far enough removed from the rest of the house that she wouldn’t hear anything else.
Jo opened a door and flipped on the light. Whitney had half expected vintage ’70s decor, but the room was done in cozy green-and-red plaids that made it look Christmassy. A bouquet of fresh pine and holly was arranged on the mantel over a small fireplace.
Jo walked over to it and flipped a switch. Flames jumped to life in the grate. “Phillip had automatic switches installed a few years ago,” she explained. On the other side of the bed was a dresser. Jo said, “Extra blankets are in there. It’s going to be a lot colder here than it is at your ranch.”
“Good to know.” Whitney set her bag down at the foot of the bed. The only other furniture in the room was a small table with an armchair next to it. The room looked like a great place to spend the winter. She felt herself relax a little bit. “So...you and Phillip?”
“Me and Phillip,” Jo agreed, sounding as though she didn’t quite believe it herself. “He’s—well, you’ve seen him in action. He has a way of just looking at a woman that’s...suggestive.”
“So I wasn’t imagining that?”
Jo laughed. “Nope. That’s just how he is.”
This did nothing to explain how, exactly, Jo had wound up with Phillip. Of all the men in the world, Whitney would have put “playboy bachelor” pretty low on the list of possible husbands for Jo. But Whitney had no idea how to ask the question without it coming out wrong.
It could be that the Phillip in the kitchen wasn’t the same as the Phillip in the headlines. Maybe things had been twisted and turned until nothing but the name was the same. More than anyone, Whitney knew how that worked.
“He has a horse,” Jo explained, looking sheepish. “Sun—Kandar’s Golden Sun.”
Whitney goggled at her. “Wait—I’ve heard of that horse. Didn’t he sell for seven million dollars?”
“Yup. And he was a hot mess at any price,” she added with a chuckle. “Took me a week before he’d just stand still, you know?”
Whitney nodded, trying to picture a horse that screwed up. When Jo had come out to Whitney’s ranch to deal with Sterling, the horse of hers that had developed an irrational fear of water, it’d taken her only a few hours in the paddock before the horse was rubbing his head against Jo. “A whole week?”
“Any other horse would have died of sheer exhaustion, but that’s what makes Sun special. I can take you down to see him after dinner. He’s an amazing stud—one to build a stable on.”
“So the horse brought you together?”
Jo nodded. “I know Phillip’s got a reputation—that’s part of why Matthew insists we have this big wedding, to show the world that Phillip’s making a commitment. But he’s been sober for seven months now. We’ll have a sober coach on hand at the reception.” A hint of a blush crept over Jo’s face. “If you’d like...”
Whitney nodded. She wasn’t the only one who was having trouble voicing her concerns. “I don’t think there’s going to be a problem. I’ve been clean for almost eleven years.” She swallowed. “Does Phillip know who I am?”
“Sure.” Jo’s eyebrow notched up in challenge. “You’re Whitney Maddox, the well-known horse breeder.”
“No, not that. I mean—well, you know what I mean.”
“He knows,” Jo said, giving Whitney the look that she’d seen Jo give Donald the hippie when he gave her a lecture on how she should switch to biodiesel. “But we understand that the past is just that—the past.”
“Oh.” Air rushed out of her so fast she actually sagged in relief. “That’s good. That’s great. I just don’t want to be a distraction—this is your big day.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Jo said in a reassuring voice. “And you’re right—the day will be very big!”
They laughed. It felt good to laugh with Jo again. She hadn’t had to stay a whole two months with Whitney last year—Sterling hadn’t been that difficult to handle—but the two of them had gotten along because they understood that the past was just that. So Jo had stayed through the slow part of the year and taught Whitney some of her training techniques. It’d been a good two months. For the first time in her adult life, Whitney hadn’t felt quite so...alone.
And now she’d get that feeling again for two weeks.
“And you’re happy?” That was the important question.
Jo’s features softened. “I am. He’s a good man who had an interesting life—to say the least. He’s learned how to deal with his family with all that charm. He wasn’t hitting on you—that’s just how he copes with situations that make him nervous.”
“Really? He must have an, um, unusual family.”
Jo laughed again. “I’ll just say this—they’re a lot to handle, but on the whole, they’re not bad people. Like Matthew. He can be a little controlling, but he really does want what’s best for the family and for us.” She stood. “I’ll let you get freshened up. Matthew should be here in a few.”
“Sounds good.”
Jo shut the door on her way out, leaving Whitney alone with her thoughts. She was glad she’d come.
This was what she wanted—to feel normal. To be normal. To be able to walk into a room and not be concerned with what people thought they knew about her. Instead, to have people, like Phillip, take her at face value and make her feel welcome.
And he had a brother who was coming to dinner.
What did Matthew Beaumont look like? More to the point, what did he act like? Brothers could like a lot of the same things, right?
What if Matthew Beaumont looked at her the way his brother did, without caring about who she’d been in the past? What if he talked to her about horses instead of headlines? What if—? What if he wasn’t involved with anyone?
Whitney didn’t hook up. That part of her life was dead and buried. But...a little Christmas romance between the maid of honor and the best man wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it? It could be fun.
She hurried to the bathroom, daring to hope that this Matthew Beaumont was single. He was coming to dinner tonight and it sounded as if he would be involved with a lot of the planned activities. She was here for two weeks. Perhaps the built-in time limit was a good thing. That way, if things didn’t go well, she had an out—she could go home.
Although...it had been eleven years since she’d attempted anything involving the opposite sex. Making a pass at the best man might not be the smartest thing she could do.
She washed her face. A potential flirtation with Matthew Beaumont called for eyeliner, at the very least. Whitney made up her face and decided to put on a fresh top. She dug out the black silk before putting it aside. Jo was in jeans and flannel, after all. This was not a fancy dinner. Whitney decided to go with the red V-neck cashmere sweater—soft but not ostentatious. The kind of top that maybe a single, handsome man would accidentally brush with his fingers. Perfect.
Would
