The line went dead and I slid my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, glancing at the sky when I heard a rumble of thunder rolling in the distance. Heavy, dark gray clouds were gathering, the blue skies and sunlight from before long gone.
At the back of my mind, I wondered if it was some kind of ominous sign, but I ignored the thought. The fact was that therewas no other way. No matter what happened, I needed to get her away from here, far enough that neither Douglas nor Gregory would be able to interfere.
Besides, Douglas liked me. I doubted he’d be opposed to the idea of Charlotte and I getting together. I was practically Texas royalty.
Might not be the same as my father having an actual title bestowed to him by the King or however it worked, but I wasn’t a bad prospect for her either. Especially if it meant no one was going to fight him on it.
I got to the coffee shop a little early again, sitting down at the same table where we’d had our accidental date. The rain rolled in fast, splattering against the windows and muting the city noise. I ordered her drink, the same one she’d gotten last time, and my own. By the time the barista set them down, the bell over the door jingled and there she was.
Charlotte Westwood—my temporary, fake girlfriend—walking in out of the rain. Her hair was darkened, pretty much black when it was wet, and clinging to her cheekbones, her coat damp, her cheeks flushed, and her breathing quick from rushing.
She scanned the room like she wasn’t sure I’d actually show, but then her eyes found mine and something in my chest constricted. Hard. Like a fucking python had wrapped itself around it.
Those blue eyes fell away from mine, almost like she was shy, but I saw the smile she was trying to hide by sucking her lower lip into her mouth. She crossed over to me and I pushed her drink toward her.
“Your usual,” I said.
The smile finally broke free. “You remembered.”
“It’s pretty hard to forget someone ordering milk with only a little bit of coffee in it,” I drawled, pleased that I’d gotten her order right, but not about to admit it.
Her lips parted, but she snapped them closed again and I’d be damned if she didn’t look even prettier when she was irritated. For the briefest of moments, I felt guilty about the thought, but then I remembered that we were really doing this, her and I.
This fake dating thing. Hell, her brothers were insisting.
I smiled when she sat down across from me. “Are you ready for you vacation?”
“I’m not sure I’d consider going to Texas a vacation,” she shot back without skipping a darn beat. “Working holiday, maybe.”
I laughed. “Well, either way, are you ready to talk about how we’re going to pull this off?”
Those eyes met mine and she nodded, and suddenly, the plan was real. This was happening. Secretly, I was kind of looking forward to showing her the ropes. Little Charlotte Westwood who wasn’t so little anymore, on my ranch, in my big old house?
This might just turn out to be pretty dang fun.
CHAPTER 13
CHARLOTTE
The view outside the window of Trent’s private jet shifted from endless sky to endless land, and I leaned closer, my breath catching at the sight of it. Everything below was very, very flat, but beautiful in a way that was unfamiliar.
Untamed. Honest. Just land that wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
Texas wasn’t new to me. I’d been to Austin, Houston, and Dallas more times than I could count, but this was different. There were no high-rises in sight and the last trace of the sprawling, urban parts of the state I’d seen before had passed far below too many minutes ago.
I’d thought Trent lived in Dallas, but it seemed like it wasn’t quite so muchinasin the region of. Our descent started slowly, the jet lowering over nothing but untouched land. I kept my nose pressed to the window, searching for an airport or any sign of civilization, but there was nothing.
When the wheels finally touched down, it didn’t take a genius to figure out we’d landed on a private airstrip—on his family’s property, no less. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected the Shepard ranch to look like, but now that I was here, I realized it wouldn’thave mattered because I sure as hell would never have expectedthis.
Alex and Jameson had spent months here growing up, and in my head, I’d always thoughtranchmeanthumble. Something rural that looked like the life of a man who owned two pairs of jeans and one good suit.
Instead, I was looking at luxury. A sweep of smooth concrete runway with a long, gleaming hangar that looked newer and more impressive than the garages back at the Westwood estate.
Inside, aircraft equipment and polished steel screamed money.
No one but their staff and nothing but their land was in sight as far as the eye could see.Thiswas Trent’s wealth, his world, and it made me feel very small for being so vast.
Trent unbuckled as casually and easily as if we hadn’t just descended into a hundred new expectations of us both. He grabbed my luggage before I could reach for it and slung both bags over his shoulder like they weighed nothing.
