Page 41 of Framing the Pitch (Red Dirt Romance #1)

I tilt my head, making sure I heard her right. “Are you insinuating that I planned to have Trace’s ex-girlfriend stalk him, somehow figure out where we were, and crash Jenna’s reception? Because I would never intentionally ruin Jenna’s wedding.”

The past twenty-two years finally come into sharp focus.

It was never about me not being good enough at skiing to pursue it as a sport.

It was never about choosing to forgo the family legacy.

It was all about Mom and Dad choosing a favorite and it not being me.

Nothing I ever did—will ever do—was good enough for them because it was me .

Not because I didn’t put in the effort, but because I was born tall.

Because I wasn’t naturally gifted. Because I wasn’t the child they thought they were getting when they planned for “gold medal babies. ”

“Intentional or not,” Mom scoffs, aware enough of the onlookers to keep her voice low so she can’t be overheard.

She’s been wearing her best face all day for the wedding guests, but of course, I’m not worth the niceties.

“This is your fault. All these people”—Mom looks around at the wedding guests who are giving us the side-eye, watching the direction Millie was taken, or flat out staring—“are here for Jenna, not to be the audience for your relationship drama. And for what? To be with a man who will drop you like yesterday’s trash the moment you no longer suit him?

Because we all saw what will become of you when he leaves you. ”

She looks pointedly in the direction Millie was taken. Of course, she’d think I’m just another Millie to Trace. Because she never took the time to be involved enough in my life to meet him at one of my college games or bother to ask if I’d bring him home for a visit.

I rear back like I’ve been slapped. “Say whatever you want about me, that’s fine.

But don’t disparage Trace like you know anything about him.

He’s been there for me when you haven’t.

He’s been the one to pull me through the hard times.

And I love him for every moment he puts my needs above his own.

So don’t assume you know anything based on one interaction because you’re barely getting the tip of the iceberg. ”

Mom purses her lips, but her eyes still hold a defiant fire.

I look to Dad, who unsurprisingly isn’t saying anything.

His idea of parenting is “That’s what she said” without the funny innuendo.

He just puts his support behind Mom and lets her do the talking.

In all the years I’ve been away, nothing has changed.

And I’m done trying to force them to respect me and my decisions.

Exhaling through my nose, I take a step back.

“I'm done.” I look back and forth between them and shake my head. “With both of you. Don’t call. Don’t text.

Don’t write.” My gaze hardens as I look at my mom one last time.

“And you sure as hell better not show up to any of my games looking for an apology. I have no reservations about telling security to escort you out of the stadium.”

The last thing I see is Mom’s mouth pop open before I pivot and walk back to where Trace is still on the phone with Duke.

“Yeah, I can be back there tomorrow. Thanks for getting all of this sorted out, Duke. Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.” Trace’s eyes and hands are instantly on me as he slips his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Are you okay?”

I blink, waiting for the tears to come, but they don’t. Mom doesn’t deserve my tears, anyway. Lifting my chin, I slip my hand into his. “I’m fine. But it’s time to go.”

Trace nods, never second guessing my decision, and starts guiding me toward the pavilion and the gondola terminal beyond. As we slip between the tables full of wedding guests who aren’t very good at hiding their furtive glances, I pull on Trace’s hand, slowing him to a stop.

“I need to talk to Jenna,” I tell him as I change direction and make my way out to the dance floor, where Jenna and her new husband are swaying to a slow song.

“Jenna,” I say, loudly enough to be heard over the music but not so loud as to attract any more attention.

She turns her head but continues swaying with Ryker.

“I’m out of here.” I glance back at where Mom and Dad are now arguing outside of the pavilion where I left them, and Jenna follows my line of sight.

“For good this time. I’m so happy for you and Ryker, and I’m proud of you, and I love you.

” The tears that didn’t want to fall earlier are making their appearance as Jenna’s face morphs into a frown full of understanding.

“I don’t think I ever said that enough. ”

Jenna pulls away from Ryker and wraps her arms around my middle.

I squeeze her back in the most genuine hug I’ve ever given my little sister.

“I’m sorry I never call, but if you’re ever out in Texas, come visit me.

I’ll always have a spot open for you, if you want it.

” I do my best to hold in my tears, but the wedding ceremony is long over, and the makeup artist’s warning is well past its expiration.

“I love you, Naomi.” Jenna’s mumbled words against my chest fill me with a light feeling in the midst of all this heaviness.

“I love you, too, Jenna.” I hold her for a second longer before pushing her away and back into Ryker’s arms. “Congratulations, you two.”

After a final thank you from my new brother-in-law, I leave the reception with Trace.

The gondola ride back to the hotel is spent wrapped in Trace’s arms, not talking about what happened or what’s going to happen.

There will be plenty of time for that later.

But there’s only a few minutes to enjoy this quiet moment with him, watching the sun set behind the Colorado mountains while in a gondola high above the trees.

My brain is running on overdrive by the time Trace and I get back to our room. I kick off my heels and immediately start packing them back into my suitcase, but Trace covers my hands with his and pulls me away from my things.

Turning me to face him, Trace catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tips my head up so I’m looking him in the eye.

His thumb brushes my bottom lip before he slowly lowers his face to mine.

The kiss is so gentle, so sweet, it’s almost difficult to imagine that it’s the same man who rocked my world with a kiss yesterday.

When we break the kiss, he slides his hand behind my neck and pulls me forward until our foreheads are touching. “Thank you,” he says, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Thank you for what you did with Millie tonight. And with your parents. I—”

Trace’s voice breaks, and he brings his other hand up to cradle both sides of my face.

Pushing me away just far enough that he can look at me, Trace rolls his lips over his teeth and searches my face.

“I don’t know if I made it clear last night, but this is it for me— you are it for me.

” He guides my forehead back to his, and I breathe deeply, filling myself with his scent and steadiness.

When he speaks again, his voice is deep, quiet, almost dangerous. “Are you done pretending, Naomi?”

I slide my hands up his chest, catching his tie between my fingers. I pull on the knot, loosening it from his throat. Trace’s dilated pupils nearly black out the golden brown of his irises while he watches me unfasten the silky fabric.

I slip his tie out from underneath his collar, tossing it onto the floor with my shoes.

His hands come to my waist as I press closer, burning prints into my skin where his heat sears through the thin silk of my dress.

Trace’s mouth drops close to mine as I slide my hands around his neck, but I pull back, preventing our lips from meeting in what’s promising to be the best kiss of my life.

“I’m done pretending, Trace.”