The Cowboy's Fake Marriage

by Bree Livingston

  “Now, don’t you go giving me any lip. This nice lady needs help. Her Mustang broke down, and I need to fix it.”

  “Oh really?” Jackson had lost track of the number of times his uncle had set him up with some so-called helpless lady.

  “I’m telling the truth. Smoke was billowing from the engine. I’m pretty sure it’s the radiator, but until I get under the hood, I won’t know for sure.”

  Right. What had his uncle promised this woman? With the last one, he’d promised a new engine if she’d pretend she needed lodging. “Uh-huh.”

  “Jackson Bartholomew Bellamy, I’m telling you her car broke down. Now get yourself here and get this poor woman. It’s almost lunchtime, and she’s going to be hungry. I’ve got a few sandwiches, but I don’t think someone like her will be interested in convenience-store limp-lettuce ham and cheese.”

  He’d used all three names? Boy, he was desperate this time. “All right, I’ll come get her.” Sometimes, he wished he had an ornery streak, but his uncle had done too good of a job raising him. He couldn’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman.

  “You’re coming now, right?”

  “Yep,” he said as got into his pickup. “I’m leaving right now.”

  “Good. I’m going to get her car. You mind your manners, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good, I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Later,” Jackson said and hung up the phone. He shook his head as he started the truck and put it in gear.

  Why couldn’t his uncle just let him be? Jackson enjoyed his life. Yeah, it was a little lonely, but not so lonely that he needed to be set up by his uncle. Besides, it wasn’t that long ago that he was married. Hannah was the love of his life, or so he thought. He’d given every piece of himself to her, and she’d run off and left him shattered. Never would he have thought he’d be in his early thirties and divorced.

  It’s not that he necessarily wanted to be alone, there just wasn’t anyone he’d been interested in. Jackson hadn’t given up on love; he’d just set his standards higher this time. The next time he got married, he was going to be more careful with who he picked.

  A half an hour later, he parked his truck next to his uncle’s pickup. Geez, the man tried too hard to be smooth. The tow truck was gone, and Jackson could make out a slender figure in the store. Well, he’d try to let her down easy and hope his uncle hadn’t promised too much this time.

  He hopped out of the truck and strolled to the door. As the bell above it chimed when he opened it, a woman turned, and wide eyes greeted him. For a second, he was frozen by her beauty, until he remembered it was a setup.

  He tipped his hat to her. “I’m Jackson Bellamy.”

  The woman smiled as she walked toward him. “Hi. I’m Grace Maddox. I’m sorry about this. I never thought to ask your uncle if you had a room available.”

  He always had plenty of room. The Willow Bend Bed and Breakfast was the star of Central Texas back in the day, but now it was rough inside and out. It was livable, but no one in their right mind would pay top dollar to stay there anymore. Jackson had a lot in common with that house.

  “Oh, it’s no problem. I’ve got room.” He shook her hand and returned her smile. “So, your car broke down, huh?”

  “Yeah, first I get lost, and then my car breaks down.” She sighed, and he could have sworn she said, “Of course.”

  He studied her a moment. Where had his uncle found her? She even sounded sincere, but he’d fallen for that before. The last time was the worst. She’d been a damsel in distress too. Next thing Jackson knew, he was apologizing for his uncle and letting the woman down as easy as he could. Come to find out, Quincy had put his profile up on a farmer’s dating website.

  Jackson had come unglued when he discovered the truth. After their huge argument, his uncle had promised no more setups, but here he was, being set up yet again. He did have to give it to Quincy. She sure was cute. Her chestnut hair fell to her shoulders in soft waves, little freckles ran across her cheeks and stopped just beyond her hairline over her ears, and she had the cutest button nose of anyone he’d ever seen. It was so perfect that he wondered if it was natural.

  “This isn’t so bad a place,” he said.

  “It’s bad when you have an appointment to keep and you didn’t plan on staying.”

  He shot her a smile. “Well, how about we get going. I haven’t eaten any lunch.” He pulled the door open and held it for her. “Have you?”

  “Not yet,” she said as she passed him.

  They walked to Jackson’s pickup and got in. He’d left it idling, but the cold air he’d enjoyed on the drive over was lukewarm. “Give the air a second. When we get on the road, it will cool down again.”

  She nodded and twisted a piece of her hair around her index finger.

  He drove about a mile before Grace broke the silence. “You don’t look like the owner of a bed and breakfast.”

  “Oh yeah? What do I look like?” He probably looked a mess after working in the pasture, especially since he didn’t grab his button-up and throw it back on.

  “Like you should be riding broncos or bulls or roping something.”

  Jackson let out a chuckle. “Well, I used to, but I gave it up some time ago.” He left out the part where his ex-wife was the reason. He’d quit so he could spend more time with Hannah, thinking they could start a family, and he wasn’t going to be an absent father—like his dad was.

  “Oh, well, it’s dangerous, but it’s fun to watch.” She smiled.

  “I agree on both accounts.”

  She shifted in the seat and crossed her legs. “How long have you lived here?”

  He shot her a quick glance. “I was born here.”

  “How big is the town?”

  Jackson snorted. “A little less than five hundred.” Which he didn’t mind at all. After Hannah, he was hesitant to put himself out there again. He was glad to be back in a place so small because anyone he went to school with was either married, more like a sister, or someone he could never see himself dating.

  “Wow. I don’t think I could have found a town this size if I’d planned it. What’s it like growing up in a place so tiny?”

  He shrugged. “I guess it didn’t feel so tiny when I little. Where are you from?”

  “I was born in Baltimore, but I moved to Houston when I was ten.”

  “Houston, huh?” He’d lived there a short while with Hannah. He didn’t hate the place, but he didn’t love it either.

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “What brought you this way?” Other than his uncle.

  “Uh, I’m an interior designer.” She took a deep breath. “Or, well, I should say was. When I call my boss and tell her I’ve missed the appointment, she’ll probably fire me. Which, you know, doesn’t make any sense. Like it’s my fault my car broke down or that my GPS brought me to the middle of nowhere. Who plans to get lost? And sure, I could have flown to Abilene and then rented a car. But when you’ve got a ’67 Mustang, why wouldn’t you want to drive it?” She clamped her lips shut as a blanket of pink covered her cheeks.

  Boy, she could talk fast, but he had to admit it was cute. “You get fired up like that a lot?”

  “Only when I’m frustrated.”

  He shot her a smile. “How often are you frustrated?”

  Her blush deepened. “Enough that it lands me in hot water sometimes.”

  “I see.”

  Grace’s knee bounced when silence fell over them and lingered. “Your uncle said the bed and breakfast has been in your family forever.”

  “It has.”

  “Would you tell me about it? I love old houses.”

  He slowed to turn onto the gravel road that led to the place he called home. “Well, you’ll see it here in a minute, but it was built in the 1800’s. It’s been in my family since it was built. Almost a year ago now, I inherited it from my grandfather. He died six years ago, and my uncle held possession of it until I
turned thirty. It still needs work, but I plan on making it shine again.”

  “It sounds great.”

  Was she serious? “You think so? Most people can’t run away fast enough.” And most of those people were of the female persuasion.

  The wide smile she gave him made him swallow hard. He had to give it to Quincy. She had a smile that would stop traffic. “I’ve dreamed of finding an old house and restoring it. There’s just something about things built way back when that make them special, ya know?”

  “Yeah, I agree.”

  She twisted in the seat to face him. “Like, they’ve got these great bones, and all they need is a little love and they’ll be as strong as ever. You can’t get that nowadays.”

  Her excitement was contagious, and before he could stop himself, he added, “And the aged wood. You can’t fake that kind of thing.”

  “Oh, I totally agree. I had this one client who bought an old church and was turning it into a residence. He wanted modern everything. I tried my best to get him to reconsider, but, nope, the guy insisted on ripping up the wood floors. I was so mad, but I found a carpenter who took them. He sent me pictures of that wood floor repurposed in a new house. I nearly cried.”

  As the truck coasted to a stop, he tipped his chin toward the house. “There she is.”

  Grace steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips. A small gasp escaped, and she said, “Oh, this is...this is incredible.”

  A ring on her left finger glinted in the sunlight, and it was like a poke in the eye. Engaged? He hadn’t seen a ring when he picked her up. Where had that come from? Jackson was going to give his uncle an earful when he saw him next for trying to set him up with an engaged woman.

  Chapter 3

  Slowly, Grace exited the truck and let her gaze roam over the old bed and breakfast. It needed a ton of work, but her mind swam with the possibilities. She could see how grand it could be, and it thrilled her.

  A porch wrapped around the front of the house and was wide enough to have two swings sit side by side. She’d never seen a porch that big and grand. The railing was shot, and most of it would need to be replaced. Eight large fan-shaped windows lined the second floor and were spaced about six feet apart. Two balconies jutted from the front of the house, and she suspected that at one point they were used by dignitaries to make announcements or for newlyweds to wave to their friends and family after being married on the front lawn.

  White paint peeled off in big pieces, leaving the previous light yellow exposed. If she had to guess, the wood underneath might need mending from years of neglect, but the bones of the structure looked pretty good from where she was standing. The only thing new on the house was the black shingle roof, which stood out in stark contrast against the rest of the weathered home.

  In Grace’s mind, she was picturing the bright white of the house popping against the shingles. She could see a double-wide front porch swing on each end of the porch, two seating areas with little tables between the chairs, and guests sipping mint juleps or sweet iced tea.

  Oh, the visions of the bed and breakfast restored to its former glory played out like she was sitting in a theater, eating popcorn.

  “You can feel the history.” She heard the door slam and took her eyes off the house just long enough to see Jackson stopping by the hood of the truck. “Are there any records of people who may have stayed here?”

  He chuckled. “I haven’t checked the attic yet. I was too busy trying not to fall through the floor.”

  “How many rooms does it have?”

  “It has four, but they’re large. I was thinking that, eventually, I’d put a bathroom in each of them.”

  “You’d have to find the right contractor and make sure they knew how to match the style. You don’t want to do anything to take away from the historic nature of the place.”

  “You really like it, huh?”

  “I love it.” Grace smiled and turned her attention to Jackson. Suddenly, her mouth was dry. Talking about the house had given her brain something else to concentrate on other than the gorgeous man who’d picked her up. He’d shot her a sexy smile, and out of habit, she’d slipped her ring back on. One of these days, she’d be strong and leave it off when an attractive man smiled at her.

  Most of the time, she would compare everyone to Bret, but not this guy. He was tall, tan, and tantalizing with sandy-blonde hair and green eyes. The white tank he wore accentuated every inch of his muscular chest and showed off arms bigger than any she’d seen. His jeans hugged all the right places and made her blush just thinking about it. She’d never cared that much for cowboys or their hats, until now.

  A wave of sadness washed over her. Bret hadn’t been gone that long, and just an hour ago, she was tearing up at the thought of missing him. Now, here she was, ogling another man.

  She shook her head and pulled her gaze away, absentmindedly rubbing her fingers across her engagement ring.

  “As much as I love looking at this place, you mind if we take this inside? It’s hot, and I need a cold drink,” Jackson said.

  “Oh, sure. Could I get a tour?”

  Before they hit the bottom step, a car barreled up the driveway, leaving a plume of dust in its wake.

  “Oh, do you have another guest you’re expecting?” Whew. At least she wouldn’t be alone with him. Not that her thoughts were headed that way. She just knew having someone else around would keep her occupied.

  Jackson shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “No.” His eyebrows drew together, and the muscles along his shoulders tensed.

  It seemed he didn’t want to see whoever was in that car. It made her wonder if the bed and breakfast was in trouble. That made her chest tighten. Just the thought of that beautiful old house being bought bothered her. It needed to stay in Jackson’s family and be restored.

  The car stopped next to his pickup, and an average-height woman with stick-straight raven hair got out of the car. The sundress she wore popped against her olive skin. She looked like a model and made Grace feel underdressed and self-conscious.

  She slowly approached Jackson and stopped in front of him. “Jackson.”

  “Hannah, what are you doing here?”

  “I thought we could talk.”

  “No.”

  The woman’s shoulder’s sagged. “Jackson, please. I’ve called. I’ve left messages. We need to talk.”

  He shook his head. “No, we don’t.”

  “Come on, Jack.”

  “Don’t call me Jack. My name is Jackson—”

  Grace cleared her throat. This wasn’t a conversation she should be hearing, and she needed to call Yolanda and tell her what was going on. Plus, she was hot. “Um, if it’s okay, I’m going to go use the restroom and get a drink.”

  He nodded. “Sure. Take the stairs. Your room is the second on the left. The bathroom is the second door on the right.”

  “Thanks,” Grace said and grabbed her purse from the truck. She glanced over her shoulder as she took the steps. Who was that woman? She pushed it out of her mind. It was none of her business.

  The doorknob wiggled as she opened the door, and she stepped inside the home. “Whew, does it feel good in here.” She’d never been more thankful for air-conditioning in her life.

  Turning in place, Grace was overwhelmed with the beauty of the interior. Oak floors ran lengthwise from the front door to the wide-open parlor. The same oak floor continued up the stairs and trimmed the railing. It was also used in the crown molding that ran as far as she could see.

  The walls were painted white, and several shades of paint had been rolled onto the wall as though someone was trying to decide what they liked. The thought made her smile, and she wished she’d been there before the walls were painted so she could see the previous color.

  As she slowly ascended the stairs, she tried to take it all in. What stories could this house tell? Had presidents or celebrities stayed here? Were there any ghosts? Her mind continued to wander as she reached the
top step.

  It was obvious Jackson hadn’t touched this part of the house yet. The walls were dingy and dark. The wood hadn’t been polished. She walked along the hall, peeking into rooms as she went. One had wallpaper that was falling while another had a hole in the wall.

  She stopped at the bathroom, and again a smile overtook her face. It was like walking back in time. A small white pedestal sink stood across from the toilet, and a claw foot tub sat along the wall. Jackson must have done a little work, because a makeshift shower had been built and a curtain hung from the ceiling.

  Shutting the door, she turned on the water in the sink and splashed her face. After the day she’d had, the cool water was refreshing. Once she’d finished freshening up, she crossed the hallway to the room Jackson had given her.

  The work had been started in this room, but it was unfinished. It was half-wallpapered, and the rest had been pulled off. She walked to the bed and sat. It was new, and by the feel of it, she was going to have a good night’s sleep.

  The fan-shaped window overlooking the front of the property sat directly across from the bed. She stood and walked to it, running her hand over the wood trim. Had someone important stood where she stood?

  Her gaze drifted to the couple below. From what Grace could see, Jackson was having an animated conversation with the woman. He raked his hand through his hair and stomped to her car, opening the door and motioning for the woman to get in.

  She shouldn’t be watching, and like an exclamation point to the thought, her phone began ringing. She pulled it out of her pocket. Her boss had beaten her to the call. “Hi, Yolanda.”

  The connection was horrible. “Where are you?” Yolanda’s voice was so garbled that Grace almost couldn’t understand her.

  Grace turned her back to the window. “My car broke down.”

  “What?”

  “My car broke down,” she said a little louder, as if that would help Yolanda hear her better.

  “Your car broke down?”

  “Yes, in a place called Willow Valley.”

  “Yellow Sally?”

  Grace groaned. “No, Willow Valley.” She accentuated each word, hoping it helped.