Page 46 of The Rancher Married the Wrong Sister (Billionaires of Evergreen, Texas #13)

I LOCK THE BATHROOM stall door behind me and lean against it, my cheeks burning as memories from the car ride flood back.

His mouth on mine.

His hands...everywhere.

The way he made me feel things I didn’t even know were possible.

“You’ve never been kissed.”

The memory of his rough voice saying those words makes my stomach flip all over again. And then what happened after...

I press my palms to my flaming cheeks. I can still feel the phantom touch of his fingers, still remember the way he murmured my name when I—

Stop it, Wednesday. Just stop.

But I can’t. Because for the first time since this whole nightmare began, I felt like maybe, just maybe...

I wasn’t completely invisible to him.

Or at least not the way I’ve always been invisible to everyone else.

I know he said it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but...people change their minds, right? They realize things. Feel things they didn’t expect to feel.

Don’t they?

I close my eyes and try to calm my racing heart. I know I’m being ridiculous. I know I shouldn’t hope. But after what just happened between us...how can I not?

The bathroom door opens with a soft whoosh, and I hear multiple sets of heels clicking across the marble floor.

“I can’t believe he actually married her!”

The woman’s voice drifts over the stall dividers, and my hand falls away from the door.

“ I know, right?” Another voice joins in, slightly higher pitched. “ When I saw her walk through the lobby, I thought she was someone ’ s daughter. She looks so...young.”

“ Young and completely out of her depth.” A third voice, this one with a slight Southern accent. “ Did you see that dress? Sweet, but hardly appropriate for a business environment.”

I press myself further back against the stall door, my heart hammering so loud I’m surprised they can’t hear it.

“ Poor thing probably has no idea what she ’ s gotten herself into,” the first woman continues. “ Being married to someone like Mr. Launcelot...the social expectations alone would crush most people.”

“ Forget the social expectations,” the second woman scoffs. “ What about the business side? He needs a wife who can hold her own in boardroom discussions, who understands corporate strategy. Someone who can be an asset to his empire, not a liability.”

“Remember that last woman he’s been dating on and off? The one on Instagram?”

“I think her name’s Jessica...something or other.”

“Right, that’s her! Now that’s the kind of woman who suits Mr. Launcelot.”

“ Whatever happened to her anyway?” the Southern voice asks. “ They seemed so perfect together.”

“ Who knows? Maybe she realized what a demanding bastard he can be and ran for the hills.” Sharp laughter follows, the kind that makes me wince. “ Can ’ t say I blame her. Though this new wife...she ’ s definitely not going to last long if she ’ s as naive as she looks.”

“ Can you imagine her in bed with him?” The second woman’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “ He ’ s so...intense. She probably just lies there like a dead fish.”

More laughter.

“ She ’ ll bore him to tears within a month,” the first woman agrees. “ Mark my words, hon. He ’ ll be looking for a mistress before their first anniversary. Someone with actual experience who knows how to please a man like that.”

“ Poor little thing probably thinks missionary position is adventurous,” the Southern voice adds, and they all dissolve into giggles.

I bite down hard on my lip to keep from making a sound.

“ It ’ s almost sad, really,” the first woman continues once their laughter dies down. “ She has no idea she ’ s just going to drag him down. A man in his position needs a partner who elevates him, not some small-town girl who ’ ll make him look desperate.”

“ Or damaged,” the second voice adds. “ Like he couldn ’ t do better so he settled for whatever was available.”

“She’ll probably cost him business deals just by existing. Imagine bringing her to client dinners or charity galas. The secondhand embarrassment alone...”

Their voices fade as they move toward the sinks, but I can still hear fragments.

“...such a waste...”

“...deserves so much better...”

“...just a matter of time...”

The bathroom door opens and closes.

The room goes quiet.

And that’s when I realize I’m crying.

I can taste the salt on my lips, feel the hot tracks down my cheeks. My hands are shaking as I fumble for toilet paper to wipe my face.

They’re right.

Of course they’re right.

I’ve always known I was different from Jessica. She’s the one who lights up rooms, who commands attention without even trying. She’s the one with the successful social media career, the one who travels to fashion weeks in Paris and Milan.

Years ago, she told me flat out that my existence was hurting her brand.

That having a sister like me—boring, ordinary, unfashionable—would cost her followers if people found out.

It would make her look...less than. Like she came from common stock instead of the glamorous world she’d carefully crafted online.

And so of course, I stayed away.

Because what she said was true, and so I swallowed my pride and learned to stay in the background, to make myself as invisible as possible when she was building her life. It’s why I never asked to be included in family photos she posted, why I never mentioned our relationship when people asked.

And now it seems like one day soon, I might have to do the same thing for Gavine.

Because those women were right about everything. I am out of my depth. I am naive and inexperienced and completely wrong for someone like him. I will drag him down, make him look desperate, cost him opportunities.

The woman who belongs at his side is sophisticated and confident. She knows about boardrooms and business deals and probably a thousand things I’ve never even heard of. She doesn’t blush when he looks at her. She doesn’t gasp and tremble at the simplest touch.

She certainly doesn’t fall apart in the back of a car like some desperate virgin who’s never been touched by a man.

Fresh tears spill down my cheeks as the truth hits me.

I’m still the wrong sister.

I’m still the placeholder he’s stuck with until he can find a way out.

And while I know the kindest thing I can do for both of us is to stay out of his way, just like I’ve done in the past to avoid ruining Jessica’s life simply by existing...

We are always where God wants us to be.

Clarice’s words come back to me out of the blue, and I bite my lip hard upon remembering the housekeeper’s advice, when I admitted to her one afternoon how I still feel out of place in Gavine’s world.

As for how long we’re supposed to stay, what we’re supposed to do, and who we’re supposed to talk to...that’s all Him, too. He’ll give you all the answers you need, but He won’t force you to believe it.

That same night, Clarice had shown me the incredible collection of Bibles in my husband’s library, tucked away in a hidden drawer at the back and collecting dust since his mother’s passing.

“Here, Mrs. Launcelot...” The older woman pointed out a passage to me.

“You can hold on to this every day of your life.”

Philippians 4:13 AMP I have strength for all things in Christ Who empowers me [I am ready for anything and equal to anything through Him Who infuses inner strength into me; I am self-sufficient in Christ ’ s sufficiency].

THE MERGER DOCUMENTS sprawled across Gavine’s glass desk like a paper battlefield, each page dense with terms and conditions that would reshape two companies by morning.

Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the corner office, offering a commanding view of the city skyline, while sleek steel shelving displayed industry awards that caught the late afternoon light.

Roxanne watched her boss scrawl his signature across the final acquisition agreement, his fountain pen scratching against the cream-colored paper with practiced efficiency.

The Hartwell Industries deal had taken months to negotiate, and these were the last documents standing between Gavine and his newest conquest.

But her mind wasn’t on corporate takeovers.

It was on the sweet young woman who’d walked through these doors an hour ago, looking around the sterile executive suite with wide violet eyes full of genuine wonder. Not calculating appraisal like every other woman Gavine had ever brought here. Just...wonder.

May the Lord have pity on her, Roxanne thought, suppressing a shudder as she remembered the way Wednesday had gazed at her husband. Pure, starry-eyed infatuation written across every feature of that heart-shaped face. The girl didn’t have a clue what she’d gotten herself into.

Or who she’d married.

“That’s the last of it,” Gavine said, capping his pen and leaning back in his leather chair.

Roxanne snapped back to attention, gathering the signed documents with brisk efficiency. “Thank you, Mr. Launcelot.”

She should have left then. Should have filed the papers and called it a day like she had every evening for the past ten years. Instead, she remained standing in front of his desk, the weight of unspoken words pressing against her chest.

Gavine’s dark gray eyes sharpened. “Out with it.”

He knew this had to be about Wednesday. He had seen how his secretary had transformed the moment his wife appeared, with the usually stern woman melting into someone warm and maternal as she’d shown Wednesday around the executive floor, pointing out artwork and offering coffee like she was welcoming a beloved niece.

“Say what, Mr. Launcelot?” Roxanne’s voice carried that deceptively innocent tone that meant trouble.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I have to,” Roxanne answered. “Otherwise, what I want to say could make me lose my job—”

“I can still fire you, you know.”

“Because it makes one wonder, when looking at your wife—”

“I changed my mind,” Gavine interrupted. “Go back to playing dumb.”

“Why in the world would she marry someone like you?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Because I’m not dumb. I know if I asked your wife, her answer would likely be so sincerely sweet that it would have me gagging and questioning her sanity...”

His lips curved in satisfaction. “You like her then.”

“Not as much as you like her—”

“I never—”

“HR told me about your call. You had those three women who were spreading gossip about your wife suspended.”

“Because gossip is a violation. It’s in the handbook.”

“And yet it has never been enforced until now.”

His jaw clenched. “What’s your point, Roxanne?”

“That there’s hope for you yet.”

“Then I’ll have to apologize.”

Roxanne frowned. “For what?”

“For having to tell you straight that you’re dumber than you think.”

“Mr. Launcelot!” He had never been this rude, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be furious...because of what she saw in his eyes.

“I want her,” Gavine said edgily. “I won’t deny that. But I neither like nor need her. And that’s why she’s better off without someone like me.”