Page 2 of Her Ex's Father
I’m a few years older than Stella, and a disappointment to my parents, since I was supposed to be a boy. In a moment of vulnerability I admit, “This is embarrassing. Seriously embarrassing.”
“It’ll befine,Maddie. I promise. Come on, let’s go find Mom and Dad.”
The back patio is absolutely gorgeous.
It gives a view of our Montana ranch that is stunning and manages to hide the massive distillery buildings behind everyone. Off in the distance the mountains rise aboveeverything, still capped in snow. But out here heaters warm the air enough that it’s comfortable to be outdoors.
Stella gets pulled into a conversation.
I spot our parents and move toward them, head high, ready to play my part. My mother glances in my direction and then, away.
My blood runs cold. Chilled by her lack of interest in me, her daughter, on the day of my engagement party.
Taking a deep breath, I continue, walking right up to my parents and smiling kindly at the Carters, who own the neighboring cattle ranch.
“Madeline! Congratulations,” Mrs. Carter gushes, taking my hands and squeezing. “You look absolutely beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I answer, ignoring the impassive expressions on my parents’ faces. “I appreciate you coming, Mr. and Mrs. Carter.”
Mr. Carter gives me a light, airy kiss on the cheek. He smells of leather and cologne, and I want to fall into the comforting scent. “Of course, dear. We’re hoping that attending will convince our Russell to start thinking about his future.”
Russell Carter, heir to a multi-million-dollar ranch, is flirting with Pearl—one of our cooks. She’s laughing, but clearly uncomfortable, trying to dodge his attention and get back to work.
“So,” Mr. Carter sighs, “where is your intended?”
“Oh…” I glance at my parents, who make no move to make excuses for the mantheychose for me to marry. “He’s, um?—”
The sound of gravel kicking up breaks through the delicate string orchestra as a Ford F-450 tears up the long driveway, past the distillery, and rumbles into the lot where everyone is parked. All the guests stare as the passenger door opens, and a young man stumbles out.
He’s handsome, windswept and rumpled, and… definitely annoyed.
Derrick Bronson stands staring at the engagement party like he has no idea it’s for him. Arms crossed, suit jacket wrinkling, he’s clearly moping. Nothing about him screams “heir to a multi-million-dollar empire.”
Then a tall, imposing figure rounds the truck.
“Oh, my God,” Stella whispers, having crept up and joined us.
Benedict Bronson, Derrick’s dad, looks like steel and stone. He towers over his son by a few inches, but that’s probably because Derrick has horrible posture. Benedict is rod-straight, his eyes sweeping the festivities and finding…me.
A hot, liquid feeling rolls through my body. I clench my hands to avoid fidgeting. Mr. Bronson runs a hand through his sterling hair and then practically grabs Derrick by the collar of his shirt, starting toward the party.
Mrs. Carter has a hand pressed to her chest. The guests are murmuring, gossiping already, and Aunt Bea’s face is lit up with glee. My parents don’t look thrilled, but they’re putting on fake smiles to make a good impression on Benedict.
They know who they chose as my husband. And it wasn’t based on his manners; just on the fact that his family owns an international empire: Bronson Hall.
“At least you’re marrying into good genes,” Stella murmurs as the pair of men briefly disappear behind the barn. A second later, with the solidthudof boots on wood, Derrick stumbles into view, tugged along by his father.
My future father-in-law’s gaze sweeps the crowd. I’ve seen him before, but only from afar—when he’s visited our ranch to meet with my parents, behind closed doors, to set this whole thing up.
Now his burning eyes land on me and sweat breaks out on my lower back.
He strides forward, his son traipsing weakly behind him.
It’s all I can do not to squirm under Mr. Bronson’s very direct, very green eyes.
Stopping in front of us, he nods to my parents first. “Mr. and Mrs. Clarke. I apologize for our late arrival.”
Derrick is practically shoved forward. He’s sulking, his full lips downturned, but then he catches his father’s look.
