Page 35 of Beyond Question

Back in the hot seat, I guess.

“Mom,” Bronte says pointedly, “doyoufeel calm when he’s around?”

No.

Yes.

No.“He’s a Wilder.”

Brontë groans.

“I really don’t understand why that matters. It’s just a last name.” Rylan pauses, offering me a soft smile. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know why you’re judging him on something he cannot control.” She sighs. “You’re so open minded about, like, literally everything else…”

Brontë looks at Rylan and motions toward me. “Don’t you know? Mom hatesnepotism.” She says the word like she’s saying Voldemort, all quiet and theatrical. With jazz hands. “I’m probably not even in her will.”

“Stop it,” I say, growing tired of this entire conversation. I’m being lectured by a couple of women who have barely reached adulthood. What is it they say, that the brain doesn’t stop growing until at least twenty-five? I sigh, then stare across my desk at my daughter. “Of course you’re in my will, Bronte Nicole.” I roll my eyes and dismiss that silliness with a flick of my wrist.

“It’s not really nepotism.”

“What?”

She shrugs. “Travis—”

Bronte gasps dramatically. “You mean he’s not one of Mother’s dreaded nepo babies?”

“Bronte, really.” I sigh.

“No,” Rylan says. “He’s not. He hates his dad. He works for Cabot, remember? Not Wilder Holdings. He doesn’t even talk to his family on holidays.” She chuckles, then adds, “He spends Christmas with us.”

I swallow hard, the words a shock. I tried to hide my surprise from these two, though, lest they pounce. But it’s not just my feelings about rich men and families like the Wilders. There’s a list of reasons I don’t date—Travis or anyone else. A list of reasons I keep my private life private.

Or, well, nonexistent.

And if he knew my reasons? If he knew why Irunas he so likes to say, he’d be the one running—in the opposite direction.

So I take a deep breath and shuffle a stack of contracts on my desk. “Well, ladies, if you two are done…”

Bronte clucks her tongue. “Come on, Rylan, we’re being dismissed. She’s done listening to us, but she knows she’s wrong.”

“Bronte—”

My daughter raises her hands in surrender. “I said what I said.” She walks around my desk and gives me a kiss on the cheek, then whispers, “Give him a chance.”

“No.”

Rylan at least has the wisdom to look sheepish as she leaves my office.

I lean back and sigh. How have I found myself in the position of having the two most important women in my life teaming up against me?

Damn that Travis Wilder.

Chapter Twelve

Travis

Two weeks after thesecondtime Paige walked away from me, I still haven’t heard from her, and though I didn’t expect to after the way we left things, I was hopeful that Bronte might be able to work some magic on my behalf.

But here I am, no closer to Paige and unable to move on.