She lifted a palm. “Those are my ground rules.”
Which meant someone had. Why else would she make such a statement? If he could get his work-strong hands on that dude right this minute, they’d both be praying. Him to stay out of jail, and the other guy to keep his head attached to his shoulders. The very idea of some jerk putting violent hands on a woman stirred his juices.
He leaned toward her, more vehement that he could remember. Vehement. A word he never used, but it matched his mood.
“No man has cause to mistreat a woman, a child, or an animal. That’s the cowboy creed and, as a Christian man, I abide by it one hundred percent. No male is a man if he hurts those he’s meant to protect.”
Whew. Big speech. But he meant every word. And he was still mad at some faceless jerk who’d hurt AnnaLeigh. His almost wife.
Some of the starch went out of AnnaLeigh. She licked her lips, which he suddenly noticed were full and permanently tipped up on both ends. He forced himself to look somewhere else. The star Jacey had made for the treetop was crooked.
“That’s good to know,” she said. “Those are my absolutes. Do you have any for me?” Those noticeable lips curved. “Except for the ten rules? I already know about those.”
“They pretty much cover everything, I think.” A couple were worth repeating. “I won’t tolerate you running around with other men or neglecting Jacey. Do either of those, and the deal’s off.”
Her jaw tightened; her eyes flared. She squeezed the poor unicorn pillow in half. “I would never do either of those things. When I make a promise, I keep it.”
He liked the way she bristled. Strong. Apparently, his almost wife had a backbone and a good dose of integrity.
“So do I. We’re in agreement, then. Ours is to be everything a good, Christian marriage should be.” He frowned, rethought. “Except it isn’t.” Man, this was awkward.
Her head bobbed. “We’ll treat each other with mutual respect. As sensible friends, as companions and co-parents. If an issue arises, we’ll talk it out like adults.”
“And Jacey comes first for both of us. Her welfare, her faith, her happiness is the most important thing in our relationship.”
She stretched her hand over the top of the pillow and leaned across the great divide. “Agreed.”
He dropped his boot to the floor and clasped the slim fingers in his. Hers were cold and soft against his very warm, calloused ones.
Soft. Another thing he’d tried to forget about women. They were really soft.
He released her hand. “Have you had supper?”
6
“Supper?” AnnaLeigh blinked.
She hadn’t expected the cowboy to feed her, and the very idea of trying to eat in front of him made her sick to her stomach. Literally. “We haven’t discussed the…Vegas trip.”
She’d almost said wedding trip, but that scared her too.
“We can talk while we rustle up some food. You do eat occasionally, don’t you?”
The way he asked the question seemed as if he really wanted an answer. She’d lost weight, but did she look that bad?
She didn’t want to know the answer.
AnnaLeigh emitted a short laugh. “I do. And no, I haven’t eaten.” For reasons she’d keep to herself. Now, if only her stomach would remain calmer than her pounding heart, she might get through this evening without scaring him away.
She’d laid out her absolutes and was fool enough to believe he wouldn’t cross any of her boundaries. If he did, she’d be gone so fast he’d forget she was ever here.
“Come on.” He rose with an athletic-cowboy agility she couldn’t help noticing, but she did her best not to. “You can check out the kitchen while we rustle up some grub. Not that there’s much to see.”
He wasn’t wrong about that. Although the kitchen was spacious with plenty of cabinets, it was devoid of décor, and the only small appliances he owned were a coffee pot and a microwave. The refrigerator was stocked, however, and there were plenty of pots and pans.
“My ranch isn’t fancy. Are you sure you’re okay with that?” He clapped a black skillet on the gas burner and turned a knob, which produced a click, click and a flame.
“I like it.” She’d lived in lots of places. What was one more? “It’s homey.”
She actually found the tree stump and the saddle endearingly masculine, if a little strange. The Christmas tree reminded her so much of the rough and tumble Jacey, she’d loved it on sight.
“Your Christmas tree is cute. Did Jacey choose it?”
Holt closed a cabinet door and glanced beyond the bar to the small evergreen. His mouth curved. He had a nice mouth that smiled often and easily. That was a good sign. So was his clear affection for his daughter.
“It’s awful, but Jacey insisted. We were out riding, looking for a calf when she spotted the pitiful thing growing in a fence line.” He huffed a short laugh. “I offered to buy one from the lot in town, but she wanted this one. She said it was sad and needed love.” He shrugged. “I think she must have read a story at school about sad Christmas trees.”
“Jacey has a kind heart.”
“Yeah.” His expression was proud. “What could I do except get the ax and whack it down.”
He was a good dad, maybe indulgent, but what did she know? She’d never had one to compare. “It’s perfect.”
“If my daughter’s happy, I’m happy.”
Which fully explained why he’d decided to marry a stranger.
He went to the refrigerator, a modern stainless steel with ice in the door and a French freezer. “Do you like BLTs?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
He grinned, a long, slow, easy glide that dented his cheeks and squinted his dark eyes.
Yes, he smiled a lot.
AnnaLeigh fought off the thoughts that he was an attractive man. All she wanted from him was kindness and security. He’d been very clear that romance was not part of the deal.
Not that she wanted anything to do with romance.
“A woman after my own heart.” He opened an overhead cabinet and pointed to a stack of dishes. “Mind setting the”—he looked a little uncertain—“bar? We eat there.”
Bar or table, made her no difference. She knew how to make do, knew how to make herself at home in strange places. She’d been doing it all her life.
After setting out two mismatched plates, she ripped off a couple of paper towels for napkins and placed the flatware on top.
“What’s to drink?” she asked, opening cabinet doors until she discovered a small assortment of mugs and glasses. The plastic Hello Kitty cup next to the cowboy prayer mug did funny things to her composure. Must be the pregnancy hormones.
Holt turned to look at her over one shoulder. Bacon sizzled in the frying pan, and the smell was, surprisingly, delicious. So far, no nausea.
“Milk? I could make coffee or tea if you’d rather.”
“Milk’s perfect.” She got out the glasses and went to the fridge for the veggies and mayo.
By the time the sandwiches were ready and Holt had added a handful of potato chips to each plate, they’d broached the topic of Vegas.
Spending this time with him in the simple, mundane activity of creating a sandwich made her slightly less anxious. Not relaxed by any means, but not run-for-your-life terrified either.
“Will you have any problem taking a few days off work to make the trip?” Holt slung a leg over the bar stool next to AnnaLeigh. Beneath the bacon smell, a very light men’s aftershave drifted her way. Clean and outdoorsy, like him.
They’d bumped a few times in the kitchen, but now they were elbow to elbow, and she became uncomfortably aware of him. He exuded strength and manliness, with the muscled arms and torso that would make some women swoon.
So much for relaxing.
Fiddling with her sandwich, she put the pickles under the toast and tried to think of anything except the man beside her. “It’s the holiday season, and the shop is super busy.”
>
“I hadn’t thought of that.” He frowned at his sandwich. “We’ll need a couple days’ drive time and at least three days at the rodeo for the meetings I’ve arranged.”
“I’ll talk to Rachel and see what we can work out. When do we leave?” Her stomach jumped at the question.
“Day after tomorrow. Bright and early.” He chomped into the BLT, a man-sized bite.
AnnaLeigh stared at her food and licked dry lips. A whirlwind trip for a whirlwind marriage. “Couldn’t we get married here?”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “You don’t want to go to Vegas? The National Finals Rodeo is the best of the best. I thought you’d want to go somewhere, a honeymoon trip of sorts.”
Except it wouldn’t be. She’d never have a real honeymoon, never have a real marriage. Vegas was the best offer she’d ever get.
A toast crumb fell, and AnnaLeigh looked down to swipe it away. The tiny piece of bread landed on her still-flat belly, as if pointing to the tiny human being she was desperate to protect.
“Okay,” she said. “Vegas, it is. I’ll talk to Rachel tomorrow.”
Business at Rachel’s Cards and Gifts was steady, but AnnaLeigh found a lull after the lunch rush.
She followed her boss into the office area. The room was tiny—a desk, chair and file cabinet, plus a small window for added light, but the space served the purpose. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
Rachel, who’d been on the phone ordering more merchandise, raised her gaze to AnnaLeigh’s. “Please don’t tell me you’re quitting.”
“I’m not. But I do need a few days off.”
Rachel sat back in the rolling desk chair and exhaled. “When?”
“Tomorrow until next Tuesday.”
A worry crease pulled at Rachel’s eyebrows. “The timing is really bad, AnnaLeigh. With Christmas less than two weeks away, the shop will be busier than ever this coming weekend.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“Is something wrong? You’ve been sick a lot, and you’re pale as a ghost—“
“I’m getting married,” AnnaLeigh blurted. There. The words were out. From the look on Rachel’s face, the revelation was a stunner.
Finally, after a few efforts to close her mouth, Rachel rose and came around the desk to envelope AnnaLeigh in a fragrant hug. “That’s wonderful news. Congratulations! I didn’t even realize you were dating anyone. Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Holt McNeil.”
Rachel cocked her head, puzzled. “Jacey’s dad?”
She’d have to talk fast to make this believable. “I know, isn’t it amazing? One day when Jacey left her lunch bag, I chased them down in the parking area.” That much was true. She put her arms out to each side. “And the rest is history.”
Rachel crossed her hands over her blue blouse. “Love at first sight.”
AnnaLeigh tried for a casual shrug and smile. “What can I say? Holt’s an irresistible guy. We figured there’s no reason to wait.”
And plenty of reasons not to.
Rachel held her at arm’s length. “Think no more about it. Take the days off and have a wonderful honeymoon. When things settle down and you have time, we’ll have a sweet little wedding shower right here in the shop.”
AnnaLeigh wanted to argue, but, if she did, Rachel might get suspicious. What bride would refuse a shower? As much as she hated the deception, AnnaLeigh nodded. “You’re such a great boss. Thank you.”
She kept the smile glued to her face and headed toward the front of the store.
The die was thoroughly cast. She’d let the cat out of the bag, and word would get around in a town this size.
She was marrying rancher Holt McNeil.
Time to get her game on and pretend to be a starry-eyed bride-to-be.
Holt put off telling Jacey the news until the last minute. She was already amped up about her first trip to Daddy’s big rodeo, as she called the NFR. He figured she’d sprout wings and fly when she heard that AnnaLeigh was the answer to her prayers.
He was almost right.
Holt was helping her pack the night before the trip. A backpack was already stuffed with her schoolwork from a very accommodating teacher. Now, as they filled her small suitcase, the same one he’d numbly packed the day he’d brought her home from Pamela’s funeral, Holt tried to find the right words to give her this very special Christmas surprise.
He folded a long-sleeve T-shirt with a sparkly blue cat on the front. All her clothes still seemed so little in his grown-up hands. “Got something to talk to you about.”
Jacey tossed an armload of toys on top of the jeans and T-shirts and went back to digging in her closet. “I know, Daddy. I have to do my homework every day and practice my flash cards. Miss Jameson told me already.”
“That’s not what I want to talk about.”
The pony-tailed whirlwind brought three stuffed animals to the suitcase. “What?”
Abandoning any of hope of organizing the mishmash of toys and clothes, Holt sat on the side of the bed and patted the spot next to him. She obediently hopped up, bringing along Rosey, her “very favoritist in the whole world” unicorn.
“Let’s talk about Christmas.” Holt cleared his throat. “Remind me again of what you want most of all.” He thought he’d better check, in case she’d changed her mind in the last twenty-four hours. Wouldn’t that be a kicker if she had?
A man could always hope.
“Silly daddy, you know. A mommy. I asked Jesus to tell Santa to bring me a mommy. He will ‘cause He can do anything like you said.” She hugged the unicorn to her chest. “I can’t wait!”
“You do realize that I have to find a wife if you’re going to get a mommy. Right?”
“Well, yes, Dad. That’s how it works. You can’t have a mommy without a daddy having a wife.”
Holt figured now was not the time to address that particular bit of misinformation.
“And you do realize that when a man looks for a wife, it might take some time. A wife and mom doesn’t automatically appear under the tree on Christmas morning. There is work to be done, a connection to be made between the daddy and the mommy.”
“Oh.” Jacey pooched out her lips, forehead caught in thought. “I never did think of that.”
“So, what if Christmas came a little bit early? What if Jesus sent your present now instead of on Christmas morning, so that the mom and dad could get married in time for Christmas? Would you like that?”
Jacey’s green eyes widened to the size of flying saucers. “Daddy! Tell me. Tell me right now. Am I getting a mommy today?”
He laughed. “Not today, but soon.”
“Is she pretty? Does she smell good?” Jacey threw herself backwards on the bed and bicycled her legs. “Can she fix hair? Will she like me?”
The last part was asked anxiously enough that Holt’s heart clutched.
“She already does. You know her. She’s going to Las Vegas with us tomorrow.”
“Who is it? Ellie’s mama?”
“No, not Ellie’s mom. AnnaLeigh“—Oh, man, he’d forgotten her last name—“from your Cards by Kids class.”
Her pumping legs stopped in mid-cycle and flopped onto the comforter. Mouth hanging open and eyes as sparkly as the stars on a winter night, Jacey gaped at him in total silence.
“So,” he asked hesitantly. “What do you think? Do you like her?”
A shriek of pure joy ripped the air. His baby girl flung herself at him with the wild exuberance only a six-year-old can generate. “I love Miss AnnaLeigh. Oh, Daddy, oh, Daddy, oh, Daddy.” She pounded her fists against his shoulder. “This is the best Christmas present ever! You and me and Miss AnnaLeigh forever and ever and ever, a family together.”
Yeah. Forever and ever and ever. He tried not to think about that too much.
“You happy?”
“I’m the happiest kid in the world,” she said with enough drama to start a BBC televisio
n series. Tilting back to look him, her palms bracketed his cheeks. “You were right, Daddy, Jesus can do anything!”
Something inside Holt eased. He’d made the right decision. This was good. Jacey’s answered prayer and the affirmation of her faith were his reward for doing this crazy thing. Her joy made the discomfort worthwhile.
The way everything had easily fallen into place, God must have orchestrated the whole thing. He needed to believe that.
Holt hugged his daughter close and hoped he was right.
AnnaLeigh’s first road trip to Vegas began at the evil hour of four a.m. The morning sickness kicked in a little after six.
By the fourth time she had been forced by nature to ask Holt to stop the pickup truck, he’d looked at her with more than a little worry. To assuage his concerns, she assured him the problem was only car sickness. She’d suffered from the malady for years.
She could be sick from riding in his enormous King Ranch Ford. And she had suffered car sickness once a long time ago. Unless that time had been a stomach virus. She’d never been quite sure.
For at least the dozenth time, Jacey popped her seat belt and leaned through the console space, stuffed animal extended. “Miss AnnaLeigh, are you better yet? Want to hold Rosey? She makes me feel better when I’m pukey.”
Holt shot AnnaLeigh a sympathetic look. At the moment, she lay against the passenger door, her face touching the cool window glass. She’d give a hundred dollars to roll down the window and let the cold air blow in her face, but she didn’t mention that to Holt. He’d let her. Then he and Jacey would be cold.
“Jacey, sit back and buckle up,” Holt said. “I’m tired of telling you.”
“But, Daddy, I’m too excited. I’ve never been to a wedding before, and I’m getting a mommy, and you’re getting a wife, and it’s going to be the funnest thing ever!”
“Jacey. Seat belt.” Holt’s voice held a warning.
With a groan, the six-year-old flopped backwards, leaving behind the unicorn. AnnaLeigh listened for the snap of seat belt.
Ten Rules for Marrying a Cowboy Page 8
