“It has come to light that the dam you have on Shipp’s Creek is impacting the water rights of those downstream.”

Chance takes off his Stetson, runs his hand over his head, and then sets it back on. “That’s interesting and all since the Bridgers have the oldest water rights in the state.”

Seattle has rain. A shit ton of it. Water isn’t an issue. To me, it’s what I land my plane on and get when I turn on a faucet. I’m not familiar with the ins and outs of what the hell they’re talking about.

“Still can’t prevent others from getting enough to water their crops.” The older man puffs up his chest, clearly pleased with his argument.

“Right. That dam, as you call it, is a bunch of rocks and tree branches. Beavers create more water blockage than anything on my property ever could. I have no interest or intention of creating a problem for any of my neighbors.”

“Our property,” Miles murmurs.

Chance turns his head and gives Miles a wry look. “Ours,” he corrects. “Mr. Mayor, have you met the other Bridgers? This is Austin and Miles.”

The man’s eyes widen as he takes us in without taking the hands we both offer. “What?” he asks roughly, as if he’s swallowed his own spit.

A smile slowly spreads across Chance’s face. Yeah, finally. A fucking smile.

“Oh, you didn’t hear? You seem to have your finger on the pulse of everything in this community. Including my”—he clears his throat—“our father. Except he no longer has a pulse.”

I swear I can see Rick Vance’s back molars grinding together.

“There are three of you? Jesus.” He runs a hand over his face.

I have a feeling we’re not going to get a town-sanctioned welcoming parade.

“That’s right.” Chance nods. “Not just me you have to deal with now.”

I have to remember he’s Carly’s dad. Carly’s dad.

“I’m sure I can ring up my lawyer and have him look into any water rights issues you might have,” Chance continues, his voice steady. “Or I can ride downstream and chat with my neighbors personally about the pesky wildlife. Or I can move a few rocks and alleviate the problem personally.” Chance holds his arm out, indicating me and Miles. “I’ve got some strong backs to help me.”

“Moving a few rocks won’t solve the issues I have with the Bridgers,” Mr. Vance growls.

“I’m well aware of that, since you always seem to have one or two.” Chance takes a step toward the older man. “Please stop by and share any additional issues you may have, but just a reminder, Mayor. I’m not my father.”

“You sure about that?” Mr. Vance narrows his gaze even further until his eyes are practically slits. His face is getting redder by the minute. “Your old man threw money around like it fixed everything. What happens when that money goes away? Huh?”

“Dad!”

Chance, Miles, and I turn as one at the female voice.