“She’s done great work,” Crew cuts in. “Got a stallion saddle-broken in no time.”
Caia nods, impressed, and with a swift clap to Crew’s back, says, “Then she’s out of your league in more ways than one.” Something behind Grace catches Caia’s attention, and her eyes bulge slightly.
“Uh-oh, you’d better go, Crew,” she says, feigning terror. “Cooper looks like he’s one whiskey away from trying to arm-wrestle a state senator.”
Crew lingers for a moment, looking between the two of them. Grace, a little—a lot—intimidated by his firecracker of a sister, tries to implore him with her eyes not to go. But Caia gives him no choice when she practically shoves him away with her palm to his chest. “Go, wrangle him before Mom has to.” She smiles and winks at Grace, then adds: “We’ll be fine.”
Crew sighs loudly, tossing his head back. Grace observes this, smiling despite herself. It’s odd—and maybe even…adorable?—to see Crew among his family. Especially Caia. She seems to bring out another side of him entirely. More expressive, more present. More like Grace imagines he might’ve been as a kid.
He steps into her space then, and Grace’s breath catches slightly. “I’ll see you later?” Crew asks, hardly louder than a whisper. He gives her a moment, his eyes boring into hers. Only when she gives him a tight, nervous nod does he walk past her, leaving just the slightest bit of room between them as he goes.
Caia snorts and mumbles something that sounds a lot likeReal smooth.
Nerves dance in Grace’s belly, in her throat. The look in Caia’s eyes when the two women find each other’s stare is unsettling—mostly because it looksexactlylike the one Renata gets on occasion when she’s trying to puzzle something out.
“Come on,” Caia says, hooking her arm into Grace’s. “I need a drink.”
Chapter 11
It becomes evident after one shot and one shotonlythat Grace is not a fan of tequila. And this fact must be all over her face, because Caia spots her grimacing and breathing hard through her nose and trying to keep her dinner from coming back up, and she has to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. “Oh, Grace, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
Grace shakes her head, waving it off. “All good. I’m fine.”
“Really?” Caia counters flatly.
Grace hiccups and the taste flickers back into her mouth with a vengeance. Rather than risk talking, she gives Caia a thumbs-up.
Caia chuckles. “All right. Want to sit?”
They sit on a cube of hay near the bar, and Grace is finally starting to feel like she can breathe normally when Caia goes in for the kill.
“So, you like him,” she says, knocking playfully into Grace’s arm with her own. When Grace looks up for clarification, she follows Caia’s glance until she finds Crew with his arm securely wrapped around Cooper’s neck, walking him away from a group of annoyed-looking men and waving an apologetic hand in their direction.
Stuttering, shocked, and still nauseated, Grace makes a clipped, unintelligible noise. “What? Crew? No—he’s my boss.”
“Ah, right. Of course,” Caia says. “That boss-slash-employee dynamic never turns into anything. There’sneverany attraction there.”
“Well, I’m sure there’s attraction for some people, but it’s—it’s not like that.”
“It looked a lotlikethatto me, honey.” She shrugs. “But, hey, we don’t have to get into it. You don’t know me from Adam—of course you’re not going to confess your undying love for my stubborn-ass brother.”
Grace says nothing, grateful for the out. She notices Caia scanning the scene, particularly spending a good amount of time watching the dance floor. She seems to be looking for someone, something. Grace couldn’t say. To keep the conversation healthily distanced from dissecting her feelings for Crew, she asks, “Looking for someone?”
Caia kinks a brow. “Just making sure my mother didn’t invite any unsavory types. Con artists. Musicians. Bull riders turned cologne models.” Caia sighs, biting the inside of her cheek as her search continues. “She tends to be too charitable about that kind of thing.”
Cologne models—Grace remembers that. She swings her head around to look at Caia, and, excited to have something concrete to contribute, she says, “Oh, Easton, right? The guy from the centerfold inFor the Ranch?”
Caia’s search halts. She looks at Grace sharply and abruptly, and for the first time since laying eyes on her, Grace notices a twitch of something sad in her eyes. A chink in her armor. A rare sight, if Grace had to guess.
“You know him?” Caia asks, leaning back and folding her arms over her chest.
It’s a self-protective gesture, Grace knows. She learned that from a guidance counselor in middle school. “No, not at all. The guys just made a big stink about it a few nights ago. Everyone seemed to have their own opinion of it, none of them good.”
Caia nods, smiling, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Well, there’s not a whole lot of good to say, so that makes sense.”
Grace nods, waiting for Caia to elaborate on what clearly seems to be an old wound with an old…someone. When she doesn’t, a peaceful, unexpected quiet settles between them. Grace glances out of the corner of her eye at Caia here and there, admiring her sharp profile, her full lips, the freckles that span her cheeks and nose. It really should be studied, how beautiful all of the Caldwells are. The gene pool should be at the top of science’s list on how to make people pretty, if that’s even a thing science does.
The bartenders are still hard at work as night settles in, and Bryce Carrigan steadily and enthusiastically continues to work the crowd with his crooning and his charm. Couples dance, people mingle, all the laughing and cacophonous voices morphing into roars as the alcohol continues to flow.
