“What a fantastic idea, Annabel.” Frankie beamed. “And this place is incredible. I adore lovely old buildings like this. When was it built?”
“It was completed in 1934. Thus the art deco style.” Annabel indicated the geometric wallpaper design and the beautiful terrazzo flooring with its intricate geometric pattern.
“This place will be absolutely stunning once you’ve renovated it. Then maybe accent it with some vintage pieces that would go well with the era of the architecture,” Frankie went on excitedly.
Her friend had barely been able to tame her enthusiasm from the moment they walked through the door. Frankie’s reaction was the exact opposite of Mason’s when she’d shown the old building to him and revealed her plans for it.
“That’s what I was thinking, too.” Annabel pointed to the space up front. “I’d love to get some comfy banquette seating built beneath the window and then along that wall.”
After they explored the shop, Annabel showed her friend the building next door and shared her plans for it before the late-summer sun went down.
Frankie hugged her. “I’m so happy for you, Annabel. This was your dream and you’re making it happen. What did Mason say?”
The joy and excitement Annabel had felt as she shared her plans with Frankie quickly faded. Mason’s scowl and utter disappointment filled her brain. A ball tightened in her stomach.
Mason Harrison worked for her father. He was an executive at Currin Oil, where he’d been quickly ascending the corporate ladder. They’d been engaged for nearly a year and their wedding date was only a couple months away. But he’d been angry and dismissive when she told him of her plans.
“I brought him here after we had lunch together the other day. He accused me of behaving like an impetuous little girl by buying this place without consulting him or my father.”
“I’m sure he was just surprised.” Frankie tried to sound reassuring. “He’ll come around.”
“No. He won’t,” Annabel admitted, her throat tightening. “He wants me to settle down and be a ‘proper’ society wife. And he expects me to give up my ‘little blog’ once we’re married.”
“Little blog? You have hundreds of thousands of followers and dozens of top tier sponsors.” Frankie folded her arms, indignant on her behalf. “You love what you do, and you’re making a really good living at it. Why would Mason expect you to give it up?”
“He doesn’t consider what I do a career, and he doesn’t want his wife working in some ‘run-down shack.’ Evidently, being an entrepreneur isn’t suitable for a ‘proper society wife.’” She used air quotes again. “Mason gave me an ultimatum. I wouldn’t budge.” Annabel shrugged. “So he broke off our engagement.”
“I’m sorry, Annabel. I didn’t realize how serious the argument was.” Frankie squeezed her arm. “Maybe Mason just needs to get used to the idea. And you’re still wearing his ring, so I bet you two will resolve this before the gala this weekend.”
“No.” Annabel’s unyielding tone seemed to surprise her friend. “Mason is looking for a trophy wife who’ll be content hosting cocktail parties and attending charity functions just to make him look good. I feel incredibly stupid that I didn’t recognize that before now.” She twisted the ring on her finger, suddenly self-conscious about it.
Why was she still wearing Mason’s engagement ring when it was clearly over between them?
Maybe some small part of her held out hope that they’d reconcile. But in talking to her friend, she realized something she hadn’t wanted to admit before. Mason Harrison wasn’t the man for her. She’d take the ring off once she’d told her father that the engagement was over. But she just hadn’t been ready to do that.
“My father says he won’t be able to attend the gala. Currin Oil is a platinum sponsor, so I need to be there to represent our family and the company.” Annabel sighed. “Besides, this event is important to me. We lost my mom to cancer, so I’ll do whatever I can to support this cause.”
“I wish Xander and I didn’t have plans that night. I hate to think of you there all alone.” Frankie frowned.
“I’ll be fine. Promise.” Annabel forced a smile for the sake of her friend.
“Usually, I’d offer a platitude like time heals all wounds, but I don’t think that’s what you want to hear right now.” Frankie wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “So let’s focus on the fact that you’ve taken the first step to fulfilling your dream. That calls for a celebration. And pie.”
Annabel grinned. “You had me at pie.”
Roarke Perry exited his rental SUV and stepped inside Farrah’s Coffee Shop. He smiled fondly as he inhaled the familiar scent. Dark, rich Columbian-roast coffee and a wide range of delicious pies. He’d always loved this little place. They had amazing coffee and Ms. Farrah made the best Texas pecan fudge pie in the state. Before he saw his father, Sterling Perry, again for the first time in years he needed both.
He got in line behind two women; one of them was a very pretty tomboy with a long brown braid over one shoulder. The other was a gorgeous biracial woman with high cheekbones, dark almond-shaped eyes and miles of smooth creamy skin. She wore cutoff jean shorts, a flouncy off-the-shoulder Bohemian blouse and her long legs were capped by a pair of broken-in brown-and-black cowboy boots. Her dark hair fell down her back in waves.
There was something about her voice and the sound of her laugh that captivated him.
The woman ordered a slice of lemon icebox pie and her friend ordered cherry. When she turned to leave, she nearly collided with him, but he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, halting her.
“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“No worries. The important thing is we saved the pie.” He winked at her.
Her dark eyes twinkled as they studied his.
Something about her almost seemed familiar. The way she stared at him made him wonder if she didn’t feel the same. But he wasn’t about to trot out that old, tired line. Especially since the woman was sporting a sizable engagement ring on her slim finger.
It was just as well. His reasons for returning to Houston were anything but social. And in just a few days, he’d be returning to Dallas. His home since college.
“Well, thank you for saving my pie.” She lifted the small dessert plate. “My apologies again.”
He tipped an imaginary Stetson and nodded as she and her friend made their way to a booth near the back of the coffee shop.
The gorgeous woman’s fiancé was a very lucky guy.
* * *
Roarke owned a luxury condominium in town in the same building where his older twin sisters, Angela and Melinda, owned condos. But the executive he’d leased it to wouldn’t be vacating the space for a few more days. So he got into the SUV and headed toward Perry Ranch—his family’s opulent, sprawling estate just outside Houston.
The Perry family’s lifestyle was financed by Perry Holdings, a billion-dollar operation that consisted of finance, construction, real estate and property management entities.
Sterling Perry’s name carried a lot of clout in Houston, a city where