Almost a Bravo

by Christine Rimmer

  Out on the sidewalk under a cool gray sky, she kept walking right into the street. A guy in a red Mustang squealed to a stop just in time to avoid running her down.

  “Watch out, you idiot!” he yelled out the window.

  She ignored him and kept going until she reached the opposite sidewalk, at which point she suddenly ran out of steam. Halting just past the stop sign, she found herself in front of a three-story building of light-colored brick with a sign that read BPOE on the side.

  With no idea where to go next, she ducked into the alcove that sheltered the entry doors. For a moment, she froze and stared at her faint reflection in the glass of the door—a dark-haired woman in a polka-dot dress, someone she hardly recognized.

  She shook herself. She couldn’t just stand here blocking the entrance.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she slid into the corner on the right side of the door and tried to decide what to do next.

  Chapter Two

  “Give me a few minutes,” Jax said to the others. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll bring her back.”

  He went through the door she’d left open and strode down the hallway toward the waiting area.

  This was like some nightmare, his worst nightmare. Wild River could be lost to him because Martin had done something really bad way back when—and then decided he needed to make his own brand of twisted amends after his death.

  And the woman, Aislinn. She’d seemed completely destroyed by what she’d just learned. It had felt downright evil to sit there at that table, a witness to her suffering, as Anders read that showboat letter of Martin’s that said she wasn’t who she’d always believed herself to be.

  Damn Martin. Damn him to hell and back. Jax had loved the old reprobate, but this was one long, rickety bridge too far.

  And then again...

  Well, Martin was Martin. He’d always made life interesting. Jax and his Aunt Claudia, both serious, down-to-earth and a little bit shy, had secretly reveled in the excitement Martin brought to their lives. They always tried to hold him back when he got some out-there idea he was itching to pursue. At the same time, they loved it. They were his audience and Martin was the star of their cobbled-together family of three.

  If Martin were here now in the flesh, what would he say? Jax knew: I love you, son. I never wanted to hurt you. But we both know some men need a good kick in the pants to get out there and get what matters most—and who around here needs a good kick? Martin would grin. Look in a mirror, Jaxon, my boy.

  Jax felt all turned around. Wild River was in jeopardy. He needed to consider every possibility.

  Was the woman really what she seemed? Could this be her doing, somehow?

  That bit about being in love with him. What was that, anyway? Had Martin simply lost it in his last days—or had Aislinn Bravo somehow gotten to him? Had she managed, secretly, to cozy up to a lonely old man and whisper in his ear?

  But whisper what? I’m your daughter and you owe me. I’ll take Jaxon.

  No. Wrong.

  This wasn’t the woman’s fault. It couldn’t be. Even with a possible fifty K in the mix, it didn’t quite add up that she was in on this horror show.

  No. On the surface at least, this was pure Martin—the drama of it, the insanity and the out-there, over-the-top solution of Jax and Martin’s secret daughter getting married and remaining so for three months in order that said secret daughter would get her chance at her heart’s desire: Jax himself.

  Completely bonkers.

  Still, he had to keep his eyes open. That Aislinn Bravo might be the bad guy in this didn’t seem possible. But as of now, anyway, he couldn’t be 100 percent certain of her innocence, either. He barely remembered her from that summer five years ago, and he had no way to be sure who she was deep down, at heart.

  And whatever she’d done, whatever her possible part in this lunacy, he needed her on the same page with him now. Unless Anders could come up with some way to break the terms of Martin’s crazy-ass last will and testament, Jax was going to need her to be married to him for the next three months.

  It was that, or lose Wild River.

  And that could never happen. His family had owned Wild River for generations. The ranch was his future and his past. It was everything to him. He would never let it go.

  He strode fast across the lobby and pushed through the double doors out onto Exchange Street, glancing left first, then right and seeing no sign of her. Had she vanished around the corner? Disappeared into a Lyft?

  But then he looked straight ahead.

  And there she was across the street, huddled in the doorway alcove of the Elks building, her arms wrapped around herself, her delicate shoulders hunched. She seemed to be studying the pretty white sandals on her narrow feet.

  He waited for a delivery van to go by and then jogged across the street, slowing his steps when he reached the sidewalk in order not to startle her.

  She must have sensed him coming. Her shining chin-length curls bounced as her head came up. He stopped six feet from her, close enough to talk, but not so close he crowded her.

  “What do you want?” Her eyes were enormous, dark as black coffee, brimming with hurt and confusion.

  If she’s acting, she ought to be in movies—just like the other one, Madison Delaney. “Come back inside with me. Hear the rest.”

  A wild shudder went through her. “Oh, God. There’s more?”

  “Just the details. You need to hear them. We both do.”

  “No.” She shook her head, setting the curls bouncing again. “No, I don’t think I need that. I don’t think I can.”

  A redhead approached pushing a stroller. Her freckle-faced little boy waved at Jax as he rolled by.

  Jax stole a step closer to the woman in the alcove. “You don’t have to decide anything today.”

  She scrunched her eyes shut and swiped her inky hair back from her forehead. “I mean it, Jax. I really don’t think I can.”

  “Can, what?”

  “Go back in there. I mean, is this really happening? I’m not me. And crazy old Martin Durand is my biological father?”

  “I hear you.” Another step. She didn’t bolt. “It’s completely insane.”

  She pinned him with a shining, furious look. “I hate him. You must hate him about now, too, huh?”

  He answered her truthfully. “No. I loved him. I miss him.”

  She made a tight, angry sound. “You still love him? After what you just heard in there?”

  “Hey. I didn’t say he was an easy man to love. But he made every day an adventure. And he was always good to me in his way.”

  She scoffed outright. “Oh, please. I saw how he was that summer I worked for you. He let you do all the work while he sat on the front porch in his ratty old bathrobe.”

  “I like doing the work. And Martin used to work hard, too, back when I was growing up.” He watched her closely as he spoke. Did his voice seem to soothe her? Maybe. And at this point, he would try anything to keep her from taking off again. He went on talking. “When I was a boy, we worked together, Martin and me. Aunt Claudia was sick a lot. Martin taught me everything I know about ranching and horses. And then he sent me to college, though I didn’t want to go. He said I needed to get out and see what the world had to offer, said I had to be certain that Wild River was my choice, not just the only thing I knew. He also got it right about Judy—my ex-wife?”

  She looked at him, wide-eyed. “What about her?”

  “Martin said Judy would never be happy at Wild River, no matter that she promised me she would love ranch life. Judy didn’t love it and she kept after me to move with her to the Bay Area, where her family lived. Eventually, she divorced me and went back to San Francisco.”

  And whoa. Talk about too much information—bringing up Judy, babbling out private stuff that no one needed to hear. Soothing thi
s woman was one thing, but the verbal diarrhea needed to stop.

  Aislinn, still huddled in the corner by the door, was watching him. And now that he really looked at her, he could see Martin in her—in the soft, full shape of her mouth, the elegant line of her nose.

  He held out his hand. “Come back in, won’t you?”

  She looked at his outstretched fingers, considering. But she didn’t take them. “I’m sorry,” she said, as he gave up and dropped his arm back to his side. “I can’t do it—can’t go back in there. Can’t do...any of it.”

  Oh, yeah, she could. She had to do it. Impatience coiled like a snake inside him. But he refused to give in to it. Impatience wasn’t going to help him get through to her. “What’d I say a minute ago? You don’t have to decide right now.”

  Those doe eyes stayed locked with his. “I’m scaring you. I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not scaring me,” he lied.

  “Yes, I am. And I get it. You’d do anything, even marry a stranger, to keep the ranch you love.”

  Damn straight, he thought but somehow managed not to blurt out. “Look. It’s three months. You live nearby, right?”

  “In Valentine Bay.”

  “A half-hour drive from Wild River. Just think about it. We get married. You live at the ranch, which isn’t that far from your job or whatever. Three months. And you’re fifty thousand dollars richer.”

  She looked about to break down in tears. “It’s too much. I told you, I can’t—”

  “Wait.” He put up both hands. “You’re right. Don’t decide now. Just come back inside. That’s all I’m asking.”

  She drew herself up and said stiffly, “There’s something I have to say to you.”

  “Go for it.”

  “No matter what that crazy old fool thought, I am not in love with you.”

  She wanted him to say he believed her? Not a problem. Whatever she wanted, he would damn well provide it. “I get that. I believe that. You’re not in love with me and you never have been.”

  She frowned, as though judging his answer, turning his words over in her mind, weighing his sincerity. In the end, she nodded. “Good, then. I’m glad we have that cleared up, at least.”

  A heavily inked couple in matching short-sleeved plaid shirts, bib overalls and Birkenstocks came toward him. He fell back toward the curb a little and nodded as they passed between him and the woman in the doorway.

  When he stepped closer to Aislinn again, she was fiddling with the shoulder strap of her purse, all frustrated energy. And then she froze. Her soft mouth trembled. “I’m just having a little trouble processing, you know? I mean, if what that letter said is true, I’m not a Bravo. My sisters and brothers are not actually mine. At this moment, I have to tell you, I don’t even know who I am. And there’s a movie star living in Southern California who doesn’t know she’s got a whole family of amazing people she’s never even met. It’s all wrong. It can’t be true. I can’t even deal.”

  “You’re getting way ahead of yourself.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “Because it’s true. Sometimes in life you just need to do the next thing—which, right now, is to go back inside and hear the rest of what Kip has to tell us.”

  She chewed on her plump lower lip—and the miracle happened. She nodded. “All right. But I’m likely to be late for work, so I need to call in first.”

  “Do it.”

  She got out her phone. He turned and went to wait by the stop sign, giving her privacy. A minute or two later, she came up beside him. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Ever the gentleman, Jax opened the door for her. Aislinn went through reluctantly.

  The receptionist gave her a too-bright smile as they passed her desk. In the conference room, Burt glared at her and Erma nodded, giving away nothing.

  Kip Anders said, “Aislinn. Excellent,” as though she’d done something wonderful. “Anyone care for more coffee or whatever?” When no one moved toward the credenza for a refill, he straightened his stack of papers. “All right, then, let’s continue.”

  Aislinn sat down and tried to ignore the frantic racing of her heart. Her hands were shaking. She folded them tightly in her lap to keep them still.

  “A few important points.” Kip sent them each a cool smile. “As you will see when you go over your copy of the will, Martin instructs that the wedding must take place within a week from today, and that it must also be ‘more than in name only.’”

  “What does that even mean?” Aislinn asked furiously.

  “And how do you enforce it?” asked Jax.

  “It is a gray area,” Anders replied. “In Oregon, there is no requirement for consummation by sexual relations. That means you will be legally married once you’ve acquired the marriage license and said your vows before a recognized official—be that a clergy person or a representative of the court. To be married ‘in more than name only’ in this case will include getting the license, going through with the ceremony and living together at Wild River for the full three months during which you must remain true to your marriage vows.”

  I’m not marrying anyone, Aislinn thought with vehemence. But she pressed her lips into a thin line and kept quiet for once. Her embarrassing long-ago crush on Jax aside, she considered him a good man. She liked him and she didn’t want to mess him over. That ranch meant the world to him. She couldn’t quite bring herself to outright refuse to help him keep what he wanted the most. At least not right now, not yet.

  She needed to think it over.

  And she would. After she met with her brothers and they confirmed that this story about Martin Durand being her father had to be a complete fabrication. First and foremost, she needed to reassure herself of the truth from the ones who had been there in Montedoro at Villa Della Torre on the night she was born.

  The lawyer said, “To further clarify, after the marriage ceremony, you two must be sexually monogamous for the required three months. You will cohabitate at the ranch house at Wild River. Martin has arranged for someone from Kircher and Anders to drop by randomly in order to confirm that you continue to live together for the entire three-month period required by the will.”

  “I hate to speak ill of the dead,” muttered Aislinn, because she had to say something, “but that old man was a terrible, awful, horrible person and I sincerely hope he is rotting in hell.”

  Burt grumbled something under his breath at that. Erma stared straight ahead. Jax only gave her a sympathetic glance and a one-shouldered shrug, as if to say, Yeah, I loved him, but I see your point.

  Kip Anders went on to explain that after the wedding, he would need a copy of the license to prove they had met the requirement of marrying within the week and to begin the countdown to the three-month time limit.

  At eleven forty, Kip Anders finally walked them out to the waiting room, where the receptionist gave each of them a blue folder containing copies of Martin’s infuriating letter and the will. Tucked in the front pocket of each folder was a contact sheet, which included a secure online address where they could access an electronic copy of everything in the folder.

  On the list of contacts was the phone number and address of the Seattle private investigator Martin had hired to find Madison and Paula Delaney.

  Aislinn cringed just at the sight of the PI’s name. That Martin had hired the man seemed yet another proof that his story might actually be true—though it wasn’t.

  Absolutely not. So what if Paula and Lloyd Delaney had once worked at Wild River and even had a daughter who grew up to be the Madison Delaney?

  All that could be true. And Aislinn could still be a Bravo by birth.

  Out on the sidewalk again, Jax sent Burt and Erma back to the parking lot to get their vehicle.

  Then he turned to Aislinn. “I’m sorry to push you, but we don’t have long to get going on
this. Can you meet me at the Marriage License Bureau tomorrow to get the license? Just name a time that works for you and I’ll be there.”

  In spite of the panic that kept trying to claw its way along every nerve she possessed, she grinned. “Nice try.”

  He looked so weary. And worried. “Aislinn—”

  “No. Please. I can’t agree to anything right this minute.”

  “When, then?”

  “I need a few days, at least.”

  “We don’t have a few days.”

  “I’m sorry, Jax. I know this isn’t your fault. But it isn’t mine, either, and I need to figure a few things out. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Aislinn.” For the first time since they shook hands in the waiting room, he touched her. His long fingers closed around her arm. “Wait.” The feel of his skin on hers made her heart race.

  She froze, looked down at where he held her, and then back up at him. “Let go, Jax.”

  “Sorry.” He released her.

  “I’ll get back to you,” she promised because she didn’t know what else to say. Whirling on her heel, she headed for her car, walking fast, half expecting him to try again to stop her.

  But he didn’t come after her. She kept her gaze forward, never once looking back. She knew that if she glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing there, so tall and strong and proud, in good black jeans, town boots and a crisp white shirt, she would give in and agree to do anything he needed her to do.

  * * *

  Keely Ostergard Bravo’s gallery, Sand & Sea, two blocks from the beach on Manzanita Avenue in Valentine Bay’s historic district, had a profitable afternoon that day.

  It was August, after all. The morning fog had cleared, leaving the sky a pure, endless blue. Perfect tourist weather on the Oregon coast.

  Aislinn had relieved the manager, Amanda Cruz, who went off to run errands. Aislinn spent the next few hours dealing with a steady stream of customers on her own. That was fine with her. Staying busy kept her mind off the abject awfulness of all she’d learned that morning.