Page 130 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

“I did come for the food.”

Holding Brooke’s hand made me feel lighter. Younger. Amazing.

The curious onlookers parted but watched the two of us with interest. I got a few smiles. I also noticed plenty of people on their phones, likely hoping to find out who Brooke was.

“Should I wear a QR code so people can scan it?” Brooke asked. “I could send them to our YouTube channel.” Brooke laughed at her own joke.

“Don’t make it easy for them.” I led her through the foyer and then a long hall of the mansion before we made it to the back door and the gardens. I hardly registered our surroundings, but I noticed Brooke glancing around. “Did you want a tour of the house?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I came for the food, remember?”

“Very well.” We joined a small line of people headed down the outside stairs, and when we got to the bottom, Brooke suddenly stopped. “What is it?” I asked.

She blinked a couple of times, then looked at me. “Do you often hang out in places like this?”

Again, I’d barely made note of the gardens, but now I took a moment to admire them.

The hosting family had connections to England and had fashioned this place after something that you’d see at a palace there. A rectangular reflecting pool sat surrounded by a cobblestone walkway that was at least ten feet wide. That, in turn, was surrounded by tiers of flowers and bushes. Some had blossomed, others were just now coming into their season.

Beyond that was a hedge maze within which lay tents that contained tables and a string quartet. Couples and small groups were sitting throughout the gardens or standing and talking.

Brooke’s eyes weren’t wide, but she was biting her lower lip.

I gave her a smile. “Well, I usually prefer more roses, but this is acceptable.”

Brooke scowled and strode forward. “We’re going to see every inch of this place.”

“Before food?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

I caught up to her and offered her my arm. Like Courtney, she slipped her hand into the crook of my elbow, and I reveled in the soft brushing of her side, her arm, and her skirt against me. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

She smiled up at me, and my heart skipped several beats. “Thanks.” Then her eyes roamed from my head to my feet and back up, and she spoke in a thick Texan accent. “You clean up good.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am, Will.”

We’d made it past the reflecting pool and had just stepped onto the walkway they’d put on the grass—no one wanted a woman in spiked heels to get stuck and risk a sprained ankle—when we finally got ambushed.

I’d expected my mother or Courtney, but instead, I found Adam Fowler, the head of our legal team, alone with two glasses of champaign in his hands. The man was tall, rail thin, with thinning dark hair and eyes that reminded me of a rodent. His real strength was his intellect, which I paid a great amount of money to keep at Harris Inc.

I expected him to say something about Matthew Grant, but instead he said, “William, so nice to see you.” He gave me a nod, then turned to Brooke. “You too, Brooke.”

Brooke’s fingers dug into my arm for a moment. “Mr. Fowler.” She bobbed her head once.

I glanced down and found her expression tight.

Adam laughed and offered Brooke a glass, which she hesitantly took. “Come now, there’s no need for formalities.” His gaze returned to me. “How did you meet one of the greatest legal minds that has ever graced my practice?”

It took me a moment to unpack that statement. Brooke had, at some point, worked with Adam? That could only mean one thing…that this was the man who had propositioned her. My teeth clenched together, and I put my hand over Brooke’s.

“That was a long time ago,” Brooke said in a smooth voice. If I hadn’t had the chance to spend time with her, I would have missed the dangerous undertone to her words.

“Where did you end up?” Adam asked.

I opened my mouth to intervene—I would not force her to speak to Adam—but she squeezed my arm as if to say, “I’ve got this.”

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