Chapter Three #2
"Wouldn't miss it." Hunter pulled me forward. "This is Dixie. Dixie, my brother Hudson and his fiancée Kendall."
"Oh my goodness gracious!" Kendall grabbed me in a hug, bouncing on her heels like a cheerleader who'd had three espressos.
"It is so wonderful to meet you! Hunter never brings anyone to family events—not once in all the years I've known Hudson—so this is absolutely huge!
Monumental! I'm Kendall, and I am just thrilled you're here!
Isn't Valentine's Day the most romantic day in the entire world for a wedding?
I've been planning this since I was six years old!
Six! I had binders with tabs and color-coded sections and magazine clippings and everything! "
She said it in approximately one breath without pausing.
"It's going to be beautiful," I managed.
"It's going to be perfect! Beyond perfect!
Absolutely flawless! We have two chocolate fountains—one milk chocolate, one white chocolate, both with strawberries and marshmallows and pretzels and those little shortbread cookies—and a five-tier cake with real gold leaf that the baker said was one of the most elaborate she's ever made, and flowers that only bloom in February which meant coordinating with three different florists across two entire states, and the florist in Houston almost cancelled but I cried on the phone and she felt so bad she overnighted them overnight express, and tomorrow there's going to be a string quartet during cocktail hour and a full orchestra for the reception and we're releasing doves after the ceremony—actual white doves!
—and—" She stopped, laughing at herself.
"Sorry! I get so excited! Ask Hudson—I haven't stopped talking about this wedding for eight solid months straight! "
"Every single day," Hudson confirmed with obvious affection, though his smile was fond. "Multiple times a day, actually." He shook my hand, his grip firm. "Nice to meet you, Dixie. How'd you two meet?"
"She was my Uber driver," Hunter said easily. "Picked me up from The Rusty Spur a few weeks ago. We started talking and I couldn't let her drive away without getting her number."
Kendall pressed both hands to her chest, eyes actually welling with tears.
"That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard in my entire life!
A modern fairy tale! Better than a fairy tale because it's real!
Think about it—you were just driving, doing your job, he was just a passenger trying to get home, and then fate intervened!
It's kismet! True, honest-to-goodness kismet!
Oh, this is absolutely perfect—you'll have the most adorable how-we-met story to tell your children someday!
I'm already tearing up just thinking about it! "
"More like GPS and luck," I said.
Kendall laughed, delighted. "And she's funny! She's gorgeous and funny and perfect! Hunter, you did so good!"
Kendall gestured toward the man in the three-piece suit, who was now measuring the distance between a fork and knife with what appeared to be a small ruler.
"That's Beauregard Montrose the Third. My wedding planner.
He's from Savannah. A little intense, but he's done weddings for governors and senators. He's the best."
As if summoned, Beauregard swept toward us, assessing me with sharp eyes. "Ah! Hunter's young lady. Welcome, welcome. I trust you've prepared emotionally for tomorrow's festivities? This will be a wedding Bitter Root discusses for the next decade."
"Um—"
"Excellent! Now, if you'll excuse me, someone has placed a napkin at a forty-seven-degree angle when I specifically requested forty-five degrees." He swept away, already correcting the nearest table setting with surgical precision.
I watched him go. "Wow."
"Told you," Hunter said. "Nothing about this wedding is subtle."
An older couple approached. The woman had Hunter's green eyes and carried herself with quiet elegance. The man was tall, silver-haired, broad-shouldered in a way that said he'd worked ranches his whole life.
"Mom, Dad," Hunter said. His body tensed beside me. "This is Dixie Lane. Dixie, my parents—Ward and Jolene Massey."
"Mrs. Massey, Mr. Massey." I offered my hand. "Wonderful to meet you."
Jolene's handshake was gracious but her gaze assessed me thoroughly. "Dixie. Where are you from, dear?"
"Bitter Root. Born and raised."
"And what do you do?"
Here it came. "I work at The Hungry Heifer during the day. Drive for a rideshare service at night."
Jolene's smile stayed perfectly in place but her eyes went carefully neutral.
Ward grunted. "Honest work. Nothing wrong with earning your own way." He studied me a moment longer, then nodded once. "Takes grit to work two jobs."
"Thanks," I said.
Before Jolene could ask more probing questions, a commotion at the entrance made everyone turn. A woman with impossibly big red hair teased into a gravity-defying sculpture swept in wearing leopard print, followed by a tall girl with her phone out and ready.
"Oh Lord," Hudson muttered. "Laverne's here."
Laverne descended on us in a cloud of perfume. "Hudson Massey! Kendall Blanchette! Don't y'all look precious as two peas in a pod! And Hunter—" Her sharp gaze landed on me. "Well now, who is this pretty little thing?"
"Laverne, this is Dixie Lane," Hunter said. His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me closer. "Dixie, Laverne runs Fringe Benefits Beauty Parlor in town."
"And this is my daughter May," Laverne gestured to the girl already circling us. "She runs the Bitter Tea blog—biggest news source in three counties. May, honey, get pictures! This is breaking news!"
"On it, Mama!" May snapped photos rapid-fire, phone clicking. "Hunter, closer. Yes! Smile! Oh, this is absolute gold!"
"Lane," Laverne said thoughtfully, eyes narrowing like she was solving a puzzle. "You're Della Lane's daughter, aren't you? The one who went to Houston for a while?"
My heart kicked. "Yes, ma'am."
"Thought so! You look just like your mama—same eyes, same smile.
Good woman, Della. Watched my sister's kids when they were little.
Those hellions would've driven anyone else straight to drinking, but not Della.
Patient as Job himself." Laverne's eyes gleamed with pure satisfaction.
"Well now. Hunter Massey with Della Lane's girl.
May, honey, this gets top billing with a special photo gallery.
'Bitter Root's Most Eligible Bachelor Finally Roped and Tied? ' What do you think?"
May nodded enthusiastically, still circling with her phone. "Already composing the headline, Mama. This is going to break our traffic records by Tuesday."
Perfect. Our fake relationship would be all over town—complete with my entire history—by tomorrow morning.
Dinner was seated, formal, and more overwhelming than I'd expected. I ended up between Hunter and Kendall, grateful for both.
Kendall dominated conversation with wedding details that bordered on engineering—the cake required an actual structural engineer's consultation, flowers needed temperature-controlled transport from three different states, bridesmaid dresses took four separate fittings because the shade of blush pink had to be absolutely perfect.
Her enthusiasm was exhausting but so genuine you couldn't help being swept along.
Hunter's hand settled on my knee under the table during the salad course. His thumb brushed small circles against my skin through the dress fabric. That simple touch made concentrating on Kendall's story about the sugar flower crisis nearly impossible.
"So Hunter," Ward said during the main course, his voice gruff. "Those investor documents finalized for the McGraw deal?"
Hunter's thumb stilled on my knee. "Sent them Tuesday. McGraw's reviewing the terms now. Should have signatures by month's end."
"Good. Need that closed before spring calving season starts." Ward nodded approvingly. "That's solid work, son."
I glanced between them. "What kind of deal?"
"Heritage breed partnership," Hudson answered. "Hunter's been negotiating with McGraw Heritage Ranch for the past six months. They specialize in heritage turkey breeds, we're expanding into heritage cattle. Could be very profitable if the terms are right, and Hunter's made sure they're right."
"Hunter handles our investor relations and all major negotiations," Jolene added, tone making it sound decorative. "Director of Business Development. He's the face of Massey Ranch at all the industry events and association dinners."
"That sounds impressive," I said, squeezing his knee.
"It's mostly schmoozing over expensive bourbon," Hunter said lightly, but I heard the deflection.
"It's crucial work," Hudson said firmly. "Hunter reads people better than anyone I know. He knows when to push, when to back off, when to walk away from a bad deal. We wouldn't have half our current partnerships without him, and the ranch wouldn't be expanding without his negotiations."
Hunter's expression shifted—surprise, gratitude, maybe pride.
"Though we do wish you'd take the position more seriously," Jolene said, and just like that, the moment shattered.
"You spend so much time at The Rusty Spur when you could be networking at the club where the real opportunities are.
Your brother's made connections at the club that have been invaluable. "
"Mom—" Hudson started.
"I'm just saying, darling. You have such potential if you'd only apply yourself with more consistency and focus."
Anger burned hot in my chest. "Seems to me he's applying himself just fine if you're trusting him with million-dollar deals and major partnerships."
The table went silent. My face flamed but I pushed forward. "I mean, you wouldn't risk that kind of money and the ranch's reputation on someone who wasn't good at their job, would you?"
Jolene blinked at me, clearly not used to being challenged. Ward made a sound that might have been approval or might have been a grunt, hard to tell. Hudson grinned into his wine glass.
Hunter's hand tightened on my knee, and when I glanced at him, warmth and gratitude shone in his eyes.
What was I doing? This wasn't my fight. I was here for a paycheck, not to get involved in his family drama. But the words were already out there, and from the way Hunter's hand tightened on mine, there was no taking them back.
"Well," Jolene said finally, recovering her composure. "That's certainly one way to look at it."
"It's the only way to look at it, Mama Massey," Kendall jumped in brightly, bless her heart.
"Hunter's been absolutely wonderful helping us navigate all the venue contracts for this wedding!
I would've been lost without him explaining all those clauses and negotiating better terms!
He saved us thousands of dollars on the ballroom rental alone! "
The tension thankfully broke, and the rest of dinner passed in a blur of toasts and small talk.
Laverne held court at another table, her distinctive laugh carrying across the ballroom.
May circulated constantly, phone capturing every moment.
I caught her snapping pictures of Hunter and me—his hand on mine, the way we leaned toward each other, how he watched me when I wasn't looking.
By the time dessert arrived—miniature versions of tomorrow's five-tier cake complete with tiny sugar flowers—my feet ached from heels I wasn't used to and my face hurt from smiling.
"You ready to escape?" Hunter murmured in my ear, breath warm against my skin.
"God, yes."
We made our excuses and headed for the elevator. The moment the doors closed, cutting us off from everything, I sagged against the wall.
"That was exhausting."
"You were amazing." Hunter faced me in the small space, suddenly very close. "No one's ever defended me to my mother like that."
"I meant it. You obviously know what you're doing, otherwise they wouldn't trust you."
His voice went quiet, vulnerability clear in his tone. "Thank you. For seeing me as more than just Hudson's screw-up brother."
I hadn't meant to get involved. Hadn't meant to care whether his mother respected him. This was supposed to be simple—show up, smile for his family, collect my money, go home. But nothing about tonight had felt simple.
The elevator dinged before I could respond, which was good because I had no idea what to say to the raw emotion in his voice.
Inside the room, reality hit. One bed. Two strangers who'd met three days ago. This arrangement made sense in theory. In practice, with him ten feet away and my heart doing stupid things, it felt a lot more complicated.
"I'm going to change," I said, taking my pajamas and fleeing to the bathroom.
When I came out in sleep shorts and a tank top, Hunter was already in bed, covers pulled to his waist. Shirtless. Because apparently the universe had opinions about testing my self-control.
"Plenty of room," he said, patting the other side. "And I promise I don't snore."
"You better not." I climbed in carefully, staying far on my side of the massive mattress.
He reached over and turned off the lamp.
Darkness wrapped around us. Silence except for breathing and the distant sound of music drifting up from the ballroom downstairs. The bed was huge, but I was hyperaware of every movement he made—the rustle of sheets when he shifted, the sound of his breathing starting to even out.
"Dixie?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks again. For tonight. For defending me."
"You're paying me. Least I can do."
"Still. I'm glad you said yes to this crazy idea."
So I lay there in the dark, listening to his breathing slow and deepen. I'd told myself this would be simple. Show up. Smile for his family. Take the money.
But lying here in the dark, hyperaware of every breath he took, I knew I was in trouble. Because at some point between his gratitude and my anger on his behalf, the lines had blurred. And I had no idea how to get them back into focus.
Tomorrow was the wedding. I just needed to get through tomorrow.