Charlotte Iwoke up to silence. Complete, utter silence. I didn’t think I’d ever heard anything like it. There was no traffic, no sirens, and no hum of the city. Just space, too much of it stretching in every direction, and it really made the point sink in that I was very much, smack dab, right in the middle of nowhere. My heart started pounding as I sat up, but I wasn’t afraid. This was just so unfamiliar that it was disconcerting. Blinking a few times to adjust to the dim light of pre-dawn barely starting to filter in through my windows, I slid my legs off the bed and stood up, wrapping my robe around myself. By the time I’d crossed my bedroom and opened the door, Trent was already gone. His room across the hall was empty, and when I glanced out the massive window at the front of his house, I saw the taillights of his truck disappearing down the long driveway. Great. I’ve officially moved into a Bonnie-and-Clyde situation. Exc ept Clyde ditched me at dawn. More discomfort slithered through me. Uncertain what to do with myself alone in his house, I went back to my room and tried calling Alex, but it only rang once before it went to voicemail. I hung up before the be ep. The last thing I needed was to leave a desperate-sounding message like, Hi, remember how you begged me to go along with this fake relationship plan? Well, your dear friend has abandoned me, stranded on a ranch approximately the size of Luxembourg. After I tossed the phone down on the bed, I drifted over to the windows and looked out at the land. It really was beautiful out there, especially all lit up in the first golden rays of light. The longer I stood there, however, the more uneasy I became. I need air. Movement. Anything that would make me feel even a little bit in control. My bedroom here was amazing with clean white walls and bedding, a four-poster bed that looked like it had been hand carved —and it probably had been, by a Sh epard—and a glorious adjoining bathroom with a tub roughly the size of a swimming pool. It was incredibly comfortable, but I hated feeling like I’d been forgotten, left to wait in a bedroom until somebody needed me. Antsy to be anywhere but here, doing anything but this, I brushed my teeth, changed into shorts and running shoes, and headed out. Bad idea. Terrible, catastrophic idea. The heat hit me like a wall the second the door closed behind me. It was barely six in the morning, but already more humid than any sauna I’d ever paid good money to sit in. I made it maybe a mile before my lungs gave up and my legs called mutiny. As I slowed to a walk, I wiped sweat from places I didn’t even know could produce it, and tried to retrace my path. But every pasture looked the same, every fence line stretched into infinity, and the house was long gone.
After what felt like half the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the land dipped and a second house came into view. Another giant structure that wasn’t as modern as Trent’s, but sprawling and elegant in an old-money way. It felt a little like home. I was still staring, considering knocking on the door to ask for directions when I heard the crunch of tires on gravel behind me. A silver BMW convertible rolled up, the tiniest woman I’d ever seen behind the wheel, but her hair was so enormous it had its own magnetic field. Big blonde curls, perfect makeup, and diamonds big enough to blind a pilot at ten thousand feet. She slowed, gave me a onceover, and rolled down her window. “Well, honey, you look like you’re either lost, kidnapped, or trying to es cape. Which is it?” I blinked rapidly. “Uh, I’m staying at Trent’s house. I think I took a wrong turn.” Her eyebrows shot up like they were spring-loaded. “Trent? As in my Trent? Oh, of course, you are.” I realized then who she was. I’d literally walked straight into his mother and I had no idea which version of the story she’d been told, but before I could backtrack or pretend I’d meant a different Trent, another one she’d never even realized lived on the property, she unlocked the passenger door. “Get in, sugar. You’re coming with me. Nobody survives this heat without electrolytes and air-conditioning.” There were warning bells going off in my head, but I was so tired, so gross, and so thirsty that I just climbed in. The scent of her enveloped me, gardenias, but she smiled like she was genuinely pleased to have me in her car. “I’m Claira Sh epard,” she said as she sped us down the private road. “You must be Charlotte, the girlfriend my son didn’t tell me he had. I kind of thought he was making you up.” I had no idea how to respond, so I focused on the sweet flow of ice cold air streaming out of the vent like an answered prayer. It helped me not die of heat stroke or embarrassment while being lightly abducted by my fake boyfriend’s real mother. On the other hand, that cold drink she’d offered was the best possible hostage negotiation tactic I could hope for. Claira drove us the short distance to the second house, then waved for me to follow her in, talking a million miles a minute, but the moment I walked into the house, I stopped listening. So this is where Trent got his confidence. It’s no wonder he is the way he is if this is where he grew up. It had high ceilings, rustic beams, white walls, cavernous rooms, and priceless art that had probably been casually inherited from dead relatives. This place, his childhood home, didn’t just have presence. It announced itself. It was pretty darn impressive, but the only thing that really mattered to me right now was that the AC was so cold, I nearly sobbed. Meanwhile, Claira sh epherded me into a kitchen the size of ours back home and poured me a glass of iced tea that was so good, it tasted like it had been blessed by angels. “So, you and my boy, huh?” she said lightly, like we were old girlfriends just catching up. “When did that happen?”
I nearly choked on the tea, but at least I also managed to force out an answer without her having to do the Heimlich maneuver on me. “I, yes. I mean, we’re together. It’s, uh, we’re still figuring things out.” Wow. That was so painfully unconvincing that I wanted to crawl straight into the nearest air vent, but Claira smiled like she’d already decided to believe it. “Well, that explains the phone call I got at fivethirty this morning.” “It does?” I asked cautiously. She waved a manicured hand. “The gossips in this town don’t waste time, honey. Someone spotted y’all at the restaurant last night, and by sunrise, the grapevine had a full narrative. Trent Sh epard brought home a girl, she’s a knockout, and everyone is dying to know if she’s real or imaginary.” I opened my mouth, then closed it, and then reopened it. “Imaginary?” “Sweetheart, that boy has been single for so long, we were starting to think we’d need to order him a bride from the internet.” I snorted and she let out a delighted laugh, the sound bright, tinkling, and just a little bit wicked. “I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I heard the name Charlotte and then later learned that it wasn’t just any old Charlotte he’s brought home, but Charlotte Westwood.” “Wait, so you already knew my name?” She grinned, her eyes sparkling as she nodded. “Know your name? Honey, I’ve known it since before you were born.” I stared at her unashamedly. I’d assumed maybe she knew about me because of Jameson or Alex, but this was not that. “Excuse me?” She placed her tea down, her expression softening into something nostalgic. “Your mama and I knew each other back on the pageant circuit. I was Miss Texas. She was Miss Illinois. Same year.” My brain stalled. “You knew my mom?” “Of course, I did. With legs up to Jesus and cheekbones sharp enough to slice through hopes, your mama was born for the pageants, darling, and the talent portion? Half the judges would’ve proposed marriage to her on the spot if it was allowed. You’ve got her smile, by the way. Lucky girl.” Something in my chest twisted as I imagined it, my mom and Claira as young women, laughing together and strutting their stuff. “She always spoke about that part of her life like it was a whole different world.” “It was,” Claira said, everything about her completely soft and earnest. “She was adored in it, though. I was so sorry to hear of her passing. I remember the first time we saw Jamie after. He was so distraught. Y’all must miss her terribly.” I nodded, and a long, weighted silence fell between us. Not awkward, just a shared moment of remembrance. Claira brightened before the tears pressing at the back of my eyes could fully form, as if she’d decided we’d had enough d epth for the morning. She straightened up and clapped her hands once. “Well, if we’re going to be family, we better start making plans. Do you like biscuits? I’m fixing to bake and it’d be rude not to let you try my award-winning recipe.”
Family. The word hit harder coming from her than she could possibly know. I smiled, feeling overheated, overwhelmed, and unexpectedly, also seen. “Biscuits sound perfect,” I said. “My walk this morning worked up an appetite.” Her answering smile could’ve powered the whole state of Texas. “Excellent. Let’s get you an iced latte first, huh? You still look like you’re going to faint.” I wasn’t about to argue with that, but she refused to let me help her when I offered. So, I just watched and listened to her chat about nothing in particular while she got the coffeemaker going. She was sliding a fresh iced latte toward me when the back door slammed open. “Mom!” Trent’s voice echoed down the hallway, rough, irritated, and unmistakably close. “Round everyone up. We’ve got a missing woman—” He st epped into the kitchen, stopped dead, and exhaled like someone had hit him with a tranquilizer dart. I froze too, but probably for a very different reason. For him, it was probably surprise to find me there. For me? Well, Trent’s broad shoulders filled the doorway, his jaw tight and his hat tipped back enough to show the frustration working between his eyebrows, and he was staring straight at me. In my sweat-soaked running tank and my hair in an undoubtedly frizzy ponytail. My face was probably still red. Basically, I was not at my absolute peak hotness and here he was, looking like he was doing yet another shoot for Sexy Ranchers Weekly. “Found her,” he muttered like it was a personal inconvenience and not, in fact, his fault I’d been missing in the first place. Before I could remind him that I was an actual human being and not a runaway calf, Claira lit up bright as a sunflower. “Oh good, you’re here. I was just about to tell Charlotte about our plans for Christmas this year. We’re long overdue for a winter wedding in this family.” This time, I really did choke on my drink. Trent sighed, lifting his hat all the way off his head before he shook it. Firmly. “Mom, we haven’t even had breakfast yet.” “Don’t you Mom me,” she said, waving him off. “The last five weddings on the Sh epard side of the family were all in June. It’s too dang hot, and I’m tired of pastels and peonies. I want holly, velvet, and candlelight. I want to wear a sweater, not be a sweater.” “Mom,” he r epeated, dangerously close to growling. “We will not be discussing winter weddings. Or any weddings, really.” Claira leaned toward me conspiratorially. “You’ll be such a beautiful bride.” I laughed. God, I loved this woman. Adored her. I wanted to ask if she would adopt me, but Trent already had a hand wrapped around my arm, gentle, but his grip definitely meant business. “We actually have other plans for this morning,” he lied, that easy smile nowhere in sight. “We’ve got to go. See you later.”
“No, we don’t,” I started to protest, dying to ke ep sitting exactly where I had been and baking biscuits with his mother, but he was already steering me out the door, mumbling apologies over his shoulder. The second we were outside and headed toward his truck, his gaze snapped to mine like a whip. “What the hell were you thinking, running all the way over here? In this heat?” I spun on him. “What was I thinking? You left the house without saying a word. I mean, leave a note or something. I woke up alone. In the middle of nowhere. With no car.” “I own a ranch,” he snapped back, throwing his hands up—but only after opening the passenger door of his truck for me. It seemed like even in the middle of an argument, it was too ingrained for him not to. “I have to work and we start early. Of course, I left. I do it every morning.” “I have a life too,” I fired back. “Or at least, I had one. Yet here I am, staying for weeks because you suggested it. What do you expect me to do, sit inside your gigantic house and talk to the furniture?” He stared at me like he genuinely had no answer, but then he waved a hand at the open door of the truck, exasperation on his features. “Get in.” I crossed my arms. “You could ask nicely.” “I could,” he said. “I won’t.” I got in anyway, because I’d officially lost my entire mind when I’d signed up for a fake relationship that was turning into a full-time emotional rodeo. And it was only day two. Naturally, that was when my brother decided to call back. My phone buzzed against my thigh. When I pulled it out to see Alex’s name on the screen, I slid it right back to where it had been without taking the call. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk to him, but right now, one bossy, controlling man was more than enough for me to handle. The call ended, and a second later, Trent’s phone lit up in the cup holder. He didn’t reach for it. The ringing simply echoed in the cab, loud and insistent. Meanwhile, we were just staring at each other, neither of us blinking or looking away. Finally, the phone went silent, but it was only for a second before it started again. Still, neither of us moved. We just k ept sitting there, locked in a silent standoff that felt like it might end with a duel, but eventually, he broke the tension. “Okay. No talking to the furniture. What do you want to do, then?” My answer was immediate. “I want to see the horses.” Resignation tightened his features as he raked a hand through his hair, a de eper red when it was sweat-damp. “I guess that was the selling point, huh?” “It was,” I said. “You told me you had horses.” “I do.” “Then show me.” “At least you’re wearing better clothes for it today.” Trent blew out a long breath, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He turned down a dirt road snaking off to the left. As far as I was concerned, this ranch was a maze, but as intimated as I was by it, meeting Claira had changed something for me. I wasn’t sure yet what it was, but I finally felt a little less insecure about being here. She had known my mother. Trent knew my brother and my cousin. Hell, I was practically extended family already, even if Claira wouldn’t wind up getting her wish about me marrying into it officially.