crowbar.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Daniel.”
Tell me what’s going on! Tell me why Alex was crying. Tell me something, anything to help me understand. Daniel rubbed his hands over his face, before turning to head out the door. He needed a whiskey, possibly two. Anything to help him numb his worry about Alex, his annoyance that he’d agreed to be part of this dumb auction. Not to mention the vague apprehension that no one would bid on him, the bastard son of Royal’s wildest child.
God, now he sounded like a loser wallowing in self-pity. He’d brought The Silver C back from the brink of ruin, was regarded as one of the most talented young ranchers in the state. He was rich, respected. Who the hell cared that his mother was a crazy narcissist who was incapable of love and that his father had walked out on them before he was born?
“Daniel.”
He was about to step through the door when he heard Rachel speak his name. He turned around slowly and saw the anxiety in her eyes. Oh crap, this was bad. “Yeah?”
Rachel hesitated and blew air into her cheeks. “Nothing. Ignore me.”
Daniel growled his frustration and threw up his hands. “For God’s sake, Rachel! What?”
Rachel’s hands were white against her clipboard. “Tonight, later, when you run into her, just be gentle, okay?”
And what, in the name of all that was holy, did that mean?
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