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“Now, about what she should charge you for designing your house.”
Chapter Twelve
ROSE
I’d gotten a text from Bryson to meet him at Weston and Weston Law Firm at two thirty. I wasn’t sure if it was a strange coincidence we were meeting at the same law firm my family used, or if he had somehow found out my family used that firm. Maybe his friend Howie used them. Yes, that had to be it. But…how weird.
I laughed and brushed away my crazy thoughts. How in the hell would Bryson know my family used that law firm? It was the best in Hamilton, so of course, he’d be using them.
My hands were sweating again as I pulled into the parking lot and parked next to a brand-new black Ford F-250. I stared at it for a moment.
“There is no way,” I said as I looked at the truck and then to the building. When would Bryson have time to buy a truck? Or was it even his truck? And why in the hell was I even going on about a stupid truck?
“What is wrong with you, Rose Shaw?” I whispered as I glanced around the parking lot looking for the rental I had seen Bryson in last night.
Shaking away my insane thoughts, I closed my eyes and counted to ten, then looked down at my outfit. Dressed in the light-blue dress I had on from working at the boutique, I quickly looked at myself in the little mirror on my visor. My hair was pulled back in a low pony, and I had a little bit of makeup on. The pearl drop earrings had been a gift from Morgan for being in her wedding, and I wore them any chance I got. Since I knew we were meeting at a law firm, I decided to stay in the clothes I worked in. I loved the dress. It was very 1950s style.
Slipping out of my Bronco, I shut the door and started toward the entrance. I took the elevator to the second floor and soon found myself at the receptionist’s desk.
“Hi, Rose!”
“Hi, Lee, how are you doing?”
“Wonderful! I’ve been instructed to bring you back to a meeting room once you arrived.”
I nodded and gave her a warm smile. Lee had been working here for as long as I can remember. When I was a little girl, she used to give us kids suckers and a coloring book and crayons. We hadn’t come often, but when we did, Lee always made it worth the trip, and we were never bored.
“You can step on in here. They’re waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Lee.”
When I opened the door, I came to an abrupt halt. The first person I saw was Bryson. He sat in a chair looking far different from the cowboy in my living room last night, or the baseball player who had stolen my heart months ago.
Wait. What?
My eyes took in the way his skin looked tan in the white button-down dress shirt he had on. My gaze took in the muscles of his forearms on display since he had rolled up his sleeves. Why was that so damn hot?
His hair looked like he had run his fingers through it at least a dozen times, and that smile of his…it was innocent, but I knew the wicked things that mouth could do, and it made my insides tremble with desire.
I ignored the way my body heated at the memories staring at his mouth brought me. When I glanced to my right, my smile quickly faded.
“Dad?”
Glancing to the left of where Bryson sat…there was no way I was seeing right. I squeezed my eyes shut and looked again.
“Holy shit. What are you all doing here?”
My Uncle Brock, Uncle Tanner, and Uncle Dirk were all sitting around the table wearing amused expressions on their face.
Mr. Weston, seated directly across from Bryson with his back to me, cleared his throat and stood. He motioned for me to take the empty seat next to Bryson.
I moved slowly into the room, glaring at all six men.
When I made it to the chair, Bryson stood and pulled it out for me. He winked and flashed me that smile that made me want to pull his mouth to mine. I somehow ignored the feeling and took a seat, glanced around the table, and hoped it looked like I was shooting daggers at all of the men seated at the table.
“I don’t even want to know how it is you’re all here.”
My father cleared his throat and said Bryson’s name under his breath. Bryson tensed next to me and pretended to be looking through some papers.
“Uncle Brock?”
“I have experience in building.”
I huffed. “How?”
“I’ve had numerous things designed and built for the foundation.”
Crap. He had me there.
“Uncle Tanner?”
“I’ve worked closely with a friend of mine who designed one of the ranch’s barns. You remember him? You followed him all over the place when you were little.”
