Chapter Five
Dixie
The beef tenderloin was probably exquisite. I wouldn't know — I'd taken three bites and couldn't taste any of them.
Hunter's hand rested on my thigh under the table, his thumb tracing slow circles against the fabric of my dress. We'd been seated for twenty minutes, and I'd already lost track of whatever Hudson's college roommate was saying about their fraternity days.
The ballroom glittered around us — crystal chandeliers casting warm light across white linens, the five-tier cake I'd helped decorate standing proud near the dance floor. Kendall had outdone herself. Hearts and roses everywhere, but somehow it worked. She sat at the head table practically vibrating with joy, her tiara catching the light every time she laughed at something Hudson whispered in her ear.
"More wine?" Hunter murmured, already reaching for the bottle.
"Better not." I'd had champagne on the terrace earlier. Needed to keep my head clear. "Water's fine."
His thumb stilled on my thigh. "You okay?"
"Just taking it all in."
Across the table, Jolene Massey watched me with that assessing gaze I'd come to recognize. Not hostile, exactly. More like she was solving a puzzle and couldn't quite make the pieces fit.
"Dixie," she said during a lull in conversation, "Hunter mentioned you work at The Hungry Heifer. How long have you been there?"
"Almost two years now."
"And before that?"
I felt Hunter tense beside me. "Mom—"
"I'm just making conversation, darling." Jolene's smile was pleasant. Practiced. "We barely know anything about her."
"I was in Houston for a while," I said evenly. "Came back to Bitter Root to be closer to family."
"Houston." Jolene nodded slowly. "Big city. What brought you back to our little town?"
My mother. My daughter. Rock bottom and the desperate need to climb back up.
"Sometimes you don't realize what you have until you leave it behind." I met her gaze. "Bitter Root is home."
Something shifted in Jolene's expression. Not warmth, exactly, but maybe the beginning of respect. Ward grunted approvingly from his seat and reached for his whiskey.
"Smart girl," he said. "Nothing wrong with knowing where you belong."
The servers cleared our plates as Kendall's father stood to give his toast. He cried. Kendall cried. Half the room cried. ThenWhitney Pemberton took the microphone and somehow made her maid-of-honor speech entirely about herself and her own search for love, casting meaningful glances toward Hunter that made my jaw clench.
Hudson's best man was mercifully brief. Then Hudson himself stood, and the room went quiet.
