“Holy. God,” I whispered.
“Fucks sakes. I mean I know your dad’s loaded…but damn.”
Damn, was right. I mean, I guess he was just renting it for the month, but still, this place had to cost a fortune. I could only imagine how much it would be in California. Definitely a hell of a lot more than what my event planner salary could afford.
This had to be Georgette's idea. Sure we’d always been wealthy, but my dad was never this flashy. Renting a ranch for a month? How the hell did that even make any sense?
I put the car in park and got out.
“Howdy, y’all!” Georgette’s fake twang drew my gaze and I nearly burst out laughing.
Oh, dear God. She looked like cowgirl Barbie in her baby pink corset crop top, a pair of light washed cutoffs that even I would feel self-conscious wearing, and a pair of sparkly pink cowboy boots. Her wide brimmed hat was the same color as her top. I mean, she looked great in it all. She had a hell of a body—tall, willowy build, legs that went on for days, and—I pulled my sunglasses down just a bit—were those abs? Yep…those were abs. Damn. Maybe she and I should start working out together. You know, some step mom daughter bonding. I bit back a snort.
Absolutely not.
I still didn’t really know how to feel about him dating—I mean, marrying, I guess, someone just a few years older than me. But it wasn’t my life.
Speaking of Dad…
I let out a muffled groan at his outfit. “Well, aren’t you just a bonafide cowboy?” I said, urging a horrible attempt at a southern accent into my tone.
He’d traded in his board shorts and flip-flops for Levis and cowboy boots. A light-colored straw cowboy hat and—oh God, is that a bolo tie?
Whit and I exchanged a familiar look. The one that silently asked,Do you see what I see?
I bit back a chuckle as I walked toward the large porch he and Georgette made their way down.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, coming to the bottom step. “Georgette.”
My dad drew me into a tight hug. “Y’all made it!”
I stifled an eye roll. Since when did he sayy’all? It didn’t stop me from hugging him back though as I said, “Thanks for having us.”
He pulled out of my grip just as Georgette slammed into me for a hug. “How many times do I have to tell you, Queenie? Call me Georgie.” She squeezed me tight. “We have been dying to have you here! I can’t wait to go over wedding details with you. It’s gonna be so much fun!”
I drew back and offered her what I hoped passed as an enthusiastic smile. “Yeah.”
It’ll be interesting, to say the least.
I didn’t miss the snort from Whit at my side. She hid it well, though, by saying hi to my dad and then introducing herself to Georgette.
Anxiety battled its way through my veins, rising and gaining in intensity as small talk was made and pleasantries were passed around. It’s not that anything bad was happening. Everything was fine…for the moment. But it just felt fake. Everything about this seemed like it was a dream. Like it wasn’t real.
My dad always had been larger than life, and was a bit of a schmoozer, a charmer, but right now I felt like he was a snake oil salesman about to sell me thenext greatest thing. I just…I didn’t like the unease coiling tighter in my chest.
“Well, what’re we waiting for?” my dad asked. “Let’s give you the grand tour!”
Georgette—Georgie—squealed and clapped her hands, more like an excited teenager than a thirty-year-old woman.”Yay! Tour time!”
And this is supposed to be my step mom?
As my dad and Georgie led us up the porch steps, I glanced at Whit, sharing another pointed look with her as I mouthed, “What the fuck?”
She didn’t seem anywhere near as concerned as me, more like highly amused. She just shrugged and snaked my arm through the crook of her elbow. “Come on,Queenie,” she said cheerily, “Don’t wanna miss the tour!”
Forty-five minutes later andmy dad was still showing us around the property. We’d gone through each and every single room of the five bedroom, six bathroom main house, complete with a home movie theater and a gorgeous natural pool and spa—you know, one of those that looks like a pond, but it’s fully functional as a swimming pool—and theeightcar garage with a man cave built into it. We’d all gotten into the Gator to drive the ninety-five acre property after that, where Dad and Georgette drove us by two of the three guest houses—not including the third which was used as a bunkhouse for the ranch hands—and finally the main barn.
“The pretty one. Not the one the ranch hands use.”Georgette’s words.
