CHAPTER 33
Summer
“Did you change your hair?” Phyllis asks me.
I knew it was too good to be true. I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape undetected. I knew I couldn’t avoid a situation where I’d have to look at the people I love and speak an untruth.
Dammit.
A few moments ago, Declan drove his Jeep under the Yosemite Ranch gateway and down the ranch lane toward the compound. We made it past Jamie’s house, then the houses belonging to Cal and Victoria and Finn and Emma, then on past Evander’s home and Special K’s place.
But by the time we came to a stop in Declan’s driveway, Victoria, Emma, and Phyllis were on their way to greet us. Quickly, I crouched down with my back to them, pretending I was tying my shoelaces.
Unfortunately, I forgot that I was wearing my cowboy boots, which are shoelace-free. When I stood, I found six eyeballs fixed on me.
Dammit. Shit.
And then everyone hugged us and dragged us to Jamie’s house, and that’s where we are now.
All the brothers, except for Evander, of course, are here. Everyone’s crammed in the kitchen around a table meant for a fraction of the people it’s trying to accommodate.
I know this old table was hand-painted by Declan’s mom, Stella. I have a feeling that if she’s looking down on all of us right now, she’s probably quite pleased at the sight of her rowdy, expanding family around her table.
I keep quiet and keep my head down, thankful that most of the attention has been on Declan and why he failed to find Evander and Phoebe before they slipped out of the country.
But now Phyllis is examining my hair. She’s picked up a few strands in her fingers. I’m tempted to suggest a magnifying glass so she can get a closer look. I dare lift my gaze to find everyone else focused on my hair as well.
Dammit.
“You had your hair done? I’m so proud of you!” Victoria hugs me tight. She smells so good. Her long red hair smells like expensive perfume. Then she, too, fondles a few strands. “Wow—whoever did this is a very good colorist.”
“It was Bruno at the Bellagio Salon and Spa.”
“Look!” Finn’s nine-year-old daughter, Jasmine, exclaims, grabbing one of my hands. “Summer’s fingernails are painted pink! That’s my favorite color!”
“It’s a lovely manicure,” Emma says, smiling kindly. “I can’t seem to keep a manicure going with my cooking.”
“What’s going on here?” Jamie asks. “Are we talking about fingernails or figuring out a way to get Evander and Phoebe back home? I’m trying to save this ranch from the Travis boys!”
“What’s going on here, indeed?” Phyllis says, looking pointedly at me, then Declan.
“I told you not to worry about threats from the Travis boys,” Cal says. “We all know they’re full of sh—” He stops himself from cussing in front of Jasmine. It’s a daily challenge for everyone.
“I should go. I’m really tired,” I say, standing. I look at the crowd around the kitchen table and attempt to sound normal. “Have a good night, everyone.” I turn and make my way out of the kitchen, trying not to break out into a humiliated sprint.
“You have a nice night, as well,” Special K yells after me. I hear snickers behind my back.
“Well, son? You had one job! And that was to find them!”
I’m out in the living room and near the front door, but I can still hear Jamie giving Declan hell.
“We had to go undercover all night and during the day, too,” I hear Declan say.
I cringe at his choice of words. “And let me tell you, Las Vegas was exhausting. It was a real learning experience for Summer, but she rolled with it. We both spent a lot of time in wedding chapels. Poor Summer even had to have a makeover!”
That ridiculous outburst is followed by a few beats of silence. Then Jasmine speaks up.
“Why in the world did she have to have a makeover to find Evander and Phoebe?”
That kid is often the smartest person in the room, despite the fact that her uncles are highly skilled Navy SEALs, PhDs, and tech wizards.
“Uh,” Declan says.
I close my eyes and groan softly. This isn’t going well at all. I put my hand on the doorknob.
I hear the scrape of Declan’s chair on the kitchen tile as he pushes himself away from the table. “I’m gonna take off. I’ll catch everyone later. I should probably drive Summer home now because we left her truck at the airpark. Bye.”
I open the door and step out onto the porch. I hear Declan running through the house to catch up with me.
“Seriously?” I ask him as we race down the porch steps. “We went ‘undercover’ all night and during the day, too? A ‘learning experience’ but I ‘rolled with it’? What’s wrong with you?”
We start speed walking to Declan’s place.
“Yeah. I really fuckered that up. I almost choked when those words came out of my mouth.”
I laugh in disbelief. “It’s like you were a contestant on a gameshow—where your challenge was to tell them we’re fucking like rabbits without using the words ‘fucking’ or ‘rabbits’!”
“Shhh,” Declan says.
We get to his driveway and jump in the Jeep. It’s about a fifteen-minute drive over ranch roads to my cabin. And the whole time, I’m fuming.
If they don’t already know, they’ll know soon. Fuckered up is right.
As we crest the hill, I see my log home in the distance, outdoor lights sparkling in the snow. It makes me smile.
It’s such a sweet little place, and it’s all mine. It looks just like a greeting card.
We pull up. “Thanks for the ride,” I tell Declan, and hop out.
But he’s not going anywhere. He hops out too and follows me inside. My horses are down at the stables, so I’ve got nothing to do but relax and enjoy my home tonight, and I thought I’d be able to do it alone.
I take off my boots and leave them by the door.
While Declan does the same, I go back to my bedroom and slip out of my clothes.
I put on my favorite flannel pajama bottoms and the rodeo sweatshirt I won in my first barrel racing event when I was thirteen years old.
It’s as soft and thin as a piece of felt after all this time. I don’t mind the stains and tears.
I return to the living room to see Declan putting the finishing touches on a fire in the fireplace.
“What are you doing?”
“Spinning plates on my nose. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re making yourself at home in my home, instead of going to your home, where you live, and where you’re supposed to work on getting an annulment.”
“About the annulment thing…”