Page 7 of Parading the Cowboy Billionaire (Bluegrass Ranch 4)

“I didn’t promise,” she said, stepping right into him but not for a good reason this time. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I—don’t,” he said, his eyes wide and alarmed. “Of course I don’t.”

Ginny took a step back, refocusing her anger on the right person. Mother. “No oneis going to tell me what to do,” she said, her teeth gritting. “I’m forty-six years old, and if I want to go out with Cayden Chappell, I’m going to.”

She needed to find her core again, because she didn’t like this wild feeling coursing through her.

“Ginny,” he said, his fingertips landing lightly against her forearm.

That grounded her, and she looked at his hand and then up into his eyes. “Yes?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go find my mother,” she said. “I’m going to tell her she was right—I should always pack a second outfit for formal events. I don’t do it, because well, because she said I should. Then I’m going to tell her she had no right to speak to you about our relationship. Once that’s ironed out, I’m going to call you and ask you to dinner.”

A small smile touched his mouth. “You’re scary when you’re mad,” he whispered. He bent his head and trailed a line of fire up the side of her face with his lips. “You don’t need to ask me, sweetheart. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

“You’re still interested?” she asked, her voice breathy now.

“Was that not obvious from that kiss?”

“Maybe I need you to show me again.”

“Mm…I can do that.” Cayden took her fully into his arms and kissed her again, every stroke a reminder of how much she liked him and how much he liked her. Every touch became fuel for the courage she needed to talk to her mother. Every pulse of her heart beat only for him, and while she’d have to deal with that and what it meant later, right now, it sure felt nice to be in his arms again.

* * *

Ginny didn’t ringthe doorbell or knock. She didn’t even use the front door. Her mother lived in ten percent of the house, the bulk of that at the back, away from the public face of Sweet Rose Whiskey.

She’d parked five feet from the servant entrance, and she’d used her key to get through the door. To her right sat the kitchen, and to her left a set of stairs that went up. Harvey and Elliot had tried to get Mother to live on the first floor, but there was only one bedroom on the main level, and it was in the front corner of the house.

Mother wouldn’t even go in that room, as Daddy had lived there. There had been little love left between them, and by the time he’d left Sweet Rose in an advanced stage of heart failure, they hadn’t been speaking.

Ginny knew exactly how her father felt as she turned and marched up the steps. She went right at the top and down a hallway that had been torn out and rebuilt to accommodate Mother’s flowing ball gowns. She owned more than anyone else on Earth, it seemed, and she always had a back-up plan for her back-up plan.

“Mother,” Ginny called as the sound of the television met her ears. Her step almost faltered, but she kept going. Things had been building and frothing between her and her mother for months now. This was just icing on a poisoned cake that needed to be thrown away.

“Mother,” she said again, pushing into the room where her mother spent her evenings at home. She sat in the recliner, gently toeing herself back and forth, a crochet needle working on the outer edge of a baby blanket.

“Ginny, dear.” Mother looked up from her work, a smile soft and easy on her face.

Secrets, Ginny thought, her gaze stuck to that blanket. They both had plenty of those.

“I thought it was the Gin and Gems event tonight?” Mother phrased it like a question when it wasn’t. She knew exactly what happened on the two-thousand-acre farm that was a distillery.

“It is,” Ginny said, tearing her eyes from that blanket. Why couldn’t Mother be wearing a black dress and stirring something nefarious over a fire? To find her crocheting a border on a handmade baby blanket while a cooking show droned on made her so…normal.

“Did you tell Cayden Chappell that horses and whiskey don’t mix?” Ginny asked, making her voice as strong as she could.

Mother’s fingers stumbled, and that was all the answer Ginny needed.

“Mother, you do not get to dictate to me who I will see and who I won’t.”

“He is all wrong for you.”

“Youare wrong about that,” Ginny said. If there was one thing Mother hated, it was being told she was wrong. “I’m not sixteen anymore, Mother. I’m not even twenty-six. I’m almost fifty years old, and I’ve been doing everything you’ve told me to for my entire life.”

Her frustration and annoyance blossomed and bloomed, expanding rapidly as her breathing increased. “I’m done, Mother. I like him, and you haveno rightto boss him around.”

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