Page 38 of The Rancher's Amnesia Bride

Greta was used to having people fawn all over her wherever she went, but with the exception of hotel employees warmly welcoming her to Foxtown, the only ones who cared to look their way were people interested in her choice of outfit.

Foxtown's circular lobby was more palatial than she expected, and Greta was grudgingly impressed at how tastefully decorated the whole place was. A small crowd seemed to have gathered just outside one of the hotel's in-house boutiques, with both men and women clearly excited as they asked for selfies with whoever local celebrity—-Merde!

Greta's jaw dropped as the small crowd gradually dispersed, and she found herself face to face with Philippe's American wife. Were locals here so desperate to rub elbows with someone famous they had settled for a former local beauty queen? That woman was not even from Wyoming, for God's sake!

So this was the infamous Greta, Charlee-Mae mused. The other woman was stunningly beautiful. Long, silky black hair. Olive skin. About a half foot taller than her, but likely several kilos lighter as well. She also had an air of icy sophistication about her, icy being the operative word since Greta was severely underdressed for Foxtown's sub-zero temps.

Philippe's sister-in-law suddenly stalked forward, and Charlee-Mae saw the other woman sneer as Charlee-Mae was forced to crane her neck all the way up to meet her gaze.

Greta struggled to give her ridiculously oversexed rival a frosty smile even as she was feeling frosty herself. "Bonjour."

Charlee-Mae smiled back. "Bonjour."

Greta's lip curled. Mon Dieu! She had never heard someone speak their language so horribly! How could Philippe bear listening to such a thing nearly every minute of the day?

Charlee-Mae couldn't help feeling bad as Greta's lips started turning a little blue. "Would you like to go somewhere warm?"

In minutes, they were inside the heated comfort of the hotel's cafe, and Charlee-Mae couldn't help but watch in silent fascination as Greta's beautiful face, originally pale and looking close to death's door, gradually gained color and consequently transformed into the catty features of a world-class...bitch.

"I thought we could have a little chat."

Charlee-Mae blinked. "But...I don't have anything to say to you."

Greta nearly sputtered in her anger. Cette salope! This bitch! Leaning forward, she hissed under her breath, "Philippe and I have been lovers for a long time."

"Two years," Charlee-Mae said gently, "isn't really that long, you know."

"Maybe not for other men," Greta sneered, "but for Philippe, it is his longest relationship—-"

"So why then did he marry me?"

Enfin! Finally! Greta's lips slowly curved in a smirk. "Do you not know—-"

"That his mother dislikes you so much—-" Charlee-Mae silently thanked Charlotte for being so thorough when it came to conducting background checks on prospective matches. "—-she would rather donate her shares to charity?"

Greta could feel herself shaking in anger. This woman had let her think she knew nothing about Philippe's reasons for signing up for that stupid mail-order marriage, and now—-

"If you think for one moment," she spat out, "you can play games with me and win—-"

Charlee-Mae couldn't make herself lie. "I do, actually."

Greta struggled not to throw the mug of hot chocolate at the other woman's face. Fuck this bitch! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Charlee-Mae was doing her best not to stare. Just like Ne-Yo, she had always believed that girls were sexier when they were mad, but the scary transformation of Greta's face as she went from annoyed to outraged was proof that there were also exceptions to the rule.

Greta took a deep breath. "Sandra—-"

"Adores me, by the way."

Greta nearly screamed. Why was this woman so good at pushing her buttons?

"Are you okay?" Charlee-Mae couldn't help feeling concerned again. "You look a little..." Tomato-like? Frightening? Ugly? Oh dear Lord, Charlotte was right! She really did have the vocabulary of a sixth-grader.

"Stop faking things, you bitch!"

"Hypertensive," Charlee-Mae burst out at the same time, and she couldn't help but give herself a congratulatory little pat. 'Hypertensive' was a big word, and Charlotte would be so proud—-wait! Did Greta just say she was what?

Charlee-Mae looked at the other woman reproachfully. "I'm genuinely concerned, you know. You look like you're suffering from hypertension, and—-"

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