’d like to talk about the garden center expansion proposal.”

I was too angry to talk about that proposal. I wanted to go back to my office, call Jefferies and tell him off. Except no good would come from me losing my temper with a customer. Maybe some time to cool off was a good idea. And if Dad let me run with the proposal, well . . . maybe I’d have something other than cleaning to do on a Friday night. So I took the chair, sitting on its edge with my hands in my lap.

The garden center proposal was one I’d drafted a week ago, not because he’d asked me to put something together, but because I’d needed to keep busy. And no matter why I was here, Adair was my future.

Dad had promised to read my ideas and then we’d discuss, but that had been days ago. After a week, I’d all but convinced myself that he hated every word. That I’d wasted countless hours researching other garden centers in Montana, and Adair would remain a landscaping company with a small greenhouse for retail sales.

He pulled out the green folder I’d left on his desk—Dad hadn’t yet embraced going paperless. “It’s good.”

My smile wobbled as I exhaled. “Thanks.”

He opened the folder. “I made some notes in the margins.”

“All right. I can review them tonight and this weekend.”

“Unless you changed your mind about the game?”

“Oh, um . . . I can’t. I’ve got some stuff to do around the house tomorrow,” I lied.

Dad and Mom were going to the Wildcats game tomorrow with the Houstons. Since Meredith, they hadn’t missed a single home game. They bought me a ticket each and every time, but I couldn’t bring myself to go. I wasn’t ready to see Maverick yet.

“Okay.” Dad didn’t press about the game. Just like he hadn’t asked what had happened with Maverick. In seven weeks, our relationship hadn’t come up once. How he knew we’d broken up was a mystery. Mav had probably told Monty, who’d passed it along to Dad.

Or maybe they’d all expected it to happen. Now that Meredith was gone, our fake relationship was over.

Any tears I cried I blamed on losing Meredith, not a broken heart.

Dad flipped to the third page of my proposal. “We’ll have to work up more detailed financial projections.”

“Sure.” I nodded. “I only included rough numbers as a starting point. I can⁠—”

“We’ll let Maverick tackle it when he starts,” Dad said before I could finish my sentence.

Um . . . “What? Are you serious?”

“He’s going to work here over winter break.” Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “Just a few hours a week. Nothing major. I think he’s just trying to keep busy, and since he won’t have school, he’ll have extra time outside of football. I offered him a short-term position and this could be the perfect project for him to tackle.”

I opened my mouth but there were no words. All I felt was this soul-crushing ache. An all-consuming disappointment in my father.

Deep down, I knew he was just trying to help Maverick. That his heart was in the right place. But had he even considered what this would do to me? Not just to give Maverick the garden center project, something I’d spearheaded to this point. But also how much it would hurt to have Maverick in this office?

Adding Samantha into the mix would be insult to injury.

Dad knew we weren’t together. Details aside, he knew Maverick and I weren’t spending time together.

In the seven weeks, the nearly two months since the morning he’d left my house after Meredith had died, I’d only seen Maverick once.

The day we’d taken her ashes to the mountains.

Meredith had gotten her wish. We’d taken her ashes to the meadow and scattered them into the wind. It had been family only—the Houstons and the Adairs.

Maverick hadn’t looked at me once. He hadn’t spoken a word. But when Meredith’s ashes were gone, when there’d been nothing to do but leave her behind, I’d walked over and looped my pinky through his.

He’d held tight.

In my heart of hearts, I knew the reason Maverick had left that morning. That he’d been falling apart. He was the kind of person who needed space to sort out his feelings. And if I’d pushed him, it would have ripped us apart.

He wasn’t coming back, was he?

Seven weeks I’d waited. Wondered. Not a phone call. Not a text.

Instead, he’d taken Dad up on a job offer—an offer Dad shouldn’t have made in the first place.

“What am I doing here?” I asked, my frame deflating.

“Huh?”

“What about me isn’t enough?”

“Hey.” Dad’s mouth turned down, his forehead furrowing. “That’s not what this is about. I told you this spring, I don’t want all of Adair resting on your shoulders.”

“Isn’t that my choice to make?”

“Can’t you just trust me on this, Steve?”

“Stevie,” I corrected. “I hate being called Steve.”

He blinked, forehead furrowing. “You do?”

“If I was a boy, would we be having this conversation? Would you have offered Maverick a job?”

Dad didn’t have an answer to that question. He stared at me, seemingly lost for words.

“I don’t know if this was a good idea,” I said.

“What was a good idea?”

“Me, working here.”

“Oh.” He pressed a hand to his heart.

But when I stood and walked to the door, he let me leave.

To hell with Fridays. If I didn’t have anything else to do, I’d go home. Alone.

It took only a moment for me to grab my coat and purse, then I was out the back door and marching to the Jeep.

I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to cry. I’d spent enough time crying over the past seven weeks. A job didn’t seem like enough of a reason to ruin my makeup.

But maybe a damaged relationship with my father was enough.

Tears flooded, and before I could stop them, they tracked down my face, taking smears of mascara and foundation with them. By the time I got home and risked a glance in the bedroom mirror, my eyes were puffy and my cheeks splotchy.

“Grr.” I wiped my face dry.

I was so tired of crying. Of feeling sad. Of feeling stuck.

The only good thing about living alone was that no one was here to see me upset. I’d cried in the kitchen. The living room. The dining room. The garage.

I’d cried endless tears in this house.

All by myself.

Now that Jennsyn and Toren were engaged, she’d moved into his house next door. Liz’s boyfriend had taken a job in Washington, and he’d asked her to move in with him.

So it was just me in this house. A house my dad had chosen. A house he’d picked out because it was so close to Adair.

It was mine now. I was making payments to the bank after buying it from my parents. But what if I didn’t want this house? What if working at Adair was a huge mistake?

What if it was time to let go?

It wasn’t the first time I’d had the thought of making a big change. I’d had a real estate website bookmarked for weeks. But each time I’d decide it was worth a call, I’d tell myself to sleep on it. By morning, I’d have chickened out.

I fished my phone out of my pocket, and before I could let myself think, I pulled up the website. I hit the number and closed my eyes as I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Mission Realty. This is Anna.”

“Hi, Anna. I’d like to get some information about listing my house for sale.”

“Sure, we can help you with that. Are you moving?”

I spun in a slow circle, staring at my bed.

Maverick wasn’t coming back. Seven weeks. It was time to stop waiting. “Yeah. I think so.”