Trust Fund Fiancé (Texas Cattleman's Club: Rags to Riches 4)

And damn if that reality check didn’t sting.

Eight

“I’d have to say your engagement party is a success,” Luke observed.

Ezekiel had to agree. Tuxedoed and gowned guests crowded into the great room of the Texas Cattleman’s Clubhouse. Their chatter and laughter filled the air, and yes, by all appearances, his and Reagan’s engagement party was going off without a hitch.

When he’d asked his cousin Beth to help him organize the party three weeks ago, she’d taken over, arranging to have it in the clubhouse where several people in the family were members. Several years ago, the club had undergone a major renovation, and now it was li

ghter and airier with brighter colors, bigger windows and higher ceilings. Tonight, floor-to-ceiling French doors had been thrown open to the July night, and the warm, flower-scented air filtered into the room, making the already cavernous area seem larger.

Flowers, white, tiny fairy lights and even a beautiful arch decorated the space, and the dark wood floors seemed to gleam. Tall lamps had been placed on the patio beyond the French doors and more of the lights had been entwined around the columns and balustrades. Linen-covered tables, with elegant hurricane lamps and more flowers adorning them, dotted the room and bordered a wide area for dancing.

Everything was sophisticated, luxurious and gorgeous. His cousin had managed to pull off the impossible in a matter of weeks.

Yet, Ezekiel hadn’t taken a single easy breath all evening. Like that other shoe just hovered above his head, ready to plunge into the room at any moment.

“Even Aunt Ava seems to be pleased with your choice of fiancée,” Luke continued. “Considering her higher-than-God standards, that’s a minor miracle.”

Ezekiel snorted, sipping from his tumbler of whiskey. Luke wasn’t wrong. His aunt might be a thin, somewhat fragile-looking woman, with her dark blond hair brushed with the lightest of gray, but one look into those shrewd gray-green eyes, and all thoughts of frailty vanished. She was a strong, driven woman who had been a wife, was a businesswoman and mother. And if you asked her children, they might tell you in that order. The death of Uncle Trent had been a severe blow to her. But she’d begun to return to her old, exacting, often domineering self just before the issues with WinJet hit.

“I’m glad she came tonight,” Ezekiel said, studying his aunt and the man next to her. “I see she brought Keith.”

“Since when is Keith Cooper going to let her go anywhere without him?” Luke muttered, the dislike Ezekiel harbored for the man evident in his brother’s voice. “I swear, it would be almost laughable how obvious he is if it weren’t so pathetic.”

As his uncle’s best friend, Keith Cooper had been in their lives for years. On the surface, the man with the thinning brown hair, dark eyes and athletic build that had softened from one too many bourbons was an affable, laid-back man with an easy laugh. Married and divorced three times and with no children, he’d adopted the Wingates as his family. Or rather he’d inserted himself into their family.

And maybe that was what rubbed Ezekiel the wrong way. Keith was always there. Like a snake. The big, toothy smile didn’t hide how he watched Aunt Ava with an avarice that made Ezekiel’s skin crawl. No, Keith hadn’t done anything overt to earn his dislike, but Ezekiel didn’t trust him.

Not at all.

“So you know, I have my speech prepared,” Luke drawled, tugging Ezekiel’s attention from his aunt.

He frowned. “What speech?”

“The best man’s speech. Beth set aside a time for toasts after dinner. With everything that’s going on, I figured you just hadn’t gotten around to asking me yet.” Luke slid him a sidelong glance. “But I knew you would ask so I came ready.”

“Well, that was subtle as hell.” Ezekiel laughed. “Of course you’re my best man. Besides, Sebastian said no.” At Luke’s scowl, he barked out another laugh. “Kidding. Damn. I’m going to need to ask Kelly to schedule an enema to get that stick out of your ass.”

“Hilarious. You’re so fucking hilarious,” Luke grumbled, but a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “It must be that pretty-boy face that Reagan is enamored with because it sure as hell isn’t your sense of humor.”

“Oh, I disagree. I’m quite fond of both,” Reagan interjected, appearing at Ezekiel’s side and sliding an arm around his waist.

She tipped her head so it rested on his shoulder, and the casual observer would believe this woman, with her radiant beauty and equally bright smile was blissfully in love. Hell, he almost believed it. But apparently one of Reagan’s many talents included acting. She didn’t flinch or stiffen when he stroked her arm or held her close to his side. Instead, she’d flirted with him, gifting him with affectionate glances and warm smiles.

Reagan was an enigma.

A gorgeous, sensual enigma that he wanted to cautiously step away from before the obsession of figuring out her many pieces consumed him.

The same woman who appeared to be the perfect daughter bravely entered into a business arrangement of a marriage so she could quietly defy her family and claim her own future. The same woman who lived her life on the center stage of Royal society, but whose eyes glimmered with sadness when she didn’t think anyone noticed. The same woman who went rigid when he just brushed a tender caress over her cheek but invited him to lay his head in her lap to offer comfort.

Who was the real Reagan Sinclair? And why did desperation to discover the truth rip and claw at him?

This curiosity, this need to... To what? He knew what. And it—she—was forbidden to him.

Yet...when she’d drawn his head to her lap, had rubbed his temples with such care, he’d inhaled her delicious, intoxicating scent. Had locked down every muscle in his body to prevent himself from tearing away that pillow and burying his face between her slim, toned thighs to find out if her delectable perfume would be more condensed there. He’d closed his eyes against staring at the beautiful, firm breasts that had thrust against her blouse, fearful of seeing her nipples bead under the white silk. If he had, he might not have been able to stop until he had them clasped between his teeth, tugging, pinching...

Jesus Christ.