Page 28 of At the Rancher's Pleasure

Wrong, no. Egotistical? Maybe. But also very human.

“I take it that Charlotte has no time for Rusty?” Brett asked, his voice low enough not to carry to the neighboring tables.

“Something happened between Rusty and Charlotte when she worked as his chef at Elegance Ranch. Knowing Rusty, I have an idea of what might’ve happened but, out of respect for Charlotte, I won’t verbalize my suspicions.” Sarabeth took a sip of her wine, which was full-bodied and rich. “But I do know that Rusty recently used some strong-arm tactics on Ross to get him to stop seeing Charlotte.”

Sarabeth caught the flash of distaste in Brett’s eyes. “Are he and Rusty talking now?”

Sarabeth rocked her hand from side to side. “I’m not actually sure. I don’t think so but I could be wrong.”

Brett aimed a glance at the duo, who’d stopped at a table to converse with a distinguished couple Sarabeth vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. Billy Holmes rested his hand on Rusty’s shoulder, looking very much at home. “He seems fond of Billy,” Brett noted.

Sarabeth nodded her agreement. In fact, Rusty and Billy exuded a father and son vibe that was hard to ignore. “From what I’ve heard from Gina, Billy’s been a part of the family for a while. He’s a college friend of Ross’s. I think Ross, and his brother, Asher, like have Billy around as he seems to be the only one able to manage Rusty. He has a knack of dealing with him in a way that gets results.”

“Is it true that Billy adopted Asher?” Brett asked.

Sarabeth nodded. “Asher was fifteen when Rusty married Asher’s mother, Stephanie. Ross, Asher and Gina are close in age and they bonded as teenagers. In Ross’s and Gina’s eyes, Asher is their brother.”

Sarabeth wiggled in her seat, conscious Rusty and Billy were on the move again and heading in their direction. She knew Rusty was surreptitiously watching her so she put her hand on Brett’s partly, she admitted, to wind Rusty up. But she also touched Brett because she couldn’t bear not to. His eyes glinted with amusement, and he lifted her hand to place a lingering kiss in the center of her palm. Sarabeth, as she always did when he touched her, shivered.

“I think that your taste in men has vastly improved, sweetheart,” Brett told her, his expression amused. “Your latest lover is your best choice yet.”

Sarabeth’s lips twitched at his flirting, turned on by his confidence. And he wasn’t wrong. “I happen to agree.”

“Heads up, they are coming our way. I think they have the table two down from us.” Brett turned to her, looking concerned. “Are you okay?”

He was consistently perceptive, always seeming to realize when she was feeling off balance. “He just annoys me, that’s all,” she said, sounding rueful.

“We can leave if you like,” Brett offered.

And have Rusty think that he still intimidated her? Oh, hell no. She was no longer that fragile girl he’d married a lifetime ago. “Absolutely not! My days of being intimidated by that man are long over.” She sent him a wicked grin. “Watch and learn.”

Sarabeth knew the way Rusty’s mind worked and knew he’d be expecting her to cower in her seat, hoping he’d just ignore her. Sarabeth looked around the room, saw that most of the diners were still looking in their direction to see how the first meeting between the ex-spouses played out, and she had no intention of disappointing her audience.

“I’m thinking about giving the gossips something new to talk about in the morning. I’m about to be a little rude and completely fake... Is that okay with you, Brett?” Not that she needed his permission, but it was polite to ask.

He grinned. “Absolutely. Not that the Royal Reporters deserve to be rewarded—Flora is sitting at the back table by the way—but go for it.”

Sarabeth stood up, bent down to drop an open mouth kiss on his mouth before turning to face Rusty with open arms. “Rusty! Darling, you’re looking well,for your age.”Knowing how vain he was, she decided to poke him a little more.“Oh,howI wish I could be like you and not care about wrinkles, a soft belly, a receding hairline and a complete disregard for fashion.”

Rusty, obviously caught off guard by her effusive greeting and backhanded compliments, did a fine imitation of a fish out of water. He opened his mouth to say something, but Billy’s hand on his back propelled him past her. So he plopped down in his chair, his face red and his light silver eyes pulsing with rage.

Knowing that more was less and that she’d won the opening battle of their Royal based war, Sarabeth, pretending ignorance and attempting to look innocent, shrugged and took her seat. She flashed Brett a naughty grin.

Well, that was fun.

Thank God, the meeting was done. Brett pushed his chair back from the boardroom table and shoved the agenda and notes into his leather folder, thinking that some members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club really liked the sound of their own voices. The meeting could’ve been concluded an hour earlier if the good ole boys stuck to the damn point.

Brett, one of the few members not dressed in a suit and tie—they’d have to hog-tie him to put a noose around his neck anytime soon—reached for his favorite black Stetson and jammed it on his head. Rolling his shoulders, he tried to surreptitiously work the knots out of his neck. He needed to get home and go for a long ride or do a brutal gym session. Then he remembered that Ty was out of action with an injured fetlock so it looked like he’d be pulling on his trainers and hitting his home gym.

“Coming for a drink, Brett?”

He turned to see Clint Rockwell standing behind him, dressed, as he was, in jeans, boots and a button-down shirt. Clint was one of the younger TCC members, and unlike some of the older members who’d been around since God was a boy, he didn’t think the sun shone out of his own ass.

Brett nodded his agreement. “I’ll have a soda.”

Clint didn’t react to the fact that he, unlike pretty much everyone within these hallowed halls, didn’t consume alcohol. Neither had he inquired why. Brett liked people who minded their own business.

As they moved to the bar area of the famous club, Clint asked whether he would visit his ranch to look over a mare he’d recently acquired with a view of breeding her with one of Brett’s stallions. The conversation flowed easily and he started to relax, knowing that the other man either didn’t know or, more likely, didn’t care that he’d walked out on his wedding and was now having an affair with Rusty Edmond’s ex-wife.

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