Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LOLA
Sterling Ranch.
It’s enormous. Not charming-farmhouse enormous. Not oh-that’s-a-nice-spread enormous. The kind of enormous that makes your stomach drop. Because it’s quite clear these aren’t regular people, these are the type of families that run the town.
I get why Violet’s been a mess all morning. These are the clients that could make or break her business before it’s even off the ground.
She can’t fuck this up.
We pull up and park next to the line of trucks on the gravel. My mind instantly shoots back to a few nights ago. His hands. His mouth. The best sex of my life. In the back of a truck. And that nagging frustration returns, wondering why he never looked for me after.
“I might have to buy a truck, V,” I joke.
She half laughs, but it’s thin and distracted. She’s way too stressed for humor right now. Violet Taylor is a little ball of fury when she wants to be.
We’ve been friends since high school. Thick as thieves. Which means I know her better than anyone else on the planet, and I know that when she’s this wound up, there’s no talking her down. But I’ll always try to make her laugh. That’s the job.
“Plenty of cowboys here you can bang in the truck,” she says, completely deadpan.
I chew on my lip. I don’t want any other cowboys. Just the one. “I wonder if he’ll be here?” I say quietly.
She cuts the engine and turns to face me. Her eyes are begging. “Lola… If he is here, please can you fuck him after we successfully pull off this party? Please?”
I burst out laughing. “Because it’s for you, I’ll try to keep away from any and all dicks,” I say with a grin.
She slaps my arm, and for the first time all morning, she actually laughs. “Slut.”
My eyes go wide.
“Xavier might be here too,” I tease, wiggling my eyebrows.
Her hand flies to her chest like I’ve physically wounded her. “I can’t even think about cock today, Lola. Just salmon canapés and steak.”
I bite back a laugh and glance in the side mirror. Luke’s van is pulling up beside us. He works for her. He catches Violet’s eye through the windshield and gives her that look that seems to make her blush.
“Cute little workplace romance,” I say, nudging her.
She stays silent, which only means one thing. I knew it. My mouth drops open. “Violet Taylor.” I grab her arm. “Have you?”
“Maybe,” is all she gives me before she slips out of the car.
I sit there for a second, grinning like an idiot. This place is bringing out something new in both of us. Something reckless and a little bit wild and completely unlike the versions of ourselves we left behind.
I climb out and head over to Luke’s van, falling into step with the routine. We start unloading trays. Violet is already in full commander mode, clipboard out, barking orders. And I listen.
We’ve got a few hours to set up. Everything is going to be perfect. It has to be. I grab a stack of trays and follow them through the gate toward the catering tent. And that’s when I stop.
There’s a blacked-out truck parked in the next field. Set apart from the others, like it doesn’t belong in the lineup. It’s a beast.
I swear it’s his, and my heart does something stupid.
“Lola! Come on!” Violet shouts from inside the tent.
I blink. Shake myself out of it. Chances are, my cowboy will be here if it’s an event this big. And the thing is, I don’t know what to do about that. He hasn’t tried to chase me. Hasn’t called. Hasn’t shown up at my door with some grand gesture or whispered promise.
I’m not even sure he’s interested. He might just be like the rest of them—full of shit and fake promises and a charm that expires the second they’ve gotten what they wanted.
It was a one-night thing.
That’s all.