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It wasn’t fair. Harley scowled, dragging her hand down the barn wall before turning and leaning against it. There had to be a way she could get out of this. Knowing her mother, there would be a contract Harley would have to sign—a prenup with an added clause regarding her inheritance.

Harley groaned, lifting her face to the sky. She finally felt like she’d found her place. With all the turmoil swirling within her, maybe she was making the wrong choice. What if her happiness was more important? Wasn’t a change of heart enough?

Would Mason even want her if he knew she wasn’t going to see a dime of that money?

She had promised him that new cottage or barn or whatever.

Footsteps dragged her from her wallowing, and she focused on Mason’s silhouette in the darkness. With the light from the house at his back and him sporting that cowboy hat, he looked like every hero in every Western novel.

“Something’s up.”

“I said—”

“I know what you said,” he said, moving closer to take a seat beside her. “I don’t believe a lick of it.” His shoulder pressed against hers as they sat there in the darkness. “So, tell me what’s going on.”

She couldn’t bear to look at him even though she could barely see the worried planes in his face that were lit by the reflection of the moon.

“Is it us?”

Harley stiffened.

He sighed. “I thought so. Did your uncle say something?”

“What? No! Did he say something to you?”

Based on Mason’s silence, she knew. They’d had a talk—probably about how they were too different, and he needed to find someone who was better. Harley’s scowl deepened. “My uncle doesn’t like me very much, does he?”

“He never said that.”

“He never had to. I’ve always been a disappointment. From the moment I could walk, not a single member of my family thought I had what it takes to be a Pembrooke.”

“Then maybe you were never meant to be a Pembrooke,” Mason said softly.

Harley snorted. “That is probably the first thing you’ve said that my mother would agree with you about.”

“I doubt that,” Mason mumbled.

“You haven’t met my mother.”

“Parents are overrated.”

She glanced at him, their conversation about parents coming to the forefront of her mind. They really shouldn’t be comparing notes on parents. It was too much of a sore spot between them. There was only one thing that was important enough for them to discuss right now, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle it. “Mason, I think we need to talk—”

“You were right.”

Her mouth snapped shut and she stiffened.

“You first,” he amended.

“No. You can’t say something like that after what we’d been discussing and expect me to just go along with it. What am I right about?”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You go.”

Harley scrambled to her feet and stared down at him. “Was it my uncle? Or was it about us? What did you guys talk about?”

Mason peered up at her from beneath his hat, but all she could see was a glint in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter because I don’t care.

“But I do,” she insisted. “What did Vern tell you?”