“I’m Gerald from the Four Seasons Hotel. Let me take your things.”
He held open the back door for me before loading my suitcase in the trunk.
“Wyoming’s been waiting for you,” he said as he maneuvered the car out of the airport.
I snorted. Somehow I doubted that. “Funny, I never gave Wyoming any thought at all.” Until lately.
He laughed. “First time?”
“Probably my last too.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.”
* * *
When he stopped in front of the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar and put the SUV in park, I frowned.
“Here we are.”
“This shuttle doesn’t go all the way to the hotel?”
He grinned. “I have my instructions. Can’t deviate.”
I was on the sidewalk, staring up at the sign, before I could blink. Trish better be in here. I pulled on the door handle; country music, dancing couples, and people of all kinds parked at the bar greeted me.
I hesitated, scouring one side of the room to the other. Trish barreled toward me, and I met her halfway. She threw her arms around me.
“You’re here.”
“I’m here.” I clutched her back before I held her at arm’s length. “How much champagne have you had?”
She giggled. “A little.”
“Looks like I need to catch up.”
She grabbed my hand and dragged me across the dance floor to a row of tables. “Look who’s here.”
Andrew, Patrick, Mr. Dixon, and Mrs. Quinn chorused their hellos. Holt was nowhere to be found.
“Where’s Ella?”
“With Marlow.”
Marlow is already here? “I thought she wasn’t coming until Friday?”
“She showed up too, but didn’t feel up to dinner.” Trish leaned in. “I think she was afraid to be around her brothers.”
“Can’t say I blame her.”
My gaze drifted around the table. There were only two empty chairs, and I was quickly ushered into one of them. I mentally chastised myself for wondering where Holt was and focused on what Hayden had advised. Trish. I was here for Trish. The rest I’d deal with later. Or never. Whichever came first.
“How’d you get off work?” Patrick asked, pouring me a glass of champagne.
I sucked some down, the bubbles immediately going to my head. “Hayden said I was already here, so I might as well come now. What have I missed?”
“The best steak I’ve ever had,” Trish said, leaning her head on Andrew’s shoulder.
“Glad you liked it, Bright Side.”
“Oh come on, Baker. I expected more from you.” Patrick inclined his glass of whiskey toward me. “Ask what you really want to know.”
“I did.”
He tsked. “He’s over at the bar with some of his friends.”
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
“Who?” I feigned ignorance, and Patrick looked unimpressed.
“Holt.” Just his name sent a spark of heat and a rush of hurt through me. “You should go say hi.”
“You should stir up your own trouble,” I said under my breath.
“We’re glad you made it,” Mr. Dixon said, lifting his glass to me.
He and Mrs. Quinn were pretty cozy, his arm around her shoulder.
“Me too,” I said honestly.
* * *
After another glass of champagne, my nerves unwound and I began to relax. Marlow, Holt, Blake, and Ella’s absence were noticeable, but the mood was light. I was happy for my friend. Friends. Andrew was part of that now too.
The pull toward the bar became too much the more alcohol I consumed. I looked over my shoulder, disappointed dancing couples were all I could see.
One shuffled to the side, giving me a clear line of sight. To Holt.
And the woman latched onto him.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Holt
“To Dixon. For finally getting his ass back where he belongs.”
Roman raised his beer, Briggs and Clark doing the same. I pasted on an artificial smile and clinked my bottle neck with theirs.
Briggs slapped me on the back. “Whatever vacation you’ve got left, take it. There’s a bunch of shit work waiting on you.”
“We piled all of it on your desk,” Clark said with a mischievous grin.
“I have a desk?” My brows dipped, and they all burst into laughter. I wadded up a napkin and threw it at Clark. “Assholes.”
He called the bartender over and ordered a round of shots. “Should I get enough for your family?”
I glanced in their direction. Patrick waved his hands in front of him while he ran his mouth. Longing streaked through me. I’d introduced all of them and felt relieved when there wasn’t a big enough table available to accommodate everyone.
Separate corners.
Two separate worlds.
“Not right now.”
I slung my shot back and slammed the empty glass on the bar.
Briggs grimaced and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “If Suzanne asks me about this and I forgot to mention it, she’ll cut me off for a week.”
“You scared of your wife?” Roman asked with a smirk.
“Yeah. And if she was yours you would be too.” Briggs returned his attention to me. “A friend of hers from high school moved back to town.”
“No.” I cut him off before it went any further.
“She’s not bad looking,” he pleaded.
“Tell Suzanne I’m not ready or whatever you want to.” Maybe I should switch to liquor. “Or why not Roman?”
They glanced at each other, a little too nervously for my liking.
“He’s uh—he’s been kinda seeing someone.”
“Yeah?” I punched him in the arm. “Who’s the lucky girl? Anybody I know?”
“Is there anybody in this town we don’t know?” Clark muttered.
“So about Suzanne’s friend . . .” Briggs nudged me with his shoulder.
“What don’t you want me to know?”
“Oh shit.” Clark glanced past me and downed the rest of his beer. “I gotta take a piss.”
“Hey.”
Everything in me seized.
The soft lilt had greeted me more mornings than I could count. I thought that would always be the sound I woke to. Seeing her face was a direct arrow to my chest. Still flawless. Those lips formed a shy smile, and I scowled, knowing what they were capable of. Her hair was a blonde halo that fell halfway down her back.
I wanted to look away, but couldn’t. This ache, this reminder of everything that had gone wrong in my life stared at me. Begging for forgiveness, understanding, and something else I couldn’t decipher.
“Roman.” I pointed a finger at him. “What the hell?”
He ignored me and touched Celia’s shoulder. “I won’t be far.”
A look passed between them, one I wasn’t sure I liked. One I wasn’t sure why I cared.
I spun on my barstool to face the mirrored wall of liquor bottles.
“Holt.”
I stiffened. How many times had she said my name? Why does it still affect me?
“You don’t take hints too well.”
She wedged between the barstool Roman vacated and mine. Her floral scent nauseated me. Honey. That was what I craved. I edged my fingernail under the label on my bottle, ripping it down the center.
“You just left.”
I whipped around on the stool and stared at her incredulously. “Why would I stay? What’s left here for me?”
She stepped between my legs, and I recoiled. “Me.”
I wanted her out of my space and put my hands on her hips to back her up. Stubborn woman wouldn’t budge.
“I don’t want you.”
“I screwed up. I know that.”
I glared at her. “If he weren’t dead, would you still feel that way?”
She flinched. “I’m sorry. I love you.”
“Don’t s
ay that to me.” I peeled her hand off my arm. “You don’t get to say that.”
I looked away. Those words used to mean everything. I thought they did to her too.
“It’s true,” she pleaded. “I’m lost without you. Roman understands that.”
“Roman?” I asked incredulously. One of my friends? The woman had no boundaries.
She paled. “I thought he told you.”
“Told me what?”
“It’s nothing. You’re home now. We can figure this out. Get back to where we used to be.”
“There is no going back,” I spat.
“Please. I made mistakes—”
“Mistakes? I doubt Cameron or Roman would be too happy to hear that.”
“I was scared. I knew you wanted to get married, but I was afraid everything would change.”
I gaped at her. “So you got serious with my best friend behind my back?” I pushed to my feet, towering over her. “Did you know he was about to propose?”
Her lips parted, her expression as if I’d slapped her. “What?”
“When a man’s dying, he confesses a lot.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do. His last words were how sorry he was, but he loved you and wanted me to look out for you.”
She touched her throat as her eyes glassed over.
I looked away. “You loved him too.”
She nodded, a few tears escaping down her cheeks. “I loved you too.”
“I don’t believe you. If you had, you couldn’t have done that to me. Either of you.”
“Holt. Please.” She grabbed my arm. “Give me another chance. Let me prove to you how much you mean to me.”
“I’m not a stand-in, Celia. I’m not giving you a second chance.”
“We deserve it.” Her nails dug into my forearm, and I shrugged her off.
“Love doesn’t look like this. I want more in life than a woman who plays with the emotions of men she supposedly loves for her own gain. I’m done.” I hadn’t been able to see that she hopped from man to man. I’d been blinded by what I thought we had. Baker had shown me what a relationship should be, even if that hadn’t ended well either.
“You love me.” She’d always known exactly how to play me.
“Yeah. But not enough to let you walk all over me anymore.” She reached for me again, but I stepped out of reach. “You should leave.”
My feet carried me toward my family, and I didn't look back. I pushed through the crowd and froze when hurt green eyes met mine.
Easy.
She clambered from her seat and rushed toward the door. Trish and Andrew looked around to see what had spooked her when they saw me.
Trish rushed after Baker while I stood there. Frozen between past and present.
Two worlds collided.
And I couldn’t move.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Baker
“Baker. Wait up.”
Trish grasped my hand just before I made it to the door.
“I can’t,” I said. “I’m here for you, but I can’t stay.” My heart pounded against my ribcage, images of Holt and that woman from the picture assaulting me.
“You’re not going back to New York, are you?” she asked, panicked.
“No. I just . . . need to regroup.”
“I’ll go with you.”
I shook my head. “Stay. Everyone’s having a good time.”
“I’ll be worried about you.”
“And I’ll be fine.”
“Thought you weren’t coming until Friday?”
My breath caught when Holt appeared behind Trish.
“Want me to stay?” She touched my shoulder.
“We’re ready to call it a night.” Andrew led the rest of the group, who had their coats on before I could say anything to Holt. “The hotel is sending a car over.” His phone pinged with a text. “Here it is.”
Mr. Dixon patted Holt’s back. “You’re not driving are you, son?”
He turned red. “I, uh—I can get a cab.”
“Do that. It’s not worth getting in an accident.”
We moved outside. Before I could climb into the waiting SUV, Holt hooked my arm. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he closed it. I slinked out of his hold.
“Guess it would have been hard to juggle two women in the same place at once.” I crawled into the third row of seating without waiting for a response.
I tried not to look back as we pulled away, but his magnetism was too strong. He remained in the same spot on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, staring after us.
Patrick let out a low whistle. “You two are like fire and ice. One second you’re hot for each other, the next it’s bitter cold.”
“Like it’s any different with you and Marlow,” I said.
“Actually, it is. Marlow’s always cold. Always.”
“I can’t argue with you there.”
“She’s had a hard time since Jack died.” Mr. Dixon turned around from his position in the front seat.
“She’s had more support than anybody knew.”
Andrew shot a warning look at me over his shoulder. I stared out the window.
“She seeing somebody else?” Patrick asked, a hint of anger behind the question.
“I have no idea,” I said honestly.
“It sounds like you know something.”
“What she does is none of my concern.” I clutched my purse on my lap. “The only Dixons that matter to me are Trish and Ella.”
Trish gave me a sympathetic look, seeing right past the lie. If I kept telling myself I didn’t give a damn about Holt, maybe one day it would be true.
“What’s on the agenda for today?”
I picked at a piece of bacon, but it was like cardboard in my mouth.
“Andrew wants to move the wedding up to tomorrow since everyone’s here.” She blushed and fiddled with a lock of her hair. “I want to too.”
I tried to be upbeat. The travel and lack of sleep had my enthusiasm at a low level, even though I was genuinely happy for my friend.
Ella screamed, drawing the attention of the whole restaurant. I scowled right back at the woman next to us who had a look of disgust on her face.
I tickled Ella’s tummy. “You always say what you think, okay? Never let anyone silence you.”
“The hotel wedding planner wants to meet at ten, but it shouldn’t take too long. They’ve arranged everything.”
“So we’re free to hang out in the spa all day?”
“I was thinking we could all go on a hike. It’s not supposed to be too cold,” she said.
“I’m game.”
“Even if Holt comes?”
I set down my piece of toast. “This is your weekend. I’m sorry about last night, but I’m more prepared now.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. And if you want to talk about it—”
“I don’t.” I picked Ella up from her carrier and held her to my chest. “Is Mr. Dixon taking Ella while you honeymoon? Where are you going anyway?” Maybe I didn't have the right but I was a little hurt Trish hadn’t consulted me about this.
A wistful expression transformed her face. “All I know is somewhere warm.”
“Bring me back some sand.”
“And a coconut?”
I laughed. “Yeah. A coconut too.”
“We talked about it and decided to take Ella with us.”
“I get it.”
“Andrew doesn’t want to be away from her, either.”
I kissed the crown of Ella’s head. “I'll miss you, but we’ll have some girl time when you get back.” The realization that Trish and Ella would be away and Mrs. Quinn was busy with Mr. Dixon brought on this feeling of incredible loneliness.
My phone trilled from inside my bag. I juggled Ella as I reached down for it.
“Hello?”
“Is this Baker Holland?”
“Um, yes.”
“I’m Juniper Montgomery. I pi
cked up some of your lip gloss from the food truck on Park. I own a boutique down the street and wanted to see how I go about ordering the product for my store.”
I looked at Trish with wide eyes and pointed at the phone as I tried not to jump out of my seat.
“That’s terrific. I’m so glad you like it.” I struggled to contain my excitement and prayed that my voice sounded professional. “What kind of quantity do you need?”
The words came out as a bit of a squeal, and Trish did a fist pump.
“I’m thinking one hundred to start so I can test market. And can we discuss pricing? Is the retail price firm? Because if I’m being perfectly honest, it’s too cheap for the quality of the product.”
My heart thundered in my ears. Someone thought my product was worth more. It was one thing to hear that from the people I cared about and completely another from a stranger. Pride filled me that I’d created something of value.
“What do you think it should retail for?” I asked carefully.
“In my shop, easily the $8 to $10 range. Maybe more.”
I fiddled with the hem of my sweater, even as joy overflowed inside me. “It’s important to me that it be affordable.”
“I understand, but you shouldn’t sell yourself short.” A door chime signaled on the other end of the line. “I want to know more about the charity the proceeds go to. Do you have information I can display?”
“Yes,” I lied. “That’s no problem.” I flashed Trish an oh shit look.
“What’s the turnaround time if I order today?”
I swallowed hard. “We’re a little behind because of the demand, but I think I could have fifty to you in a week and the other fifty a week after that.”
A noise of dissatisfaction came through the phone. “No sooner?”
“We can try to rush, but I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.”
“I respect that. Let me give you my details.”
“Please. I’ll email you the invoice later today.” I scrambled for a pen, Trish handed me a paper napkin.
“I’ve got a feeling about this,” she said. “If this sells like I think it will, be ready for me to double my next order.”
Next order? Double? Was this real? It was all I could do not to scream I was so excited.
Trust Me: A Roommates To Lovers Romance Novel (Free Book 2) Page 19
