Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“You’re being rude, Indie.” Fletcher eyes me while sipping his whiskey after I take a seat.
From the high-back chair next to him, Pauline glances at me. Her red lips pull into the same smile Jolene gives me. I hate that she knows I was the million-dollar purchase for Ruthie, whom she never liked. Pauline always hated how Ruthie had Fletcher wrapped around her finger. At least, that’s what Faye said.
“How am I being rude?” I ask, giving everyone else at the table a quick scan.
“You’re staring at your phone instead of conversing politely with our guests.”
I begin to formulate a snide remark to his comment, but Milo appears around the corner.
“There he is,” Fletcher says with fatherly pride. It’s what I imagine a father’s pride looks and sounds like. I don’t have much experience with it.
Milo gives me a quick glance before smiling at Fletcher and everyone else. The glance is so fast I don’t have a chance to blink, let alone give him a silent plea to make all of this stop.
“Pauline.” Milo gives her a polite nod.
He’s not cowboy Milo. He’s funeral Milo. It’s not the same suit he wore to Ruthie’s funeral, but it’s still a suit. And Milo Odell doesn’t wear suits. He’s a cowboy. Jeans. Chaps. Boots. Hat. Everything about him right now screams impostor.
“Milo …” Pauline smooths her hands along her red, off-the-shoulder dress. Her brown-dyed hair cascading in soft waves around her shoulders.
She’s made-up pretty much like Jolene. Makeup and money go a long way.
Ruthie had all the money in the world, but she didn’t need it or any makeup to be beautiful. Her beauty came from within and shined brighter than the Texas sun. You can’t fake that kind of beauty, but Pauline and Jolene try.
“Hi, Jolene. Did you have a nice flight home?” Milo asks.
I roll my eyes. It was a private jet; how bad could it have been?
The clinking of dishes between the cousins nearly drowns out Jolene’s response. Nearly …
Jolene sighs. “We were delayed a bit in the hangar because the pilot got stuck in traffic. I wish I had known. I get a little claustrophobic.”
It’s a jet that seats twelve, and it was only her, the pilot, and an attendant serving her food and champagne. Poor thing.
Milo nods and smiles. That smile falters a bit when he catches my scowl aimed right at him.
The older adults continue to steal the conversation. I barely eat anything on my plate while watching Jolene inspect Milo, who stuffs his face to keep from looking or talking to anyone.
I’m done. I can’t sit here any longer, so I excuse myself before Fletcher can object, and I hightail it to my room.
The next day, I don’t leave my room. I don’t eat. I don’t do anything but stare out the window until Milo arrives to take Jolene on their first date.
A black town car pulls up next to the fountain. The driver holds open the door for the happy couple.
Milo glances up at my window at the last second. I don’t hide. I let him see me. When he eats bloody meat and drinks expensive wine with her tonight, I want him to see me.
The town car pulls away from the fountain and down the driveway.
There goes my heart.
12
THE WRONG WOMAN
MILO
This is my life. It’s true. A fact.
But it doesn’t make it any less tragic.
Tragedy defines my life. It defined the look on Indie’s face when I left the house with Jolene. I’ve never felt like less of a man. If I love her, I should protect her. Her feelings. Her heart. Her honor.
I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Either way, it won’t get me Indie.
“So …” Jolene gives me a shy smile when we’re seated at the restaurant, everyone dressed to the nines, champagne flowing, and more utensils on the napkin than one person could possibly need for a meal. “Did you ever imagine this happening?”
“Dinner?” I force a smile to accompany my equally forced humor. The waiter passes us with an assortment of fresh bread. I find them more appealing than my date. Add some soft butter, and there’s no competition.
Jolene laughs a little. “I was meaning this uh … arrangement.”
I lay my napkin on my leg and look over the menu. “Nothing surprises me anymore. My life has been far from expected. But you’re getting ready to graduate from law school. I’m a little surprised you agreed to this arrangement.”
She’s not ready to say marriage, and neither am I.
Jolene nods several times, a little distracted by the waiter serving the table next to us some dessert that’s on fire.
“I can see why you’d be surprised,” she begins. “I’m an independent woman. I can’t wait to graduate and take the bar. However, I’m fiercely loyal to my family. And I know you are too. That’s what’s most important to me. The law degree. My independence. Those things will only enhance my ability to take over the family business.” She smirks. “All of the family businesses.” After nodding to the waiter to pour her white wine, she shifts her gaze back to me. “You know everything Fletcher knows. I think we will be great partners, one day, running this empire. But for now…” she holds up her glass for a toast “…we’ll make our partnership official. You’ll be family.”