Cowboys Don't Marry the Beauty

by Jessie Gussman

  And one big catch.

  He had to get married in the next six months.

  Ford had already consulted his lawyer, and the thing wouldn’t hold water, not in a court of law, but although he’d not known Mr. Edwards well, he’d respected him as a fellow rancher and North Dakotan. He wouldn’t disrespect him in death by thumbing his nose at the man’s last request.

  If Mr. Edwards wanted to put stipulations on anyone inheriting his money, Ford wasn’t going to go to a lawyer to get them overturned. He’d respect Mr. Edwards’s wishes.

  He’d do without the money, because he wasn’t getting married.

  It wasn’t that Ford needed the money to live on. But it would have come in handy because it would have meant he could invest in his own business, rather than putting together the proposals he had and going around looking for a buyer. Having Georgia schedule meetings with them. Promising future profits in exchange for current cash.

  He had the security cameras up on his laptop that was on his desk, and he could see that Morgan had opened the door for Sawyer. They stood for a moment in the foyer talking. Then Sawyer walked toward the stairs, and Morgan turned toward the library. His eye watched her until she walked off the camera.

  His hand hovered over the computer, wanting to switch the screen and pull up the library. He fisted his fingers.

  Her beauty was compelling, no doubt. But last night had made him even more curious about the actual woman. She’d been nice. She hadn’t been scared of him, even when he’d gotten prickly when she brought up his weakness.

  Her height matched his. Her interest matched his. Her intelligence probably exceeded his. He’d wanted to spend more time with her. But that was foolish. She was beautiful, and he was not. He didn’t want to get closer to her, only to have her be repelled when she saw him.

  She thought she wouldn’t be repelled. But he’d been in his body long enough that he knew she’d be nice but repulsed, nonetheless.

  A light tapping on the door broke into his thoughts. It opened before he could say anything. Sawyer was the only person in the world who felt comfortable enough with him to just walk into his office. They’d been best friends since they’d been babies in the church nursery together. Inseparable through everything. Even when he went to college and Sawyer stayed home, they’d not lost touch.

  Theirs was the kind of friendship where it didn’t matter how long since they’d seen each other, they picked up right where they’d left off.

  Sawyer had been there the day of his accident. He’d been the one to shut the PTO off and save his life. He’d driven with one hand on the wheel, one hand pressing on the artery on Ford’s inside thigh, to keep Ford from bleeding out on the way to the hospital. The last time Ford had ridden in Sawyer’s truck, there were still bloodstains on the front seat.

  “You look like you’re contemplating murder. I’m not helping you with that. Gotta draw the line somewhere.” Sawyer’s voice cut through his reverie.

  “Isn’t it about time you took your old beater to the junkyard?”

  Someone else might have been offended, but Sawyer laughed. “I can’t afford to. Think they charge you fifty bucks or something. Might as well keep it.”

  They walked over to the two recliners that sat in front of the large, east-facing window. The brilliance of the sunrise had faded not long ago, but he pulled the curtains to allow the light in and sat down.

  Sawyer and Georgia were the two people in the world he felt completely comfortable with, despite the disfiguration of his face and body. His brother, Ty, and his mother, were the other two that he might appear in front of, but he didn’t particularly care to do so. Looking at his brother was too much like looking at what he used to be. His mother...his pain was reflected in her eyes. He couldn’t stand the magnification.

  “I’d buy you a truck.”

  “I’m not taking a truck from you.”

  “I feel like we’ve had this conversation about a hundred times.”

  “And I win every time.”

  “Gifts aren’t charity.”

  “Where’s Georgia?”

  Ford barked out a laugh. “Talk about a subject change.”

  “Not arguing with you. You know I’m right. You’re not interested in making it on someone else’s coattails. Same for me. I want to make it on my own. You’re the exact same way.”

  Ford propped his good leg up on his prosthesis. “It doesn’t hurt to accept a gift. And Georgia went to Europe. She talked about her trip the last time you were here.”

  Sawyer linked his hands behind his head and leaned back in his recliner. “I know. I didn’t forget. I just wanted to change the subject. Because there are gifts, and then there’s charity. Buying a truck for someone is charity.”

  “I owe you.” He hadn’t always felt that way. Sometimes, especially in the early days after his accident, particularly when Shauna had stood in the hospital and dumped him, he’d wished that Sawyer had left him to die. He knew that wasn’t the correct way to think, and he’d worked hard to make sure that he didn’t get swallowed by the blackness of depression. It would have been easy to allow to happen.

  “Stuff it.” Sawyer hated it when Ford talked like that. He always insisted their positions could have been reversed and Ford would have done the same thing for him. It’d been true.

  “Georgia seems to be having a great time,” Ford said, thinking about her Facebook posts. He’d not talked to her much.

  A subject change was fine. There was no point in hashing out the past.

  “That’s good. I can’t believe she went by herself.” Sawyer looked out the window across the golden brown fields.

  “According to her Facebook posts, she’s not been alone.”

  Sawyer’s head jerked around, and his arms came down. “Huh?”

  Ford shrugged. “She’s got some tough-looking dude in the last picture.”

  Sawyer’s fingers tightened on the armrest. “I guess the girl’s grown up and can do whatever she wants.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t want her to go, but she insisted. As cozy as she looked with that guy, I’d be surprised if she comes home.”

  The veins in Sawyer’s neck popped out. Ford smothered a grin. Sawyer had always treated Georgia like his own kid sister, and he had a protective streak as wide as the prairie. Not too much ruffled Sawyer, so it was Ford’s duty as his friend to poke him about this.

  Sawyer still gripped his armrests, but he affected an air of relaxation. “You do know the woman you have working downstairs is a cover model?”

  “Huh?” A bucket of ice water couldn’t have shocked him more.

  Sawyer pulled his old, scratched-up phone out of his pocket and started scrolling on it. A few minutes of silence passed.

  She’d said she was a model. Dread balled up in Ford’s chest. Morgan was beautiful, of course. But he didn’t want her to be someone the whole world coveted. Not that he’d ever have or want a chance with her anyway, but for her to be famously beautiful was much different than her being just beautiful.

  Sawyer’s thumbs stilled. He looked at his phone for a moment before turning it around and handing it over to Ford.

  Morgan stared out at him, pouting red lips, dark, seductive eyes, shiny hair that fell in waves around her bare shoulders. She wore some kind of flowing sundress that fit her around the waist and stopped a few inches above her knees. The high, pointed-heel sandals she wore made her legs look better than sun on dew.

  “A man could spend a lifetime looking at that.”

  Sawyers offhand comment cause Ford’s chest to itch on the inside. But he just handed the phone back, knowing that tonight, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d be browsing the internet for pictures of Morgan.

  He felt the bitterness bubble up inside of him. “Same way someone could spend a lifetime avoiding looking at me.”

  Sawyer leaned forward to shove his phone back in his pocket, but he stopped at Ford’s words. “Women are a little different than men.”

  �
��That’s crap. Women are more concerned about looks than men are.”

  Two lines appeared in Sawyer’s forehead between his eyes. “If you find the right one...”

  “I don’t want to have to find a woman who lives on a higher plane in order for her to be able to stand to look at me every day. I gross myself out.”

  Sawyer opened his mouth, but Ford spoke again. “I’m not interested in finding anyone anyway. My business takes up all my time.”

  “I guess I can’t argue with you there. I want to say that you don’t need looks, that the right woman won’t care. But I would never ask a woman to come live with me without money.”

  “Money and looks aren’t supposed to matter, but they do.” Ford didn’t think he allowed any bitterness to creep into his tone. He was bitter, rightfully so, he felt, but the facts of life were just what they were.

  A tap on the door announced that Mrs. T had arrived with their food.

  Sawyer got up, like he always did, to answer it, and Ford didn’t move. If Ford argued with him, saying he might be crippled but could still serve his guest food, Sawyer would just laugh and say, “I want my food hot and today, not cold and next week.” They’d been through it a hundred times.

  “Hey, Morgan, this looks great.” Sawyer’s words caused the blood to freeze in Ford’s veins. He didn’t have his hood, and the curtain was open.

  “It smells fabulous, too.” Her voice drifted over, heating his frozen blood. But panic stirred in his chest.

  “I’d invite you in to share it with us, but we have some personal things to discuss.”

  “Of course. I wasn’t hinting...” She sounded flustered. Ford couldn’t smile through the anxiety in his chest, although he knew Sawyer would protect him. He kept his face turned away from the door and didn’t move.

  “I know you weren’t. I appreciate you bringing this up. Thanks.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “Actually, I think it’s Mrs. T’s job.” Sawyer’s voice was easy and relaxed, the way it almost always was. Ford didn’t need to be jealous. But his chest tightened anyway.

  “Okay. So I’m not entirely sure what my job is.”

  “Ford hasn’t told you?” Sawyer sounded surprised. Of course. Who hired someone and didn’t tell them what their job was?

  “Just general things. And Georgia left a list that I’ve been going over. One of the things she says is that I help Mrs. T.”

  “I see.”

  Ford couldn’t stay silent any longer. “I’ll be discussing that with her later today. Now, get in here and shut the door. I have a business to run.” His voice was more gruff than it needed to be. Okay, it was downright rude. But as much as he loved his best friend, he couldn’t stand to listen to him chat with Morgan. Not because they were saying anything that was remotely suggestive, but more because it was so...normal. Two beautiful people having a regular conversation.

  He wasn’t looking over, but Morgan and Sawyer would look good together. Sawyer was almost as tall as he. And Sawyer’s dark tan and broad shoulders would look good next to Morgan’s porcelain complexion and slender height. Their good looks would complement each other. They’d make a striking couple.

  Okay, he was jealous. He’d never be a beautiful person. And he wouldn’t look good standing next to anyone. But standing next to Morgan, he’d look especially bad compared to her vibrant beauty.

  The door clicked, and Sawyer walked over. The food did smell amazing—Mrs. T was good at her job—but Ford had lost his appetite.

  Sawyer, as attuned to his moods as anyone, still chuckled as he walked back across the room. “You really ought to tell the poor girl what her job entails.”

  “I’m going to. I’ve just been busy.”

  Immediately, Sawyer’s expression became serious. “Any luck with buyers on your prototype?”

  “No. Still working on the proposal.” He picked up an egg sandwich. Not because he was hungry, but because Sawyer would figure out he ordered the food solely for him if he didn’t eat. “There’s no big rush until Georgia comes back.”

  “Thought you said you wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t come back?” Sawyer’s voice sounded a little strangled.

  “I was mostly kidding.”

  “You should use Morgan for publicity.”

  He turned his face and studied Sawyer, who bit off and chewed a big mouthful of sandwich.

  “I’m not ‘using’ her.”

  “You’re paying her. It’s not taking advantage of her in a bad way. It’s leveraging the assets of your company in such a way as to turn the biggest profits. Or, in this case, the immediate goal is convincing the right buyer to part with their money. A lot of their money. Something tells me Morgan could be lethal.”

  “It took me years to train Georgia.” He gave a short laugh. “We learned together, actually. Neither of us knew what the heck we were doing.”

  “Georgia had never been out of North Dakota. Morgan, on the other hand, has been all over.” Sawyer took another bite and chewed thoughtfully.

  It wasn’t hard to walk down a runway. “But she never had to talk.”

  “She didn’t seem to have a problem just now.”

  “You need to know the right things to say.”

  “So practice with her.”

  Ford ground his back teeth together.

  Sawyer swallowed the last of his sandwich. “Listen, man.” He picked up another one. “I know you think your looks are scary and repulsive, and to some extent, they are. Not gonna lie.”

  Ford appreciated his honesty. If he’d said anything else, Ford would have known he was trying to placate him.

  “But I don’t see your imperfections when I look at you. Georgia doesn’t either.” He added the last like he’d just thought of it.

  “So what are you trying to get me to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Sawyer shrugged. “I’m just a rancher. I don’t know jack about how the business world works.”

  “Helpful.”

  “Yeah.” Sawyer waved his hand around while he finished chewing. He swallowed. “Aren’t there charity events that you’re invited to? Museum openings? Crap like that? Dig out your eye patch, find a suit, and take her to one.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’ll be real fun for her. To be on the arm of the ugliest man in the room.”

  “Get over yourself. And it doesn’t matter if it’s fun. It’s not a date. It’s her job. Plus, the more contrast there is between you, the more people are going to wonder, what, exactly, she sees in you. They’ll think there must be something really great there, for you to have this big supermodel on your arm.”

  Ford rolled his eye. “People are just going to think I have a lot of money.”

  “That’s perfect. Investors are much more willing to give it up for people who already have money. Doesn’t make sense, since the people who have money aren’t the ones who need it, but it’s a fact.” Sawyer eyed the last of the five sandwiches.

  Ford held his half-eaten sandwich. His first. “So you want me to use Morgan’s looks to make myself look better and attract investors that way?”

  “You’ll attract their attention and curiosity with Morgan. You’ll attract their money with your brilliance.”

  Morgan was brilliant in her own right. Ford didn’t even bother to say that since it would only give Sawyer more ammunition.

  He twisted the food in his hand. “Go ahead and eat that last sandwich. I like mine with a little more salsa on them.”

  “I’ve never heard of salsa on egg sandwiches, but it isn’t bad.” Sawyer reached out and took the last sandwich.

  Ford made a note to tell Mrs. T to make six sandwiches next time.

  They talked about the weather and crops for almost an hour before Sawyer said it was time for him to go.

  “I know it’s not on your way, but Mrs. T has a load of groceries for Elaine. You mind dropping them off?”

  “I’ve been doing it for the last two years every time I le
ave. You can quit asking me if I mind. I just assume I’m gonna do it.”

  Ford stood with Sawyer, trying to get rid of the throbbing in the toe he no longer had. Stupid phantom pain, anyway. “Has it been two years? Guess you two are never going to get together.”

  “Me and Elaine?” Sawyer guffawed. “She sure needs a man.” His smile faded. “And I could use a woman. Can’t say I haven’t considered it, not because I love her or anything, just because it would solve a bunch of problems, but I think we’re both too stubborn.”

  “I can see that. She’s got her ranch. She’s holding her ground and won’t give in. You, too.”

  “It wouldn’t be too bad if we were closer, but her spread is two hours from mine.”

  “Forget about the load of groceries, then.”

  Sawyer picked his hat up from the desk where he’d thrown it and slapped it against his leg. “You mean to tell me, I’ve been driving two hours out of my way every time I left here for the last two years because you’ve been making a fumbling attempt at matchmaking?” His voice rose two octaves on that last word.

  “I just want to see you happy.”

  Sawyer’s brows rose to the middle of his forehead. “Elaine and I get together, and one of us is going to be dead. More ’n likely, it’d be me. I suppose you could have the mortician paint a smile on my face afore they toss me in the ground.”

  Ford put his hands in his pockets and said casually, “Cremation’s cheaper.”

  “Guess I don’t need the mortician, then. Just make sure I’m really dead first.”

  “I’m thinking if Elaine does the job, there won’t be any doubt about your deadness.” They shared a grin. Her life circumstances had made her tough. She’d risen to the challenge.

  “I’ll agree with that, although she might enjoy torture.” He shoved his hat on his head. “She needs a man, but it ain’t gonna be me.”

  “That’s too bad. I remember Elaine from when our schools played sports. She was sweet and cute. A little shy.”

  “Yeah. I remember her too. That dirtbag she married did a number on her, then he trucked out of the state with her little sister in the passenger seat and left Elaine with three kids and one on the way. That’ll grow ya.” All humor had disappeared from Sawyer’s face.