The first headlights sweep up the drive as Gran intercepts me. She gives my shirt a critical once-over and straightens my collar without asking permission.
"That's much better." She pats my chest. "Now, go be charming, dear."
"I'm always charming."
"You're usually adequate. Tonight, I need exceptional." She nudges me toward the front door. "Go."
The Texas dusk settles over Twin Oaks like a warm hand, porch lights already glowing—Oscar handles these things before anyone thinks to ask. The air carries the sweet scent of wildflowers and dry grass.
Beau Hartman's truck rolls up first, with Charlotte Faulkner's sedan right behind, followed by Lila Bennett in a little blue hatchback that looks like it barely survived the driveway. I meet them on the porch, shaking hands and accepting their gifts of wine.
"Charlie, this house is even more gorgeous than when you bought it." Charlotte gives me a hug and steps inside, her eyes sweeping the entry with the professional appreciation of someone who knows exactly what the renovation cost. "Your grandmother has done incredible things with it."
"Don't tell her that. She'll start construction on a guest wing next."
Charlotte laughs and moves toward the dining room where Gran is already holding court.
Beau claps me on the shoulder as he passes. "Smells like your chef knows what he's doing. I might have to steal him."
"Try it and Gran will have you arrested. She guards Chef Delany more zealously than the family silver."
"Can't blame a man for trying." Beau grins and heads for the sideboard where Oscar has set out drinks.
Rachel and Mason pull up a few minutes later. Mason comes around the truck without a word and offers his hand. Rachel takes it, lets him steady her, then immediately rolls her eyes like he’s being ridiculous. By the time they reach the porch, her hand has slid back to his arm like it belongs there.
"If you ask me how I'm feeling, I will hurt you," she growls at me as she reaches the top step.
"Wouldn't dare."
"Good." She kisses my cheek and sweeps past me into the house, where Gran immediately pulls her into a conversation with Lila.
Diego and Isabelle arrive together, and I recognize Diego's easy stride as he comes up the walk. Isabelle is a few steps ahead of her brother, dark-haired and sharp-eyed. She shakes my hand with a grip that would put most ranchers to shame.
"Thank you for having us," Isabelle says. "Your grandmother is very persuasive."
I chuckle. "That's one word for it."
"Diego's word was 'terrifying.'" Isabelle smiles, and the sharpness in her expression softens just enough to reveal a warmth she keeps well guarded. "But in the most delightful way."
"She's had a lifetime of practice. I'm still not immune."
Diego nods as he shakes my hand. "Your grandmother speaks highly of what you're building out here."
"She's our biggest champion," I say. "Has been since day one."
Diego grins, and he and Isabelle head inside to join the others. The living room is filling up now, conversations layering over each other. Oscar circulates with glasses of wine, and Gran presides from her chair like a woman who engineered every detail.
I figure that's everyone and I'm about to head inside when another set of headlights sweeps across the front windows. A familiar old truck rolls to a stop behind Mason's rig. The driver's door opens, and Sunny Reese steps out in a yellow sundress that stops me where I stand.
It's not fancy and probably something that took her only thirty seconds to decide on. But it's a far cry from the wine-stained t-shirt and khakis I'm used to. The fabric catches the light from the porch lamps, and for a moment I forget why I’m standing here. Her hair is down tonight, falling past her shoulders in loose waves and she's carrying a bottle of wine in one hand like a shield.
Now I know why Gran guarded the guest list like classified information. If I'd seen Sunny's name on it, I would have told Gran to back off and let me handle my own love life, and she knew it. That extra place setting makes a whole lot more sense now too.
Sunny spots me on the porch and stops mid-stride. For a beat, neither of us moves.
"You look like you've been standing there waiting for someone," she finally says.
"I've been greeting guests. You happen to be the last one."
