âYouâll never know if you can make it unless you try. But if youâre afraid, Iâll go back and bring a truck,â Derek said beside her.
Sydney gave him a thin glare. He was the reason she felt determined to get up that snow bank that rose twice as high as her head. âAnd here I thought you were going to manage not to say something insulting. I am not afraid.â
He lifted his hands innocently, but the devilish curl on his lips was anything but. âIt was just an offer.â
âI think I can manage,â she told him. âYouâre not giving me a push, either,â she told him under her breath.
âDidnât offer, cupcake. But if you want my hands on your butt, say the word. We donât have to like each other to want each other.â
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to the world of Weaver, Wyoming and the Double-C Family!
Derek Clay is a pretty traditional guy. Believes in family, duty, honour. He works hard, likes a beer and a game of pool with his cousins now and then, and can definitely appreciate a pretty woman.
Sydney Forrest isnât exactly a traditional girl. Sheâs an heiress, for one thing. Having never experienced a particularly happy home life, sheâs never thought that âfamilyâ was for her. But now, Sydneyâs in the family way, and for the benefit of her child, sheâs re-evaluating her entire lifestyle.
His life is pretty settled and he likes that just fine. Her life is anything but settled, but she thinks at least sheâs got a plan.
And then they meetâ¦
Best wishes,
Allison
âDonât pay any attention to him, Syd. Heâs full of it.â
Sydney Forrest hugged her arms around her chest. She could hear her sisterâs voice, but it was overridden by the loud tones of her fatherâs still ringing inside her head.
You âre a worthless slut.
Just like your mother.
She stared out the windows overlooking the long, sloping green lawns that spread from their house down to the white-steepled stables. Her dark-haired father was striding across them, his long legs eating up the distance as he headed for the only thingâas far as she could tellâthat he did care about.
The Forrestâs Crossing Thoroughbreds. They even came before Forco, the familyâs textile business. At least thatâs what her sister Charlotte was always saying.
Char wanted to run the huge business someday. As far as Sydney was concerned, her sister was welcome to it. The same went for her older brother Jakeâhe was studying agribusiness at college. Whatever the heck that was.
âIt was only a kiss,â Charlotte continued from behind her. She was being as practical as ever. âNo big deal.â
It had been a big deal to Sydney.
She was fourteen years old, and it had been her first kiss. Her first real kiss.
âI wonder if heâd have cared so much if Iâd been kissing the son of one of his country club friends,â she said bitterly. âInstead of one of the boys from the stable.â
Charlotte threw her arm around Sydneyâs shoulders. She pressed her head against Sydneyâs, her blond hair a sharp contrast to Sydneyâs raven-black tresses. âWho knows?â she asked on a sigh. At eighteen, she was four years older than Sydney and decades smarter. Charlotte had kissed plenty of boys, but she knew better than to be caught doing so anywhere around Forrestâs Crossing. âDidnât help that heâs obviously been drinking.â She waved her hand at the crystal decanter that was sitting, unstoppered, on the desk. âIf you really like Andy, just meet him in town. Or at school,â she advised. âThe old man never has to know.â
âAm I really just like her?â
Charlotte didnât have to ask what Sydney meant. âYou donât remember what she looked like when she left?â
Sydney shook her head. She wanted to think she remembered her mother. But what she remembered of the woman whoâd abandoned her three children when Sydney was a baby was more likely just wishful thinking.
As wishful as thinking that her father had any affection at all for the children his wife had given himâparticularly Sydney.
Charlotte crossed their fatherâs study to his desk. She tipped the pens and pencils out of a silver mint julep cupâthe only thing besides the decanter sitting on top of the gleaming wood surfaceâand fished the desk key out from the bottom. Opening the locked center drawer, she moved a few things, then pulled out a ragged-edged snapshot. She held it up. âJust âcause you look like her doesnât mean you are like her,â she warned.