Page 125 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

“What’s in it for me?”

Courtney lowered a finger.

“There will be outrageous food, plenty of snobby people, my sister, a business rival, and my mother will likely corner you and ask what your intentions are toward me.”

“Will there be drama?” Brooke asked.

“My mother is nothing but dramatic.”

“How could I resist meeting the red alert sound, darlin’?”

I chuckled.

Courtney circled her last finger.

“Sorry, I have another meeting.” I had a thought. “Do you need a dress?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“I’ll text you the details.”

“Have a good day,” Brooke said.

My insides warmed. “You too. I miss you.”

“Same. See you tomorrow.”

Chapter 33

-Brooke-

“I look like a terrarium.” The knee-length white dress with large red flowers and green leaves was flattering, but it did remind me of a planter.

Jessica snorted but kept a serious expression on her face. “Trust me, this is what’s in style for a high-class garden party this season.”

“And how would you know this?” I asked.

We stood in her bedroom, trying to outfit me. What would William think when I walked in wearing the garden? I might get lost in the roses. Then again, if something went awry this was the perfect camouflage to get me out of there.

“Because I work with the people that are going to be there, and this is what their assistants are buying.”

I narrowed my eyes at Jessica. “Then why aren’t you going?”

“Because I’m an assistant.” She waved a hand.

My reflection turned as I did. The dress had a scoop neck that teased cleavage, poofy short sleeves that ended just below my farmer’s tan, a cinched waist, and a flared skirt. It made all of my curves look awesome, but it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like me. “Can’t I wear the one I brought?”

Jessica’s eyes drifted to the bed where the blue and white polka dot dress lay. “You wore it to breakfast.”

“So? William won’t care.”

“Polka dots were last season. Flowers are this season.”

“But Victoria picked it out.”

“Last season,” Jessica said again. Her eyes drifted to my feet, and she looked back at me in surprise. “You’re fine with the shoes?”

I glanced down at the open toed, wedge sandals. “Yup.”

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