Brielle dug into her purse and pulled out some cash. "Thank you so much for the pedicure and the information."
Kendra refused to take the money. "Oh, this one is so on me," she told Brielle. "I'm so sorry I have such a big mouth."
"You don't - not at all. I just can't understand how I could be dating a man … hell, fall in love with a man who I really don't know. Why didn't he tell me? Why did he want me to think he works for me?"
Brielle's emotions were on a roller-coaster ride, going from confusion to grief, and escalating to fury in a brief amount of time.
"I'm sure he has a valid reason," Kendra said, but there was doubt in her eyes.
Was there ever an excuse for lying? Brielle wondered. Maybe at first he hadn't wanted to tell her, maybe he'd been afraid that she was a gold-digger or something like that. But they'd been making love every night and sometimes in the day, for heaven's sake. What kind of a man was he?
///
Brielle left the salon and walked to her truck in a daze. One thing was for sure - she wasn't waiting a single minute longer to find out who Colt Westbrook really was.
Chapter Thirty-Three
When Brielle saw the turnoff for the Mystic Creek Ranch, her heart lodged in her throat. His property had to border on hers. She went down the long drive, now speechless when she came up to a massive dwelling, larger than the one she'd grown up in, sitting in the center of a perfectly manicured front yard.
This wasn't the ranch of a poor man. This didn't even look like a ranch, if she were to judge by the house. Yes, the place was made of logs, but it certainly was no cabin. It was three stories high, with huge open windows. A wraparound front porch held rocking chairs, perfectly positioned flowerpots - at least they weren't blue - plus a couple of small tables, and beautiful stonework framing it all in.
This mansion cost more than any rancher should be able to afford. Colt wasn't just well-off; he was unbelievably wealthy. As she thought back to that day in her bedroom, the day she'd told him she didn't care that he was just a ranch hand, she hung her head. How he must have laughed at her as he walked away. Talk about an easy lay. A cheap date, even.
He'd been playing her this whole time, and she'd fallen in love with him. Was this something they did out here in Montana? Did they get all excited when strangers showed up so they could trot out the game How Stupid Is the City Girl? and guffaw?
After leaving her truck, she approached his front steps and looked cautiously at the rail. No, no spider would dare to hang out here. Why did he choose to spend every night with her when he had this home to come back to? Again, because she was easy. From the front door, she didn't hear a sound from inside the house. Then laughter drifted from somewhere out back.
Seeing a pathway, she followed it and found a gate, which opened without even a squeak. The shock of his betrayal was finally wearing off, and pure, unadulterated rage was taking hold. Why? Once she got on the other side of the gate, she saw a huge expanse of yard leading to a clear lake with a dock and a boat - and a boathouse - all waiting for the rich boy to go to and play in.
More laughter, now louder, came her way, and she followed the sound around the side of the house. Looking to her left, she found Colt on a massive deck, sitting on a chaise lounge with a cold beer in his hand, and two other men nearby.
One she recognized from the midsummer celebration - she believed his name was Jackson. The other she hadn't seen before. Oh, but the man was about to meet her, and in the mood she was in, she was sure to leave a lasting impression.
Under normal circumstances, that Colt had company might have saved him, but not this time. No. She was beyond caring what anyone thought about her. Colt had lied to her, and he was about to discover exactly why it wasn't wise to lie to the woman you claimed to love.
As if sensing her, Colt turned, and their eyes clashed. For a second or two, a smile lingered on his face, but then he sat up straighter. The look on her face had to be frightening.
"Brielle … "
Hearing her name coming from those deceiving lips drove her forward. She stomped up the stairs and didn't even bother to look at Colt's two companions. They did their best to get out of the way. Smart guys.
"Don't you dare even say my name, you lying son of a bitch!" She didn't even recognize her own voice.
"Brielle, I can explain."
"I'll just bet you can. Save it, Colt." She looked around the back deck of his log mansion, built-in outdoor kitchen and all. "A ranch hand? Really? You must have found immense entertainment in the fact that I thought you worked for me. Did you come home and look around and laugh? Was it a fun game for you to play?"