Her Ex’s Father (Forbidden Daddies #1)

Chapter 1

Maddie

Where is my goddamn fiancé?

The engagement party takes place in a barn, but it’s far from country-chic.

The early spring air is filled with the scent of cedar and lavender. It’s also deceptively cold, and towering heaters are spaced throughout the outdoor area.

I take a deep breath, pause at the double-door entrance, and take it all in.

Cream-colored silk covers most surfaces, warmth added from the oiled pine walls. Daylight spills in through the framed windows. Through them I can see guests mingling on the back patio—the one my dad paid double for when he decided at the last minute he didn’t like the shade of stone.

Anemones, peonies, and daisies burst from vases everywhere my eye lands. It’s beautiful, and the light string orchestra at the head of the barn adds to the timelessness of the atmosphere.

If only the goddamn groom would show.

“Looking for your fiancé, dear?” Aunt Bea quips with a hand on my shoulder. I politely shrug it off and give her a placid smile.

“I just wanted to take a moment to appreciate all the hard work that went into this evening,” I answer smoothly, glancing at the staff—who I work with side-by-side, day in and day out.

It’s strange, feeling so removed from them now. Sofia, manager of our tasting department, skirts by with a tray of canapés. Seeing her crisp white button-down and tailored trousers, all purchased for this occasion, makes me want to cringe.

But everyone is watching.

Watching me, specifically.

Because the large, floral-encrusted sign in front of the barn says, “Welcome to the Engagement Celebration of Derrick Bronson usually I get to wear flannel and jeans.

I promised my parents I would make this work.

Too bad they didn’t get the same promise out of Derrick.

A familiar laugh nearby draws my attention. I dart toward Stella and slip my hand into hers, pulling her toward a darkened corner with an apologetic smile to the guests she was talking to.

“Have you seen Mom and Dad?”

“Um, have you seen your fiancé?”

“I’m aware,” I mutter, glancing over my sister’s shoulder, “that he isn’t here. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

Her brows raise. “Really, Mad? We both know that this could be a lot worse than Derrick Bronson. You want them to give you the chance to match you with someone else?”

“Fair point.”

People started arriving 45 minutes ago. The food is beginning to come out, and I waited as long as I could. Would it be the worst-case scenario if I ditched my own engagement party?

But Stella is right—Derrick Bronson, at least, is only a year older than me and relatively attractive. If you’re into the kind of guy who looks like he has no body hair and laughs at kids scraping their knees and crying.

Still, I’d prefer to see him right now than not. “What would being stood up by him say about me?” I lament as Stella slips an arm around my waist in a loose hug.

“Psh. It would say more about him than you, Maddie. Derrick Bronson would be an idiot to stand you up. I’m sure he’ll show.”

I’m a few years older than Stella, and a disappointment to my parents, since I was supposed to be a boy. In a moment of vulnerability I admit, “This is embarrassing. Seriously embarrassing.”

“It’ll be fine, Maddie. I promise. Come on, let’s go find Mom and Dad.”

The back patio is absolutely gorgeous.

It gives a view of our Montana ranch that is stunning and manages to hide the massive distillery buildings behind everyone. Off in the distance the mountains rise above everything, still capped in snow. But out here heaters warm the air enough that it’s comfortable to be outdoors.

Stella gets pulled into a conversation.

I spot our parents and move toward them, head high, ready to play my part. My mother glances in my direction and then, away.

My blood runs cold. Chilled by her lack of interest in me, her daughter, on the day of my engagement party.

Taking a deep breath, I continue, walking right up to my parents and smiling kindly at the Carters, who own the neighboring cattle ranch.

“Madeline! Congratulations,” Mrs. Carter gushes, taking my hands and squeezing. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I answer, ignoring the impassive expressions on my parents’ faces. “I appreciate you coming, Mr. and Mrs. Carter.”

Mr. Carter gives me a light, airy kiss on the cheek. He smells of leather and cologne, and I want to fall into the comforting scent. “Of course, dear. We’re hoping that attending will convince our Russell to start thinking about his future.”

Russell Carter, heir to a multi-million-dollar ranch, is flirting with Pearl—one of our cooks. She’s laughing, but clearly uncomfortable, trying to dodge his attention and get back to work.

“So,” Mr. Carter sighs, “where is your intended?”

“Oh…” I glance at my parents, who make no move to make excuses for the man they chose for me to marry. “He’s, um—”

The sound of gravel kicking up breaks through the delicate string orchestra as a Ford F-450 tears up the long driveway, past the distillery, and rumbles into the lot where everyone is parked. All the guests stare as the passenger door opens, and a young man stumbles out.

He’s handsome, windswept and rumpled, and… definitely annoyed.

Derrick Bronson stands staring at the engagement party like he has no idea it’s for him. Arms crossed, suit jacket wrinkling, he’s clearly moping. Nothing about him screams “heir to a multi-million-dollar empire.”

Then a tall, imposing figure rounds the truck.

“Oh, my God,” Stella whispers, having crept up and joined us.

Benedict Bronson, Derrick’s dad, looks like steel and stone. He towers over his son by a few inches, but that’s probably because Derrick has horrible posture. Benedict is rod-straight, his eyes sweeping the festivities and finding… me.

A hot, liquid feeling rolls through my body. I clench my hands to avoid fidgeting. Mr. Bronson runs a hand through his sterling hair and then practically grabs Derrick by the collar of his shirt, starting toward the party.

Mrs. Carter has a hand pressed to her chest. The guests are murmuring, gossiping already, and Aunt Bea’s face is lit up with glee. My parents don’t look thrilled, but they’re putting on fake smiles to make a good impression on Benedict.

They know who they chose as my husband. And it wasn’t based on his manners; just on the fact that his family owns an international empire: Bronson Hall.

“At least you’re marrying into good genes,” Stella murmurs as the pair of men briefly disappear behind the barn. A second later, with the solid thud of boots on wood, Derrick stumbles into view, tugged along by his father.

My future father-in-law’s gaze sweeps the crowd. I’ve seen him before, but only from afar—when he’s visited our ranch to meet with my parents, behind closed doors, to set this whole thing up.

Now his burning eyes land on me and sweat breaks out on my lower back.

He strides forward, his son traipsing weakly behind him.

It’s all I can do not to squirm under Mr. Bronson’s very direct, very green eyes.

Stopping in front of us, he nods to my parents first. “Mr. and Mrs. Clarke. I apologize for our late arrival.”

Derrick is practically shoved forward. He’s sulking, his full lips downturned, but then he catches his father’s look.

“I apologize as well.”

A warm hand envelopes mine and I startle. Benedict Bronson’s fingers wrap around my own as he lifts my hand to his mouth, ghosting a kiss over the knuckles.

“Madeline. You look beautiful. Congratulations.”

The last word comes out sour, twisted, and it’s obvious how he feels about his failure of a son—his only son—as his eyes stray toward Derrick once more. But I barely notice, stiff as a board with the electricity I felt as soon as his mouth grazed my fingers.

“No problem at all, no problem, Benedict,” my father rumbles, leading Mr. Bronson away with a hand on his shoulder. “What would you like to drink?”

My mother swaggers after them, shooting a blissful smile at the still-murmuring guests as she goes. The orchestra picks up again, insistent and louder. Derrick fidgets at my side.

He checks his phone.

“Somewhere better to be?” I murmur, trying to ignore Stella’s incredulous stare and Aunt Bea’s hushed whispers nearby.

He flips his shaggy hair back, runs a hand through it.

Derrick Bronson is effortlessly handsome, though much slimmer than his father.

His eyes are almond-shaped and brown. He must get it from his mother, but I’m not sure; I’ve never met Georgiana Bronson.

She passed years ago, before I ever found out that Derrick and I were fated to be together.

I wonder how she’d feel about her son’s late arrival to his own engagement party.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, turning his phone over and over in his palm like it’s a fidget toy, “flight landed late, got off the ground late.”

My nose scrunches. “Are you drunk?”

He scoffs. “No. Not drunk, just… tipsy. I don’t like flying,” he rushes on as my arms cross. His eyes drop to my cleavage. Ballsy—he has no interest in marrying me, but very obvious interest in the activities that are practically included in the contract.

I’m supposed to have a child in the first three years.

A way to guarantee that my family’s business, and his family’s legacy, continues on.

Crown and only five years ago he set up another.

This time, to pair me off with the Bronson heir.

“Just try to look like you don’t hate the idea of marrying me,” I murmur to Derrick with a smile, slipping my arm into his.

He’s restless, but we make one round of the patio and greet guests before he dips off to grab a drink and find a few of his friends.

“This is crazy,” Heather, one of my childhood friends from town, blurts out when she finds me—alone again. “I can’t believe you’re marrying him, Mad.”

“Mm, well, I don’t have much of a choice.”

“You know, I used to think he was a catch,” she muses, head tipped to the side. “He is very handsome.”

“He is. At least our kid will be cute, I guess.”

There’s a very pregnant silence as we realize that in three years or less, I’ll have a child with this man. “This is a nightmare,” I moan, stepping away and onto the grass, stumbling in my heels. I toe them off and sink my feet into our land.

“It is pretty crazy. I mean, remember our whole plan to never get married?”

I smile at the reminder—a promise we made in middle school, which little Stella was appalled by. My sister, at least, still believes in true love.

“Does she know you’re doing this for her?” Heather asks quietly.

I shake my head. But it’s the truth; if I don’t marry someone to secure the family’s future, it’ll fall to Stella. And I don’t want to shatter her dreams just yet.

I want to let her believe that love is real, even if I’ll never get a shot at it.

“Excuse me, everyone,” a voice announces over the sound system, “dinner will be served shortly. Please find your seats.”

Everyone is, for the most part, settled when I lay my eyes on Benedict Bronson once more.

My father-in-law is four seats away, between my mother and Mr. Carter.

Only he found me first—his gaze already locked on my face when I looked up.

It’s as if the room gets quieter. Those green eyes, calm, his stoic features as he watches me—the way a hunter watches elk.

He’s dressed in an understated, dark blue suit with leather at the elbows. The button-down underneath brings out the silver in his hair beautifully, making him practically shine.

He’s everything Derrick isn’t: mature, strong-jawed, silent, watchful.

It stirs something in me that I tamp down in a panic.

The last thing I need the night of my engagement party is to be attracted to the man who will be my father-in-law in a few short weeks.