Lone Star Reunion. Joss Wood

      Daniel looked into the room that he’d been told was where the bachelors and Tessa were supposed to wait and saw Rachel standing by the refreshment table, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

      “Can you tell me what that was about?” he asked. Rachel was Alex’s best friend and the two were said to be close. But how close? Like him, Alex had never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve and they rarely, if ever, had deep and meaningful conversations. Did she have those types of conversations with Rachel? Had she had them with another lover?

      And why did that thought feel like the tip of a burning cigarette incinerating his stomach? He had no claim on Alex. There was nothing between them but one blissful summer long ago and some recent hot sex.

      He had no claim on her. He didn’t want to have a claim on anyone and most definitely didn’t want someone to have a claim on him. With attachments came pain and he was happy with his own company, to live his life alone.

      People, and their expectations and emotions, drained him.

      “Is there anything you can tell me?” Daniel demanded, shoving his hands into the front pocket of his battered jeans. In an hour or two he would swap his jeans and flannel shirt for a designer tuxedo, but for now he was comfortable. With what he was wearing, at least.

      “Nope,” Rachel replied, shaking her head. She lifted her clipboard. “I have a ton of work to do.”

      “And that is why I’m really surprised Alex bolted out of here like her tail was on fire. With her work ethic, normally you’d have to pry her away with a crowbar.”

      “I don’t know what you want me to say, Daniel.”

      Tell me what’s going on! Tell me why Alex was crying. Tell me something, anything to help me understand. Daniel rubbed his hands over his face, before turning to head out the door. He needed a whiskey, possibly two. Anything to help him numb his worry about Alex, his annoyance that he’d agreed to be part of this dumb auction. Not to mention the vague apprehension that no one would bid on him, the bastard son of Royal’s wildest child.

      God, now he sounded like a loser wallowing in self-pity. He’d brought The Silver C back from the brink of ruin, was regarded as one of the most talented young ranchers in the state. He was rich, respected. Who the hell cared that his mother was a crazy narcissist who was incapable of love and that his father had walked out on them before he was born?

      “Daniel.”

      He was about to step through the door when he heard Rachel speak his name. He turned around slowly and saw the anxiety in her eyes. Oh crap, this was bad. “Yeah?”

      Rachel hesitated and blew air into her cheeks. “Nothing. Ignore me.”

      Daniel growled his frustration and threw up his hands. “For God’s sake, Rachel! What?”

      Rachel’s hands were white against her clipboard. “Tonight, later, when you run into her, just be gentle, okay?”

      And what, in the name of all that was holy, did that mean?