The Duet(80)

“As far as the town knew, that baby belonged to Jason. They got married the summer before Lacy was born.”

“That’s why he married Kim?”

“Yep.”

“So this was all way before his career took off?” I asked, trying to get the timeline straight in my head.

“Years before.”

My mouth hung open before I thought to ask a question. “What about the media? Why didn’t they ever find out he was married?”

“Their marriage license is stuck in some file down in the Big Timber courthouse. I can’t remember the last time our town took kindly to media snooping around about Jason, especially after he got big.”

“Didn’t he wear a wedding ring?” I asked.

She sighed. “The second Jason went on tour, their rings went off. Jason didn’t want Kim and Lacy shoved into the spotlight, and Kim wanted the freedom that came with a bare ring finger.”

LuAnne stayed silent as I tried to process the story.

“I can’t believe Jason did all of that,” I said, still processing his past.

“Exactly,” she said. “So maybe you should go easy on the guy.”

I laughed, taken aback by her brazenness. “I will. Thanks for telling me all that, LuAnne.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t call me back until you two have made up. I want some babies at this ranch.”

My mouth dropped for the one-hundredth time since answering her phone call.





Chapter Twenty-Seven





“So you and Jason are going to be friends again? Just like that?” Cammie asked as we sat in the limousine on the way to her college graduation. She looked stunning in a white sheath dress. Her dark brown hair was naturally wavy and sat beneath her graduation cap in an adorably dorky kind of way. Her navy graduation gown fell across her lap and she kept absentmindedly running her hand down the fabric. I knew she wouldn’t admit it, but that gown symbolized a lot of hard work for her.

“No. We aren’t friends.”

She narrowed her gaze on me. “The lady doth protest too much.”

“Huh?”

“You said no like someone who’s lying about saying no.”

I gave her a pointed stare. “You watched ONE episode of Criminal Minds and now you think you can read people like a detective.”

She shrugged and checked out her fingernails in a dramatic fashion. “I think I can. It’s a gift. For instance, I know that you still like Jason, dare I say, you even love him. And he isn’t a complete idiot, so he loves you, too.” She looked up at me. “There, how did I do?”

I looked away, trying to concentrate on the scenery outside of the limousine window. “Terrible. You would make a horrible detective.”

When we pulled up outside of her university’s stadium she moved toward the door of the limousine. But before she got out, she looked back at me and winked.

“Just so you know, you’re a cute liar.”

I flipped her the bird but she was climbing out and didn’t see it. Instead, a thin Asian man, with a giant camera hanging around his neck, peered into the limousine at that exact moment, placing himself on the receiving end of my crude gesture.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” I said, trying to clear up the situation, but the driver was already shutting the door. Whelp, there goes my Asian male fan base. All one of them.





The logistics of the graduation were complicated. It wouldn’t work for me to sit in the audience, so the school set up a private suite on the mezzanine level of the stadium. Hank was very happy with the security situation, but I was pissed that I couldn’t do my original plan for when Cammie walked across the stage. Hint: it involved ten foghorns and a dozen male strippers.

At first, I was all-alone. Hank was manning the doors and putting on his usual stoic facade. But then Summer, and one of my cousins, Patricia, arrived. We had a tiny family, made smaller with our parents gone, so I was glad that Patricia had taken the time to travel from New York and support Cammie.

The private suite had chilled champagne and food lining one of the walls. About five minutes into the first graduation speech I decided the entire event would be much better with alcohol, so I set out on a mission to open the champagne bottle.

Just as I reached the bucket of ice, the door to the suite opened and Grayson Cole walked in looking like a walking ad for Armani in a tailored navy suit and tie. His brown hair was slicked back and his eyes were as piercing and sharp as ever.

“No way!” I said, forgetting the champagne all together. “Grayson!” I ran over to give him a hug, but even in my heels, he had to bend to wrap a friendly arm around my shoulders. “What are you doing here?”