Sweet Nothings

by Catherine Anderson

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Jake said softly.

  Dexter nodded. “I have to do my job, Jake. Just so long as you understand that. If Wells gets a judge in his corner, this could get nasty.”

  “I know that, Dex.” Jake extended a hand to him. “Just do what the taxpayer pays you to do. I’ll worry about things at my end.”

  The sheriff nodded, his eyes reflecting displeasure with the entire situation. “Ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his hat and inclining his head. “Sorry to make your acquaintance under such unhappy circumstances. I hope our next meeting is more pleasant.”

  Molly hoped so, too. But somehow, knowing Rodney, she doubted it would be.

  The sheriff left, and in less time than it took to draw a deep breath, Molly found herself being propelled up the steps to the house by her “big, tough cowboy.” Jake’s grip on her elbow didn’t exactly hurt, but she could tell by the taut dig of his fingertips that he was furious.

  Feeling like flotsam carried forth on a wave, she was pushed through the house and into the kitchen, where he jerked out a chair, pressed her onto the seat, and proceeded to lean down to glare at her, nose to nose. Molly inched her head back, intimidated in spite of herself. Under the best of circumstances, Jake Coulter was a lot of man to contend with. In a temper, he seemed to loom over her like a tree.

  “Emotionally unstable, Molly? Sweet Christ. What else haven’t you told me?”

  There was so much she hadn’t told him—so very much.

  “What in God’s name were you thinking?” he cried. “The bastard means to lock you up. Do you realize that? Why in the hell didn’t you tell me?” He grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Why? If your mom backs him on this, you don’t stand the chance of a snowball in hell. She’s your closest living relative. You’ve already been in a clinic. There’s a documented history of sleepwalking. They’ve already had you claimed legally incompetent. Who’s going to believe they’re lying if they say you need more treatment?”

  “Nobody!” Molly cried. His anger had transmitted itself to her, and before she thought it through, she shot up from the chair, forcing him to rear back so their faces wouldn’t collide. “Which is exactly why I was afraid to tell you. I was terrified you’d think I was nuts!”

  “I never would have thought that.”

  “When should I have talked to you, Jake? The first night, maybe? ‘Oh, by the way, please don’t be alarmed, but I should probably mention that I was just released from a mental ward.’ Or maybe later? Let me see. When would have been a good time? It’s such an easy thing to tell someone, after all. I was afraid you’d think the worst and call Rodney.”

  His grip on her shoulders relaxed, and his eyes went dark with what looked like sadness. “You should have trusted me,” he whispered. “They could have shown up a week ago, Molly. I could have come in from the fields and found you gone.”

  “They’re going to take me back, anyway. What difference does it make?”

  “They’ll take you off this ranch over my dead body.”

  Molly stared up at him through a blur of tears. A thousand times over the last year, she’d wished for just one person besides her doctor whom she could trust, completely and without reservation. Now, here was Jake, willing to take on the world for her without even knowing for sure what he was up against.

  “Oh, Jake,” she said tremulously. “Who’s the crazy one, you or me?”

  He ran his big hands up and down her arms. “I’m crazy about you. Does that work? I don’t need to know what I’m biting off. He’s not taking you anywhere.”

  Tears blurred her vision. “You won’t be able to stop him,” she said shakily. “You heard the sheriff. You’ll only get in a lot of trouble if you try. Rodney will get his court order”—she snapped her fingers—“just like that, and he’ll be back, probably with a police escort or the sheriff, to return me to Portland. I’m just his fruitcake ex-wife who, he’ll be fast to inform a judge, obtained a divorce while she was institutionalized and not of sound mind. He has control of my father’s half of the investment firm, control over my inheritance, and, by extension, control over me. My own mom has joined ranks against me. As much as I appreciate your wanting to, there’s nothing you can do. They want my money, and to that end, they’ll do anything to cut me out of the picture.”

  “No one can come onto my land and drag my wife away.”

  Molly blinked, convinced she hadn’t heard him correctly. “I’m not your wife.”

  “Yet.” He slipped his hands back up to her shoulders and firmed his grip. “Molly, how much do you trust me?”

  Her heart lurched. “A lot, but not that much.”

  “Let me put it to you another way. Who do you trust more, me or Rodney?”

  “That’s not a fair question.”

  “Life isn’t always fair, and right now, honey, it’s throwing you a mean curve ball. I’m your only ace in the hole. We can be in Reno in five hours. As your husband, my legal rights will circumvent theirs. Even if they fight the legitimacy of the marriage in court, it’ll take them months to do anything. Meanwhile, we can come up with another plan.”

  “Oh, God.” The air suddenly seemed too thin. No matter how deeply Molly grabbed for breath, she couldn’t get enough oxygen. “Reno?”

  “When we get back, we’ll be man and wife. Rodney’s power over you will be history. Claudia’s will be as well. From that point on, your only worry will be me.”

  Molly refocused on his dark face. “And you’re a triviality?”

  “Compared to them, I am.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Jake made up his mind to act, he didn’t waste time second-guessing himself. Within thirty minutes, he had Molly bundled into his ranch truck and was breaking the speed limit to reach Reno. She sat in a huddle against the passenger door. There was a vacant look in her eyes that worried him.

  “Sweetheart, you look scared to death.” He gave her what he hoped was an understanding smile. “Am I such a bad proposition?” He glanced in the rearview mirror and swiped at his tousled hair. “I clean up fairly nice.”

  “It’s nothing to do with you. I just don’t want to be married again.”

  “Because I’ll have control over your life?”

  “That’s one reason, plus a dozen others.”

  “Let’s deal with one at a time. First the control issue. I have no intention of trying to control you. If that’s how it was with Rodney, don’t look for a repeat performance. Control isn’t my thing.” Taking in her sassy new hairstyle and the pretty pink blouse she was wearing, he could add with all honesty, “You’ve got good instincts. Within reason, you can do whatever the hell you want. I won’t try to stop you.”

  “Within reason?”

  Jake tamped down his annoyance at the question. “Yes, within reason. If you decide to walk a tightrope across the Grand Canyon without a safety net, I may have something to say about it.”

  She bent her head. When he glanced over, he thought he glimpsed a smile flirting at the corners of her mouth. When she finally looked up, she said, “I don’t mean to be difficult. I should be thanking my lucky stars you’ve offered to do this. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m offering because I care about you, and for no other reason.”

  A distant look came into her eyes again.

  Jake parted his lips to speak, then clamped his teeth closed, thinking long and hard before he said anything more, which was a virtue that didn’t come easily for him. He’d spent most of his life speaking his mind.

  He didn’t blame Molly for being upset. She’d had a horrific morning, and though he still hadn’t heard all the details, he had reason to believe the incident today was only the icing on the cake. He didn’t want to say anything that might make matters worse.

  Unfortunately, the way he saw it, there were matters they absolutely had to discuss. “Is it the sex that’s worrying you?”

  Her face drained of color. �
��Actually, I was hoping we might bypass that part. I have a really bad track record.”

  Jake shot her another look. “In your dreams. I want this to be a real marriage, Molly, not just a stopgap measure to hold Rodney at bay.”

  “I was afraid you were thinking that.”

  “Afraid? Your reasoning eludes me.”

  “I just don’t want to go through all that again. I loved Rodney when I married him, and I believed he loved me. Then, in a twinkling, my fairy tale turned into a nightmare.”

  Jake mulled that over. The statement smacked of heart-break. “Did your marriage to Rodney really go sour that fast?” he asked cautiously.

  She laughed bitterly. “Our marriage went sour the first night. Rodney got drunk, deflowered his bride, and then passed out. And that was the highlight. After that, he mostly didn’t bother. When he did, he had to charge his batteries by looking at porn magazines.”

  Jake felt sick. An awful, rolling nausea. He tightened his hands over the steering wheel, wishing it were Rodney Wells’s neck.

  “Remember that morning in the woods, Molly? How can you think it’ll be anything less than wonderful between us?”

  “Experience.”

  That was all she said, just that one word, but it conveyed a world of heartache. Jake wished he knew what to say to her—anything to take the wariness and apprehension from her eyes. But try as he might, he could think of nothing but platitudes. How could he assure her it would be different between them? How could he promise that he’d find her body attractive when he’d never actually seen it? More important, how could he guarantee that she’d enjoy intimacy with him? He could have all the best intentions and desire her with every fiber of his being, but unless she met him halfway with desire in equal measure, their lovemaking would fall far short of perfection.

  Jake had never been a man to make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. He wasn’t about to start now. Better to simply get a ring on her finger and deal with each issue as it presented itself, doing his best to make the marriage work.

  That decided, he focused his attention on the road, hating the wall of silence between them, but feeling uncertain how to breach it.

  Once in Reno, Jake made fast work of finding a parking place in a pay lot across from a supermarket. Just one block over was the main drag where casinos, hockshops, jewelry stores, and twenty-four-hour chapels lined the crowded sidewalks. He helped Molly from the truck, locked her door, and led her toward the street. She moved beside him like a well-programmed android, replying in a flat monotone when he asked a direct question, her movements rigid, her face pinched and pale. He felt like an executioner leading a condemned person to the guillotine.

  Glancing at his watch, Jake decided he could afford to blow a little time before he herded her to a chapel. It was only shortly after noon. Maybe if he took her to lunch, she’d calm down a little and get some color back in her cheeks.

  He found a nice café in the Eldorado casino, which had been remodeled since his last visit several years ago. He guided Molly to a booth, helped her out of her parka, and then took a seat across from her. Avoiding his gaze, she toyed nervously with the Keno cards and then pretended intense interest in the game rules.

  “Would you like to try your luck?” he asked.

  She shook her head and put the instructions back into the plastic holder. “No, thanks. I’m not very lucky. I’ve never won anything in my life.”

  Wrong. She’d won his heart. Jake studied her pale face, aching to see her smile. He was starting to feel like the world’s biggest jerk for pushing her into this. Only, when he considered the alternatives, he honestly couldn’t think of any other way to help her. With both Rodney and Claudia joined against her, she was in an extremely precarious legal position, vulnerable in a way that frightened him. By marrying her, he could protect her, at least temporarily. She’d be his wife. He would be able to block any attempts to have her institutionalized.

  Jake realized he was mindlessly stirring his coffee, the spoon clacking loudly against the cup. He froze, staring stupidly into the black liquid. Normally, he used no sweetener, and he couldn’t think why he’d chosen to now. Nerves, he guessed.

  The waitress came for their order. Molly requested only a green salad with blue cheese dressing on the side. Since she’d eaten no breakfast, Jake didn’t feel a salad was enough to sustain her until dinner that night.

  After placing his own order, he asked, “Do you have a good garden burger?” When the waitress assured him that they did, he said, “In addition to the salad, the lady will have a garden burger and a bowl of fresh fruit as well, please.”

  As the waitress walked away, Molly fixed Jake with a sparking gaze made all the more vivid by her pallor. The tendons along her throat swelled to form pulsating cords at each side of her larynx. “Why did you do that?” she asked tautly.

  “You need to eat, sweetheart.”

  Before Jake could guess her intent, she swept her arm across the table, sending the silverware flying and catching her coffee cup with the back of her hand. Hot liquid sprayed up and outward, a good measure of it spilling onto his lap. He shot up from his seat.

  “Holy hell!” He swiped at his fly with his napkin, barely managing to bite back a string of colorful expletives. “What on earth possessed you to do that?”

  She leaped to her feet as well. Hands knotted into fists at her sides, she jutted her chin and gave him a wild-eyed look. “How dare you? We aren’t even married yet, and already you’re taking over. If I wanted a garden burger, I would have ordered one.”

  Jake could scarcely believe his ears. “You just doused me with scalding hot coffee over a stupid sandwich?” He resisted the urge to dance and grab his crotch. Pain. No more worries about sex tonight. He wouldn’t be functional for a week. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little?”

  “Go ahead. Make light of it.” She jabbed his chest with her finger. “It’s only a sandwich, after all. Why should it upset me that you consider it your right to decide what I’m going to eat?”

  Jake realized they were causing a scene. He glanced uneasily around. People were gaping. An old lady to his left held a forkful of food poised before her parted lips, her eyes wide with stunned amazement.

  “Keep your voice down,” he whispered to Molly. “People are staring.”

  “Let them!” she cried. “Who cares?” To Jake’s horror, she whirled around. “If any of you women are here to get married,” she cried in a shrill, hysterical voice, “think twice! It may be the biggest mistake of your life!”

  After screaming that pronouncement, she swept past Jake as if all the demons of hell were nipping at her heels. He barely managed to catch hold of her arm. “Where the Sam Hill do you think you’re going?”

  “To the ladies’ room!” She tried to free her arm. When Jake tightened his hold, she turned up her volume. “Or are you going to start telling me when I can use the bathroom, too?”

  That cut it. Jake turned her loose. Keeping an eye on her as she stormed from the café so he’d know in which direction she went, he tossed some money on the table, took a final swipe at his jeans with the soaked napkin, and made a fast exit himself.

  The silence in the ladies’ lounge soothed Molly’s frazzled nerves. She sat forward on the sofa, elbows on her knees, head in her hands. The multicolored pattern of the carpet blurred in her vision, and tears tickled her nostrils as they dripped from the end of her nose. She was shaking, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to stop.

  Marriage. She couldn’t go through with it. She just couldn’t. No matter what Jake said, she’d feel like a prison inmate, and for her, it would be a lifelong sentence. Be it in a Reno chapel or a church, she couldn’t make vows before God when she had no intention of keeping them.

  Until death do us part.

  Love, honor, and obey.

  How many times had Rodney reminded her of the promises she had made when she married him? It hadn’t mattered that he w
as breaking all the rules himself. It hadn’t mattered if his disregard of those marital tenets was making her miserably unhappy. Rodney had never given a flip about anyone but himself. She’d been left to preserve the union as best she could, which had boiled down to swallowing her pride countless times each day, looking the other way, and smiling when she wanted to scream, all to save a marriage that shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

  Never again. Molly clenched her fingers into tight fists over her hair. If she wanted salad for lunch, she would damned well eat salad. She was finished with being pushed around.

  Reaching that decision made her feel somewhat better. She wiped her cheeks and gazed blankly at the flocked paper on the opposite wall. One question circled endlessly in her head. If marriage was out of the question, what exactly was she going to do? No ideas came to her mind. Her adoptive mother was apparently in cahoots with her exhusband, and there was every possibility that the two of them could manipulate the court system to have her put back in a sanitarium. To avoid that, Molly needed a champion in her corner, someone who could legally circumvent the court process already in play. As her husband, Jake would have the clout to do that.

  A swimmy, disoriented feeling came over Molly. Back to square one. Always back to square one. Did other people find themselves in situations where there seemed to be no way out? Or was it just her? Jake. He was her only ace in the hole, as he’d so aptly put it.

  For a moment, she considered running. She had no doubt that Jake would care for Sunset. He was nothing if not an animal lover. A surge of hope filled her. The casino was crammed with people. She could easily slip out of the lounge, get lost in the crowd, and exit the building by a back door. There was probably a bus depot nearby. She could buy a one-way ticket to anywhere, change her identity, and leave the past forever behind.

  The thought was wonderfully appealing, but then Molly thought of all she would be abandoning, not only the firm, half of which was her birthright, but her dad’s estate as well, which he’d worked all his life to acquire. She’d also be abandoning the few precious dreams she still had—to one day sit behind her father’s desk, to gain recognition in the field of finance and carry on the Sterling tradition. And what of her determination to see Rodney punished? If she bailed out now, her father’s death would be swept under the rug as a suicide. Even worse, his killer would gain control of his assets. That would be the final and ultimate insult to Marshal Sterling’s memory, forever tarnishing everything he’d stood for all his life.