“I won’t be able to reach the radio,” Aida said, clearly annoyed. I didn’t think she had intentionally meant to sit between Reese and me, but I wasn’t sure.

“Good,” I replied. I never liked it when Aida controlled the radio.

Once I had us headed toward the main road, I slipped my hand over Reese’s bare thigh and squeezed. That small gesture seemed to ease her some.

“Who will be at this party? Just the people in town?” Reese asked.

“Everyone the Stouts do business with. Bankers, lawyers, ranchers, and then the folks from their restaurant chain who own one of their franchises. They fly in from everywhere,” Aida said, sounding pleased with herself.

Reese stiffened again.

“You make the Stouts sound more important than they are,” I said to Aida, shooting her an annoyed glance.

Aida shrugged. “They are to those of us whose fathers aren’t legendary rock stars.”

“My father is a rancher,” I replied, not liking the fact that she’d brought up Kiro. I didn’t talk about my biological father much. He wasn’t a part of my life; my stepdad was the one who had actually raised me. My only connection to Kiro was through Harlow. He had been a much bigger presence in my half sister’s life.

“Whatever, Mase. You have fame in your blood. Get over it,” Aida said, and smirked at me.

Reese smoothed her skirt nervously. She was worried about this damn barbecue now. I wanted to forget the stupid thing. I didn’t want to force her to do anything that upset her.

“We can go home now. You just say the word,” I told her, squeezing her thigh again.

“What? No, we can’t! I’m not missing this party.” Aida’s high-pitched whine was out of line.

“I want to go,” Reese said, and leaned into me.

“If you decide you want to go home at any point, just tell me. I’ll get Aida a ride.” I ignored the glare Aida was shooting my way.

Reese didn’t say anything; she just leaned in even closer to my side.

The large iron gates stood open, and a couple of large men in suits stood at the entrance. I stopped and rolled down the window.

“Name?” The man asked.

“Mase Colt,” I replied, leaving the Manning off of my name. Most people around here thought of me as a Colt.

He nodded. “Welcome, Mr. Colt. You may proceed.”

I followed the extravagant brick drive until we came up to the front of the three-story house, which was bigger than most folks’ homes around here. The valet stood waiting, but I wasn’t letting some kid in a tux park my truck.

When the valet approached, he had a fake smile plastered on his face.

“I can park my own truck,” I informed him.

He looked confused. “Uh, well, it’s out there . . . but it’s a walk.” He pointed out toward the left of the house, where several cars were already parked.

“Thanks,” I replied, then glanced back at Reese and Aida. “Y’all can go ahead and get out here so you don’t have to walk.”

Reese reached up and took my arm. “I’ll stay with you. I don’t mind walking.”

Aida rolled her eyes and reached for her door. “I’m getting out.”

The valet hurried to open her door the rest of the way and helped her out. As soon as he closed it, I drove down to the parking area. I never liked leaving my keys with some stranger. A man could park his own damn wheels.

Reese

The backyard where the barbecue was being held looked like something out of a magazine. Lanterns hung from massive oak trees, casting their light as nightfall approached, and twinkly white lights were strung from tree to tree, making a whimsical canopy over the tables and white upholstered chairs, which didn’t look like they belonged outside.

A band was on the stage playing everything from popular country music to classical. There was even a dance floor, with the same canopy of lights as the eating area.

But what stood out the most was the way the women were dressed. Aida had been right—a blue-jeans skirt didn’t fit in here. Not even men were wearing blue jeans. I should have questioned the fact that Mase had on a pair of straight-legged khakis with his boots instead of his usual jeans. The button-down baby-blue Oxford shirt was dressier than anything he ever wore. Why hadn’t I insisted that he let me go back and change?

His hand rested on my lower back as he directed me toward the crowd. People stood around in groups, champagne glasses in their hands, as they talked among themselves. Diamonds glittered on the women’s hands, wrists, ears, and necks. Had Mase never been to one of these “barbecues” before? I figured he’d come to many of them. Why had he said Aida was over-dressed?

“Mase Colt,” a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying hair at his temples called out in a deep voice as we stepped into the light. “It’s good to see you. I wasn’t here for the last exchange. Hawkins said everything went smoothly, as always.”

“Yes, sir. Dad was pleased¸” Mase replied.

This was the second time he’d been referred to as Colt, not Colt Manning, tonight. I’d never heard him drop his last name before.

The man’s attention moved to me, and for a moment, I wanted to run and hide under a table. “And I see you’ve brought a beautiful woman.”

Mase’s hand remained on my back. “Yes, sir. This is Reese Ellis. Reese, this is Arthur Stout, a business partner of ours and the host of this ‘modest’ barbecue.”