Page 5 of Wicked Cowboy
Ridley
I stepped inside a modern-day palace. The walls were white, but not hospital white, where we saw everything we needed to see. No. Carter Rockson’s house was shiny white, like it needed to reflect the power embedded in the huge R encrusted in gold near the front door.
The chandelier was finer than the one in the White House Tour. And the natural light shone everywhere.
My sister had just married a billionaire, but he’d been fine having a burger with family. After seeing this luxury, he probably wasn’t the sit-around-in-jeans-and-eat-a-burger type.
Carter Rockson clearly enjoyed luxury. How did a man who lived here have that muscle density? He had the build of an action hero and those lips made my own water.
I was never weak, and he’d never be mine. I was way too plain for a man like him. It’s why he never spoke much at the wedding years ago when I’d practically shone, the nicest I’d ever looked.
Years later, near him again, and when the door clicked shut, I trembled, and my knees went weak. He came toward me and adrenaline pumped in my veins as he said, “You haven’t told me your preferred name, Miss Steel.”
Be smart. My pulse zipped and I wished I taken the time to put makeup on. When I stiffened my spine, all we’d ever have is business. I refused to be intimidated. “Fine, you can call me Ridley, everyone does. I was named after the girl hunting aliens in some movies years ago.”
He folded his hands in front of him and his lips quirked higher. “Are you expecting to fight an enemy here?”
I ignored the flutters though I adjusted my shirt and nodded. “I hope not.”
He patted me on my shoulder, and a zap raced through me when he said, “Then let’s start this meeting as two people who want to help their best friend’s daughter.”
Right. It was good she had a place to go immediately. I hopped right on a plane within hours of being told Chloe had died. I didn’t care if he saw how the vein in my forehead pulsated. I felt the throb now. I hadn’t had a moment to process that my best friend was gone. Forever. I folded my hand on my chest when I asked, “Has she been here since that night?”
He motioned to the couch to sit. “Yes. I picked her up from the babysitter and she’s settling in and likes her room. I read the will, with both our names, yesterday.”
I’d not be rude. For now, I ignored how the rugs were perfect and I’d dirty the place with my sneakers. “Do you know why they picked us together? We don’t know each other.”
“Doesn’t say.” He sat beside me and the huge couch now felt small, like he’d break it in half with his brute strength if he wanted, but he said, “Chelsea said you were the closest family her mom had and I’m it for her dad’s side.”
The heat of the day clearly twisted my brain like a margarita mix. I pressed my knees together, so this remained professional, and I blinked and tried to remember why I needed to be on guard right now.
His gaze went to my chest. My body zapped in excitement with adrenaline filling my veins, but that shouldn’t be. My mind cleared enough to say, “They had to have known we never spoke before.”
“That’s not completely true.” He pointed toward the crystal bottle on a table and I nodded, hoping it was water and not vodka, though I’d take either right now. He handed me a glass and asked, “Maybe you remember me? I was best man at Bernie and Chloe’s wedding, and you were her maid of honor.”
A thrill raced through me. Ten years had taken their toll on me, but when I was eighteen and just graduated high school, I’d been beautiful then but hadn’t seen that in myself. Though I was probably right that we’d never fit together. I swallowed. “Yes, I remember you, but that’s not mutual parenting decision conversation.”
“It might have been if I hadn’t joined the SEALs.” He made a circular motion near his short dark hair. “You were stunning with your hair up.”
My face heated and my blush was not the Texas weather affecting me. I curled my lips higher. “Well, I don’t have a hairstylist for normal life.”
His eyes widened. “My mother had a hairstylist at this house every day of my childhood.”
I don’t have a stylist for everyday life. I raised my eyebrow and asked, “Seriously?”
He jumped out of his seat and motioned for me to follow, as he asked, “Want to see the salon?”
“Sure.” I stood and walked with my arms around my waist. I was the last person who’d ever fit into a mansion like this with its vaulted ceilings. He opened a side door and it was like I entered a hair salon.
There was a black leather seat, with space for all products, and a nearby sink made from marble. This was fascinating.
What would the world be like if staff waited on me so much that I’d not have to brush my own hair?
I couldn’t even form the picture in my mind. I traced the chair and half expected some woman to wave me out like I offended the point of the room. “This is crazy.”
He shrugged like this wasn’t a big deal. “It was her life.”
I batted my eyes. This wasn’t the life for anyone I’d ever met, including Chloe, my best friend. I straightened my spine. “I’m here to get Chelsea or figure out how best to co-parent with you as the will said.”
