Ten Rules for Marrying a Cowboy

by Linda Goodnight

  “She doesn’t share Rosey easily.” Holt dipped his chin toward the toy.

  AnnaLeigh offered a wan smile and pulled the stuffed animal onto her lap. The less she moved the better.

  “Thank you, Jacey,” she whispered.

  “There’s a town up ahead a few miles off the interstate. We’ll stop for a while and let your stomach settle.”

  “Don’t stop on my account. This will pass.” He might change his mind about her if she was too much trouble. People had before.

  Regardless of her protest, he took the next exit and drove a winding road across a bridge into a small town. Pulling into curb parking, he pointed at the business in front of them.

  A pharmacy.

  “No, Holt, really, I’m okay.” She sat up straight to prove the point.

  He gave her a quiet look. “Sit tight.”

  He let Jacey out of the backseat, and the duo went inside the building. The truck windows wouldn’t roll down without the key, so she opened her door and let the cold air wash over her.

  In a short time, Holt and Jacey came out of the pharmacy toting a large white paper bag. They walked around to her side of the truck.

  “We got you some medicine, Miss AnnaLeigh. It’ll make you feel all better. That’s what the doctor said.”

  Holt placed a wide hand on his daughter’s head. “Pharmacist.”

  He handed AnnaLeigh the bag. “Wasn’t sure what would be best, so you can pick and choose. There’s some Gatorade in there too. Sip on that. You need fluids.”

  She took the bag and placed it on the floor in front of her. “This is very thoughtful.”

  He leaned in and touched her hair, eyes sincere. “You’re my fiancée. I’m taking care of you.”

  The gesture was pretense for Jacey’s sake, she knew, but oh, it felt good. She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Thank you.”

  “The pharmacist says there’s a good diner down the street. Jacey and I are going to grab a bite of breakfast. If you think you’re up to it—“

  “I’m not,” she hurried to say. The very thought of food sent her stomach into spasms. “Go ahead. I’ll take some medicine and rest.”

  He got that worried look again. “Sure you’ll be okay.”

  “Got my cell phone if I need you.” If she needed him. What would that feel like, having a man to care enough to be there if she needed him?

  After they left, she rummaged in the bag, hoping he’d purchased something safe enough for a pregnant woman to take. An assortment of bottles filled the bag. Seemed he’d bought every nausea medication in the store.

  There was Dramamine. She didn’t know if that was safe. A bottle of Emetrol. She didn’t even know what that was. Finally, she spotted a bottle of liquid antacid. Though not confident it would help the nausea, she was convinced it wouldn’t hurt her little one.

  Finding a plastic spoon in the bottom of the sack, another courtesy she appreciated, AnnaLeigh cautiously sipped a dose and waited.

  So far, so good.

  Around her, the little town moved at a slow pace. Cars drifted past, slowing for the four-way stop at the corner. Two women walked by holding the hands of a small child between then. People went inside the pharmacy and came out carrying white bags of varying sizes. Car doors slammed. Engines cranked up. Voice drifted down the streets.

  The peaceful scenes calmed the craziness going on in her head and belly.

  She opened the Gatorade and took a sip. Knowing she needed the fluids, she tried a bigger sip. And then another.

  The liquid hit bottom…and her stomach revolted.

  With a sideways lurch, she held the open door with one hand and the back of the seat with the other as she leaned her head out.

  Humiliation flooded her. To be sick right here on a main street, even in a town she’d likely never visit again, was too much.

  Tears slid from her eyes. Sweat bathed her forehead. Though her stomach quickly emptied, she heaved again and again.

  In her line of vision, however blurry, she saw cowboy boots. A rough hand gently brushed her hair away from her face and held it back. Holt didn’t say a word, but his presence both soothed and dismayed her. The tears kept coming, as if she had no control, because she didn’t.

  When the sickness eased, Holt handed her a bottle of water. “Rinse and spit.”

  Could this get any grosser? Any more embarrassing?

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Hush.”

  Was that a caring hush or an angry one?

  Two strong hands guided her back against the seat. AnnaLeigh let her head fall against the headrest, exhausted, shaking, sweaty and disgusting. Holt pressed a wad of wet wipes into her hand.

  The man was kind, endearing even, and genuinely concerned.

  She tried to hide her face with the wet wipe, ashamed of the tears and the sickness, but most of all, she was ashamed of her awful deception. If today was any indicator, Holt McNeil deserved better.

  He shifted, his boots scraping pavement. “Maybe we should head back to Refuge. Put the marriage off until you’re feeling better.”

  “No.” She sat up, let the wet wipes tumble to her lap. Any makeup that had covered her dark circles was gone now. She must look like Dracula’s bride.

  Certain she’d broken several of Holt’s rules already, especially the one about not making demands on his time or his money, she wasn’t giving him any more reasons to back out of this deal.

  “Absolutely not.” She sucked in a long breath. “I’m better now. I think that was the end of it. Once the medicine kicks in…”

  “You threw it all up.”

  “Did you have to mention that?” She gave him a wan smile. “I have some crackers in my tote. Once I get something on my stomach, I should be good to go.”

  Please, please, please, let the sickness be over for today.

  Holt shut the door with a careful click and went around to the driver’s side, letting Jacey in first.

  Turning in his seat to face her, he said, “You sure you’re up for this?”

  “Positive.” She reached in the tote at her feet and took out the crackers, holding them aloft. “Crackers and Gatorade, a winning combination.”

  He sat there, watching her for another long moment, worrying his bottom lip, one forearm draped over the steering wheel. Clearly, he thought he’d picked a doozy, a sickly doozy.

  She nibbled the cracker, swallowed, then took another nibble.

  Jacey’s head appeared between the seats. She reached through and patted AnnaLeigh’s arm. “I prayed for you, Miss AnnaLeigh. You’ll be all better now.”

  The sweetness of those words touched a tender place inside AnnaLeigh that she didn’t even know existed. If God bothered to listen to anyone, He’d surely hear the prayers of a child as caring as this one.

  A few miles later, the nausea disappeared, and she wondered if maybe He had.

  7

  The lines on the highway flew past in a blur of white and yellow as Holt drove in silence, pondering the woman he was about to marry. She seemed to be over the car sickness now and was chatting with Jacey, who couldn’t seem to contain her excitement for longer than five minutes at a stretch. Still, he worried about his bride-to-be. She was so pale and thin that he wondered if she was sick a lot. How could she care for Jacey if she was sick all the time?

  But she said she wasn’t, and he chose to believe her. Maybe he was too desperate and too far along in this charade to consider anything else.

  He had to admit, he admired her grit, her bravery, her determination to continue the trip. She’d never complained, but she’d apologized plenty.

  She was a pleasant woman, sweet to his daughter. He’d focus on the positives.

  “Can I be the flower maid?” Jacey was asking. “Ava was a flower maid once in a wedding, and she wore a fancy dress and threw roses at people. She said it was the funnest thing ever.”

  Holt tuned in to his daughter and caught AnnaLeigh’s glance. Her eyes wer
e laughing. Her lips twitched.

  A sense of humor. He liked that, too.

  He grinned. “I think you mean a flower girl.”

  “Uh-huh. Can I be one? Will you buy me a pretty dress? And AnnaLeigh too, and we’ll get flowers and throw them and everything.”

  He hadn’t thought that far in advance. Truth of the matter, he hadn’t considered an actual wedding-wedding. He stretched his neck, suddenly tense.

  “Well, Jace, AnnaLeigh and I were thinking a drive-through ceremony would be fun, sort of like McDonalds. We’d drive up, talk to a person through the window and, as quick as ordering French fries, you’d have your new mommy.” He tried to make it sound better than it would be. “Then, afterwards, we’ll get ice cream sundaes and celebrate. How does that sound?”

  His cowpoke wasn’t buying it. After two beats, he knew he was in trouble.

  “Terrible.” Her seatbelt popped again, and there she was, head twisted up to stare at him. “Daddy, I want a fancy wedding so I can be the flower maid and wear a pretty dress like Ava did.”

  “I don’t know…” The idea of an actual wedding unsettled him. He didn’t want to see AnnaLeigh all dressed up with flowers in her hair.

  He glanced at Jacey’s face. The wrinkled brow and turned-down mouth said it all. Daddy was a great big disappointment.

  Holt looked back at the traffic, discombobulated.

  The little scamp didn’t move. She was breathing in his ear. He could feel her disappointment all the way through his chest. “Sit back, Jacey. Buckle up.”

  “Daddy.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is AnnaLeigh my Christmas present from Jesus?”

  Uh-oh. “Yes.”

  “Then, I think He’d want me to plan the wedding, don’t you?”

  “Well….” He was stuck, as usual, when it came to his daughter. Stuck between a rock and a hard head. Hers.

  The trouble was, she didn’t ask for a lot. This was important to her.

  He could feel AnnaLeigh’s stare burning the side of his face. Did she also want a wedding with all the trimmings that make men miserable?

  Holt wrestled with the dilemma for several long, painful seconds. A wedding made this marriage thing way too real. A wedding could stir up feelings he didn’t want to have. Theirs was supposed to be a business arrangement, not a fru-fru love match.

  But Jacey didn’t know that. She could never know that.

  An eighteen-wheeler roared past, rocking the pickup.

  Holt shot a quick glance toward AnnaLeigh. She gnawed the side of her thumbnail, expression as worried as his. Was she thinking the same things?

  “Daddy, please, please, please. You love Miss AnnaLeigh, and she loves you, and you’ll live happily ever after like in Cinderella. You gotta have flowers and music and fancy dresses to make her my mommy forever and ever.”

  What could he say that wouldn’t destroy his child’s faith, both in Jesus and in her daddy?

  Only one thing.

  He choked out the words. “Okay, you can plan the wedding. With Miss AnnaLeigh’s help. But no unicorns. And no purple.”

  A man who’d been outwitted by a pint-sized female had to exert some kind of control over the situation.

  Jacey giggled. “Daddy, weddings have flowers and cake and fancy girly stuff. Not unicorns. Except for Rosey. She can come, can’t she?”

  “Okay, then, one unicorn. Now, sit back and buckle your seat belt.”

  “Yahoo!” she shouted like a rover on a cattle roundup and flopped back against the seat.

  A wedding. With flowers and cake and everything.

  Oh, man, was he in trouble.

  As the miles flew past and the sun set, AnnaLeigh thought Jacey’s excitement would wear down. It didn’t.

  Holt didn’t say much, but he glanced her way a few times, eyes alternately amused and worried by his daughter’s plans. The child’s thoughts jumped like a flea from one idea to another.

  “While Daddy’s talking to all the cowboys about his stock, we can go shopping for our dresses,” Jacey said. “I kinda want a purple one but Daddy said no purple, so I want pink. I like pink. Or maybe white. Ava said her dress was long and white and she looked like an angel. Will I look like an angel?”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “Can you fix my hair? I don’t want a ponytail. Ava had curly curls that hung down on her shoulders. She’s so pretty.”

  “You’re pretty, too,” AnnaLeigh said, “just in a different way from Ava. Your brown hair will be beautiful in long, shiny curls, if that’s what you want.”

  They chatted about curls and hairdos and bows. AnnaLeigh listened, adding thoughts now and then, but the idea of an actual wedding rattled her.

  Holt’s kindness on this trip had edged him up several notches on the appeal meter. That, and the fact that he was physically a very attractive male, would make it much easier to behave like a blushing bride.

  She could play the part. No big deal. As a foster kid, she’d lived in a fantasy world half the time, dreaming that her parents had been lost at sea, and once they were found they would come for her, dreaming of a Prince Charming who would love her forever. But those were only fantasies that had never held the least bit of reality.

  Marrying Holt, mothering Jacey—those were real.

  She’d have to be careful. She didn’t want to fall in love. Neither did Holt, as he’d so bluntly stated in his rules list. But, thanks to Jacey’s big plans, the fantasies in AnnaLeigh’s head danced around like a hill full of Irish fairies.

  Jacey’s thoughts jumped again. “Daddy, I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too. How about you, AnnaLeigh?”

  “I could eat.” She hoped.

  They were approaching an exit, and Holt hit his blinkers. “Might as well pull off here. There’s a hotel and restaurant. I think you’ll feel better after a decent meal and a good night’s rest.”

  “Don’t stop on my account. I’m feeling great now. I can drive and let you rest, if you’d rather drive straight through.” He’d refused her frequent offers to drive, but he must be exhausted.

  “Except you haven’t eaten anything except crackers today. We’ll grab a hotel, get some supper and rest, and let Jacey expend some of that energy of hers.”

  A hotel. She hadn’t thought this trip out very well. Would he expect her share his room as part of the charade? Would Jacey?

  But they weren’t married yet. Would that matter?

  Pondering how to handle the situation, AnnaLeigh followed the handsome cowboy inside to the hotel desk and waited, chatting with the effervescent Jacey while Holt checked them in.

  He turned, handing her a key. “Side by side rooms on the third floor. You two go on up. I’ll get the luggage.”

  Relief flooded AnnaLeigh. Her own room. Thank goodness. He may have told her he was a Christian man, but she didn’t put much stock in a man’s word.

  He turned to leave. She put a hand on his elbow. “We can help with the luggage. You’ve been driving all day.”

  Considering the kindness he’d shown her, carrying her own suitcase was the least she could do.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he rolled his shoulders. They had to be tight as a trampoline. “Thanks.”

  They unloaded the luggage and then ate at the hotel restaurant, Jacey still bouncing like a bunny rabbit.

  When they’d finished a meal that, thankfully, had not made AnnaLeigh sick, they made their way to the elevator.

  Jacey pushed the button to the third floor and gave a little hop. “Can we go swimming now, Daddy? They gots a pool inside.”

  “Sounds like a good way for you to use some of that energy.” Holt lifted an eyebrow toward AnnaLeigh. “Want to check out the pool and hot tub?”

  A hot tub sounded amazing, but she shook her head. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Never even thought about swimming this time of year.”

  The elevator dinged to a stop, and they got out, striding side by side down the carpeted corridor. A house
keeping cart sat outside a door, and they squeezed together to pass it. Her shoulders rubbed with Holt’s. Their arms brushed. His hand went behind her back, resting there as they maneuvered the hallway.

  “They’ll have a pool in our Vegas hotel too,” he said, apparently unaware of the feelings he’d stirred inside her with nothing but a finger touch. “I can promise you, Jacey will want to be down there every day.”

  She hadn’t considered what she’d do in Vegas, other than marry Holt. That terrifying fact had been enough to occupy her mind during every waking moment. The trip details had escaped her.

  They reached room 307 and paused outside her door. Holt’s touch fell away.

  She didn’t know if she was sad or glad. One thing for certain, he’d left a mark. Not on her skin but indelibly on her mind.

  Was she always going to feel this…sensation in Holt’s presence? Or was it an anomaly caused by the bizarre situation and pregnancy hormones?

  “You two go ahead,” she said. “I’ll call it a night, but I’ll look into buying a swimsuit when we get to Las Vegas.”

  With her thoughts tangled like spaghetti, AnnaLeigh avoided Holt’s eyes. She could feel him watching her, feel Jacey’s bright gaze on her. She fumbled with door lock, heard the click and pushed.

  “Okay, then,” Holt said. “We’ll see you in the morning. Or, if you feel like it later, come down to the pool. You can at least dangle your feet and relax a little.”

  Relax? With Holt walking around in swim trunks? She could easily imagine how good he would look, all muscles, cowboy strength, and naturally tan skin.

  Another thing she hadn’t considered. Even if they weren’t romantically involved, living in the same house meant a certain level of intimacy.

  Was she really ready for this?

  The next afternoon, Holt’s heart kicked into high gear as he, Jacey, and AnnaLeigh stepped off the elevator into the enormous Vegas hotel lobby.

  They’d stashed their bags in the room and come exploring. To him, Las Vegas was a home away from home. He hadn’t missed an NFR since he was a teenager, but he was still struck by the sheer energy vibrating through the city.

  He sucked in a breath of scented air, took in the Christmas swag dangling from the high ceilings and the cowboys and wannabees strutting around the giant lobby in hats and boots.