Page 29 of Cruel King

“Why? So you can make fun of me?”

“Hey, I was raised in Texas. I can appreciate a man in his Sunday best jeans and a hat.”

Gavin shot me a conspiratorial grin. “Are you saying you’re hot for cowboys?”

“As if you aren’t,” I said with a wave of my hand.

“It might shock you to learn that I’ve never hooked up with a cowboy.”

I shot him a filthy look. “Oh, I have.”

“I bet you ate them alive.”

“Good ole boys make for tasty treats. As long as you don’t stick around long enough for the misogyny.”

Gavin choked. “You’re something else.” Then, he nodded his head toward the drive. “We’re here.”

I faced forward again, and my jaw dropped. I’d known that Gavin was of the King oil dynasty. I’dknown. Obviously if he fit in with his other richie rich friends in New York.Myrichie rich friends. But Upper East Side was different than Texas. This was acres of land without an oil rig in sight and a three-storymansionon flat property with its own river and horses grazing freely. This wasTexasrich. Exactly the kind of family my parents had wanted me to associate with all those years ago.

“Whoa.” I popped open the door and jumped out of the Jeep.

“Yeah,” Gavin said, coming to stand at my side. “Last chance to back out.”

I glanced up at him in surprise. “You’re the one who begged me.”

“I know. But I’m still a gentleman.”

“A gentleman?” I asked with a laugh.

Gavin King was a rogue and a rake and a playboy. Gentleman was the last thing that anyone would ever call him.

“That’s adorable, King. Let’s do this.”

He tucked my arm into his, and we headed up the drive together.

As we got closer, I noticed the white roses blooming from verdant bushes all around the house. The scent was so sweet, almost cloying. Someone had an incredible gardener to get roses that stunning to grow.

“What’s with the roses?”

Gavin grinned. “It’s my family flower. White roses. The Dorsets, who my family runs the oil business with, they’re red roses. Sort of a long-standing rivalry.”

“Well, they’re beautiful. Whoever they hired to do them has a great touch.”

“That would be my aunt Susannah,” he said. “She has a green thumb.”

We climbed the stairs, and Gavin knocked once. A second later, the door swung open, and a woman of undetermined age appeared.

“Gavin!” she said, pulling him into a hug. “Honey, we’re so glad you’re home.”

“Hi, Aunt Susannah. This is Whitley. She was admiring your roses.”

“They’re beautiful, ma’am.”

“Ma’am,” Susannah said, winking at Gavin. “I see you got a good one here. I’m so excited to meet you, Whitley. We’ve all beendyingto meet Gavin’s girlfriend. He never brings anyone home, and he’s too wonderful not to have someone good for him.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said easily at Susannah’s gushing.

“Come. Come inside,” Susannah said quickly. “Your parents are already here. I know they can’t wait to see you and meet Whitley.”

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