Chapter 52
We make eye contact for an inappropriate length of time considering his fiancée is standing right next to him. I don’t break the gaze, but neither does he. His lips part, and his whiskey eyes burn as he eventually shifts his stare to my mouth.
I hold my breath.
Gigi notices. Her sunglasses hide her eyes, but her body language says everything.
She moves closer to Logan, slips her arm around his waist, and presses her body against his hip. Then, she whispers something in his ear, most likely a sweet nothing or other.
And I don’t care. In this moment, I don’t care.
The sexual chemistry that’s always been between Logan and me simmers as hot as the ninety-five degree heat we’re all standing in, and I don’t try to cool it down.
Because this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on him since I gave him the divorce papers.
And seeing him as my ex-husband for the first time is—
Painful.
Shit. That word just keeps slipping out of my heart and surprising me. Painful is not what divorcing a man you marry on a wasted night in Las Vegas should feel like.
I’m just upset because I never wanted to be divorced like Mama. Cowgirl up and stop acting like a jilted girlfriend.
I throw my shoulders back and lift my chin. “Hey, Logan.” I give him an impersonal nod. “How are you?”
He nods back. “I’m good. You?”
“Great. Target practice is going super well.”
Logan clears his throat. “Maybe Gigi can watch you shoot for a while so I can um…run an errand?”
I furrow my brow. “An errand? Why can’t Gigi go with you?”
And why are we talking about her like she’s six and needs a babysitter?
Logan steps away from Gigi and thrusts his hands into his pockets. She stumbles backward and scowls.
“Because I—um…have something to do at the ranch.”
Logan’s eyes drop to his boots, and I consider letting him hang, but I don’t.
“Sure.” I gesture to Gigi. “Come on inside out of this heat.”
Gigi follows me inside after hugging Logan good-bye.
She pulls her shades off and slips them into the breast pocket of her stylish shirt, and then she takes a seat on a stool and fans her face. “Hot out there, isn’t it? I don’t know how you stand it.”
“I don’t know how you’re going to like living here then,” I say to her. “Texas is hot.”
She tells me, with a loud laugh, that she’s not going to have to like it. She and Logan will live in New York City once they marry.
I burst out laughing. “Logan in New York City? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Gigi laughs harder. “I’m a sophomore at Columbia. I can’t quit on school, can I?”
My stomach drops to the floor.
“New York?” I swallow. “Y’all are really moving to New York?”
“After our wedding,” she confirms. “So I only have to deal with this blistering sun for a little longer.”
Any sympathy I had for Logan and his secret “errand” goes out the window, and I want to get rid of Gigi right now. But I don’t see how. However, my urge to shoot something right this moment is overwhelming.
“Hey, Gigi. You want to learn to use a shotgun?”
Logan
“Hey!” Blake catches up to me as I’m halfway to my cottage. “You’re entering the bronc riding competition at the Hunt County Fair this year, right?”
“Yep.” Practicing for the rodeo has been a welcome distraction from the shitshow that my life has become.
“Cool.” He takes off his cowboy hat and wipes the sweat off his brow. “If you want, I can be your spotter at the competition.”
“Sure.” I glance over at him. “Why do you want to be a part of it? You hate town events.”
“True. But I promised Freedom I’d go on the roller coaster with her.” He chuckles. “She’s never been on one and she wants to do it once before going off to college.”
I chuckle too. “Henwoods have a tendency to puke on those rides.”
Blake makes a face. “Seriously?”
“No. I’m just fucking with you.”
He shakes his head. “Good to know. So.” He grins. “You’ve put off our tubing plans.”
“I haven’t put them off.” Not exactly. “I was in New York and…”
“You’ve been busy,” he fills in for me. “But after your engagement party, we’re all going to the river. No excuses.”
“Fine.” I turn off at my cottage. “See you later.”
I go inside and walk over to my covered easel. I set up the dropcloth and prepare the paints.
And then, I lift the cover off the easel.
My painting for Macey is nearly done. It will definitely be ready for her birthday, but I’m going to have to give it to her before then. Because on her birthday, I’ll be—
Getting married.
I never wanted to get married. But I can’t forget how I felt when I woke up in Vegas with a ring on my finger and Macey next to me in bed. I felt…happy. And I haven’t been able to shake that feeling.
I don’t know what I’d be doing about that feeling if I wasn’t going full steam ahead with a fake marriage. I don’t have enough bandwidth to figure that out.
As I start painting, my mind wanders to the day I left Darcy to track down the man intent on ruining the Henwoods.
When I reached West Texas, I checked into the same hotel as the one I’d heard him mention.
I was there for three nights, almost crazy with doubt before I spotted him for the first time. I’d been camped outside with my easel for hours each day, hoping to run into him. The way I finally did—well, that was a surprise all in itself.
I was painting the burnt sunset behind the mountains when someone tapped my shoulder. I looked back at a curvy blonde who couldn’t have been more than twenty years old.
“You’re a painter?”
I nodded.
“What are you going for with this one? Besides a sunset?”
Her eyes were gauging my response. Something told me my answer meant everything.
“Life,” I said honestly. “The ebb and flow, the rush and the shitstorm, the highs and the lows. You ever had a situation you couldn’t figure a way out of?”
Instead of answering me, she pointed a few feet away from us where a man—the very man I’d driven out here to see—was on his phone.
“That situation for me would be my father.”
“That man is your father?”
She nodded. “You know him?”
“Not exactly.”
I introduced myself, and told her my family’s ranch neighbored Benjamin Henwood’s bar.
“Did your dad ever mention that name to you?”
“Of course. He’s the man my dad wants to ruin,” she said softly.
“That’s right. The thing is, Mr. Henwood is a good man,” I said. “Yes, he’s had some problems with alcohol, but he never would have flirted with a woman if he knew she was taken.”
“That’s not what my dad said. But he tends to exaggerate. And I always thought my mom might have omitted some details. Important details from what happened.”
Shit. “He’s like family to me,” I said. “I’m…let’s just say his daughter and I are very close.”
“How close?”
“If something happened to him like what your father is planning, it would kill her. And I need to make sure that doesn’t happen. I’ll do anything to protect her.”
Her eyes brightened. “So you really need my father to let this go.”
“Understatement.”
She pursed her lips and went silent.
I raised my eyebrows. “Where y’all from?”
“Manhattan.”
I grinned. “What in the hell are y’all doing in Big Bend?”
She giggled. “Daddy’s originally from Texas. He’s an oilman. We’re taking a little vacation after he had some meetings throughout the state.”
Now that makes sense.
She whispered then, so softly I could barely hear her, “That problem I need to get out of? I think you and I can help each other.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “How so?”
She leaned even closer to me and started whispering again. And as I listened, I thought—
Hell, this may actually work.