The look changes yet again. Approving, now, even as the corners of his mouth turn down with distaste when his gaze lingers on my pink hair. “They’re my father’s cousins. We’re the Phipps.”
I make the connection. Phipps. As in Grant Phipps, the governor of New Hampshire.
And this is his son, I presume. The young neurosurgeon, the scion of the family, likely destined for political office someday himself.
Suddenly we both know what the other is—old money—and he’s clocked me as one of his people. Except I’m not. I might have been born into that world, but I’ve chosen a different path for myself.
One where I don’t have to give a damn who’s his daddy.
All I see is an arrogant jerk who couldn’t last two days solo in the Montana wilderness, brain surgeon or not.
“I’d think,” I say, keeping my voice polite, “that you’d want to make an effort to appreciate something Cassidy loves. Since you’re marrying her.”
Derek looks at me with incredulity. “Cassidy knows Isupport her. I don’t have to pretend to enjoy”— he gestures at the arena —“all of this to do that.”
Cassidy is looking at her hands.
Slade’s fingers tighten where they rest on my shoulder.
“Seems to me,” Slade says, deceptively casual, “a man ought to respect his wife. Her interests, her world, the things that light her up. He doesn’t sit next to her and make her feel ridiculous for loving them.”
He’s not leaning in. Not squaring up. His arm is around me and he’s just looking at Derek the way he looks at most things: icy, unimpressed, giving nothing away. Not an outright challenge.
But my husband’s got five inches of height and fifty pounds of muscle on Derek and Derek appears to realize he’s not in the operating room anymore. He’s not the king of his sterile castle around these parts.
I can see the recalibration happening. His eyes tick up to Slade, whose face is shadowed under the brim of his Stetson, those green eyes catching the arena light and holding it. Whatever Derek sees there makes him hunch a little.
Then he looks back at his phone and says nothing.
Sadie leans in to say something to Cassidy, who just shakes her head and looks back down at the arena. She’s twisting her engagement ring around and around her finger like it’s burning her skin.
Tanner makes his way through the crowd below us, accepting backslaps and congratulations, that easy grin still on his face. He looks up at our section and finds us, waving and grinning. Jonah goes absolutely wild.
“That’s my uncle!” he informs the strangers around him. “He just rode that bull! Did you see? Did you see him?”
“He’s pretty damn impressive,” Cassidy murmurs. The comment seems to slip out of her.
Derek looks at her. Then down at Tanner.
Something shifts in his expression, something ugly and jealous.
“Impressive,” he repeat, boredly, with clinical detachment. “You know what’s impressive? The neurosurgeons who are going to be scooping what’s left of his brain out of his shattered skull in ten years.”
For a moment, there’s complete silence amidst our group.
Then Cassidy sucks in a sharp breath.
“You aresuchan asshole,” she whispers.
Derek rolls his eyes and stands up. “I have to take a consult from the car. Are you coming?”
She folds her arms. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now.”
“Fine. Go find your cowboy. The way you’ve been watching him all night, I’m sure he’d be happy to give you exactly the kind of ride you’re after. You’ll be competing with all his other whores though. Good luck to you.”
Cassidy’s eyes widen.
Beside me Slade is already moving, shifting his weight forward like he’s getting ready to kick this guy’s ass, and I put my hand flat on his thigh before he gets any further. Across from us Sadie does the same to Walker and gives him a shake of the head.
