"There she is," Senator Martinez says, gesturing toward the entrance with theatrical timing.
We all turn to see who he’s pointing to and my heart stops.
Brittney stands at the entry, wearing a soft pink dress that emphasizes her assets, knee high boots and the kind of hopeful smile that makes my stomach clench with dread. She scans the room and her eyes land on our group.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I glance at the senator’s black hair and olive skin. He’s 5’7” if he’s an inch, with Latino features and a barrel chest. Nothing in that man came through in Brittney. My eyes move to his wife and suddenly I can see it. The blonde hair, the big eyes. She’s tall and slender with curves that come from a doctor’s office.
"Baby girl, you made it," the senator says, his voice warming with genuine paternal affection that makes this situation exponentially worse.
I swear under my breath.
It appears that Brittney is Senator Martinez’s daughter.
Kinsley gives me a wide-eyed look that screams disaster. I return it. This is bad. This is so, so bad.
The conversation I overheard at the Cowboy Bar in Jackson Hole crashes back into my memory—her promising her father she'd have a good time with me, the report that I was a gooddancer. The lies she'd spun about the two of us to avoid disappointing the man standing beside me. I feel sick to my stomach.
Mrs. Martinez rushes to embrace her daughter and ushers her back to our circle of doom. She maneuvers Brittney to stand next to me. Brittney grabs my arm as if she needs me to hold her up. I freeze—I have no idea what to do. Kinsley’s media kit didn’t cover this.
"How are you feeling, sweetie? Any better?" She smooths Brittney's hair as she looks her over.
"I'm okay, Mama," Brittney replies, though she won't quite meet anyone's eyes.
“We already met your cowboy.” She looks at me and smiles warmly. “Don’t worry. We’re not offended it took this long to meet you. We understand your rodeo schedule is brutal.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My instincts say to shove Brittney at her parents and tell her never to touch me again—but I can’t do that to the daughter of the man who holds Stonegate Ranch’s survival in his hands, even if she is all leather and lies.
I glance around the circle looking for help.
“I’m glad to see you feeling better and able to join us tonight,” Mom says.
“Thank you,” Brittney grins at her. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to meet all of you. It’s important for our futures.”
Dad gives me a look that could burn grass. “Futures?”
Mrs. Martinez grabs Mom’s arm. “I’m just so excited to be a grandma. Aren’t you?”
Mom blinks and looks at Brittney who is still leaning on me. My brain clicks and I look down at her. She’s pale andher cheeks are slightly sunken in—like she’s been sick for a while. Is she…? She couldn’t be pregnant.
“You’re pregnant?” Dad asks with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop.
Brittney’s hand goes to her stomach and she nods.
Grandpa lifts his glass to Brittney and grouses. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” She smiles at him and the old man blushes.
I lock eyes with Kinsley and I see her mind working. Brittney’s been posting and following me around, she acts like we’re together. She behaves like she has a claim on me.
I grit my teeth. This is not my baby.
Mrs. Martinez turns to Mom with countenance of women sharing life's fundamental experiences. "We could have the baby shower here. This building is stunning and the pictures would be stunning. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I already have a theme picked out and everything. We want Wyatt to be included too.”
“Why would Wyatt want to be at a baby shower?” Grandpa grouses.
Mrs. Martinez laughs at his grumpiness. “Times have changed. Fathers come to baby showers all the time nowadays.”