Page 2 of Bad Boy Husband

JAMESON

C ecelia Westwood had never met an excuse she couldn’t use to throw a party. Seriously, my mother lived for French champagne, overpriced canapes, and a house full of people.

Today, everything was pink. The paper lanterns, the velvet bows on the white garden chairs, and the blush-colored peonies arranged on the tables. All because Laney and Sterling had discovered they were going to have a little girl.

For once, I was totally behind Mom’s excuse for having a party, but by the time the third older lady had pinched my arm, saying you’re next, Jameson , I found myself tossing back scotch like it might save me from drowning myself in pink tulle.

I really was excited for my oldest brother and his wife, but shit, I wasn’t rushing to copy them.

I really wished people would stop looking at me like they were about to ask for a semen sample just to have it tested for motility in advance.

“Excuse me,” I said to the latest potential sperm-seeker. “I need to grab a refill.”

I held up my empty glass, flashed the smirk I’d perfected years ago, and backed away without waiting for permission. I’d made my rounds, cracking quick jokes and distracting people with a personality just shiny enough that they would never see the cracks underneath.

The arm-pinching, clinking glasses, and sticky heat had gotten too much for me, though. I strode past the doors leading outside after hitting up the bar. A quick look around told me no one seemed to be watching, so I side-stepped, veering off course and slipping out to the veranda.

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled. The air was marginally less perfumed out here. The order of the flower arrangements still tugged at the corner of my mind, though. Three vases to the left, two to the right. Who the fuck does something like that?

While I wondered just what idiot she’d hired to do the flowers for this shindig, my mother’s voice drifted out from inside. “I’m just thrilled we’re finally getting a girl,” she gushed. “After so many boys in the family, you have no idea how I’ve longed for this.”

“Oh, she’ll be spoiled rotten, CC,” one of her friends cooed. “I’m sure you’ve already started shopping.”

“Of course.” Mom laughed. “We’ve earned a little sparkle after generations of muddy boots and dirty knees.”

I took another sip of my scotch, the burn steadying me. The first Westwood girl in years. Mom was probably already mentally monogramming nursery pillows.

I moved farther away from the doors, needing to not hear about any of this stuff for a minute. As I rounded the corner toward the front of the house, I saw Trent arriving and grinned. Finally, someone I actually want to talk to.

In fact, I was the one who’d invited him. We didn’t see each other often these days, but he was the closest thing I had to a best friend who wasn’t biologically related to me.

I made my way to the steps to intercept him on his way in, thinking back to when we’d met, just two middle school kids in identical blazers, fumbling through Latin phrases and football practice together.

We’d been unlikely friends, with him being the cowboy, the golden boy, and captain of everything while I was a Westwood with a chip on my shoulder, a bad attitude, and a knack for talking my way out of Saturday detentions.

But we’d bonded. By the time we’d hit freshman year at a boarding school in Dallas where the tuition could fund a small country and every kid had carried a last name that opened doors, we’d been inseparable.

Trent’s family ranch had become a second home to me for those four years of high school. I’d spent Sundays in the saddle, breathing in the scent of leather and dust.

That was also where I’d gotten close to her . Sadie, Trent’s little sister.

Sadie Elizabeth whatever-the-hell-her-other-middle-name-is Shepard.

She’d quickly become the object of both my wildest, most indecent fantasies and my worst goddamn nightmares.

Before this summer, I hadn’t seen her for years, yet here she was again, walking up the steps with her brother, who had been the reason our whirlwind romance had ended so abruptly.

For half a second, I froze. It had been almost two months since I’d last seen her at Laney’s block party. Two months in which I’d kept myself busy with the usual boring things that made every day fold neatly into the next like the shirts lined up by color in my closet.

Seeing her again now threatened to knock the breath right out of me, even though I should’ve known she might be here. Her gorgeous red hair was pulled into a smooth, sleek ponytail and those bright blue eyes were wide for some reason. Probably because of all the pink.

Just as I felt a smile—not a smirk, but an actual smile—touch the corners of my lips, Trent spotted me. His face lit up and he came right over. “Jameson, you son of a bitch. How the hell are you?”

“Tiberius.” I straightened, glass of scotch hanging at my side as I let the more familiar, cocky half-grin settle into place on my lips like a reflex. “I was wondering if you were going to grace us with your presence.”

“Call me that again and my boot is going to grace your ass with its presence.” He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder almost hard enough to spill what was left of my drink. “It’s been too damn long, man.”

“Agreed. You Texans have a bad habit of disappearing once you cross state lines,” I said. My eyes flicked over his shoulder to her.

Sadie .

She was watching me even though she hadn’t joined her brother to come say hi.

Her mouth was curved into that secret, knowing smirk that had always grated on my nerves and turned my blood hotter than lava.

She stared at me with that same look in her eyes that seemed to say, I know exactly why you can’t sleep some nights .

God, she got under my skin like no one else. Time hadn’t changed a damn thing about that.

“I’m building a new house out on the ranch,” Trent was saying when I turned my gaze back to his. A much safer spot for it. “Maybe in the fall, you could come out and see it. Bring a bottle or two and stay for a weekend?”

“Yeah, sure. I might take you up on that.”

“Do,” Trent said easily. “It’ll be good to get the old crew back together again.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t really focus, even on my best fucking friend, with her right there, looking at me like she could see right through the suit, the smirk, and the carelessness I projected.

When Trent turned to greet another of our old friends, my head swung back to her and I gave her a silent what do you want? look.

She just rolled her eyes, as slow, deliberate, and dismissive as ever, and turned on her heels.

Her ponytail swung across her back as she strode away, heading straight for Laney and the group of Mom’s friends still cooing over ultrasound photos, baby name predictions, or whatever the hell they were onto now.

Fucking Sadie. Start the fire, watch it catch, then walk off before you have to deal with the smoke.

Sadie Shepard was the best mistake I’d ever made—and the only one I’d never managed to fix.

Trent let out a slow exhale once she was gone, like he’d been waiting to get something off his chest. “She wouldn’t shut up about Laney the whole damn drive here.

It sounds like they’re best friends now or something.

She talked my ear off about the colors they’re considering for the nursery and all that jazz. ”

“Seriously? She’s playing fairy godmother?” I smirked, though it felt tight around the edges. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“Hell, neither did I,” Trent muttered, shifting his weight. “It kind of felt like I was back in the den at the big house, you know? Listening to Harlan go on about how none of us boys were married yet and offering to set us up with his business partners’ daughters.”

I laughed. “By the big house, you do mean this house, right? Otherwise, you and my father have some explaining to do about why you were in jail together.”

He shrugged. “Nah, if Harlan and I had gone to jail together, it would’ve been to bust your ass out of there.”

“Fair enough. What do you mean, though? Why did the drive remind you of those bullshit lectures?”

He glanced out at the gardens before shaking his head. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about her getting her trust fund yanked. What was left of it, anyway. It wasn’t much, but yeah. It’s all true.”

Something in my chest went oddly still. “Are you serious? I heard about it a couple months ago, but I just kind of assumed it was gossip.”

“Nope.” He scrubbed his palm along the side of jaw.

“She’s living in some shitty warehouse studio apartment now and she’s working as a vet tech to scrape by, but she’s pouring everything she earns into that half-dead nonprofit of hers.

Mom and Dad hate it. They think it makes the family look soft. You know what I’m talking about.”

I stayed quiet, but the ice in my empty glass rattled in my hand.

Sadie Shepard, the girl who used to wear thousand-dollar dresses barefoot on the ranch lawn, was living paycheck to paycheck.

It was kind of tough to believe. Although I had looked her up on Instagram on occasion. I’d seen all the causes she supported.

Money pits. Every last one of ‘em.

“What about her inheritance?” I asked, keeping voice low. “You always used to say that your grandmother set you up a little bit. Enough to get you ahead if you needed it.”

“That’s still there,” he said. “She just can’t touch the five million unless she settles down. Dear old GamGam made sure that tail would swing back to sting us. Sadie’s got to get married if she wants it.”

Five million dollars, huh? It wasn’t much, but it was enough to fix a lot of problems for her. If only she tied the knot. A reckless thought took shape in my head, sharp and wild, but it felt weirdly solid too, like it was something I’d already decided years ago but had forgotten until now.