Page 23 of The Cowboy's Second Chance Bride

He led me to a side door, then turned to me. “Since you won’t walk in with me, how about ahead of me? Certainly not behind me.”

Why does that stupid sentence make me think of sex? Clearly, I was sleep-deprived. Nothing about that sentence was sexy. I smacked myself in the chest, hoping to knock the horny right out of me.

“You okay?” He quirked a brow.

“You give me indigestion.” I waved for him to open the door.

He did and, with great flair, held out an arm for me to precede him.

I rolled my eyes and walked in, chin held high. The clicking of cameras filled the space as soon as we entered.

CAL

She walked across the room like a queen. There was a confidence about her that made others curious to know her. Goddammit, she was heady stuff.

I took a seat at the table Paul had set up and expected Sabrina to sit next to me, but she didn’t. She stood beside me. It was a power move, and I liked it.

I cleared my throat. “Well, you know me. You know Ms. Holloway here.” I gestured to Sabrina, who nodded at the crowd, a glowing smile on her face. “I’m not going to make a statement, because we’ve already done that. Like we said, Ms. Holloway and I have known each other since college. Those pictures can be interpreted a million different ways, and apparently, the photographer didn’t eavesdrop on the conversation, or they would have had context. I’ll open the floor to questions.”

“I have something to say.” Sabrina approached the table and leaned down close to the mic.

Her shoulder brushed up against my arm, and I could smell her perfume, a scent that was unfamiliar. She’d always been a vanilla-and-sweet-pea girl, innocence and sweetness. But now she smelled… spicy. Warm and sexy with a hint of pepper. Which fit perfectly with her sharp mouth and marker words.

“Hi,” she said. “Even if the photographer, shame on that person, did hear what we were saying, they chose to disregard it for clickbait. And now, because of their lack of ethics and morals, I am wasting my day proving to you all that Calvin Beckett here is a good man. Something that does not need proof, considering all the good work he’s done. But I’m a Texan and hospitable, if nothing else, so let’s get down to making you all feel better about someone else’s lies.” She patted me twice on the shoulder as she straightened and moved back.

Instantly, hands shot up, and questions were blurted out.

“You went to college together?” And variants of that question on repeat.

“When you say you knew each other in college, what does that look like?” asked a tall man in the back.

“Studying, drinking, laughing, and hanging out,” I said.

Some other versions were “How intimate were you?” “How long did you know each other in college?” and “How did you meet?”

“I heard you dated,” said a woman in the front.

“Who asked out whom?”

“How long did you date?”

“How did you meet?”

Again, I responded, keeping my answers simple. “Yes, we dated.”

There were some questions designed specifically for Sabrina. She came to stand close to me to answer, draping her arm around the back of my chair, her hand on my shoulder. Her body language said she wasn’t afraid of me.

“What does a professional matchmaker really do?”

“Can you tell us of any celebrity matches you’ve made?”

“Aren’t you dating Nick Trask, the actor?”

Jace had paired Sabrina’s name with the A-list actor a few times. He’d said they were just friends. I’d never had the balls to ask if there was more. I had no right to know. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. I held my breath and waited for her to answer.

“If I told you Nick and I were simply the closest of friends, would you believe me?” Sabrina followed it with a lighthearted laugh. “Because that’s the truth.”

I let out a slow exhalation, berating myself for even caring.

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