Trent Colby had me on a video call first thing that morning, walking me through a few new projections for the ranch and a whole heck of a lot of decisions that had to be made. As my foreman, he was shouldering a ton of responsibilities while I was away, but he and I had worked hard to get to a point where he could stand in for me while I was gone. At the same time, I’d dumped him in the de ep end by leaving so abruptly. I really did need to get back for a bit. Tie up a few loose ends. Even so, impatience snaked through me while we spoke. Alex and I had a meeting I had to get to, so eventually, I glanced at my watch, realized I was out of time, and ended the call with a promise I wasn’t sure I could ke ep. “Look, just ke ep your head up,” I said. “I need to run, but I’ll be back on the ranch soon. We’ll sit down and work through all this. For now, just do what you can and I’ll catch up when I get home.” “Sure thing, boss.” He gave me a smile backlit by the Texas sunshine. I caught a glimpse of sprawling pastures and blue skies before he was gone. I sighed, slamming back against the armchair in my living room and dropping my phone in my lap to run both hands over my face. As much as I hated summer in Texas, I really fucking missed it right then. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, though. Duty called. I drove out to a processing facility on the outskirts of the city to get a feel for what Chicago could actually offer us long term. The place smelled like disinfectant and cold metal, and the air had that buzz of machinery that never really stopped. Alex showed up halfway through the tour in a crisp suit and shiny shoes. Somehow he managed to make it look like this was his natural habitat. We walked the length of the facility together, talking numbers, logistics, and next st eps. Stuff I usually liked. Stuff I actually needed to know. Today, my mind k ept drifting. I almost brought up Charlotte twice. Three times, if I was being honest. Once when Alex was ranting about distribution delays. Once when he mentioned this weekend’s projections. Once more when we stopped in the middle of a loading bay and he checked his phone for the tenth time. Every time I opened my mouth, I stopped myself. It was just coffee. That was all. A weird, accidental, surprisingly good time while we were drinking it, but that was no reason to bring her up. When we wrapped up the tour, Alex grinned at me. “Dad’s having a barbecue at the house tonight. You should come.” “A barbecue?” “Yeah, well, that’s what he’s calling it. It’s a damned lie, though. I’m sure it’s going to be a fancy dinner party just with ribs as a decoration or something like that, but you should still come.”
I almost asked if Charlotte was going to be there, but I stopped myself just in the nick of time and cleared my throat. “Sure. It’ll be good to see Nate and the others again. It feels like it’s been forever.” “That’s because it has been.” Alex sighed. “Theo’s twenty-six now and I think he was a teenager when you last saw him. To be honest, I preferred him back then. Both he and Zach seem to think now that they’ve hit the other side of twenty-five, they know things.” I chuckled. “They’re Westwoods. They were always going to grow into their opinions.” He groaned. “Fuck, if only that’s all it was. I could handle their opinions. It’s the thinking they’re right that pisses me off.” “Suddenly, I’m glad I said yes to this not-a-barbecue.” I laughed. “It’s going to be interesting.” “That’s one way of looking at it.” His expression darkened, but of course, before I could ask what else was going on, his phone rang and he mouthed seven p. m. Then he was gone, smoothly sliding into the backseat of yet another black SUV while yammering on about using his veto if whoever he was talking to didn’t watch themselves. I shook my head as I watched him go, wondering how he was going to ke ep up this pace until he had a son of his own who was old enough to hand things over to. Hell, at this point, I wondered how he was ever going to produce a son when I doubted he had time to eat and sle ep, let alone date. Thankfully, again, it wasn’t my problem. The poor guy was wound tight, though. I hoped he was ke eping regular appointments with his cardiologist. Going about the rest of my day in a decidedly less chaotic manner than my friend, I sat down with my laptop and a cup of coffee and started reading through all the documents Colby had sent over. When it was time for the barbecue, I headed out of the city to the Chicago Westwood compound, still trying not to wonder if Charlotte was going to be there. Naturally, that meant she was the first person I spotted when I walked into the cavernous foyer. She stood at least half a head taller than the next tallest woman in attendance, her dark hair braided down the side of her head like some kind of Disney princess. Back to being a Westwood, her jeans were nowhere to be seen tonight. Instead, she had on a pale pink dress I was pretty sure was haute couture. Her wrists, neck, and ears sparkled with gold, and sky-high, glittering golden heels were on her feet. It was a little disappointing, if I was being honest. I’d liked the jeans and messy bun, but God. She could pull off this look just as well. Unfortunately for me, it also made her look a hell of a lot less like little Charlotte, Alex’s baby sister. Even more unfortunately, she wasn’t alone. Gregory was with her, leaning in and talking like he was the most interesting man alive. Charlotte stood quietly, smiling politely and nodding every now and then. Something hot and instinctive climbed up my spine, similar to the feeling I usually only got when someone else went too close to my favorite horse. Possessive. Irrational. Stupid.
So I k ept walking and didn’t interrupt, just passing them by and telling myself I was walking this close because it was the most direct route to the bar. That was what civilized people did, arriving at a party. Exc ept for the fact that my path brought me close enough to her that when I walked by, I heard Gregory’s voice, loud and smug, going on about some award, or accomplishment, or title. Charlotte didn’t say a single word. I slowed just enough that when she glanced up, our eyes met and something flickered in hers. Something vaguely wild and desperate, and seeing it there hit me square in the chest, but I still didn’t stop, turning the corner and forcing myself out of view instead. A drink. That’s what I need. A stiff one. I had a bad feeling that tonight was going to be a long damn evening. Douglas was holding court at the bar with a bunch of his friends, and though I’d planned on going to find Alex and his brothers, their Dad, like Harlan, seemed to have a sixth sense for when someone was trying to avoid polite society. He pulled me into their conversation effortlessly, introducing me to his circle of friends, all older men with the same brand of cashbacked confidence and cigar smoke clinging to them. “Trent, join us. Come and meet everybody. Gentlemen, this is Trent Sh epard. Troy’s son, out of Dallas. He’s going into a business venture with Alex.” As I shook each of their hands, they all laughed and chatted with me like nothing in the world had ever truly inconvenienced them. I respected Douglas. I always had, but the conversation quickly made my stomach twist. “As I was saying,” Douglas continued, clearly picking up where he’d left off before he spotted me now that the formalities of me joining them were done. “Van Allen and I are in agreement. Charlotte and Gregory are the perfect match. We hope to be announcing their engagement very soon.” Across the bar, Nate went stiff as a fence post, his jaw suddenly locked. He looked like someone had swapped his drink with vinegar. The second we made eye contact, he tipped his head toward the hallway. A silent request. When he slipped out from behind the bar, I followed under the pretext of going to find a bathroom. Unlike the San Francisco Westwoods, not all of the Chicago cousins were dark-haired. Some of them, like Nate, had inherited their mother’s lighter features. Sometimes, from behind, I could almost have mistaken Nate for Jameson if it hadn’t been for his dark blond hair. Still, the similarities in their features, their height, eyes, and the sharp jaws, had always made me feel as familiar with this side of the family as the other. Besides, Alex had gone to school with Jamie and me. Even though I’d befriended Jameson first, I’d been friends with Alex for almost as long. I’d known Nate, for example, since he’d been a gangly preteen. Which was why I didn’t hesitate when I caught up with him in the upstairs hallway. “Look, I get the whole Westwood marriage tradition. Legacy. Whatever you want to call it, but Charlotte and Gregory only just met, right? Is your dad serious about announcing an engagement soon?”
Nate’s mouth flattened into a hard line, his usually warm blue eyes flat and angry. “Come with me.” He led me up another flight of stairs, down a long hallway lined with portraits of people who had probably never broken a sweat in their life, then turned into the kids’ library. Because yeah, these people have two of those in their house. I was sure they didn’t refer to this one as the kids’ anymore, but that was what I’d known it as growing up. Alex was in there, sitting on the edge of a desk like he’d been pacing and had finally run out of carpet. “So this is where you’ve been hiding out,” I said as Nate led me in. “I was wondering where you were.” Alex glanced at Nate, saw the same thing I had in his eyes, and stood up. Without a word, he crossed the room to their fully stocked drinks cart and poured all three of us a generous tumbler of bourbon. “Gregory?” he asked Nate as he handed over our drinks. Nate inclined his chin, grabbing the bourbon like it was a lifeline and immediately taking a gulp that made a real dent in the amount. I glanced between the two of them. “Your dad is already engraving the wedding invitations.” Alex scrubbed his hand over his face and groaned. “Christ. I didn’t know he was that far along with this plan. Okay. Sit.” I didn’t. Instead, I tracked him with my gaze when he started pacing, watching Nate from the corner of my eye as he knocked back the bourbon like a runner sucking down water after a marathon. Finally, when neither of them said anything, I let out a harsh exhale through my nostrils. “Okay, what exactly is going on with you two?” I asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a fan of the whole arranged marriage thing, particularly considering she doesn’t even know the guy, but that’s not what this is about, is it?” Alex shook his head, pacing for another beat before he sank down on one of the armchairs and looked up at me. In that moment, he seemed ten years older than he had even this morning, his face drawn and suddenly a little ashen. “Gregory is not a good guy, Trent,” he started slowly. “He pretends to be. He charms the socks off everyone with that accent and the title, but he’s a social-climbing asshole who got himself run out of England with pitchforks. Now, he’s here trying to get back on his feet.” “By going after Charlotte?” I stared at him, taking in the slump of his shoulders and the clenched jaw. “Are you sure?” Alex nodded once, the motion sharp and certain. “He’s after the inheritance she gets when she marries. I’ve tried talking to Dad, but Gregory’s father is an old friend. Dad just sees the title and the pedigree. He thinks this is an ideal match for her and he’s not budging.” Nate sighed, leaning his shoulder against a bookshelf, his bourbon already half gone. “Charlotte seems taken by him already. It’s a shit show. If she marries him, family get-togethers are going to suck ass. I mean, I know there are bigger issues, but I’m just saying. I don’t want to listen to that blowhard tell stories about how great he is for the rest of my life.” Something flared hot in my chest. I didn’t like the sound of any of this. At all.
Alex shook his head, visibly upset. “I’ll talk to her. She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.” Charlotte, sweet, kind, big-hearted Charlotte, was being sw ept right into this with no idea she was being hunted. My free hand curled into a fist, but I perched on the edge of the desk casually, trying not to show that the thought of this was pissing me off too. “It should be up to Charlotte, though,” I said, feeling like I needed to point out the obvious. “Shouldn’t it? You can give her the information, but people fall for who they fall for.” Both brothers stared at me like I’d sprouted horns, completely taken aback. Nate frowned hard. “Up to Charlotte? No.” Alex actually scoffed, but there wasn’t any humor in the sound. “Gregory won’t even try once they sign on the dotted line. He’ll disappear on her the second her inheritance hits his bank accounts. This isn’t speculation. It’s not a hunch. It’s a pattern, but Charlotte might not see it that way. She’s smart, but she always wants to see the best in people.” “Have you got proof?” I asked. “If you can show her, it’s not about what she wants to see. It’s about who he really is.” “I’m working on it,” Alex muttered. “She’s not the first girl he’s done this to, but his family still matters in England. Gregory is using our family as a st eppingstone back to relevance for himself, but getting anything concrete from that side of the pond hasn’t been as easy as it should be.” Nate folded his arms, glass still dangling from one hand. “We can’t sit back and let her get blindsided.” The brothers started spinning themselves into knots, trying to figure out what angle to take, whether to warn her, and whether warning her would push her straight toward Gregory out of sheer stubbornness. I stayed quiet, wondering if they realized they were talking about this like it was a negotiation and not their sister’s life, but when I opened my mouth to say as much, the library door burst open. All three of us half-jumped as we turned just in time to see Charlotte rushing in, her eyes wide and her cheeks pale. She clutched the doorjamb like she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her upright if she let go. Alex went still and Nate had shut up mid-sentence, but his mouth was still open. She pulled her shoulders back when she saw us, clearly trying to find her composure, but I could see the tremor in her chin. Alex swallowed hard, his voice softening. “Char, we need to talk.” “Later,” she said breathlessly, her eyes darting around the room like she was trying to make sure it was just us. “I need help.” Her brothers straightened instantly, Nate going as stiff as a board and Alex already rising from his chair. Their reaction made the tight coil in my gut ease. Whatever else the Westwoods were, they protected their own. “I can’t do it,” she blurted before either of them could speak. “Dad wants me to make a match with Gregory, but I can’t do it. I cannot marry that guy.” Alex blew out a strangled breath of relief, but Nate just shook his head. “Okay, I hear you, but Dad can still make it happen, Lottie.”
Charlotte made a small, wounded sound. It was barely audible, but it hit me like a punch. Alex, however, was suddenly looking straight at me, and all at once, I knew why he’d called me to Chicago. Mother-fluffing-fucker. I was his ace in the hole, the back-up plan he was hoping he wouldn’t have to use. No. Nope. No sir. I ain’t doing it. I should’ve shut it down right then and there. I wasn’t getting tangled up in Westwood family politics and I sure as hell wasn’t volunteering myself as tribute in a marriage circus I barely understood, but then Charlotte looked at me too. Not at Alex. Not at Nate. At me—and the desperation in her eyes rewired every rational thought in my brain. “Use me,” I heard myself say with a shrug, like it was a casual suggestion instead of pouring gasoline on a bonfire. Alex’s smile came fast, his relief palpable while Nate blinked like someone had spoken in tongues, but he didn’t object. Charlotte stared at me, completely incredulous until it seemed to dawn on her what I’d meant. Then her expression snapped into a fierce scowl. “No,” she said instantly, throwing her hands up and taking a few st eps back, her head shaking again and again. “No. No, no, no, no, no.”