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As a childhood stutterer, speaking in front of large crowds had always been a terrifying experience for her. Whenever she had to make a speech, she spent countless hours practicing what she would say in front of a mirror. She’d done the same thing for her toast, but she still pulled out her cellphone and opened her notes so she could go over it.
She was feeling pretty confident until Belle brought her the microphone and Cloe stood and looked into her big sister’s beloved green eyes. Then all her emotions welled to the surface and the toast she had painstakingly memorized got all scrambled up in her head.
As she stood there struggling to remember her speech, people started glancing at each other. Before she could completely embarrass herself, her cellphone was pressed into her hand. With flaming cheeks, she lifted her phone and read her toast in a robotic voice. Once she’d finished, she quickly handed the microphone to Rome and took her seat.
Of course, Rome didn’t need notes to help him. Nor did he sound like a robot when he spoke.
“I always thought Decker wasn’t the marrying kind. He didn’t date much and rarely wanted to go to the Hellhole for a beer. He seemed content to spend his time protecting this town and hanging out with his hound dog, George Strait. But then, Sweetie Holiday came back to town and my laid-back best friend wasn’t so laid back anymore. In fact, he became downright ornery.” Everyone laughed and nodded their heads in agreement. “I realized I was wrong. Decker was the marrying kind. He had just been patiently waiting for the right woman. When that right woman showed up, he didn’t waste any time getting down on one knee.”
The right woman.
The words rang through Cloe’s head like the First Baptist Church bell on Sunday morning. They were the exact words Brandon had used when he’d broken up with her. I don’t think you’re the right woman for me. All the emotions Cloe had been keeping at bay since the breakup slammed into her like a runaway semi truck.
She now knew exactly how Rome had felt earlier. She was about to have a panic attack . . . or start bawling like a baby. After her embarrassing toast, she wasn’t about to let that happen in front of the entire town. As soon as Rome finished his toast, she quickly slipped out of her chair.
She wanted to head back to the house and curl up on her childhood bed until morning. But in order to get out of the barn, she would have to wind her way through the tables filled with partying townsfolk and someone was bound to stop her. She couldn’t talk to anyone right now without breaking down.
Frantic to escape, she glanced around. The ladder to the hayloft caught her attention. The hayloft had always been a place of sanctuary for the Holiday sisters. A place they congregated together or went to alone when they needed a moment to themselves.
And if anyone needed a moment to herself, it was Cloe.
While everyone watched Sweetie and Decker dance their first dance, Cloe quickly climbed the ladder. Once in the loft, she discovered where Sweetie and Decker had been hiding. The satiny comforter thrown over the mound of fresh straw still held the indentation of two bodies. A bottle of opened champagne sat in a bucket of ice, two fluted glasses sitting next to it.
It was a perfect love nest.
Anger welled up inside of Cloe. Not at Sweetie—she wanted nothing but happiness for her sister—but at the injustice of it all. Until a few weeks ago, Cloe had been the only one who had a steady boyfriend. The only one who had wanted to get married and start a family. And now Sweetie was happily married and Cloe was standing in her sister’s love nest feeling like a pathetic fool.
Of course, it made sense. Sweetie was beautiful and charming and talented. All of Cloe’s sisters were. Cloe was the oddball of the family. The stutterer who didn’t talk in front of anyone but her family until she was almost ten. The Plain Jane who faded into the background. The average sister who never excelled at anything. She had been a good student but not an excellent one. A good horsewoman but no better than any other ranch kid. A softball player who spent most of her time warming the bench. A church choir member who never got asked to sing a solo.
No wonder Brandon hadn’t wanted her.
Who in their right mind would?
She was the invisible woman.
There, but not seen.
Chapter Three
As Cloe’s younger sister, Hallie, talked on and on about how to make the best beer, Rome’s mind returned to the six words that had been swirling around in his head ever since Cloe had spoken them.
Then why don’t you buy it?
He had convinced himself there was no way he could get his hands on the ranch. Now he was wondering if there was a chance Hank would sell him the ranch. Why else would Cloe offer him the opportunity?
Just the thought of owning the ranch made Rome feel giddy. While it wasn’t as big as the Remington Ranch, Hank owned a prime piece of cattle land with a spring fed by a below-ground aquifer. The state of Texas owned all surface water like rivers and lakes, but ground water belonged to the owner of the property. For a cattleman, having your own water source was like having your own gold mine.
And it wasn’t just the springs. He glanced out the open door to the two-story farmhouse. If he bought the Holiday Ranch, he wouldn’t have to live under his father’s roof anymore. He’d have his own place. His own barn. His own land.
Of course, his father wouldn’t be happy about it. Sam liked having Rome under his thumb. He also wouldn’t want Hank thinking that a Remington coveted anything of the Holidays’. But the more Rome thought about owning his own plot of land, the more he coveted the Holiday Ranch.
“Have you seen Cloe, Hallie?”
The question pulled Rome from his thoughts and he glanced over to see Belle Holiday standing there. Belle was Liberty’s twin sister. They looked exactly alike, but were easy to tell apart as soon as they opened their mouths. Belle was soft spoken and reserved.
“Liberty said Cloe was feeling lightheaded earlier and I’m worried because I can’t seem to find her anywhere.”
“Lightheaded?” Hallie scoffed. “That doesn’t sound like our sister. Cloe has never been lightheaded in her life. If anything, her brain is too heavy. She won’t make a single decision without overthinking it.”
