Ten Rules for Marrying a Cowboy

by Linda Goodnight

  What was he doing? This was nuts. They were a partnership, not husband and wife.

  Except they were.

  Romance was out of the question. He didn’t want it.

  “Yes?” She licked her lips.

  Don’t look. Don’t even think about how soft those lips would feel.

  Using all his willpower, Holt took a step back. “Thanks for a terrific Christmas. Sleep tight.”

  Then, he hurried out of the dark hallway before he did something he’d regret.

  AnnaLeigh remained awake in the darkness for hours, staring out at the clear, cold night. The stars seemed close enough to touch, though it wasn’t the glory of a million sparkling lights that made her restless. It was Holt. It was this crazy situation she’d agreed to.

  He’d wanted to kiss her. She wasn’t naïve. She’d seen the smolder in his gaze and the way he’d moved closer in the quiet, dark hallway.

  She’d wanted that kiss, the perfect ending to a perfect holiday. She’d wanted to sink into Holt’s embrace, kiss him with everything in her, and pretend they were a normal couple falling in love.

  She hadn’t meant to let her heart get involved, had agreed not to, but Holt McNeil was easy to love.

  For all his bluster about money, he spared no expense. Last week, he’d gone with her to buy a table and bought the pricier one she’d liked best.

  He’d given her everything a woman could need. She felt safe, secure, and happier than she’d ever been. She had a home and a family.

  Alan was a distant nightmare. She wasn’t even worried anymore.

  The guilt came again. Her conscience ached with the need to tell Holt everything. Everything from her growing feelings for him to the criminal ex-boyfriend and the innocent baby conceived by force whom she loved with all her being.

  Holt was such a good man. Wouldn’t he understand and forgive her for keeping silent?

  But what if the revelations drove him away? What if she lost this cowboy she’d come to admire and respect, and yes, to love? What if she lost this perfect refuge for her and her baby?

  She turned away from the window, heart heavy.

  Why hope for a fantasy? Why not be content with all the good things God and Holt had given her? Why rock the boat until she absolutely had to?

  As Mrs. Holt McNeil, she lacked for nothing, nothing except the things she yearned for the most.

  12

  Against a dreary sky and cold wind, Holt made his way to the horse barn in search of AnnaLeigh. Monday was her day off from the shop, and although her car was in the driveway, she wasn’t in the house.

  “AnnaLeigh,” he called as he entered the breezeway.

  Something clattered, and then a fair head poked around the entrance of a stall. “In here.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning.”

  Weeks had passed since Christmas. New Year’s Day had come and gone, leaving behind frigid temperatures and a ton of work for a man in charge of a livestock operation.

  Somehow, after his near mistake on Christmas, he and AnnaLeigh had returned to their comfortable agreement. Neither mentioned the moment in the hallway, and he did his best not to get too close, or to think about kissing her. He tried not to even bump against her in the kitchen. Touching her caused an insane reaction, like instantaneous combustion.

  Yup. They were doing okay. He’d resolved whatever Christmas insanity had overtaken him. So had she, apparently, though he had to admit she looked prettier every day. She’d filled out a little and the dark circles had disappeared from beneath her eyes.

  He liked to think happiness had done that for her.

  Striding the length of the horse barn, breathing the familiar musty scents of animals and hay, he looked over the half door into the stall.

  Dust floated in the twelve-by-twelve space.

  AnnaLeigh straightened, a shovel in one hand, as she pushed a loose strand of hair from her face. A half filled wheelbarrow sat at her side.

  “Mucking out stalls?” He unhooked the wooden gate and stepped inside, surprised at what he saw. She’d already cleaned the other side of the foaling unit. “I don’t expect you to do this.”

  He or Zeke, sometimes with Jacey’s help, normally kept the stalls clean and ready.

  “Last night you mentioned that you’d been too busy, so I thought…“ She shrugged. “I’m not working today, the house is clean, so why not?”

  Her cheeks were pink. Pretty pink. She was so slender that she looked about sixteen with her hair in a ponytail above a Denver Broncos sweatshirt, yoga pants, and sneakers.

  “You’ll ruin those shoes. Where are your boots?”

  “Are you kidding? Mess up those gorgeous boots? These are washable.” She lifted a foot for inspection, eyes sparkling. “Oops.”

  Holt snorted. “That’s more than oops you’ve got there. Give me that shovel. I’d rather have your good cooking than a clean stall.”

  He stepped close to take the implement.

  “You can have your cake and eat it too, cowboy,” she said. “Beef stew in the crock pot. Cornbread ready for the oven.”

  “As long as I don’t have to eat this.” He pointed a look at the wheelbarrow.

  She giggled, a cute sound that went straight to the center of his chest and lingered there.

  He took hold of the shovel and tugged. “I’ll do this.”

  She pulled back. “You have other work to do.”

  He tugged harder. “I said, I’ll do the mucking.”

  She laughed, and he saw the challenge in her eyes. “I’ve got this, cowboy. Woman power and all that.”

  She pulled the shovel again, harder this time. His little wife was surprisingly strong.

  “Don’t mess with my macho, lady. You’re asking for trouble.” He handled fifteen-hundred-pound animals every day. “You can’t win this tug of war.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She gave her ponytail a sassy toss. Cute, cute, cute.

  He liked this playful side of her. Even if there was nothing romantic between them, he enjoyed her company, liked hearing her laugh, liked arguing with her over silly things like chick flicks versus action movies. And mucking stalls.

  AnnaLeigh was fun, a gamer. Kind of like Jacey.

  With a playful growl and the beginning of a laugh in his throat, Holt put his strength into the next pull.

  AnnaLeigh sailed across the short space and slammed into his chest. The shovel clattered to the dusty floor.

  What else could he do? He couldn’t let her fall into the muck, too. His arms went around her. His nose buried itself in her hair. All. By. Itself.

  She smelled like hay, winter air, and his perfume.

  He took another long, delicious whiff.

  Now that he had her, he wasn’t sure what to do with her. But he didn’t want to let her go.

  She was clasped against his heart, which suddenly pounded like stampeding buffalo, and all he could think about was kissing. The almost kiss he’d wanted on Christmas night. And the real kiss that had rocked his world the day they were married. The one he tried not to remember but thought about anyway. All. The. Time.

  Her arms went around his waist. Was that a sigh he heard?

  He might be in serious trouble here.

  She lifted her face, looked up at him.

  Oh, yeah. Serious trouble.

  A horse whinnied. Something, probably the horse, banged against the sheet metal barn.

  Rosy cheeks, sparkly eyes, full lips. And a smudge of something he wouldn’t think about on her forehead. He really wanted to kiss her.

  “This is crazy,” he murmured. But he was going to do it anyway.

  He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers.

  She responded, pressing close. Her mouth answered his. He deepened the kiss, drowning a little. Maybe a lot.

  Suddenly, AnnaLeigh stiffened. She dropped her arms and pulled away.

  No. Come back. Don’t go.

  His empty arms fell to his sides.

/>   Cold air seeped between their warm bodies and slapped Holt out of his spell.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. He wanted to bang his head against a rock. Probably should.

  AnnaLeigh didn’t want this. Neither did he. Romance was not in the rules. He’d promised. They both had. He’d even given himself a good talking to at Christmas. Loving AnnaLeigh was not in the deal, and he respected her too much to break that promise.

  He held out his hands in apology. “Sorry. Out of line. Won’t happen again.”

  AnnaLeigh gave him a long, troubled look, then, with chin up and face flushed, she nodded. “Don’t worry about it. No harm, no foul.”

  “You sure?”

  “Holt,” she said, as if talking to Jacey. “It was only a kiss. We aren’t teenagers. No big deal.”

  “Right.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. No big deal, she said. No big deal. Why did it feel like a big deal to him?

  AnnaLeigh bent to pick up the shovel and handed it to him. “Jacey is riding the bus home today. Supper at six.”

  She left him standing in the stall, a shovel in his hand, a funny feeling in his gut, and the words, “no big deal” rattling around in his brain.

  The contract was clear. And her signature was on the bottom next to Holt’s.

  AnnaLeigh flipped to the second page and read the words over and over. They’d both agreed to a strictly platonic marriage of convenience, no emotional or physical involvement, no romance, no love.

  Then why?

  She touched her lips. Jacey hadn’t been around, so the kiss wasn’t a ploy to keep up the charade the way it had been on their wedding day. He’d simply gotten this soft, hungry look in his eyes and kissed her.

  Trouble was, she’d kissed him back and wanted to keep on kissing him, to sink into his broad, bull-rider strong chest, and stay right there forever.

  She tossed the contract on her bed and stalked to the window looking out over the McNeil ranch. She loved watching the cattle and horses tug at hay bales, which looked like giant shredded wheat. She could well imagine how beautiful the ranch would be in spring when the bushes came alive with blooms and the grass was green.

  She’d already been considering a flower garden. Maybe an herb garden too.

  McNeil Ranch was miles from town, a good mile from the nearest neighbor. She hadn’t known how she would feel about living in such a remote area, but she loved it. Loved the peace and quiet, loved the animals, loved the sense of home and family, loved the little girl who called her mommy.

  She also loved the cowboy who owned everything she could see from this window.

  With a defeated sigh, AnnaLeigh flopped into the cushy arm chair next to the bed. Holt had wrestled the chair into her room after he’d learned of her love of reading late into the night.

  He was too good to her. That’s why she couldn’t help falling for him. He’d never so much as raised his voice to her or Jacey, and he’d certainly never hit her or forced her to do anything against her will. The cowboy didn’t have a cruel bone in his tough body.

  She should go to him this very moment and tell him the truth about her growing feelings, about her past, and especially about the baby.

  A voice whispered in her head. You can’t keep the secret much longer.

  She knew that. She knew she should tell him. But telling him would erase that soft look. He might hate her, or worse. He might send her away.

  AnnaLeigh tilted her forehead against the cold window pane, insides knotted. Honesty really was the best policy. She knew that now in a way she hadn’t understood before. Jesus had changed her. Deception hurt everyone.

  “Jesus, show me what to do. I don’t want to lose Holt. I don’t want to hurt him either. Or Jacey. Sweet Jacey who calls me mommy.”

  Her life was as perfect now as it would ever be. How could she throw that away?

  But soon, she’d have no choice.

  Soon.

  But not today.

  She turned from the window, no closer to a solution than before.

  She wanted a little more time to store up memories of Holt and Jacey, memories to return to if he divorced her. A few more days to live the fantasy of a real home and family. A little more time to love them both.

  Was that so wrong?

  Her conscience said yes. Her heart said no. Which one was right?

  But she knew.

  “Lord,” she finally said, “give me courage and the right moment, and I’ll tell him. Please don’t let my mistakes drive him away.”

  Her cell phone chirped.

  Was it Holt apologizing again for kissing her? And hadn’t that been a humiliation like no other? He was a man, doing what men do. He didn’t love her, didn’t want anything except the physical, but he was too honorable to force the issue. Holt was a man of his word.

  She slid a thumb over the screen. A notification bar appeared.

  “I know where you are.”

  Her heart stopped beating.

  For over a month, she’d heard nothing from Alan. Not a word. She’d thought he’d moved on without her.

  The message continued, warning, threatening. If she knew what was good for her, she had better get herself back to Colorado.

  She closed the app and held the phone to her chest.

  Her past may have been forgiven, but it wasn’t forgotten.

  Refuge was about as empty as Holt had ever seen it. Except for a few hardy souls braving the cold north wind outside the grocery store and another across the road filling his tank at the Sinclair pump, Holt and the feed store clerk were the only ones making any noise.

  The January lull was upon them, the time after the holidays when folks were too broke to go anywhere and the cold weather called for staying inside. Except for farmers and ranchers and those whose jobs required outside work.

  “Heard it might snow,” the employee said as he pushed the flat cart piled with mineral blocks toward Holt’s truck.

  Holt lifted his eyes to the sky. “Nah. Too cold.”

  They both chuckled.

  “Ice more likely.” He’d prefer snow, but Refuge hadn’t seen snow at all last winter.

  Holt hoisted a flat of mineral blocks onto the back of his truck. The clerk followed with another. The heavy blocks thudded against the metal bed, scraping as they shoved them forward.

  “Thanks, bud.” He slammed the tailgate and took the receipt from the clerk. “Tell your dad to come out sometime and watch my young bulls. He’s always welcome. You, too.”

  “Will do.” The other man, eager to be out of the cold, nodded, then jogged toward the building, breath puffing white.

  A white sheriff’s SUV turned the corner. Holt strained to see the driver, saw it was Evan, and lifted a hand.

  Holt moved to his truck door but paused to stare down the street. His eyes slid past the pastel pink-and-blue bakery awning to Rachel’s Gifts and Cards. Though he was short on time, he was tempted to drop in, if only for a minute, to see AnnaLeigh.

  Maybe they could both take a break and head to Pie Town Cafe for a slice of pie and a hot coffee.

  Nah. Bad idea.

  AnnaLeigh wouldn’t want that. She’d made that clear. She’d been avoiding him ever since that kiss in the barn.

  The cold winter day wrapped around Holt and settled in his heart. He felt as empty as the town. Wind stung his eyes, and they watered.

  AnnaLeigh had become skittish as a hummingbird again. His fault. He’d even heard her throwing up in the bathroom this morning, something she hadn’t done in a while. At least, not to his knowledge.

  Anxiety, it seemed, unsettled her stomach, which explained the sickness prior to Las Vegas. She’d been nervous about their marriage. Now, she was anxious about him.

  Which would not do. He had to fix this. He wanted to hear her laugh again and give him a hard time, to make him pick up his socks and tease him into playing Candyland with her and Jacey, and ask him to taste the spaghetti sauce. He wanted to dance with her in the kitchen and show h
er the new colt and watch her expression soften and glow.

  He didn’t like this skittish ghost of a wife, especially since her sudden onset of nerves was his fault.

  Maybe he should drop by the flower shop and buy her a peace offering before he left tonight. All women liked flowers. Flowers were a good apology.

  He didn’t have much time, though. He had cattle to haul, but he’d be back late tonight. Flowers should do the trick until he could return and maybe offer to take her out to dinner or…something.

  He hopped into his truck and headed toward the florist.

  AnnaLeigh rang up Dakota Lockhart’s purchase. Ellie’s mother hadn’t been in since before Christmas, so they chatted briefly about their daughters and the upcoming Cards by Kids projects and the organ donor drive for Valentine’s Day.

  As she had at Christmas, AnnaLeigh noticed the cowgirl’s weary eyes and wondered what burdens she carried.

  “Will this be all, Dakota?” She stroked the throw blanket’s soft fleece and checked to be sure the warming battery was intact. “I love how soft these are, and I’m told they’re really warm. Rachel says lots of customers bought them during football season.”

  The cowgirl nodded, her long, over-the-shoulder ponytail dipping low to brush the countertop. “It’s a gift for Vernon, the rancher I work for. His birthday. Eighty-one, and he still insists on driving the tractor in this freezing weather. Hopefully, this will soothe some of his arthritis pain.”

  “I’ll wrap it for you.”

  “No need. I promised Ellie she could do that. She loves wrapping presents.”

  “At least let me box it for you.” AnnaLeigh reached under the counter and found the correct sized container. While she was at it, she added paper and a bow to the inside. “There you go. All fixed up. Tell your boss happy birthday from Rachel’s Gifts and Cards.”

  “Thank you.” Dakota took the bag but didn’t leave.

  Except for the two of them, the showroom was empty. Rachel was in the back putting away Christmas merchandise and taking inventory. Business had been very slow, a malady of January that would go away, her boss had assured her. AnnaLeigh hoped so. She didn’t want to lose her job.