9. Katie
KATIE
A t his words, a chill washes over me. I shiver as if someone has walked on my grave. It’s not as if I thought any of this would be easy, but I thought we’d at least be friends. Maybe I’d have one ally who could help me make this transition easier.
Now, I’m realizing all I have is myself. Until Trace can prove he’s willing to do everything he’s said, I’m counting on me.
He comes to a stop not far from the front steps of the house, before turning the truck off. Reaching into the side of the driver’s door, he pulls out a well-worn baseball hat. Putting it on his head, he motions for me.
“Let’s get this over with.”
The grim set of his mouth doesn’t fill me with any kind of hope that this isn’t going to be as bad as I think it is. We get out, and their gazes are burning into me as I go to the back of the quad cab and grab my overnight bag.
He comes around the tailgate, carrying his in his hand. “Let me get that for you.”
“Thank you.”
He offers his elbow. Gratefully, I wrap my hand around his bicep, knowing he gives two shits about my emotional state, but happy he’s willing to offer support. As he said, we’d be a united front in public. Slowly but resolutely, we walk toward the front porch. Standing there are all the faces I saw at the wedding, but no one I know. None of them look friendly, either.
“Katherine, welcome to our home.”
A woman who reminds me of my mother steps down slowly off the porch, holding her hands out for me to grab. I recognize it as a show of what’s supposed to be compassionate and welcoming, but from her it’s anything but. There’s an ice to her gaze and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Katie,” Trace interrupts. “This is my mother, Jessica.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Katherine.” She squeezes my hand.
“I prefer Katie, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”
She bristles, probably because of me objecting to Katherine. “My husband, Tanner,” she indicates the older man behind her.
It’s very obvious she’s the leader in this family in public, that things go through her and everyone else can be damned. It’s not what I expected, but family dynamics are tricky and I don’t know how these work yet.
“Nice to meet you.” I wave, wishing the ground would swallow me up. This is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever encountered.
“C’mon inside, sugar,” Trace guides me up the steps. “I’ll show you to our room. If you’d give us some time to get settled, I’ll be out to help this afternoon.”
“Boss, her stuff was delivered this morning.”
The person who spoke is the man I saw Trace talking to so closely last night. The edge of Trace’s mouth kicks up in a grin. “Thanks, we appreciate it.”
He ushers me inside.
“Who is that? The guy who called you boss?”
“My best friend,” he answers, going so quickly I can’t look around at the surroundings. “Kyle came to work here last year when the company he was contracted at went under. He was Ward’s right hand, and now he’ll be mine.”
Together we take the steps, and I try to figure out what the hell I’m doing here. He drags me down a hallway before we go in to the third door on the right. Only now has he stopped.
The room is decidedly masculine, and everything I would’ve expected Trace’s room to be. It smells of sandalwood, leather, and a slight tinge of something that’s only his.
The room is the size of two of mine at the house I grew up in. The large bed takes up most of one wall, a dresser sits to the side, a bedside table on what I assume is the one Trace prefers, along with a chair in front of the fireplace are the only pieces of furniture.
In the middle of all this masculinity sits my luggage. Pink, and decidedly feminine.
“I see your stuff has made it.”
“It did, it gives this room a little color. Something it desperately needs.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, at the same time there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” he advises the person on the other side.
Jessica walks in, taking in every single detail going on in this room. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I wanted to remind you that we’re expected at The Cattlemen’s Ball tonight, along with the Montana Ranchers Association Gala next week. I hope you two are ready to show everyone how in love you are. If you don’t make this believable, no one will invest in our new breeding program. I don’t have to remind you, Trace, if we don’t make this work, we might be kissing all of this goodbye. Hope you have something sexy to wear, darlin’. You’ll need to wow the men who hold the checkbooks.”
“Mom, my wife will be on my arm, and she’ll be treated with the respect someone of her stature deserves.”
“Whatever you say, Trace, but we both know what she was bought for.”
“Don’t you mean brought for?” I interject, since they’ve talked about me like I’m not here.
“No honey, I mean bought, and I think you know it.”