“Bryce is in San Bernardino for a rodeo,” Charli says. “So, I decided to stay in my old room tonight.” Then she jerks her thumb at Shelby. “And I convinced this one to stay, too, because we haven’t had a proper sister sleepover since you got home.”
Shelby nods. “You’re welcome.”
I look between them slowly.
“Now, put your PJs on,” Charli says, patting the space between them. “And come up here and tell us where you’ve been.”
I groan and stand. “You two are ridiculous.”
Shelby gasps dramatically.
I fetch my sleep set from my bathroom where I left it this morning and quickly change. I pull my hair into a messy bun and join them in my bed.
Charli passes me a glass. “Spill.”
“Okay, fine,” I huff.
Shelby mutes the television, and I lean back against the headboard and begin telling them all about my strange evening.
Charli practically vibrates. “So, you went on a date with your boss?”
“God, no. It was dinner.”
They both blink.
“Isn’t dinner considered a date?” Shelby asks.
I hesitate. “No. Dinner is just dinner.”
Charli’s eyes widen. “Just dinner with Porter Garrison?!”
“Shh!” I hiss, waving my hands. “Do you want the entire ranch to hear you?!”
Charli claps her hands over her mouth.
“Okay. So, it was dinner. There was food,” Shelby says slowly. “What else?”
I shrug. “There was nothing else. That’s the end of the story. There was food. We ate the food. The end.”
Charli scoffs. “You had dinner with the broody son of a senator-slash-billionaire hotel owner, and there’s nothing to tell? Boring.”
“I told you it was just dinner,” I mutter. “And he’s not broody.”
They both stare at me.
I sigh.
“Alright,” I admit. “He might be a little broody.”
Charli sits up and squints at me. “First question,” she says, holding up one finger. “Is he hot?”
I choke on my wine. “Charli,” I sputter.
“Answer the question,” she insists.
I wave my hand dismissively. “He’s okay-looking, I guess.”
Shelby tilts her head. “You guess? You know what hot is.”
