Wyoming True - Diana Palmer Page 0,99

woman who’s married to one.”

Emerson shrugged. “Sure. But I don’t let him plan my parties. He has many uses, the primary one being that he allows me to do good works and save horses.”

“Save horses?”

She batted her lashed. “Ride a cowboy?”

“For the love of God, Emerson.”

“What? He’s hot.”

She was not here for her sister’s smug married-frequent-sex glow. Emerson had very narrowly escaped an arranged marriage with a man their father had chosen for her. The whole thing with her husband, Holden, had been dramatic, had involved no small amount of blackmail and subterfuge, and had somehow ended in true love.

Wren still didn’t quite understand it.

Wren also didn’t understand why she felt so beset by her Creed fantasies. Or why she was so jealous of Emerson’s glow.

Wren herself wasn’t overly sexual.

It wasn’t her thing. She’d had a few boyfriends, and she enjoyed the physical closeness that came with sex. That much was true. It had been a while since she’d dated anybody though, because she had been so consumed with her job at Maxfield Vineyards. She enjoyed what she did for work quite a lot more than she enjoyed sex, in point of fact.

Her dreams about illicit sex with Creed were better than any sex she’d ever had, and she found that completely disturbing.

Also, proof that her subconscious didn’t know anything. Nothing at all.

“Great.” Wren said. “Good for you and your libido. But I’m talking about wine, which is far more important than how hot your husband is.”

“To you,” Emerson said. “The hotness of my husband is an entirely consuming situation for me.”

“Anyway,” Wren said, her voice firm. “We get our joint party.”

“But with beef.”

“Yes,” Emerson said. “And then hopefully in a few months we’ll have the larger event, which we can presell tickets to. Hopefully we can bring a lot of people into town if we plan it right.”

“I do like the way you’re thinking,” Wren said. “It’s going to be great,” she added, trying to affirm it for herself.

“It will be,” Emerson agreed. “Have you talked to Cricket about it at all?”

Cricket was their youngest sister. She had been… She had been incredibly wounded about the entire scandal with their father.

The situation with their parents had gone from bad to worse. Or maybe it was just that they were all now aware of how bad it had always been.

The reason Holden had come to Maxfield Vineyards in the first place had been to get revenge on their father for seducing Holden’s younger sister and leaving her emotionally broken after a miscarriage.

After that, Wren and her sisters found out their father had carried on multiple affairs over the years, all with young women who were vulnerable, with so much less power than he had. It was a despicable situation. Holden had blackmailed Emerson into marriage in order to gain a piece of Maxfield Vineyards, but he and Emerson had ultimately fallen in love. They’d ousted their father, who was currently living out of the country. Their mother remained at the estate. Technically, the two of them were still married.

Wren hoped that wouldn’t be the case for much longer. Her poor mother had put up with so much. She deserved better.

They all did.

But while most of the changes that had occurred around the winery really were a good thing, their sister Cricket had taken the new situation hard. She had a different relationship with the place than the rest of them did. Cricket had been a late-in-life baby for their parents. An accident, Wren thought. And it had seemed like no one had the energy to deal with her. She’d been left to her own devices in a way that Emerson and Wren had not been.

As a result, Cricket was ever so slightly feral.

Wren found her mostly charming, but in the current situation, she didn’t know how to talk to her. Didn’t know what Cricket wanted or needed from them.

“She’s been… You know,” Emerson said. “Cricket. In that she’s not really talking about anything substantial, and she’s been quite scarce. She doesn’t seem to be interested in any of the winery’s new ventures.”

“It’s a lot of change.”

“True,” Emerson said. “But she’s not a child. She’s twenty-one.”

“No,” Wren said. “She’s not a child. But can you imagine how much more difficult this would have been for you ten years ago?”

“I know,” Emerson said softly. “It is different for us. It’s different to have a little bit more perspective on the world and on yourself. I think she feels very betrayed.”

“Hopefully she’ll eventually