I accepted the atrocious truth here: I would lose the ranch. The animals would be abandoned or euthanized. I would hit rock bottom, and I would have nothing. My vision blurred, obscured by tears that had come from nowhere.
Suddenly, a knock sounded on the front door, and then the distinct sound of it opening and shutting thudded down the hallway. "Hello?" a voice called from the foyer. "Arabella?"
Startled, I craned a look over my shoulder. I knew that voice, but I'd definitely never expected to hear it here.
"Ara?" Spencer called again. "You in here?"
Sylvia clutched her champagne tightly. "Who in God's name is that? Who would dare enter my home uninvited?"
My fear and despair spiraled down into a much easier emotion to grab hold of. Anger. "He did not," I hissed.
Spencer found us, poking his head into the dining room and finding me in the doorway of the parlor. He was wearing an absurd, cartoon turkey button-down for Thanksgiving, and his Viking-style, dark hair looked neat with its bun and two rows of braids. Although the shirt and bright blue sneakers looked goofy,there was no denying that Spencer was a well-sculpted man. Intimidating, even.
His dark eyes landed on me, and he ate the distance between us with long, purposeful strides. "Sorry I'm late," he said smoothly.
To my shock, he hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me against his side. Warm, solid strength stole my thoughts, and I stiffened as he bent his lips to the side of my face. Then hekissed me. Casually, like it wasn't the first time someone had kissed me since I'd been a teenager, he planted a little kiss against my temple.
And then his familiar scent was all around me, bergamot and vetiver, and I only knew that because he'd gone on a boring rant about a small soap company he'd found like five years ago and he still used it to this day. It was a comforting aroma—citrus and woodsy, masculine notes that filled my nose and forced my shoulders to relax.
"I didn't know you'd left, love."
I pulled my head back and goggled at him, and in my peripheral vision, I could tell my mom and Harry were doing the same thing. "What are you—" I started to ask.Did he just call me, "love?"
"Hey, I wasn't going to miss this announcement," he grinned charmingly. Spencer had an incredible smile—white teeth, a handsome dimple on one side, and the friendliest golden retriever energy on the planet. For a moment, I was too stunned to absorb his words.
"This… announcement?" Why the hell wouldSpencerwant to be here for this? A foreboding realization settled over my taut nerves like chalk dust. "Oh, God."
"Theodore," Sylvia strangled out tightly. "What on Earth are you doing here? I didn't think Knox was coming tonight."
"What do you mean?" Spencer asked cluelessly, glancing around the room. "Oh, hey." He waved at Harry. "I'm Spencer. Theodore, but I mean, no one calls me that but Mrs. Rook, here."
Harry looked positively terrified. "Hi?"
"Spencer," I hissed through my teeth, fighting his hold on me. "I told you to stay out of this."
A pair of warm, brown eyes fixed on mine, and a gentle smile curved his lips. "I'd never make you do this alone, Bee." Silent questions hung heavy in the air, but Spencer didn't seem the least bit perturbed by everyone's confusion. He gave me a comforting squeeze before facing the room. "Arabella has agreed to marry me."
Chapter five
Spencer
Ara's thoughts flashed across her features like an ad on the Las Vegas strip.Is this motherfucker for real?
Before she could combat what I'd said and make her situation worse than it already was, I looked at Sylvia and added, "Since that's what we're doing here, right? Making sure your daughter gets signed off to matrimonial bliss?"
Sylvia's face scrunched into a delightful snarl. "What thehellare you talking about?"
It had nearly killed me to casually hang out at Knox's house all day with Arabella near. If I'd given her any indication that I planned to follow her here, she would have found a way to refuse. So, I'd been myself—teasing, indifferent, and apparently tolerant of Arabella's wish to continue on in her own self-imposed misery.
But beneath the facade of forced calm, I'd watched her and waited. As far as I could tell, the only way to override Arabella's stubborn plans to go through with this insanity would be tocatch her off guard. And looking at her face now, I was fairly certain I'd succeeded in that.
"We knew you wouldn't approve," I lied smoothly. "But Arabella and I have been seeing each other for some time, now. When Arabella told me you wanted her to marry soon, we made the decision." I glanced at Arabella, finding no ally there. Not yet. "We are getting married," I finished with a meaningful look.Come on, Bee. Play along. I'm not hot shit, but I'm better than that weasel on the couch over there.
She stared up at me, enormous blue eyes wet with unshed tears. Another sweep of fury nearly took over my pleasant expression, and I internally cursed Sylvia Rook one more time. She deserved every bit of nasty karma coming her way for putting that kind of expression on Arabella's face.
But then Ara's dread was replaced with silent understanding. She seemed to run through the implications of what I was handing her, and it only took her a couple of seconds. She pasted a corny smile on her face and rotated to face her mother like the Cheshire Cat. "Yes. We are."
Sylvia glared at us, her eyes yo-yoing between us. "But youjustsaid—"
