Page 84 of Pretend To Be My Cowboy
Emma nodded. “I know.”
“You are still coming home after the weekend, right?” Lizzy’s mouth grew tight with anxiety. “I need you here.”
Emma felt the tiniest pang of annoyance that even this conversation somehow came back to what Lizzy needed and wanted. She shook it off. It was frustration talking, because she couldn’t even figure out what she needed when all her energy was being devoted to figuring out what her new sisters wanted.
“Just before you go, any news on ‘the sisters’ situation?” Lizzy asked.
Emma shook her head. “I’ve left April so many messages I’m starting to feel like a stalker, but she’s ignoring me. And I don’t know if Sierra is ignoring me or if I’m leaving messages on an old voicemail. The message is automated, so who knows if I have the right number.”
And then there was Daisy with her plan of visiting four months from now, Rose who wouldn’t give a single decisive answer without conferring with Dahlia, and— “Ugh. What am I even doing here?” The question came out louder than intended. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”
A noise had her looking over to see Nash hesitating in her doorway. He looked decidedly uncomfortable as he backed away. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude, I was just coming to see if you were ready.”
“Almost.” She forced a cheerful smile, as if he hadn’t just heard her ranting and raving. She held up the phone to offer proof that she wasn’t talking to herself again.
Or to the pigs.
“Lizzy, I’ve got to go,” she said, as Nash walked back down the hallway.
“Good luck tonight,” Lizzy said. “And Emma?”
Emma paused, raising her eyebrows at the screen.
“Messy bun.” This was said with all the solemnity of newlyweds speaking their vows.
“What?”
Lizzy gestured to the top of her head. “When in doubt, messy bun. You’ve got this.”
Emma choked on a laugh. “Thanks, sis.”
A little while later, her messy bun, exceptionally messy, and her favorite cocktail dress on, she sat next to a silent Nash as they rode into town.
The rehearsal dinner was at The Valley Bistro, the only place with candles and white tablecloths in a fifty mile radius, according to Nash. The restaurant was noisy when they entered, and she spotted several people she recognized standing at the bar that lined one wall.
“There they are.” Patrick Donahue’s voice boomed from where he stood at the far end of the bar talking to one of his nephews.
Nash turned to her, his smile strained. “Casey reserved the private room in the back. Why don’t you go on ahead and tell her we’re here? I’m sure she wants to get this dinner underway.”
Emma nodded, but her smile felt stilted. Was he sending her away? She had the unsettling feeling she was being dismissed.
Nash had seemed kind of tense and awkward since the festival. She assumed it was because of the kiss, but maybe it was something to do with his father.
Her gaze shifted to the senior Donahue. He was watching her with a glint in his eyes that she couldn’t decipher. But it made her uncomfortable.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in there.” She backed away toward the room where Casey’s voice could be heard, along with her mother’s.
Nash headed across to his father. While she walked the other way, Emma couldn’t help but remember how the two men had gotten so quiet and awkward when she’d approached them the other night.
All she’d heard Nash say was ‘handling it,’ and then they’d both gone silent. She’d had the distinctly unnerving sensation that they’d been talking about her, but had been too distracted by the kiss and the high of such a wonderful evening to give it too much thought. Now it was crashing over her again, adding another brick of confusion to the growing tower in her mind.
Casey’s face lit with a smile at the sight of her, and Emma shook off the paranoid thought. Even if they had been talking about her, there was no reason to think it was anything bad, right?
Her stomach twisted in spite of her assurances.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Casey practically squealed as she wrapped Emma in a hug.
“I’m glad too. You look stunning.”
