Sydney bit down on her bottom lip. Her cat-green eyes narrowed in concentration, but she didn’t respond.
“You ready to walk down the aisle in a white dress, promise to love me and honor me, then kiss me and throw a bouquet?”
As he outlined the scenario, an unexpected vision bloomed in Cole’s mind. Sydney in a white dress. Sydney in a veil. Sydney with a spray of delicate roses trembling in her hands. He could feel her skin, smell her perfume, taste the sweetness of her lush lips.
“We’d both know it was fake,” she said.
Cole startled out of the vision and gave a short nod. “Yeah. Right. We’d both know it was fake.”
“And that’s what would matter. That’s what would count.” She squared her shoulders. “Knowing the benefits, I could do it.”
Cole clenched his jaw. He’d hand the Thunderbolt over to her tomorrow if he could. But Olav the Third was specific, and Cole’s grandfather’s will was ironclad.
He examined the idea from every angle. From his, from Kyle’s, from Katie’s, from Sydney’s.
She could do it? Of course she could. It wasn’t as if it would be physically painful. And nobody would die. And nobody would ever be the wiser. Marriages failed all the time. After a decent interval, he and Sydney could simply divorce.
“Then so can I,” said Cole, just as he’d known he would from the second his brother conceived the plan. His family needed him, and that was an unconditional trump card.
A brilliant smile lit Sydney’s face. “Where do we start?”
“First thing we have to do,” said Cole two hours later while Sydney watched him saddle a horse outside his cabin, “is convince Katie I’m falling for you.”
Sydney eyed up the big animal from the safety of his porch, having second and third and fourth thoughts. Oh, not about marrying Cole; she was completely convinced that was the right thing to do. She was having second thoughts about getting on the back of an animal that could crush her with one stomp of its foot.
“Tell me again why that has to involve horses?” she said.
“Don’t you watch the movies?” Cole pressed his knee into the horse’s ribs and pulled snug on a leather strap. His strong, calloused hands worked with practiced ease, and she had a sudden vision of them against her pale skin.
He released a stirrup and secured a buckle. “People who are falling in love gallop their horses along the beach all the time.”
Maybe so. But there was no way in this world Sydney was galloping any horse anywhere anytime soon. “Couldn’t we just go to a movie?”
He rocked the saddle back and forth on the horse’s back. “Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s a long way to Wichita Falls.”
“What about a picnic? You, me, some ants, maybe a bottle of wine?”
“We want Katie to see us.”
Good point. Cole and Sydney alone in a meadow didn’t do anybody any good. Well, except maybe for the cowboy Viking fantasy she was working on. The one where Cole dragged her into his strong arms and kissed her until she swooned.
“Maybe you could double me on your horse?” That ought to give Katie something to think about.
“I wouldn’t do that to my horse.”
“Hey!”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so sensitive. I’m the heavy one, not you.”
She scrambled for an alternative, any alternative. “I know. We could mess up our clothes and our hair and let Katie think we had sex.”
He walked the smaller of the two horses over to the porch. “On our first date?”
“What? Are you a prude?”
“No, I’m not a prude. Come over here and get on.”
She shook her head, moving backward until she came up against the cabin wall. “Then why not on a first date?”
“Because I’m supposed to be falling in love with you. Come on. Clarabelle won’t hurt you.”
He couldn’t have sex if he was falling in love? “Don’t tell me this is a good girl, bad girl thing.”
His eyes darkened to cobalt and a shiver ran up her spine. “This is a horseback-riding thing.”
“Because, if you’ve got some hang-up—”
“What? You’ll refuse to marry me.” His look turned challenging.
But then, Sydney was up for a challenge. There was nothing wrong with sex on a first date. Not that she’d ever done it. But she could have if she’d wanted to.
“I won’t refuse to marry you,” she answered, striking a pose. “But you’ll have to tell me which kind of girl you want me to be.”
His nostrils flared.
There. Now he was the one off balance. She took a few bold steps forward and her breasts came level with his eyes.
She made a show of reaching past his shoulder to pat the horse. It twitched at the contact—a warm muscle jumping against her fingers. She let her voice go husky. “Which kind do you want me to be, Cole?”
“Sydney.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t flirt with me.”
She blinked in mock innocence. “I’m simply asking a question.”
“No, you’re not.” He swung up on the porch, positioning himself behind her, speaking very close to her right ear, making her skin vibrate with his gravelly, sensual voice. “What you’re asking for is trouble.”
He was right. Tall, strong, sexy and right. And if that was trouble, bring it on.
But his voice went back to normal. “Hold on to the saddle horn,” he instructed, placing his hand on the back of hers and moving it into place. “You’re going to put your left foot in the stirrup and swing your leg over the saddle.”
Sydney tensed. Flirting, she knew. Horses were something else entirely. “Listen, I’ve never, ever—”
“It’s easy.”
She fought his grip. “Cole.”
“She’s calm and gentle, and she’ll follow right along behind me.”
“I’m scared,” Sydney admitted. What if the horse bucked? What if she fell? What if she was trampled?
“Tighten your grip.” He pressed her hand against the hard leather of the horn. His palm was warm and sure, and for a moment she relaxed.
“I’m right behind you.” He nudged her forward, urging her closer to the horse. “Foot in the stirrup now.”
She took a deep breath and did it.
“Up and over.” He placed a broad palm under her butt and all but lifted her into position.
It was a quick thrill, but a thrill all the same. And now she was straddling a shifting horse, staring down at a rough-and-ready cowboy with a knowing glint in his blue eyes.
She could feel the heat coming off her cheeks and tiny quivers jumping in her thigh muscles.
“For the record,” he said, back to husky and sexy.
“Yeah?”
“You should feel free to be good and bad.”
It was a long mile from Cole’s cabin near the creek up to Katie and Kyle’s house on the hill. They took it at a slow walk, and Clarabelle followed the black horse along a faint trail through a wildflower meadow. Sydney’s thigh muscles grew tight, but otherwise the ride went without incident.
“Katie said you used to live up here,” she called to Cole as the two-story house rose up in front of them.
He twisted in the saddle to look back. “I moved out when Kyle got married.”
“Was it just the two of you?”
He nodded, then did something to drop his horse back so they were side by side. “My parents died when I was twenty. Kyle was eighteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was tough. But at least we had Grandma.”
“The matchmaking grandmother.”
Cole smiled. Then his eyes dimmed. “She’s going to be really excited about you.”
Sydney felt a twinge of guilt. Grandmas didn’t seem like the kind of people you should lie to.
“Will it be okay?” she
asked.
He seemed to ponder the question. “Well, she’ll definitely book the church. Probably start baking the cake.”
He brought the horses to a halt but didn’t dismount. “You know, if we want to pull this off, we’d better make sure we have our stories straight.”
Trying to lighten the mood, she tossed her hair over her shoulders. “How about you fell head over heels and I’m marrying you out of pity?”
“That’ll work.”
“Cole, I was only—”
“It will work.”
Katie appeared at the back door, giving an exuberant wave. “Sydney. You’re still here?”
Sydney smiled at Katie. “Cole offered to teach me how to ride,” she called back, deciding it was better to stick to the truth as far as they could.
Katie skipped toward them. “That’s fantastic.”
Sydney shifted in her saddle. “It’s pretty hard on the butt. I don’t know how you guys do it.”
“Callouses,” said Cole as he dismounted. Then he grinned at her. “You’ll be developing some soon.”
Was he flirting?
He looked as though he was flirting.
And she’d sure felt a shiver at the reference to her butt.
He walked a few paces and tied his horse. Then he came back for her. “You want some help down?”
“Sure,” she said. It wasn’t as if she had a hope of getting off by herself. Plus, her skin was already tingling in anticipation of his hands.
“Kick out both feet,” he instructed. “We don’t want you getting hung up.”
She kicked free of the stirrups.
Katie grabbed the bridle and held the horse steady.
“Lean forward and bring the other leg over his back,” said Cole.
She did.
Cole wrapped his hands around her waist and slowly lowered her to the ground.
It wasn’t nearly as exciting as mounting the horse, but she got to inhale his scent, and for a second there his body was pressed full length against her back. She shivered deep down inside.
He didn’t immediately step away.
“She’s catching on pretty well,” he said to Katie. Then he leaned around and brushed a lock of hair from Sydney’s cheek. “She’ll be running barrels in no time.” He gave her shoulders a little squeeze before shifting away.
Sydney blinked at him in amazement. She’d never met anyone so caring and attentive. It was almost as if… She stopped herself. He was playacting. Wow. He was very good at it.
Katie let go of the horse’s bridle and reached for Sydney’s hand. “So you are staying for a while?”
“Okay with you?” Cole asked.
“Of course it is.” Katie gave Sydney’s hand a quick squeeze. “You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you like.”
Cole led Clarabelle to the post and tied her alongside his black horse while Katie insisted they come in.
The visit didn’t last long before pillars of black clouds moved down the valley. Soon, fat raindrops plunked onto the warm earth and battered against the windows.
Kyle arrived, taking refuge from the storm, shaking his hat and wiping raindrops off his face.
Katie greeted him with a hug and a kiss, and Cole moved up close to Sydney’s ear. “Okay,” he whispered, glancing surreptitiously at his brother and sister-in-law. “This is perfect.”
“What? You mean me?” Was she hitting just the right note here?
“No. I mean the rain.”
Oh. Sydney glanced out the window. Perfect wasn’t exactly the word she’d use to describe the growing torrent. “Is there a forest fire or something?”
“No. But the horses are all wet now. And so is the tack. It’s going to be a miserable ride back to my place.” Cole sounded unnaturally excited by the prospect.
Sydney grimaced. “Well, it doesn’t get much more perfect than that, does it?” Her inner thighs chafed at the thought of getting back on a dry saddle, never mind a wet one.
He patted one of her shoulders. “You need to think strategically.”
“Okay.” She nodded slowly, trying to figure out how the rain fit into their plans. Would it flood the road? Maroon them together?
“When Kyle and Katie break it up back there,” said Cole, “I’ll suggest we ride home. Kyle will offer to ride Clarabelle, but you insist on doing it yourself.”
Sydney watched the raindrops battering the window pane. “And why would I do that?” Other than a latent masochistic streak.
“You want to be with me, of course. You’re dying to spend time with me, because I’m so sexy and irresistible.”
Sydney cocked her head to one side. “How could I possibly forget?”
“I don’t know. Thing is, if you’re willing to ride a wet horse through a rainstorm, Katie will know you’re in deep.”
It made sense, in a wet, squishy, ugly kind of way. Sydney steeled herself. So be it. She was prepared to take one for the Thunderbolt.
“So Kyle knows about the plan?” she asked.
Cole shook his head. “I just came up with it.”
“What if he doesn’t offer?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She gave him a questioning look.
“If he didn’t offer, we’d have to kick him out of Texas. Now, no matter what he says, you ride that horse.”
“This is secretly revenge, isn’t it?”
Cole tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. “Nah. When it’s revenge, you’ll know it.”
Cole’s plan worked like a charm.
Soon Sydney stood dripping wet and saddle sore in the middle of his cabin. And, though he was just as soaked as her, he had gallantly lit a fire then gone back outside to take care of the horses.
She’d briefly considered offering to help. But she was exhausted. Instead, she shook the droplets from her hands, finger-combed her hair and glanced around the little room.
She had to admit, the cabin was charming and homey in the rain. It was built of peeled logs that had mellowed to a golden yellow. The floor was hardwood, scattered with rugs, and the walls were decorated with antique pictures and hurricane lamps. The pieces weren’t valuable, but she suspected Cole’s ancestors had purchased them and handed them down over many generations.
She ran her finger along the stone fireplace mantel as she moved closer to the heat. It was only September, but there was a definite chill in the air. A plaid armchair with a folded knit blanket looked inviting. Too bad she’d soak the upholstery.
Cole returned, banging the door shut behind him.
“You should go get dry,” he said as he pulled off his dripping Stetson and hung it on a peg. “There are a couple of robes on the back of the bathroom door. I’ll make us a hot drink.”
“I should do something to help.” Not that she didn’t appreciate this gallant he-man stuff. But she was beginning to feel like a dead weight.
He shook off the sleeves of his denim shirt. “Don’t worry about it.”
But she did worry about it. He’d agreed to marry her, and she didn’t want him to change his mind because he thought she was high maintenance. “Am I keeping you from work?”
He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen window. “In that? Are you going to be a nagging wife?”
Sydney couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry.”
“Get dried off. I can’t marry you if you’ve got pneumonia.”
She gave up. She left Cole to the teakettle and closeted herself in the tiny bathroom, stripping off her wet clothes. There was barely room to turn around in there. She banged her butt against the pedestal sink and nearly fell into the claw-foot tub. But she managed to strip down, find some towels and rub her skin dry.
She chose a three-quarter-length, plaid flannel robe with buttons all the way up the front. The shoulders drooped halfway to her elbows, and she had to roll up the sleeves, but it was warm and comfortable. She hung her wet clothes over the shower curtain.
They reminded her that she needed to ge
t back to Wichita Falls and check out of her hotel room. She couldn’t keep wearing Katie’s clothes, and she should really return the rental car.
She cringed, remembering the wires she’d yanked out of the motor. Should she confess the sabotage to Cole, or just wait until it was discovered and pay the damages? Hard to say. Ultimately, she’d rather give up money than mess up her chances with Cole.
She rubbed her hair dry and found a comb. Makeup, she’d have to do without.
When she wandered back into the living room, Cole’s gaze slid down her body, lingering on her bare feet. He cleared his throat. “You want some socks?”
She glanced down at the billowing flannel. The tails hung past her knees. “You might have hit on the one way to make this outfit less attractive.”
“You look fine.”
“I look like a refugee from Little House on the Prairie.”
Cole chuckled low. “Who cares? I’m a sure thing, remember?”
“That’s an excellent point. I’ve never had a man see me at my worst and not had to care about it.” She sat down in the big armchair and eased her saddle-sore legs under her. This was restful, in a bizarre sort of way.
All those years she’d spent fussing and primping and worrying. Cole could see her in a gunny sack and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. Come to think of it, this was pretty close to a gunny sack.
“This is your worst?” asked Cole.
She smoothed back her wet hair and nodded. “Pretty close.”
“At least there’ll be no surprises in our marriage.” He headed into his bedroom.
Sydney leaned back into the soft cushions. He was forcing her to think past the wedding. What would they do? She had to take the Thunderbolt to New York. But what if Katie didn’t get pregnant right away?
Would they keep up the charade? And if they did, would Sydney stay here?
She scanned the cabin again. It was a quaint little place. Maybe too quaint.
The kettle let out a shrill whistle. She waited a couple seconds, but Cole didn’t appear. Finally she flipped off the blanket, groaned and straightened, then hustled toward the kitchen, nearly colliding with him as he appeared out of the bedroom.
Thunderbolt over Texas Page 4
