Me: You still coming with me to the art thing tonight?
Stella: Uh, duh. I’m already dressed. You think I’d miss free cheese cubes and awkward teen poetry?
I smiled, sinking back against the leather seat. Thegallery thingwasn’t actually at a gallery. It was a public high school gym decked out with folding tables and poster boards, where students displayed paintings, pottery, and sketches under fluorescent lights.
Stella’s cousin was one of the art teachers, and somehow, I’d gotten roped into going last year, but I’d loved it. There was something pure about it, watching kids beam with pride over something they’d made, not because it would earn them money or score them a connection, but because it mattered to them.
Me: I’m in the car. Be there in twenty.
Stella: Bring snacks. I never trust those pretzels.
I laughed quietly, glancing out the window. The city lights blurred past. For the first time all night, the tightness in my chest loosened. Out here, away from the Westwood name, away from my father’s pointed smiles and Trent Shepard’s confusing blue eyes, I could just be me. And maybe it was time to accept that was the only thing I really needed to be.
CHAPTER 6
TRENT
After Charlotte disappeared, I finally cornered Alex. “Alright. Do you want to tell me what this is really about? ‘Cause last I checked, I didn’t fly halfway across the country to sit in a cigar cloud and watch you have a nervous breakdown.”
Alex sighed through his nose, raked a hand through his dark brown hair, and nodded. “Let’s go grab a drink. I’m going to need one for this.”
He spun and strode back to the dining room, walking all the way through it to the bar at the far end. Once we had whiskeys and stools, he glanced toward the back of the room and jerked his chin in that direction.
I followed his gaze. Gregory Van Allen was holding court by the fireplace. I didn’t really know the guy so much as I’d heard of him. He was polished and pedigreed, a dude who’d probably come out of the womb wearing cufflinks.
British aristocracy or some shit.
“What about him?” I asked.
Alex’s jaw tightened. “My dad is thinking about setting him up with Charlotte.”
I paused for a beat. “And?”
“And,” Alex said like I was missing something huge, “I don’t like it.”
I glanced between him and Gregory again. “He’s rich. She’s rich. Neither of them have ever had to clean mud off their boots in their life. It seems like a match made in country club heaven to me.”
Alex’s mouth twitched. “You don’t know him.”
“I won’t be dating him.” I finished what was left in my glass. “He seems like the kind of guy your dad would love. Probably calls himsirin that fancy accent and means it. Hell, if Sadie was still single and my folks knew that guy, you can bet they would have tried the same thing.”
Alex muttered something that sounded a lot like a growl under his breath, but I didn’t push him. The Westwoods were complicated. I’d known that since I was old enough to sneak whiskey with Jameson in his parents’ wine cellar.
I set my glass down and checked my watch. I still had ranch business to finish and my foreman had already texted me twice about next week’s shipment. When Alex had called and asked when I could get back here, I’d assumed it was something urgent.
Obviously, this wasn’t that. I straightened up a little. “If you don’t actually need me and this isn’t about the business, I’m going back to Dallas. I flew out so suddenly I didn’t even finish wrapping up?—”
“I need you here,” Alex said suddenly. “I have a plan.”
I stared at him. “A plan for what?”
“Charlotte.”
“Okay, that’s nice. Good for you. It has nothing to do with me, though, unless she’s looking to get into the cattle business.”
The look Alex gave me in return said it very much had something to do with me, although I doubted she wanted to wrangle a herd. He didn’t even bother trying to hide it, juststaring like the wheels in his head were spinning faster than they should be. The longer it went on, the more uneasy I got.
“Did you blow a gasket in there?” I asked finally. “What was in that cigar?”
