Jack laughed, a deep rumble of sound. “Jeannie can more than hold her own with him. You should know that about your mother.”
“I do, but I’m also her son, and you’ll understand that Chuck and I have felt especially protective of her since our father died.”
“I’m glad to know that. She’s had a difficult time, and even realizing she’s a strong person doesn’t stop me from wanting to look after her.”
“She deserves some peace.” Trystan shifted uncomfortably.
“Having some trouble with the wedding still though, are you, boy?”
“I think we’re all still surprised. Decades of animosity between our families can be tough to sweep aside—or rather it is for some of us.”
“Understandable. We’ve slung some harsh words around over the years,” Jack conceded. “I’m hoping we can put that behind us. Maybe someday you’ll even join us for a family breakfast at Kit’s Kodiak Café. It’s a tradition I started with my brood when they were young. I would bundle them up quietly so their mother could sleep in...” His voice faded off at the mention of his dead wife.
“That doesn’t sound like the Jack Steele my father told me about, the Jack Steele who fed small children to bears.”
Jack laughed, full out and loudly. “You’ve got spunk in you. We’ll find our way just fine.”
“Good to know.” And since Trystan wanted his mom to be happy and didn’t have any choice but to accept this man in her life, he said, “I’ll take you up on that breakfast when you get back from your honeymoon. But you’re paying.”
“Deal.” Jack nodded curtly, then stopped Trystan from leaving by gripping his arm. “I want you to know that I love your mother.”
“You’ve told us.” Still he couldn’t dodge the blindsiding swipes of memories of his father fuming in frustration over Jack Steele’s business tactics. No tuxedo and profession of love could sweep away the fact that the guy had undercut his father, ruthlessly filching clients.
That history was a huge part of why Trystan had insisted on stepping into this business void for the month, rather than giving it over to one of the Steele offspring.
“And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it,” Jack said brusquely. “I appreciate you all putting on a good face for the merger.”
Trystan half smiled, snagging a glass of champagne. This conversation was awkward as hell. “We don’t have much choice.”
“You could walk away. You have quite a portfolio of your own, more than enough to take over the ranch.”
Trystan bristled. He refused to be shuffled aside when his mother needed him now more than ever. He was part of the family, and that wasn’t something he would ever take for granted. “I owe my parents better than to turn my back on their legacy.”
“That sort of loyalty is golden. You’re my kind. For what my opinion is worth.”
“Your opinion is important because you’re important to my mother.” He finished off his champagne and set the glass aside, his gaze straying briefly to Isabeau. “Although if you hurt her, my loyalty to you ends.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less.” Jack tugged at his tuxedo tie. “This thing almost has me yearning for the neck brace again.”
The man’s lighthearted way of referencing his near-death accident took Trystan aback, but also made him admire Jack a bit.
Jack Steele was as tough as his reputation.
And Trystan completely agreed on the tie issue. “I would suggest you ditch the tie and rest, but I suspect that would fall on deaf ears. So I’ll just say, thanks for taking the time to reassure me about my mother.”
“You’re a good son.” He squeezed Trystan’s shoulder. “And I’m a perceptive old man who knows when a fella is distracted. Go dance with the media consultant.”
A smile tugged at Trystan’s mouth as he weaved around the elegant dinner tables, heart pounding as he made his way to Isabeau. Her arms crossed, highlighting her curves even more. She schmoozed with Miles, the owner of a fairly large news station. The wiry thirty-something-year-old leaned in close to Isabeau, scraping back his wheat-colored hair.
Trystan set his jaw, nodding as he closed the distance between them. “Thank you for attending tonight, Miles.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. The Mikkelson-Steele merger is big news around here. Our readers are pinning a lot of hope on the job creation of Alaska Oil Barons versus Johnson Oil.” He cut his gaze to the side. “Although I’m surprised you invited Cal Johnson, him being the enemy and all.”
Trystan cocked his head, sizing up Miles. “Is that a dig for a statement?”
“One can hope.” Miles slid an arm around Isabeau in a way that felt a bit too familiar. “Your media maven here has been doing fine work sharing news about the conservation efforts of your company. That’s going to cut into your revenue, though, and put you behind Johnson.”
Trystan wasn’t wading into that boggy interview territory—and besides, he wanted the bastard’s arm off her. Now. “Isabeau works too hard. She’s more than earned a dance.”
In a swift motion, Trystan swept his hand into the small of Isabeau’s back, hand sinking into the silky dress. Ushering her forward as the string quartet segued into a new piece...a Brahms waltz, too damn familiar from one of Alayna’s long-ago violin recitals. With practiced ease, he spun Isabeau into his arms, her full-length gown swirling around her ankles.
Trystan folded Isabeau’s hand into his, placing his palm on her waist. Having her in his arms again felt good, right, easing some of the awkwardness that had crept between them when they woke up in the hotel the next morning. Awkwardness made worse when he’d tried to broach the subject of her seeing a doctor.
She’d changed the subject and taken her dog for a walk.
He opted for neutral territory now. “How am I doing tonight?”
She squeezed his hand lightly, smiling. “You’re acing everything and you know it.”
“I haven’t hit anyone. That’s a bonus. Although I was hard-pressed when that news producer put his
