A Better Man (14 page)

Rebuilding camaraderie with his twin felt good, Jordan noted as he climbed the stairs. They still had some awkward moments, but things were definitely be
tter.

Upstairs, he knocked on Nicki's door even though he didn't expect her to respond. The music raging through her headphones could be heard all the way through the solid wood barrier. Damn. The girl was going to be deaf before she hit legal drinking
age.

Caught off guard, he brought his head up as her door swung open. The instant narrowing of her eyes told him she'd expected Declan or anyone other than
him.

“You don't hate me,” he
said.

She yanked the headphones off and tossed them behind her. Luckily they landed on the bed. “W
hat?”

“I said, you don't hate
me.”

Both hands, accented by goth purple nail polish, slammed down on her hips. “Who told you that
lie?”

“I just know, Nicki. And I wanted to stop by and say . . .” He opened his arms and gave her a cheesy grin. “See, I'm still h
ere.”

“Did you come bearing bribery gifts ag
ain?”

“Nope. I just brought this.” His open arms surrounded her as he pulled her in for a hug. As expected, she froze like a Popsicle. Then he kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I love you, Nicki. You can be as mad at me as you want, but I'm still going to love you. Never doubt t
hat.”

He kissed the top of her head again, let her go, then stepped away. “Night, baby sister. See you tomor
row.”

Before his feet hit the top step, she slammed her bedroom door. He paused. When he heard her let go of a huge sob, everything inside him told him to go back in there and console
her.

Baby s
teps.

In order to gain her trust, he couldn't overwhelm her. He just needed to continue to reassure her that he loved her and he was here to
stay.

God and the NHL wil
ling.

Chapter 9

F
amily meetings were never fun. Especially when they were called at the crack of dawn and you'd had only a few hours of restless s
leep.

Surrounded by aging casks of Merlot and Cabernet, Jordan grabbed one of the big wooden chairs at the center of the extra long farm table in the barrel room. In the past, the room had been part of the event center. Small weddings and private parties could be held here. Though a bit on the cool side, the oak walls and barrels made for an attractive rustic décor, and the fragrance of aging wine added a nice t
ouch.

He hadn't even had time to make a pot of coffee this morning before Ryan sounded the alarm. Sipping the slightly bitter brew made from the heavy-­duty office coffeemaker, he glanced around the table. His brothers looked to be in no better condition than he. On the other hand, Aunt Pippy, an important member of the family though not an official member of the new board of directors, looked bright-­eyed and ready to take on the world in her gold and orange dress, blue plastic headband, and red suede ankle boots. Then again, if she was really that bright-­eyed, wouldn't she have noticed that nothing she had on mat
ched?

Stifling a yawn, Jordan took a long drink and prayed the java gods would do their wakey-­wakey dance in a h
urry.

He'd spent half the night finalizing things for tonight's date with Lucy. While he worried his plan wouldn't come together, he now had to focus on the reason they'd been summoned to the vineyards on such short no
tice.

Ryan came into the room with a frown and a cardboard box he set down at the head of the table. As he settled his palms on the surface, his broad shoulders visibly slumped. “I didn't ask Nicki or Riley to join us today because, well, I just don't think they need to be involved. Since they're both under eighteen, it's up to us to take care of thi
ngs.”

“Good thinking,” Aunt Pippy said, then took a slug of co
ffee.

“As much as I'd like to be standing here telling you that everything is great,” Ryan said, “I ca
n't.”

Jordan hated starting out the day on a sour note. But it didn't look like any of them had a ch
oice.

“Declan and I spent all day yesterday going through the ledgers and bank accounts and . . .” Ryan folded his arms across his chest. “Well, there's just no other way to say it except someone's been stealing money from the company. A lot of mo
ney.”

“Define
a lot
,” Parker
said.

Ryan lifted the lid off the cardboard box and withdrew a folder. And even though Jordan was sure the specific amount had kept Ryan up all night, his brother read the figures printed on a stack of pa
pers.

“Somewhere to the tune of a hundred and fifty gr
and.”

Obscenities
flew.

Parker wanted to know, “Was the money taken in large or small amou
nts?”

Ryan shrugged and Declan took over. “The paper trail is hard to follow. There's no direct path. It's going to take further investigation with someone more skilled at this kind of thing than any of
us.”

“Did Mom and Dad make investments that weren't properly documented?” Ethan a
sked.

“There's no sign of that.” Declan lifted his mug of coffee and took a drink. “It looks like someone knew the system and figured out how to work
it.”

Jordan glanced at those gathered around the table. “Who had access to the accou
nts?”

Eyes dark and troubled, Ryan looked up. “Only Dad and I had access. Each night Dad locked the files up in the s
afe.”

“What about the computer fi
les?”

“We have a well-­protected sys
tem.”

“Well, there's nobody on earth more honest than you, Ryan.” No way did his brother have anything to do with the missing money. Jordan knew by the pained look on his face that Ryan was deeply troubled by this discovery. “And since Dad's not here to speak for himself, I say we hire an investiga
tor.”

“I'll second that,” Declan
said.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence. Anyone else have an opinion or maybe have a clue where that money might be?” Ryan glanced around the table. “Or where Aunt Pippy ran off
to?”

They all looked around and were surprised to find no sign of her except her nearly full coffee cup abandoned on the t
able.

“Looks like she slipped out while we were in deep discussion,” Ethan
said.

Seemed she did that a lot. Jordan frowned before Parker pulled his attention back into the conversa
tion.

“Maybe we should start looking into the workers,” Parker suggested. “I know they don't have access to the accounts, but money can be pilfered in many w
ays.”

“A hundred and fifty grand worth?” Jordan a
sked.

Parker shrugged. “Happens all the time. Someone hires a nanny or an assistant and the next thing you know your hard-­earned cash is gone with the wind. Or the hac
ker.”

“Unfortunately, until we have an answer, everyone is suspect.” Ryan scanned the room. “Even me. That's not all the news I have. But believe me, this isn't any bet
ter.”

“When it rains, it pours,” Ethan murm
ured.

“We finished the fiscal tax year in the red.” Ryan let the other shoe drop. “Not deep, but in the red nonethel
ess.”

“Fuck.” Parker scratched his head. “So how do we fix t
hat?”

“We find ways to make the company more profitable.” Declan got up, poured another cup of coffee, then returned to the t
able.

“Such as?” Jordan wanted to help in any way he could but he had no idea what it took to turn around a flagging family wi
nery.

“At this point we need to consider everything.” Declan shrugged. “All ideas are welcome and necess
ary.”

“How about some Sunday wine festivals?” Ethan asked. “Maybe with some local bands. Local restaurants could do the catering with a portion of their profits going to the winery as an operator's
fee.”

“
Or
the area's food trucks,” Parker added, knowing he had one of the best. “Maybe we could create an onsite trattoria in the building next to the event cen
ter.”

“What about a wine club?” Jordan suggested. “With an annual membership fee that would include special wine deals. Maybe they could also receive VIP tickets to the Sunday festiv
als.”

“These are all great concepts.” Ryan seemed relieved that everyone had put a positive spin on such a negative situation. “Maybe everyone could make a list of their ideas so when we come back together we can vote on each proj
ect.”

“Just so you know,” Jordan said. “I'm more than willing to financially invest in the busin
ess.”

“Me too,” Dec
said.

“I'll put up the cash for a trattoria,” Parker amended. “I've been saving to open my own restaurant. Might as well put it h
ere.”

“I'm no millionaire,” Ethan said, “but I'll gladly invest what I've got. And I can put in some sweat equity
too.”

“Yeah, but will you shave that beard before things start growing in there?” Jordan j
oked.

“Consider it done.” Ethan chuckled. “Although don't you hockey players have some superstition thing and start growing
Duck Dynasty
beards as soon as the playoffs get go
ing?”

“Not me. The ladies don't like t
hem.”

A groan of consensus passed around the t
able.

“Maybe this was all part of Mom and Dad's plan—­bringing us back together,” Ethan
said.

“I don't know.” Ryan shrugged. “But it sure as hell beats wondering what everyone else is doing when we're spread throughout the coun
try.”

Jordan couldn't agree
more.

When his cell phone vibrated on the table in front of him, he glanced down at the incoming number. Coach Reiner. For the fourth time in less than twenty-­four h
ours.

Shit.

He let the call go to voice
mail.

A
gain.

Tomorrow he'd deal with the situa
tion.

Today was all about fa
mily.

And
Lucy.

A
s everyone got up from the table and clustered around the coffeemaker for refills, Jordan caught Ryan off to the side of the
room.

“Don't sweat this,” he said. “I can tell by the ready-­to-­keel-­over look on your face that you've lost sleep trying to figure it all
out.”

Ryan nodded. “Haven't really slept much since the call came in about Mom and
Dad.”

“I'm right there with you.” Jordan clamped his hand on his big brother's shoulder. “Just remember, we're all in this together. You don't need to bear the burden al
one.”

“I appreciate that. I haven't been able to spend much time with Riley lately. It's starting to feel more like she's the parent and I'm the
kid.”

“What do you m
ean?”

“She's lost so much. Yet she constantly worries about
me
. She's always trying to take care of me. Make sure I eat right. Hell, because of the circumstances she's been thrown into, she's growing up too fast. It's not fair. I want her to be a little girl for as long as she
can.”

“Sometimes life just hands a kid a tough road. But she'll come out of it okay. Because she has you. Never fear t
hat.”

“I do. I just wish her mom wasn't so .
 . .”

“Wrapped up in toilet pa
per?”

Ryan groaned. “I can't begin to tell you what it does to a man's ego when he knows he can't compete with something you flush down the shit
ter.”

“I'm sure there are women lined up to take her pl
ace.”

“Don't know. Haven't dated since she l
eft.”

“Dated.” Jordan's eyebrows jacked up his forehead. “As in you have
n't—­”

“Nope. Haven't done that eit
her.”

“Jesus. You and Dec are giving the Kincade men a bad n
ame.”

“Pretty sure I don't want to know what's going on—­or not going on—­with
him.”

“Let's just say the two of you could start a celibacy c
lub.”

“Not the kind of club I'm interested
in.”

“I would imagine not.” Jordan patted his brother's broad shoulder. “So, change of subj
ect?”

“Yes ple
ase.”

“Thank God.” Jordan sipped his coffee. “I thought I'd give you an update on Ni
cki.”

“I appreciate that you're really taking this situation to heart,” Ryan said. “I've
got—­”

“Your hands are full.” Jordan acknowledged the cold, hard facts. “I totally get that. And while I don't have all the answers yet, I am making progress with the help of her creative writing teac
her.”

His brother smiled. “Lucy's a nice wo
man.”

Nice.
Complicated. Smart. Sexy. And Jordan knew there was a whole lot more he'd yet to disc
over.

“Yeah. She's great,” he said. “She plans to talk to the school counselor to make sure we're taking the proper steps to help Ni
cki.”

“What?” Ryan's head went back. “Wait a minute. You? Following ru
les?”

“I don't break them all, you k
now.”

“Well, I appreciate the extra effort,” Ryan said. “And especially for your patience with our sister. I know she's not always the easiest firecracker in the box to han
dle.”

“The baby dragon?” Jordan chuckled. “She's not as tough as she thinks she is. Besides, I'm wearing her d
own.”

“Oh rea
lly?”

“Yeah. I'm sticking around. She swears I'm going to run out on her. I have to prove I'm
not.”

“That's a big order to fill, little brother. What about your career? The team? The playo
ffs?”

Jordan shrugged. “I'll figure it
out.”

Famous last w
ords.

“Well, whatever you do . . .” Ryan clamped his hand over Jordan's shoulder. “It's really good to have you around for a cha
nge.”

“Thanks. It's good to be here. Does that mean I can borrow the keys to the event center toni
ght?”

“What have you got plan
ned?”

“I could tell you but then I'd have to kill
you.”

“Sounds serious.” Ryan's brows came together over a piercing g
lare.

“Just the oppos
ite.”

“Then yes, you may have the keys.” Ryan grinned. “Just make sure you don't break anyth
ing.”

“No worries.” The last thing he had in mind was a brawl. Then again, he wasn't exactly sure how much Lucy liked surpr
ises.

A
t eleven minutes to seven Lucy felt like she was about to break down. Or throw up. She paced across her bedroom floor, holding this skirt or that blouse up to her body so she could inspect her clothing choices. She realized too late that she didn't have the appropriate clothes to wear on a
date
and it was too late to go shop
ping.