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Layla was the best horse trainer Vic had ever seen, and Chelsea was dedicated to being hands-on at the ranch. She kept a close eye on their stock, which had a direct effect on the bottom line. Vic, though he could repair a fence, rope a lost calf and shoot a rogue coyote from an impressive distance, was better utilized behind the scenes. He’d been taught to view the overall workings of the ranch as one big piece, with each person in his or her sweet spot. His sisters thought he merely delegated, but there was nothing mere about running this place. It took more than a little know-how to delegate properly, which was the part they didn’t see.
Regardless of what they believed he did or didn’t do, his sisters’ hard work and passion had been essential to the ranch. When it came to the herd or the horses, he didn’t have his sisters’ expertise, which was why he trusted them implicitly. It was past time he told them as much. As Aubrey had reminded him the other night, a threat to their home was the best reason for the Grandin sibs to work together.
Titan blew out a frustrated snort, stomping one foot to the ground to further voice his impatience.
“What time’s dinner?” Vic asked.
Layla grinned. “Seven sharp. I hope you like Italian food.”
“Everyone likes Italian food.” He made a show of rolling his eyes. “I don’t have to eat burgers every day, you know.”
“Thanks, Vic.” Her sincerity threw him a little.
“You’re welcome. Hey, before you go—” He climbed on Titan’s back. “Why don’t you throw a saddle on one of your pet projects and come out with me? I’ll race you to the east fence.”
Her eyes flared with excitement. “Give me five minutes!”
She jogged to the barn as Vic broke the bad news to Titan. “We have to wait on Layla, buddy.” Meanwhile, he trotted the horse in circles around the paddock to warm up. Not five minutes later, Layla came out riding a black gelding, neither of them able to contain their excitement.
“On your mark,” he called out.
“Go!” Layla blazed past him.
“Shit,” Vic muttered. Titan picked up on the urgency, double-timing it to catch up with Layla and her gelding.
Vic helped Aubrey out of his truck, keeping hold of her hand as they approached his family home. She expected a jolt of familiarity at the sight of the massive, elegant house. While there was a tingle of “been here before,” her memories were sparse. It was almost like she hadn’t been here in years. She tried to envision his bedroom but called up an image that could’ve been Vic’s room—or a photo she saw in an issue of one of her mother’s home-decorating magazines.
“Everything all right?” He stopped short of the wide front steps that led to a sprawling porch to study her in the waning light, concern etched into his forehead. He’d been checking on her a lot lately. It must be hard for him to see her like this, to worry about her recovery at a time when the family ranch should be his sole concern.
“Of course.” She slapped on a smile. She wasn’t going to ruin Layla’s dinner tonight over nothing. When she’d bumped into Vic’s sister, Aubrey had been thrilled to recognize the other woman on sight. She would have known Layla’s blue eyes anywhere. The rush of certainty had propelled her over to say hello. Layla, gracious as well as poised, had greeted Aubrey with a hug. After a short chat, Aubrey had mentioned how isolated she’d been for the last few weeks, and that’s when Layla had invited her over for dinner sometime. Aubrey had accepted, and Layla promised to give Vic the details. And, apparently, the blonde middle Grandin sister had whipped together a dinner party in record time.
“What’s Chelsea’s fiancé’s name again?” Aubrey asked as Vic opened the front door.
“Nolan Thurston, twin brother to the asshole trying to find oil on our land.”
“You’re not going to be like this all night, are you?” Layla was standing in the foyer, arms folded, forehead creased. “They haven’t arrived yet, so you’re safe.”
“I don’t care if they overhear,” he said. Hopefully the evening went smoothly. Aubrey prickled at the idea of everyone squabbling tonight.
“So good to see you again, Aubrey. Come meet my husband, Josh.” Layla led Aubrey away from Vic, who followed behind them as they stepped into the large, state-of-the-art kitchen. Josh stood at the stovetop sautéing something green. He had a muscular build, dirty-blond hair and oh—look at that—blue eyes like Layla’s. They were a match made in Barbie dream heaven, an absolutely stunning couple.
Once pleasantries were exchanged and Aubrey was equipped with a glass of wine, Chelsea and Nolan let themselves in. Chelsea announced herself with a “We’re here. Hold your applause!”
Nolan was tall and well-built, his features unlike Josh’s in nearly every way. His hair and eyes were dark rather than light, his thick eyebrows expressive and possibly visible from space. He had a sensual smile, which was decorated with a dense five-o’clock shadow. He made a nice match for dark-haired Chelsea, whose willowy frame was draped in a fancy cocktail dress.
“What’s the occasion? I’ve never seen you look better,” Vic said, sweeping in to kiss his oldest sister’s cheek.
“I know a backhanded compliment when I hear one,” she returned. Before Aubrey could be properly intimidated, Chelsea turned her wide, toothy smile on her. “Aubrey Collins. How are you?”
“Good, thank you,” she answered, thrown by the formality. Instinctively, she gave Chelsea a quick hug. “It’s good to see you. Congratulations on your engagement.”
Nolan’s arm wrapped around his fiancée’s waist, and Chelsea blushed prettily—a sight Aubrey had rarely, if ever, seen.
“Everyone sit! It’s done!” Layla rushed by with a piping-hot dish of cheese-covered pasta. Josh followed, a platter in each hand, steam billowing in his wake.
Dinner was delicious—fettucine alfredo with slices of grilled chicken, a dish of garlicky broccolini and Texas toast slathered with butter and freshly grated Parmesan cheese.
Aubrey had eaten her fill two bites ago but couldn’t help polishing off the remainder of her bread. She reclaimed her forgotten wineglass and took a sip as the vibe around the table took a turn from casual to serious.
