He shook his head and pivoted on his heel, heading for the staircase.
It didn’t matter. She was gone.
And in the end, it was for the best.
For both of them.
Ten
Reagan stepped into the cool interior of the restaurant with a sigh, thankful to be out of the early September heat. It was only about three weeks from the official start of fall, but Texas didn’t know it. Fixing a polite smile on her face, she strode to the maître d’s stand.
“Hello,” she greeted. “I’m meeting Douglas Sinclair. He should have already arrived.”
“Of course,” the young man said, nodding. “Please follow me.”
She was ten minutes late for lunch with her father, but considering he’d sprung the “invitation” on her an hour ago, it couldn’t be helped. He should be thankful she’d rearranged her plans to meet him anyway.
The only reason she had acquiesced to this impromptu lunch date was because he’d made it seem important, urgent even. It’d been two weeks since her father had demanded she end her engagement with Ezekiel, and a part of her still resented him for that. But maybe this lunch could be the start of healing that rift. Her father loved her; in her heart, she acknowledged he only wanted the best for her. Even if he could be overbearing and stubborn, she’d never doubted that...
“Reagan.” Douglas stood from a table next to the large picture window that looked over downtown Royal. “We’ve been waiting on you. You look lovely.”
She barely registered the kiss he pressed to her hair, focusing on the we. This was supposed to be a lunch for just the two of them. But as her attention snagged on the man also rising from his chair, a cold sliver of hurt and anger settled between her ribs.
Of course her father hadn’t just wanted to spend quality time with her. He had his own agenda, and that trumped everything.
“Reagan, I’d like to introduce you to Justin McCoy. Justin...” he smiled broadly at the other man “...my beautiful daughter Reagan Sinclair.”
Justin McCoy. The tall, handsome man with light blond hair smiled at her, his blue eyes quickly roaming over her before meeting her gaze again.
God, she needed a shower. She cut her father a sharp side glance.
“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Reagan,” Justin said, grasping her hand although she hadn’t offered it. He lifted it toward his lips, and her stomach lurched. If not for her father’s eagle-eyed gaze, she would’ve snatched her arm back. Especially since she hadn’t given Justin permission to touch her.
On second thought...
She tugged her hand back before Justin could touch her, ignoring her father’s frown and Justin’s shock. She didn’t believe in the ask forgiveness rather than permission school of thought. And if neither this man nor her father respected her boundaries, then she didn’t have to allow a man who was at best a gold digger to put his hands or mouth on her to spare their egos.
That simmering anger stirred to a boil, and she dragged in a breath before forcing a politeness to her tone that required Herculean effort on her part.
“Mr. McCoy, if you would excuse us for a moment. I need to have a quick, private word with my father.”
Not waiting for either man’s agreement, she whirled on the heel of her nude stiletto and stalked toward the exit. She pushed through the door and waited for her father on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.
She didn’t have long to wait before he appeared.
“How dare you embarrass me like that, Reagan,” he fumed, fury glittering in his narrowed glare. “You go back in there right now and apologize for your rude behavior.”
“I will not.”
His chin jerked up as if her words had delivered a physical slap, and his lips slackened. She’d shocked him. Hell, she’d shocked herself. Her heart drummed against her rib cage, and the tiniest sliver of fear slid through her veins. Since she’d returned to Royal and her family from that home without her baby, empty and ashamed, she hadn’t once defied either of her parents. Especially her father. And she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit it scared her now. But no.
Just. No. Apparently, she had her limits, and she’d reached them.
“Reagan—”
“I’m not an idiot, Dad,” she interrupted, slicing her hand through the air for emphasis. “I clearly see what this is. An ambush. Another setup. Well, I refuse to go along with it. Not this time. And definitely not with him.”
“Yes, you will, Reagan,” he hissed, his attention shooting over her shoulder. Most likely ensuring no one stood witness to her insolence, as he no doubt saw it. “I won’t stand for this blatant disrespect. And I don’t know what you think you know about Justin McCoy—”