Page 40 of Finding Denver
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
While we haven’t progressed much in our civility, Denver is sitting beside me now. We’re shoulder to shoulder in this box, and it’s now incredibly hot, but it’s a hell of a lot better than shivering. She’s taken her hairdown, and we’re currently throwing her hair ties over the neck of the near-empty bottle.
“What are the McEwans like?” she asks.
“Helena is amazing. She’s like a second mom. She and Finn are like the perfect couple. It’s actually a little annoying.” I throw the hair tie and punch the air when it secures itself on the bottle neck.
Denver frowns. “Cheater.”
“How?” I gesture at the bottle. “How could I cheat?”
“Because I decided,” she declares. “Keep talking.”
I collect the hair tie, and she starts attempting to throw hers. I say, “Finn is great.”
“And in business?”
“All the stories are true.”
Her gaze meets mine for a moment before returning her attention to her challenge.
“And Ronan?”
How do I describe Ronan McEwan? My best friend. Almost my brother. A great fucking man. Someone who has killed for me. Someone who I’d kill for.
“He’ll rule the world one day.”
She leans back against the wall and her brows raise. “More than you?”
“He wants it more than I do. And what Ronan wants, he gets.” And not a truer word has been spoken. I’m a little drunk, so I allow myself to take her features in for longer than necessary. “You might have chosen the wrong McEwan to marry.”
She tries to fight a smile. “Are you suggesting I marry Ronan? Because I’m already one half of a pretty powerful marriage.”
“Half? From what I’ve heard, you’re edging toward the majority holding.”
It’s hard to describe what crosses her face in that moment. Amusement, definitely. Suspicion, absolutely. And maybe something else. A spark of … hurt.
“Ranger will always be Ranger Luxe,” she says. “Marrying me doesn’t make him more or less.”
“And what did marrying him make you?”
It’s an intrusive question, but one I can’t help asking. I wonder if the alcohol will make her honest or if the walls around Denver Luxe are too solid to be taken down by too many mouthfuls of whiskey.
“Wiser,” she says, then looks at the bottle, barely holding back a smile. “Are you always so open about the McEwan family history?”
“It’s hard to deny when Ranger looks exactly like Rory. And I grew up avoiding the guy as much as Ronan did, so I’d know,” I say. “Is it a secret back home?”
“Being the result of a sordid affair and then being abandoned by the richest family on the East Coast? It isn’t exactly dinner conversation.”
I catch her wrist before she throws the hair tie. “That’s what Ranger told you?”
She glances at where I’m touching her, and I let go. “Yes. He and his mom were left with nothing. Then when she died, he was alone.”
“He was never alone,” I say, maybe too fast, but in defense of a man I respect. “Finn never once let them suffer.”
Helena told me everything years ago—how the moment Finn found out his brother had a child with Daria Luxe, he’d gone to see them both. He’d offered them support—financial or otherwise. Daria refused. I tell Denver this, and she listens with rapt attention.
