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bigger. I think her entrance is bigger than yours,” Whitley said as we headed down the driveway.
    Mrs. P lived damn near toward the back of her property, so we had a bit of a drive just to get to her house.
    “Where in the hell is the house?” Whitley looked at me with a smile. “Does she have just as much land as you do?”
    “Just about. Her husband was big into cattle. I pretty much bought all his cattle, so he could retire. They only have one son, who wants nothing to do with the cattle business.”
    Whitley turned slightly in her seat. “So, you raise cattle?”
    “Yep. That’s one of the things I do.”
    I glanced over, and she tilted her head somewhat.
    “What else do you do, cowboy?”
    I smiled. “I also raise Thoroughbreds.”
    She smiled bigger. “No shit? For racing?”
    Ah…so my CG likes horse racing, does she? “Yes, ma’am, for racing.”
    “I used to love going to the racetrack with my parents. My father made some good money on a few horses he owned.”
    I nearly slammed on the brakes. “You mean to tell me that you grew up around horses?”
    She gave me that damn cute little smile of hers and then turned back and looked straight ahead.
    “Yes, sir, I did. I was on my first horse when I was three years old.”
    Well, damn.
    “You must be good at what you do, considering you have so much land, and your house is…”
    “My house is, what?”
    “Nothing. I’m being rude by just even talking about your income. I’m so sorry.” She looked out the window and started messing with her hands.
    “I’ve learned not to put all my eggs in one basket, Whitley. I’ve made investments in real estate, horses, and stocks. You know, those sorts of things. The property is owned outright, so—”
    “Please, Mr. Morris, you don’t owe me any explanations at all.”
    “Now, we’re back to Mr. Morris. Okay, Miss Reynolds, we’re almost to the house.”
    She shifted in her seat, and I wanted to ask her why she’d done a one-eighty and gone all formal on me.
    We rounded the corner, and my heart dropped to my stomach.
    Fuck! What’s she doing here?
    I wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave, but I didn’t want to be rude to Whitley. I pulled up and parked next to the white BMW convertible.
    “Wow! Mrs. Pierceson drives a nice car.”
    I jumped out of the truck and walked around to help Whitley out. She had her purse and laptop carrier in one hand as she allowed me to help her down, much to my surprise.
    “That’s not her car.”
    Whitley turned and looked at me. I was sure she had heard the fear in my voice.
    “Whose car is it then?” She raised her eyebrow.
    “Her niece’s. Let’s go. Mrs. P is waiting for you, and you’re already late.”
    I gently took her by the arm to lead her in, but then she jerked away from me. I looked at her, and her face was white as a ghost.
    “Please don’t touch me like that—ever again.”
    She smoothed out her pants and shirt and walked past me up to the porch. She stopped for a brief second and took a deep breath before walking up the steps and ringing the doorbell.
    I stepped up to her and leaned down. “I’m sorry, CG. I don’t have some weird kind of country disease or anything. I’ll make sure I never touch you again.”
    She snapped her head up and was about to say something when the front door opened.
    “Well, looky here, if it ain’t my handsome Layton! Son, you have to come over more often! Mr. Pierceson is down at the barn, doing God knows what, if you want to say hello.”
    Mrs. Pierceson turned and started to walk into the house, and I gestured for Whitley to go in first. When we walked into the foyer, Mrs. P turned around and smiled at Whitley.
    Whitley grinned back and put out her hand.
    She’s in for a surprise.
    “Oh, pishposh, girl. Come in for a hug!” Mrs. P grabbed Whitley and pulled her into an embrace.
    Whitley let out a gasp and then giggled. “I’m so very sorry I’m late, Mrs. Pierceson. My car broke down,