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Twenty-One
The Texas Cattleman’s Club used to be an old-school men’s club, through and through. Built around 1910, the large, rambling, single-story building had been ground zero for too many parties to count. From the dark wood floors to the leather-upholstered furniture and the high, regal ceilings, the TCC made for a lush backdrop for any festivity.
After the club began admitting female members over a decade ago, things started to change for the better. Helping lure in a younger demographic were parents demanding their children’s attendance, as well as a recent renovation. Newly added windows brought much-needed light to the space, and there were splashes of color where there’d been earth tones before.
Tonight the decor was autumn leaves, pumpkins and tall cornstalks adorned with fancy ribbons. Vic didn’t see apple bobbing or pumpkin carving, but he’d bet they were doing that in the on-site day care.
His sister Morgan had kept a close eye on him tonight. She had stopped by the house to fuss over his wardrobe and then demanded he drive her to the event. He suspected that was so she could further ensure he showed up, but he hadn’t protested.
Being here wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. He’d spent a long, frustrating week at his desk poring over spreadsheets or on the phone with countless suppliers. While the Grandin family home was as large as five decent-size homes, the walls had begun to feel as if they were closing in on him.
The bartender handed over his glass of whiskey. Vic turned and knocked his glass against Jayden’s. “Go hunt,” he teased his best friend before taking a sip. “No sense in wasting your evening hanging around with me.”
“True story. You’re a downer.” Jayden caught the eye of a woman across the room, her smile as dazzling as her short, sparkling dress. “Looks like I’m up.”
“Have fun.” One of them should.
Vic wandered through the well-dressed crowd, pretending not to look for the only woman who could turn his head nowadays. Then, on his second pass, he spotted her.
Aubrey was wearing a floor-length, autumnal red-orange dress, gold bangle bracelets stacked on one wrist. From her auburn hair to her strappy gold shoes, she was fall personified, like the burnished leaves on an oak tree at the height of the season. Her lips were painted reddish-brown, her smile, while not beaming, polite for anyone who approached. From the looks of it, she hadn’t made it far past the entrance—and wouldn’t anytime soon, given the crowd surrounding her.
No doubt the men and women forming a semicircle around her were curious about Aubrey’s accident and her subsequent miraculous recovery. She’d arrived alone, from the looks of it. Being new to the club, with her honorary membership, she had yet to learn how to politely disentangle herself from the crowd.
He paced back to the bar and ordered a glass of chardonnay and then, wineglass in hand, he inserted himself directly between the regular club members and Aubrey. Her expressive green eyes widened in surprise when he offered her the drink.
“If you’ll excuse us.” He didn’t offer further explanation, but he did offer Aubrey his arm. After a reluctant beat, she laid her hand on his forearm. In what felt like the most natural move ever, he led her to the other side of the room, his heart pounding fiercely with each step he took.
He stopped in a quiet corner near a sizable modern painting. “I thought you might need to catch your breath, or at least have a drink before answering a zillion medical and personal questions from every busybody in the county.”
“Thanks. I was trapped.” Her laugh caused his chest to tighten. He hadn’t been sure she’d appreciate his intervening, but it seemed she had.
She sipped her wine as music drifted through the room. It reminded him of the night at the botanical gardens, when he’d held her and she’d shared what she remembered from prom night. That felt like an eternity ago already.
“Any word about the issues with the ranch?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Alexa updated us on where the PI is with the investigation. There’s been a new development, but no one knows anything for sure. Except that Heath believes his mother was bribed with oil rights. The PI is searching for paperwork.”
“That must be hard for you. Knowing your future could change on a dime, and work like nothing has changed.”
Her sincere gaze was the least surprising thing about her. She’d always thought of him, of his well-being, first. How he’d ever accused her of being selfish was beyond him.
“It’s not as hard as losing you a second time,” he told her. There was no going back now. Ever since his sisters and Jayden had given him hell about being a miserable sack, Vic had done a lot of thinking. He’d decided that as long as he was drawing air, he’d remind Aubrey how much she meant to him. He wouldn’t stop unless she told him she didn’t love him anymore. Until then, she was going to have to endure him.
She pressed her lips together, and he couldn’t tell if her expression was embarrassment or sadness or something else entirely.
He smiled at the floor. “I’m thinking of moving out of the ranch. Know any good neighborhoods?”
“Just one,” she said. “It’s a beautiful neighborhood. Ideal, really.”
He shut his eyes against the flood of memories. It was his turn to be pummeled by everything he’d rather not recall. In his case, every I love you she had offered during their second chance. Every soft moan and pleasured sigh that had escaped her mouth when they’d made love. Every hand-holding moment or beaming smile she’d given him before he’d forced himself to tell her the truth.
When he lifted his head, she was watching him. Not like she hated him. Her expression was soft and open, the darkness behind her eyes missing. She’d come to a conclusion. He knew it in his gut.
His rotten, sinking gut.
She set her wineglass on the small table next to them. From the small clutch she carried, she pulled out a familiar velvet box. “I, um, I brought the engagement ring.”
Fuck, I knew it.
