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A Wilde Brothers enemies to lovers romance
When Ben Wilde, a renowned figure in the oil and gas industry, is sent to Kit Cove to sell his company's pipeline project, he finds himself facing fierce opposition from a passionate environmentalist named Carrie Richardson. As he stays at her father's B&B, Ben becomes entangled in a community that resists his presence and a woman he tells himself he can't have feelings for.
Carrie, the spokesperson for the group opposing the pipeline, is determined to protect her community's interests. Despite their clash of ideologies, Ben and Carrie are drawn to each other, facing a dilemma between their growing attraction and their respective responsibilities. As they grapple with the powerful connection between them, they must confront the question of whether they can trust each other with their hearts amidst the battle for progress and preservation.
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Seitenzahl: 247
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
A Matter of Trust, The Wilde Brothers
COPYRIGHT © Lorhainne Ekelund, 2014, All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Wilde Brothers
Book 5
Keep in touch with Lorhainne
The Wilde Brothers
A Matter of Trust
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
What’s Coming next in The Wilde Brothers…
The Reckoning
Continue your journey with "The Last Stand". A snowstorm, danger, and Christmas secrets await. Grab your copy now!
The Last Stand, Chapter 1
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Step into the world of the Wilde Brothers, a captivating family of Idaho, where the rugged charm of the west meets the allure of hot men and strong women in this delightful romantic family saga.
THE WILDE BROTHERS:
THE ONE: A passionate and stirring love story: After losing her job as a surgeon, Margaret retreats to her hometown — where she runs into Joe Wilde, the man she’s wanted for years.
THE HONEYMOON: In "THE HONEYMOON," Joe surprises his bride, Margaret, with an unconventional camping trip for their honeymoon, leaving her unsure about their future together.
FRIENDLY FIRE: In this gripping romance, Julia finds sizzling chemistry with Logan, a Marine veteran and the new town sheriff. But when Julia’s daughter goes missing, can Logan protect them both from harm?
NOT QUITE MARRIED: In “Not Quite Married,” Julia and Logan’s whirlwind romance faces challenges, and doubts arise as unexpected events test their love and trust in each other.
A MATTER OF TRUST: When oil executive Ben Wilde is sent to pitch a pipeline project in Kit Cove, he clashes with environmentalist Carrie Richardson, who opposes his plans. Despite their differences, a strong attraction develops between them, leading to a conflict between their feelings and their respective responsibilities.
THE RECKONING, A Wilde Brothers Christmas: The holiday season and family dynamics can be a wonderful reunion. Only the battle between two brothers, a father and son with unreconciled differences could ruin Christmas for the Wilde Brothers.
TRADED: When Chris overhears football star Jake begging his ex for a second chance, she can’t help offering him advice. And as they grow closer, their unlikely friendship sparks an attraction neither of them can resist…
UNFORGIVEN: Junior lawyer, Samuel Wilde has an unbreakable bond with his brothers—that is, until one woman comes between them, threatening to divide the Wilde family forever.
THE HOLIDAY BRIDE: Trinity Cooper Wilde longs for a quiet Christmas with her hidden baby, but a snowstorm brings Deputy Garrett Franke, the man she's sworn to hate, to her door, unaware that the baby is his. As they become snowbound together, secrets unravel, and Trinity's plan to reveal the truth faces unexpected challenges.
Ben Wilde is sure of one thing, it’s that Carrie Richardson is trouble. (Guest appearance by Logan Wilde.)
—“I have read the series of " The Wilde"; books full of strong family minded men. They care and love their women. Lorhainne Eckhart is one of my favorite writers, she never disappoints her fans.”
The name Ben Wilde means something in the oil and gas industry. Admired as one of the top ten bachelors in Idaho, he’s a man who has it all…except when it comes to love.
That is, until he meets Carrie Richardson: an environmentalist, a fiery blond beauty, and an absolute thorn in his side, and Ben soon learns that she is none other than the spokesperson for the group that has aggravated him throughout the entire project.
The advice about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer backfires on Ben and Carrie, though, because the fact is that they want each other badly. However, Carrie can’t let her community down—and Ben has a job to do.
He really was a handsome cuss.
Ben Wilde took in the shiny magazine cover bearing the headline Idaho’s oilman: a dream catch! in bold lettering just below his photo. As he thumbed through the magazine and took in the other men who had made the list, a special feature on the top ten bachelors in Idaho, he was stunned that his profile was the one they’d chosen for the cover. This type of Hollywood-ism really wasn’t for him, but he paused for a moment as he remembered the magazine editor, a slim redhead who had phoned him a dozen times until he agreed to an interview.
She’d been cute, flirting with him mercilessly the entire hour she had been there. Ben realized now that he should have asked for more details about the article…not that he was mad. He was more uncomfortable, maybe, considering his entire family would see him plastered on the front page like some male model. He would never hear the end of the teasing and smart remarks, even though the photo was good—really good. In fact, it was one of his better ones. His brilliant blue eyes really stood out, and the open collar of his starched white dress shirt showed a hint of his dark chest hair.
The editor had asked him to take his tie off, saying that an undone button or two would tease the women. He had humored her, the editor. What was her name? He supposed he could look it up, but she hadn’t made that much of an impression on him aside from surprising the hell out of him by putting his picture on the front cover. As he looked closer at his picture, he realized that even his short, dark hair, with the cowlick on the left side, was flattering in a disheveled, bad-boy kind of way, but it was his expression that showed his strength and determination, even his arrogance, which his brothers often teased him for.
In the photo, he stood with arms crossed on the front steps of the corporate office, the corporate sign of Kootenai Kounty Oil in the background. Maybe this article wasn’t such a bad thing, especially considering all of the bad press that KKO had been subjected to over the past few months. This was good, making him seem personable and likable.
Ben sighed. He was starting to sound like their PR department.
“Ben? I have another ten messages from Melissa, Kim, Lizzy, and Tina,” his secretary said, interrupting his thoughts. His secretary, Verna Barnes, was a plump, middle-aged woman with shoulder-length, dark brown hair and a square face. She was wearing a purple blouse and a knee-length black skirt as she strode through the door in low heels. Verna was confident and never shy, with four nearly grown children and a husband at home. She was well rounded, all about family, and Ben loved her motherly ways. That was a part of her that defined who she was, whether she knew it or not. She’d had her first baby at eighteen—still a kid, at least in Ben’s eyes. Verna loved her family and her job, though some days he wondered if she loved her job just a little more.
She hovered beside him as he lounged in his leather chair, giving him a flirty expression as if she was holding on to something before setting a handful of messages down in front of him and then tapping the magazine on his large, glass-topped desk. “You’re proud of that picture, hmm? Well, apparently, so are your girlfriends.” She tapped the messages. “These are all from them.”
Ben reached for the messages and thumbed through each one. Melissa was a tall, stacked brunette. Kim was a blonde, medium height, with a runner’s body—tight and toned. Lizzy…she was fun, with dark hair in a short bob, a bright smile, and dynamite cleavage that he loved. He had been on a few dates with Tina, the redhead. She wasn’t as stacked as the others, though she had a generous handful, and he’d discovered that her red hair was artificial while stripping her down one night, but that had been a night to remember—the best sex he’d had in a long time. Tina had stamina and could keep up with his needs.
He smiled as he set the messages down. Even though each of the women were lovely, not one of those ladies had left him with the burning desire to call and make plans for the evening. A pity, really.
Verna raised one of her thick eyebrows. She seemed to have figured out that he wasn’t interested long before he had. “You know that article portrays a side of you that folks don’t often see,” she said, actually reaching over and picking up the magazine to thumb through the pages. “Right here, I love this line: ‘Ben Wilde is a name that means something in the oil and gas industry. Well dressed, handsome, and smart, he’s a man who has it all, and he’s responsible for putting Kootenai Kounty Oil on the map as one of the biggest oil and gas pipeline projects in the Pacific Northwest.’”
Ben continued to lounge in his leather chair, watching Verna as she held the magazine open. She grinned proudly before glancing down at him with a mischievous look, one he’d seen many a time from the only woman, aside from his mother, who truly understood him. Verna was the one person in this industry he trusted implicitly, and he knew anything he said would never leave her confidence. He would go to his grave believing that. She had the kind of loyalty that couldn’t be bought. He had recognized something special in her when he'd pulled her from the secretarial pool six years ago, after he had been recruited by Peter Stillwell, the founder and CEO of this mega oil company. Peter was a self-made man in his sixties, and he was responsible for Ben’s success in the industry.
“How mad do you think Rick is going to be about this article?” Verna said. She closed it up and tossed it down on the desk in front of Ben, putting her hands on her plump hips over the unflattering dark, pleated skirt that fell just past her knees.
Ben frowned. Now in his late twenties, Rick Stillwell had always been in his father’s shadow. The only reason Rick had the cushy corner office down the hall from Ben was because his father owned the company. In Ben’s eyes, he hadn’t earned his place, including his title of vice president of operations. As Ben was the president, Rick had to answer to him, which didn’t go over too well for the pompous, spoiled ass—and the worst part was that Ben didn’t have the freedom to toss Rick’s lazy, unproductive butt out the door.
The man was a freeloader, and that went against everything Ben believed in, all the hardworking morals that had been drilled into him and his fellow Wilde brothers. However, Ben had also learned that there were times to push an issue and times to let things go. He had learned long ago to play the cards he had been dealt, so he knew that although Rick was a pain in the ass, he wasn’t going anywhere. Ben just needed to manage him and keep him on a tight leash.
“I don’t really care what he thinks,” he replied. Every time the conversation drifted toward Rick, that slimy son of a bitch, Ben had to move his thoughts along to something else or risk having a really bad day.
Verna didn’t say anything more. She didn’t have to. Rick had also been a problem for Verna ever since she'd started working for Ben. Every so often, he would quiz Verna on what Ben was up to, not only his projects but also his personal life. The last time, after she told him to stop bothering her, Rick had threatened to have her sent back to the typing pool unless she became more forthcoming. Ben had put a stop to that, cornering Rick in the elevator and staring him down, making it clear that if Rick bothered Verna again, he would be having a problem with Ben—a problem he would wish he didn’t have.
“Look, he’s a prick,” Ben said. “It doesn’t matter what I do. He’s always going to have a problem with it.”
“If you say so,” Verna said. “So what do you want me to tell all the ladies who keep calling and asking questions about you?”
“Excuse me?” He reached for the messages, wondering if his “girlfriends,” as Verna would say, had called more than once.
She rolled her eyes. “Since the article, all kinds of anonymous women have been phoning, leaving messages for you. One wants to fly in and have dinner and would like to know what day you’ll be available. Another offered to have your baby…” she trailed off. Maybe it was the way he was staring at her that had her stopping and giving him another teasing smile. “Oh, there’ve been many more, and I guarantee you there’ll probably be more to come. That article is going to have every warm-blooded woman hunting you down, trying to stick their brand on you, chasing a wedding ring.”
“Uh…” he started. Although he liked women, a lot, he was not too interested in being stalked—and God forbid being tied down to only one woman. Terrifying, indeed! “Tell them that I left the country,” he said, wondering if he had paled at the fleeting, panicked thought of having women showing up at his workplace to press their interest. No, he definitely wouldn’t be able to handle that.
“For how long?” Verna asked from the doorway, a hint of humor in her tone, as her phone had started ringing again from her desk.
“Indefinitely,” he said. “Oh, and to be safe, alert security. No unauthorized visitors!” he added as a chilling whisper of creepiness touched the back of his neck. He had to fight the urge to shiver.
This time, Verna did laugh. “Already done!” she said, starting out the door. “Oh, Mr. Stillwell, how are you today?”
Peter Stillwell, the CEO, flashed Verna a smile as he stepped past her and into Ben’s office, showing off his capped, white teeth. It was a practiced smile Ben had seen all too often on this sharply dressed man. Today, Peter was dressed in a navy Armani suit, with silver cufflinks, a starched white shirt, and a red tie. He was distinguished, and, as always, his white hair was freshly cut. He was tall, though not as tall as Ben, and he kept himself in good shape. His confidence showed in the way he carried himself.
Ben couldn’t make out what else he said to Verna as he leaned in toward her, but whatever it was had her giggling—and Verna wasn’t one of those women who often giggled like a silly schoolgirl. Ben couldn’t help wondering what was up. Although he liked and admired Peter, there was something about him, and Ben didn’t want him taking too much interest in his secretary. Peter was a family man, in theory, married to the same woman for the past forty years. In this day and age, considering the divorce rate, that was unusual, to say the least, especially for a man of his status. On the other hand, Peter’s faithfulness was questionable, as Ben suspected Peter had a mistress or two. Ben may not have approved, but he didn't judge him, either. He just didn’t want Peter expressing any interest in Verna. He tapped the desk, considering. Yes, maybe he needed to talk to Verna about this.
“Hey, Ben,” Peter said. “I wanted to talk to you about that new pipeline project.” He closed the door, and his smile for Verna vanished. Ben noticed his hesitation as he took in the large office. Instead of taking a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Ben’s desk, Peter wandered over to the black leather sofa, unbuttoning his jacket before sitting down and putting his arm over the back of the sofa. He tapped the leather as if considering what to say. “We’re having some trouble from the natives—figuratively speaking, of course,” he continued. There was no humor in his expression, but something put Ben on alert.
“What kind of trouble?” he asked. He knew the small community of Kit Cove on the coastline was not too happy about the pipeline project passing through their town. He’d already heard it a hundred times, and he’d been watching carefully from the sidelines.
“Apparently, the community has sent over a list of questions they want answered,” Peter said. “I’ve forwarded it to our PR department to handle, but the people in that community are already staging protests. Normally, we’d ignore it, but they’re getting media coverage. A little too much attention, if you get my meaning.” Peter brushed a piece of lint from his cuff, taking a deep breath as he looked at Ben again. He smiled this time, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Ben knew well that Peter hated all of the "riffraff," as he called them, who caused trouble for his drilling projects. That was reason enough for Peter’s irritation. Ben didn’t share Peter’s distaste for environmentalists, certainly not to the same degree of hatred. He found them a pain in the ass at times, and some were even over the top and dangerous, but most were those he called "weekend protestors," who would go back to their busy lives and forget about the issues after everything was said and done. The problem ones were enough of a threat that KKO had files of information on them: pictures, backgrounds, whereabouts, and a list of everyone connected to them. Their security team made it a top priority to keep track of where these people were, but then so did the country’s top intelligence service, which was where some of their current information had come from.
“I’m going to need you to take lead on this, Ben,” Peter said. “Go on up to Kit Cove; calm the people, answer their questions. Convince them that our project is going to bring millions in revenue into their community, creating jobs and feeding their children. Clean up the squalor. Get them on our side.”
Ben paused. This was outside his job description. Normally, their PR rep handled these types of problems. “I can do that,” he said, “but I have to ask: What’s got you so worked up, more than usual?”
“This is a big deal, Ben—huge. It’s the biggest project we’ve ever been part of, and we stand to make billions. I don’t have to remind you that this is also your baby. You negotiated the pipeline project, the Pacific Gateway. You met with the state senators and congressmen who’ll benefit the most. You should be the one to meet with the community and let them know we’re on their side. Smooth it out. People like you, a small-town boy with deep roots in the community…you can use that,” Peter said, gesturing for emphasis.
As Ben watched Peter, he realized that, maybe because of the size of the project, the problems were much bigger than either of them had anticipated. If that was the case, it would be too much for Janet Taylor, head of their public relations department, to handle. Sometimes, problems took on a life of their own. Maybe this could only be defused by the head of the company. “When do you want me there?” he finally said.
This time, Peter gave him one of those good old boy smiles as he stood up, buttoning his jacket. “Tonight,” he said. “Take the company helicopter. Janet can schedule a meeting with the community for tomorrow. Give yourself a night to get a handle on things. Figure out how to win them over.” He started toward the door and then paused. “Oh, and great article, by the way.” He gestured toward the desk, where the shiny magazine was sitting. “It wouldn’t hurt to use all that charm. Talk about your family, too; your values, how your father was a logger, how your large family grew up on the land…”
Ben had begun to tune Peter out. He was really pushing the “family roots” angle, and Ben hadn’t even realized that his boss knew about his family. It had been tough times growing up in rural Idaho, with five boys, five mouths to feed. Hunting, fishing—they had done it all just to survive. Ben somehow didn’t think a group of environmentalists would be too friendly with the fact that his father had cut down trees, probably old growth, too, just to make a living.
He said nothing as Peter left his office. The Stillwells may have come up from being dirt poor, as Peter had recounted so many times, but Ben couldn’t help wondering at what point Peter had lost his understanding of how the average person perceived big, bad corporations like KKO. Peter had clawed his way to the top, through the trenches, not allowing anything to get in his way. Maybe he didn’t want to remember what it was like, Ben realized. Maybe that was what happened when the wealthy got wealthier.
“Wow, would you look at that!” said Jason, the helicopter pilot, his voice clipping through the headphones as they approached Kit Cove.
It was a small coastal town, a fishing community with a large Native population. As Ben stared out the big bubble of a windshield, he was struck by what appeared to be hundreds of people below, waving signs as the helicopter approached the small community airfield. As they came in closer, Ben could see how they moved and yelled, shaking their signs in anger, the energy all ramped up. There was no doubt in his mind that this unfriendly crowd of people was meant to be his welcoming committee, and he didn’t need to read their damn signs to know that this community wasn’t interested in listening to him. What the hell was he walking into? Ben ground his teeth, fighting his first instinct to swear. Instead, he growled, wondering who was responsible for this.
“Okay there, boss?” Jason said. He could hear him, of course. The microphone picked up everything.
“Just trying to figure out how they knew that I was coming,” he replied. Ben had thought they were being smart, flying in tonight and slipping into town unannounced. He remembered telling Janet to make sure that she didn’t announce their arrival. He glanced over at his pilot, who was wearing headphones and dark glasses, his microphone almost touching his lips.
Jason was handling the stick, lowering the chopper down. “Wasn’t me who alerted these folks, just in case you were wondering,” he said gruffly.
No, Ben knew it couldn’t have been Jason. He’d known the man for six years, working closely with him for the last four. Ben had always been able to pick up on things in people once he got to know them, and he could always pick out the questionable ones that he wanted to keep an eye on. Jason wasn’t like that. He had a wife, four kids, loved to fly. He was about as uncomplicated as they got. “Don’t be an ass,” Ben replied. “I know it wasn’t you—not unless they offered you box-seat season tickets to the Mariners.”
Jason laughed. “Yeah, that would be sweet. May want to find out who told them, though. Whoever it was probably has it out for you,” he said. Jason could be a smartass sometimes, but Ben picked up on the edge in his voice.
“Yeah,” he bit out. He’d have to speak with Janet, as she had organized the meeting at the town hall tomorrow at five—“After the folks put in an honest day’s work,” as she had put it. He remembered adding that they would be tired and cranky, too, having a chance to get all worked up before he had time to say his piece. She’d pursed her lips and said that was the only time they’d be available to hear him, because, after all, they were the working class.
He had realized then that she was upset with him, for some reason. He couldn’t imagine that Janet actually wanted to be the one to handle this mess, so he hadn’t given it a second thought, but now he was wondering if she had just happened to mention when he would be coming. He could be reaching, and he didn’t want to start pointing fingers until he knew for sure, but he planned to find out. Maybe he’d call Verna, too, to make sure people kept their mouths shut. Ben wasn’t liking this reception, and he generally avoided this kind of heat. Protests weren’t about listening to reason or hearing from the other side, and you never knew when a friendly gathering could become dangerous.
The chopper landed a safe distance from the crowd. The sun was setting, and there was a string of lights across the small building.
“You take off as soon as I’m clear,” Ben muttered.
“Okay, boss. Take care,” Jason said. “Is someone picking you up?”
“Yeah, better be.” He pulled his headphones off, reached behind the seat for his bag, and climbed out. Bending over, he hurried away from the chopper as he spotted a pickup coming his way, pulling away from the crowd.
He could hear the whir behind him as the chopper took off, the wind from the blades making it hard to see when he glanced up. He turned back just as the pickup truck pulled up beside him. The crowd was closing in, too, all carrying signs. Some were written in blood red, with images of death and destruction. Some cried, “No tankers!” Some even bore his photo with a line drawn through his face, as if someone wanted him dead. He swallowed, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up. There was shouting and anger, and then someone spit in his face. He wiped it off and stared down at the culprit; a short, blond woman with an oval face and sharp blue eyes. She was attractive, once he got past her outrage.
“Get back on that chopper, you oil company sleaze ball! Get the hell out of here! You’re not welcome!” she shouted.
“Hey, knock it off!” a man yelled from the open driver’s door of the truck. He was older, maybe late fifties, close to Ben’s father’s age. He had gray hair and was large in the middle, as if he enjoyed a lot of home-cooked food. “You Ben Wilde?” he yelled over the roar of the departing helicopter and the shouts of the protesters. The group made no move to surround his truck, though they continued to wave their signs and shout.
Ben started toward the man. “I am, and you are?”
The crowd was about to surround them. The other man was a few inches shorter than Ben, but he didn’t seem bothered by the crowd at all. His expression gave nothing away, and he gestured toward his truck.
“Get in! I’m your ride. I suggest you hurry before we’re boxed in by your welcoming committee and get stuck here for the night.”
Ben tossed his bag in the back of the truck and went around to the passenger side, squeezing past the protesters who rustled him as he pulled the door open and slid in. As soon as he'd closed the door, the man put the truck in gear, pulling in a big circle, narrowly missing some people who hadn’t stepped back. He then pressed the gas, heading away from the crowd, out the open wire gates. They turned onto the road.
“My name’s Jack Richardson,” the man said. “I was hired to come and get you. My wife and I run a B&B, and your company rented out one of our cabins. A lady named Verna called, spoke with my wife and arranged it for you. She seemed concerned. She your wife?”
Ben chuckled, and the man gave him an odd look. “No, my secretary,” he replied. “She likes to mother me. I think, some days, she thinks I’m one of her kids.”
Jack gave a hint of a smile and then shook his head softly. Maybe he understood, but he didn’t say anything else.
