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She took one last deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come, and stepped outside, ready to take on the world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ThelasttimePattihad seen Brandon Grouse, she’d been dressed like a city trader.
The world of venture capital and hedge fund trading was, by definition, hyper-corporate, and her clothes had reflected that. She remembered the outfit well: a pale grey jacket, made of fine Italian wool, with slim lapels and crease details that added texture to the sleek, timeless silhouette. A matching skirt that fell just above her knees, skimming her frame without being too tight or constricting. She paired the suit with a crisp white shirt that fit snugly across her torso and accentuated the shapely curves of her figure. The look was finished with black stilettos, a classic Hermès bag in an eye-catching shade of red. She had also worn delicate gold jewelry and subtle make-up to complete the ensemble.
Today, her outfit couldn’t be more different. She wanted to show Brandon that she had changed, that maybe she never really was the person he’d known.
Her pants were distressed black skinny jeans, sitting low on her hips and accented with strategically placed patches and metal studs that added visual interest to the look. Tucked into the jeans, she wore a fitted white tee with sheer lace detailing around the neckline and shoulders. Her feet were clad in bright blue leather ankle boots with a chunky heel. On her arms, she wore several jewelry pieces including multiple thin silver bangles and an eye-catching gold choker necklace. Her hair, of course, was completely different these days. Gone was the corporate bob, replaced by a voluminous, pale blue pixie cut that showed off the delicate bones of her face.
I’m not like you, Brandon.
“Miss, we’re almost there.”
Patti had agreed to the terms of Brandon’s meeting. A chauffeur in a sleek black Mercedes S-Class had picked her up from downtown Butte and was driving her to Rosy Pastures Ranch.
Part of the reason she’d put together such a punky outfit had been to make her feel more confident, but it hadn’t helped much. Her nerves had been steadily building during the ride. She clutched her phone in her hand, turning it over and over as though it held the answers to all her questions. As the chauffeur brought the car to a stop in front of the sprawling estate, Patti couldn’t help but ask herself: is this the worst mistake of my life, or the best thing I’ve ever done?
Patti subtly eyed her phone and then, glancing at the chauffeur to make sure he wasn’t looking, she hit record on her memo app.
Please let this work. Please let this work.
As Patti stepped out of the car, her gaze swept across Rosy Pastures, taking in the vast expanse of the ranch. It was undeniably impressive. A smooth-running machine that dwarfed Littlecreek in size and efficiency. But as she peered past the pristine fences and well-tended fields, her heart sank at the sight of the animals.
Cows were crowded together in cramped, muddy pens, their soulful eyes pleading for relief from their squalid conditions. Horses, too, seemed to bear the weight of an unspoken sadness, their heads hanging low as they shuffled about in their stalls. The contrast between Rosy Pastures and Littlecreek Ranch couldn’t have been starker, and it painfully reminded Patti of what could become of her beloved home if Brandon had his way.
“Miss Raven, right this way,” a voice said, jolting her back to reality. A young woman in a crisp uniform gestured toward the main building, and Patti followed her through the impeccably maintained grounds, her unease growing with each step.
The ranch house at Rosy Pastures couldn’t be more different from the one at Littlecreek. It wasn’t a family home, just a collection of offices. The young lady led Patti through a maze of corridors until she arrived at Brandon’s office. Her guide knocked on the door, and a moment later, it swung open, revealing none other than Brandon Grouse himself.
Strangely, seeing him didn’t fill Patti with dread. No. Instead, she couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of his appearance. Gone was the confident charisma she remembered. In its place stood a man who looked like he’d walked straight out of a city-slicker catalog. Wearing a tailored suit that screamed “Wall Street” more than “ranch life”, Brandon appeared older and more out of place than she’d ever seen him.
He stood in front of a huge poster of a herd of cows. The contrast between him and the ranch was almost painful to see. And, as if to make him look even more ridiculous, he was flanked by a huge, thickly-muscled man in a Stetson, faded jeans, and a heavy plaid shirt. A cowboy. He made Brandon look like... well, just a boy.
As Brandon took in Patti’s outfit, his eyes widened with surprise. “My my, what happened to you?”
“I’ve changed,” Patti said, shrugging, “whereas you look just the same as ever.”
His eyes lingered on the holes in her jeans, before tracing their way back up to her face. “With those filthy clothes, it’s hard to believe that you have the money to pay me back.”
Patti smiled, despite her nerves. “Don’t worry about that, Brandon. I’m good for it.”
He gave her a nasty little smile. “Before we start our conversation proper, there’s the small matter of security. Tobias, if you could relieve Miss Raven of her phone, I’d be much obliged.”
The burly security guard held out a meaty hand. “Phone please, ma’am,” he insisted gruffly.
Patti’s heart pounded. They were going to see that her phone was recording.
“I don’t want to give you my phone,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly.
“In that case, this meeting is over,” Brandon said.
Patti sighed. “Fine.” She handed the phone over and watched in horror as Tobias checked the screen.
“She’s recording, boss.”
“Course she is,” Brandon sneered. “Take the phone out with you in a second.” His eyes narrowed. “Straight after you frisk her.”
