by Liza Kendall
True, there wasn’t anything besides the lasagna, but at least the current crisis had broken the ice among all of them. The lasagna was still cold in the middle, but Rhett felt the warmth of his brothers and sister . . . and marveled at it. Only Ace was missing.
“Why?” Rhett repeated. “Because I acted like an a-hole in Dallas and ran out on her? Because she thinks I’m only proposing because of the baby?”
“But there’s more to it?” Lila prodded.
Jake popped a forkful of lasagna into his mouth, eyeing Rhett intently.
He looked back at his brother and nodded in silence.
“How much more?” She was relentless. “Like . . . Charlie-and-Jake more?”
“Maybe,” he said cautiously.
Jake’s face split into a grin. “That’s so awesome.”
“It’s not at all awesome,” Rhett growled. “She turned me down.”
Lila jumped back in. “I wonder if it’s because her aunt Sue’s shotgun wedding—”
“Can you please not use that term?” Rhett said. “Nobody is holding a gun to my head. I want to marry her.”
“Why?” Declan asked. “To do the right thing?”
“No. Because I . . . I . . . care for her. And I know we can make it work.”
“Anyway,” butted in Lila again. “I wonder if it’s because Sue Holt’s instant marriage ended so badly. And Jules is really close to her aunt.”
“The thought had occurred to me,” muttered Rhett. “And I don’t think Sue cares much for me.”
“She sold you boots,” Deck pointed out. “She wouldn’t have sold you Luccheses if she hated you. She’d have tossed a saddle at your head or chased you out of the shop with one of her jewelry hammers.”
Rhett grunted.
“Maybe you should ask her father’s permission to marry her,” Declan suggested.
“Why?” Lila asked. “That’s so old-fashioned.”
“It’s traditional and classic,” Deck said. “Not old-fashioned.”
“It’s patriarchal,” Lila said. “Asking a man for his daughter’s hand—as though she’s property.”
“I think it’d be a nice touch,” Jake said. “Talk to Billy. Get him on your side. I’ll work on Grady.”
Grady. Maybe Grady would speak to him again, if he talked Jules into marrying him.
“How did you end up asking her?” Lila wanted to know.
Rhett shrugged. “Words came out of my mouth. Along with blood.”
She stared at him. “Well, maybe that’s it. She thinks you only asked because you hit your head, and Grady was standing over you, ready to kill you. Why don’t you buy a ring—a really nice one—and do it right? Go down on one knee? The way every girl dreams about?”
Rhett thought about it: Subtract angry, bloodthirsty brother. Try a top-notch restaurant. Produce massive diamond. Make pretty speech while balancing on one knee like a supplicant at the throne of a queen. It could work . . . assuming that he could get her to the restaurant.
“Yes!” Lila jumped to her feet. “And I get to help pick out the ring. I’m thinking emerald cut, at least five carats, with baguettes on either side. That’ll tell her you’re serious.”
Chapter 28
How was it that Rhett had noticed almost every new business on Main Street except Stoned?
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, as an over-eager Lila dragged him to the door. “I thought we were in Texas, not Colorado.”
She laughed. “Do you know just how upset the town council was over the name? They begged, pleaded, and threatened Monty Bates to change the name . . .
“Monty? The same Monty from grade school?”
Lila nodded. “So he offered ‘The Full Monty’ instead, and they finally backed down. Then people started coming from as far away as Austin and San Antonio because they loved the name and it made them laugh, which brought more tourism and tax dollars to Silverlake, and the council stopped complaining.”
The cannabis references stopped with the shop name, Rhett had to admit. In the windows, and in the expansive glass cases, gemstones of all types winked and sparkled.
Inside the store, one of the most spectacular pieces was a wide, triangular collar in black and white diamonds, which happened to adorn the neck of a tall, elegant, and deeply tanned woman in a dalmatian-print silk blouse. She was probably in her early seventies, and on her finger was a diamond solitaire, the likes of which Rhett had seen only on actresses like Elizabeth Taylor or Kim Kardashian.
But the most astonishing thing about her was her matching dog. Next to the white velvet stool she sat upon was an extremely fat, shiny dalmatian that looked so bored that it didn’t even bother to wag its tail when Rhett and Lila walked in. It just yawned.
“That’s Cruella,” Lila said under her breath. “They grossly overfeed her so she won’t eat the neighbor’s cats.”
“Is that a dog or a cow?”
“Shh. Sophia!” his sister called. “How are you? I’ve brought you and Monty another customer. This is my brother—”
“Everett,” Sophia finished, sliding her derriere off the stool and gliding over like a gazelle. “My word. You look exactly like your mama.” She extended her hand.
Blinded by the ice cube on her finger, he nevertheless extended his own hand. “I go by Rhett, ma’am. Have we met before?”
Her mouth quirked. “Indeed we have. I’m Monty’s mother. Do you remember a certain soiree that your mama gave at which there was a large and luscious lemon rosemary cake with vanilla cream frost—”
“Oh no. That was yours?” Rhett felt a flush creeping up his neck.
“Yes. That was mine. You and young Andrew thought that since it was in a corner, you could slice off the back quarter of it, pull the vase of flowers closer, and nobody’d be the wiser.”
Rhett coughed, the heat reaching his cheeks.
A blond, muscular man in gray slacks and a designer black T-shirt stepped out of the back and eyed him mock-severely. “You also tried to blame it on me, if you recall.”
“Monty!” Rhett said, chuckling. “How’ve you been, man?”
“A lot better than high school . . .”
Monty had had an extremely rough time coming out.
“Thank God it passes,” Rhett said fervently. “I didn’t have such a great time, either. How’s life treating you now?”
“Good, good. Especially since I have a good reason—revenge—to gouge you on a ring.” He rubbed his hands together evilly and laughed. “What goes around comes around.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Rhett said, but shrugged.
“So. Julianna Holt, huh?” Monty looked quizzical and all but scratched his head.
“This town,” Rhett muttered. “Did someone put it on a billboard somewhere?”
“Dude, between Grady’s knuckles and the grapevine: Sunny, Sue, Dottie, unnamed sources at Mercy—no billboard needed.” Monty looked him up and down. “Still sporting the shiner and the chipmunk cheek, I see.”
“Yeah.”
“Sexy. I’d stay away from Grady for a while. Word is, he’s still mad as a rattlesnake in a sack.”
Rhett sighed. “Look, that’s why I’m here.”
Monty raised an eyebrow. “Diamond tennis bracelet for Grady? He’s not the type.”
“Ha, ha. I need a ring. A really beautiful one. For Jules.”
“Yeah. Lila’s already briefed me. At least five carats, emerald cut, baguettes on either side. Hang on a sec—”
“I’m really not sure what French bread has to do with anything,” Rhett grumbled to Lila.
“A baguette is also a cut of diamond, you moron,” she told her brother.
“Would you two care for a glass of wine? Something stronger?” asked Sophia.
“Maker’s Mark? The entire bottl
e?” suggested Rhett.
“He’s kidding,” said Lila.
“Not so much,” he said darkly, as Monty brought out a black velvet tray festooned with ten different rings.
“Ohhhh,” Lila breathed. She pounced on one and slid it onto her own finger: a round stone the size of a pearl onion, surrounded by smaller ones.
“That doesn’t look like Jules,” Rhett said.
“It’s fabulous on moi, though.” She grinned.
He glowered. “Focus, sis.”
Monty pushed a different ring toward them: a massive rectangular stone set in platinum with smaller rectangular stones flanking it. “That’s what Lila ordered.”
Rhett stared at it. The stone was stunning, blazing with fire in the overhead lighting of the jewelry store. “You think Jules would like it?” he asked.
“Trust me,” said Lila. “There is no woman on the planet who wouldn’t like it. It’s gorgeous.”
He tried to picture Jules digging out a horse stall while wearing a ring like that and couldn’t quite manage the visual. But Lila was a girl. She knew the female mind much better than him, that was for sure.
“Let’s look at the rest,” Monty suggested. “Here’s another round stone, brilliant cut. It’s spectacular, F in color, flawless.”
Rhett shook his head. “Jules is . . . different. I don’t see her with a round stone.”
“Okay. Here’s a marquis cut, three carats, H in color.”
“It’s nice, but . . .” Rhett waved it away.
Lila tried it on, too. “Stunning,” she breathed.
“Put it back,” Rhett ordered.
They looked at several more: a pear-shaped stone, a cushion-cut yellow diamond, a princess cut that was flawless in every aspect except that Jules wasn’t a princess kind of girl.
“Well, what kind of girl is she?” Lila asked, finally, exasperated.
“She’s . . . just Jules,” he said. “Unique. Quirky. Unexpected. Prickly. Beautiful without having a clue that she is.”
“Why not bring her in to choose a ring herself?” Monty suggested.
“No, no, no, no, no.” Lila overrode that. “He needs it for tomorrow evening. He’s going to pop the question then, at Jean-Paul’s, and—”
“Lila, is it necessary to tell everyone all of my personal business?” Rhett asked.
“Of course it is. We need this to be perfect,” she said. “So Jean-Paul needs to know how she likes her steak cooked, and what champagne you want to have, and—”
“What if she orders scallops?”
“You know what I mean! Yes, it’s necessary to tell people so that we have all the details right.”
“Fine,” Rhett said tightly.
“The most important detail here,” Monty said, “is what ring size you need?”
“Huh?” Lila and Rhett both looked at him blankly.
“I don’t have a clue,” Rhett finally said.
“Medium?” Lila guessed.
Monty shook his head. “I’m guessing I’m going to have to give you the idiot discount,” he said, trying not to laugh.
“Lila.” Rhett squinted at her. “If you can deviously and immediately find out this crucial piece of information, I will buy you any ring in here that you want.”
Her eyes gleamed. “Done!”
“Within reason,” he amended.
“Uh-uh. No way. No reason. We had a deal. Excuse me. I need to make a call.” And with that, Lila stepped out of the shop, her brow knit, clearly motivated to accomplish her mission.
Cruella looked after her and yawned.
Rhett looked at Monty.
Monty looked at Sophia.
“I’d go with the one Lila chose initially,” Sophia instructed. “It’s truly impossible for any girl not to like that ring.”
“Sold, then,” said Rhett, without bothering to ask the price. He fished out his Black Card. “Can you size it by tomorrow?”
“For you?” Monty nodded. “I won’t even charge you a rush fee . . . since you’ll probably already be crying when you see the Amex charge.”
Rhett grinned. “Well, at least this should finally make up for that quarter cake you got blamed for, all those years ago.”
Sophia slid back up onto her white velvet stool. “Honey, I’m taking a cherry cobbler to the church potluck. How about you go for two thirds of that and feel so guilty you come back for this necklace?”
“I’ll think about it,” Rhett promised.
He completed the transaction and stepped out of the shop, surprised to see Lila just ending a call on her cell phone. “Hi, bro!” she sang. Highly suspicious.
“What are you up to?” Rhett asked.
“Well. I came up with a surefire way to get Jules’s ring size. But there’s a small string attached.”
“Lila, what—”
“Look, I thought about dragging her bowling and trying to get the size from the holes in the ball. I thought about sneaking in while she was sleeping and tying fishing line around her finger and then cutting it off to measure. But I thought there was a chance Mia would know her size so I called her first, and she didn’t know her size but she did tell me that Jules is staying at Sue’s because—”
“Lila—what string is attached?”
“—her mom and dad kicked her out because she wouldn’t tell them who the father was, so—”
“They what? She wouldn’t?”
“—I finally just decided to bite the bullet and call and ask her mom for her ring size. Well, Jules’s dad answered the phone, and he’d like you to, uh, pay them a visit. Right. Now.”
Stunned, Rhett stared at his sister. He’d rather take fifty more blows to the jaw from Grady than go see Jules’s parents right now. “Lila, I’m going to kill you.”
“Okay,” she said. “But if I were you? I’d ask Mr. Holt for permission to marry his daughter first. Just a suggestion. Anyway, I have every confidence in you, which means that I’ve got a ton to do to get ready for the proposal.”
“How would you like to die?” Rhett asked Lila as she got into her car.
“If you’re giving me a choice, then probably with that other, very large diamond ring through my nose,” she said.
“I cannot believe that you did this,” he said, shaking his head.
“It was the most direct way to address the problem, you left it up to me, and you are going to have to face them sooner or later,” Lila reasoned. “Besides, they’re old-fashioned, and because of that I changed my mind about the patriarchy. It is nice to ask the bride’s father for permission to marry her.”
“I’d have preferred to choose the time and place myself!” Rhett slammed a hand onto Scarlett’s roof.
“Well, sorry: I chose it for you. If you’re going to come home and be my brother again, then you need to accept me for who I am. I meddle, and I’m very effective at it. For example, I got Jake and Charlie back together again.” She said this proudly and affectionately.
“Congratulations, little sister. But your meddling is making a hash out of my life, thank you very much.”
“I’ll fix it,” Lila said cheerfully. “I promise! Now, you go ask permission. I’ll handle Jean-Paul’s. You call Monty with the ring size. And you get Jules to the restaurant at seven P.M.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Well, you can start by asking her to come, you moron.”
“Oh, now I’m a moron?”
“Haven’t you heard? Most geniuses are morons in their personal lives. So you’re not alone.”
“Good to know,” Rhett muttered. “Good to know.”
* * *
Rhett’s collar felt instantly tighter. He sat in Scarlett with the engine running and aimed the air-conditioning vents right at his face, cranking the temperature down to sixty-two degrees. You
got this. You have negotiated multimillion-dollar deals before breakfast. You have chatted with heads of state and C-suite guys all over the globe. You are not intimidated by one simple Texas rancher.
Rhett swallowed, redirected the AC vents, and aimed Scarlett toward the Holt place. God help him . . . he’d almost rather go back to prep school again in his pearl-snap shirt than face Helen and Billy under these circumstances.
He got there all too soon, and instead of stopping at the barn as usual, he passed it and rumbled all the way up to the little blue house. He shut off the engine, climbed out, and tried not to feel all of fifteen years old and headed to the principal’s office.
Billy Holt met him at the door, his face dark with anger. “Did you buy this place out of guilt, Rhett Braddock? For tangling with my daughter?”
“No, sir—”
“I’d like to knock you down!”
“Grady’s already done that, sir.”
“Good for him. Now, about the last darn thing I’d like to do is invite you inside. But get on in here, because we surely do have some private business to discuss.” He held open the door, a look of disgust on his face. As if he were inviting in a cockroach.
This was going well, so far.
Rhett took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen where he’d felt so welcome only a little while ago. It hadn’t changed; everything else had, though.
Billy Holt didn’t ask him to sit. “You have disrespected me, my wife, my daughter, and our values, Braddock. Not to mention your friendship with my son. And only the sorry past with my sister Sue keeps me from meeting you at the end of a shotgun.”
Helen Holt sat in the chair opposite, her face calm, her mouth a straight, uncompromising line.
“Mrs. H,” Rhett said. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” she replied. She got up. “Coffee? Blueberry muffin?”
But the way she said it, she may as well have offered him arsenic.
He wasn’t going to stall. “Mr. and Mrs. Holt. I’m here to ask your permission to marry Julianna.”
Helen’s mouth softened. She gave a nod and turned toward the coffeepot, getting a mug down for him and pouring some.
