Bonnie: The Secret Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch (Sweet Version) Book 8)

by Merry Farmer

  “Which reminded me that the same person who told me about your connection to Bonnie,” Gunn picked up the story, a discreet neutrality to his expression, “mentioned that you were in construction in Everland.”

  “And that decided me,” Howard finished. “Son.” He slapped Rupert’s shoulder, nearly knocking him sideways. “I’d like you to draw up a few house designs for me.”

  Rupert blinked. “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” Howard nodded. “A signature like yours shows talent, style. I want to see what you can do.” He gestured to the table.

  Rupert glanced from Howard to Gunn to Mrs. Faraday. “Right now?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Faraday clasped her hands to her chest.

  Shaking his head, Rupert said, “You want me to draw a design for a house for you right now?”

  All three of them nodded enthusiastically. It was the most mad-capped, inexplicable thing that had happened to him all day. And it hadn’t exactly been a normal day.

  “Well, all right,” he said doubtfully, letting Howard steer him into one of the chairs at the table. “But I have to tell you, it’s usually my partner, Odysseus King, who does the actual architectural drawings. I mostly just build what he designs.”

  “But I’m sure you’re a marvelous designer yourself.” Mrs. Faraday pushed aside the loose pages of drawings, turning one over so that Rupert could draw on the blank side.

  Rupert searched the table for something to draw and write with, but in the end the only implement available was the pencil in his pocket. So far, that pencil had brought him a mountain of luck, so he took it out and began to sketch.

  Skipper was the designer. Skipper had always been the designer. But as Rupert put lines on the paper and connected them using his memories of Skip’s past drawings and the information he’d learned over the years, something like a floorplan and an exterior design began to take shape. He didn’t know where the ideas came from—he was probably just remembering Skip’s houses they had built in Everland in the past—but there they were.

  Howard hummed in surprise and appreciation as he looked over Rupert’s shoulder. Mrs. Faraday ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ a couple of times. Even Gunn declared, “I like that,” a time or two. For Rupert’s part, it was almost as if the ideas were flowing straight from the locked rooms of his mind to the pencil without him thinking too much about them in the meantime.

  “Skipper’s the one you really want to talk to,” he said as he finished filling the page and set the pencil down. “Mr. King, that is. I think I’m just copying his work here.”

  “It’s good work, though.” Howard picked up the paper and studied it. “I like how you’ve included a modern lavatory and plumbing.”

  “Did I?” Rupert stood and craned his neck to look at what he’d drawn by Howard’s side.

  “Yes, yes, this is exactly what I wanted to see,” Howard boomed. He slapped Rupert’s back again. “I knew it was a good idea to ask you to sketch for us. I have a good feeling about you.”

  “So do I,” Mrs. Faraday added, as enthusiastic as her father.

  “Strangely enough, so do I.” Gunn blinked and looked more confused than anything.

  Rupert thought the whole thing was about as barmy as a three-legged goat, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Howard said, handing the drawing to his daughter and facing Rupert. “If you can produce a simple drawing as brilliant as this, then I bet you and this ‘Skipper’ friend of yours could do even more impressive work.”

  “I suppose so.” Rupert shrugged. Another part of him was ready to give himself a swift kick in the pants for underselling his and Skipper’s talents.

  “If you can provide me with an array of housing designs by Monday—that’s only a few days, I know—then I will consider hiring your company—”

  “King Cole Construction,” Rupert filled in, hope rising by the second.

  “King Cole Construction,” Howard repeated, “to build these homes. And let me assure you, I pay top dollar for work well done.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say.” Really, he didn’t. The prospect of a lucrative building contract right there in Haskell could have been the exact thing he needed to convince Bonnie to abandon her foolish plan to marry Bonneville. There was a fair chance he could earn the money she would need for her girls and that he could stay close to her while he did it. It was eerily perfect.

  There had to be a catch.

  No sooner did suspicion reach out and grab him than his pencil suddenly rolled off the table. For no good reason. He bent to pick it up. That gave him a moment to think. Even if he didn’t manage to win the building contract with Howard, it was a step in the right direction. He would have a legitimate reason to stay in Haskell for a while, and he would be able to show Bonnie that he was serious about winning her. Maybe it would give him the chance to really and truly figure out what the big deal was with her business, how she really helped her girls. All he knew was that it couldn’t hurt.

  “All right, Mr. Haskell.”

  “Howard, please. Everybody here just calls me Howard.”

  “Howard.” Rupert nodded. “I’ll try to come up with a set of designs for you by Monday.”

  “Excellent.” Howard smacked him on the back so hard he stumbled. “Now let’s get you that lunch you wanted.”

  Chapter 10

  Bonnie expected a fight. After the way Rex had spoken to her in front of Rupert, after the way he’d spoken to Rupert himself, she prepared herself for round after round of verbal boxing with her irritating, aggravating, mind-consuming possibly ex-husband. She made lists of arguments in her mind, all the reasons why he should just let her go so that she could continue with the mission she knew she’d been born for. She was ready for him…also ready for him to give up and leave town the way he had four years ago.

  Nothing happened. Not one way or the other. Rupert stayed in Haskell, but not once in the days that followed did he confront her, pester her, plead with her, or attempt to change her mind.

  “What is he doing over there?” she whispered to Wendy Montrose as she stood by the window of Wendy’s dress shop, being fitted for her wedding dress.

  Wendy glanced past Bonnie’s shoulder, where she was pinning a fall of lace. “Looks like he’s sketching something.”

  “Yes, but what?” Bonnie squinted, as if that could make everything clear. Rupert stood in the middle of Main Street, staring at buildings with an assessing eye. He carried a clipboard and occasionally glanced down to write or draw something with a pencil. “He has to be up to something.”

  Wendy turned her away from the window so that she could continue pinning lace. “I’ve never known you to take such a keen interest in strangers passing through town.”

  Heat filled Bonnie’s cheeks. “It’s not interest, it’s just…” She let her words drop. Anything more she said would most certainly tip her hand and alert her friend to the fact that Rupert wasn’t some random stranger after all. She would betray the fact that it wasn’t just idle curiosity that led her to wonder about Rupert, it was a touch of wounded pride. He was there to win her back, after all. Shouldn’t he be trying harder?

  She tried to shake that ridiculous notion as the week continued and plans for her wedding advanced. Like it or not, there was a ceremony to prepare for and a reception to plan. Part of her wished she could send to Everland for Meri Carpenter to come help her. She’d felt an instant connection with the woman. But that, along with everything else, felt impossible. It seemed entirely fitting that even with the cold snap that filled the air, Rex insisted that they hold the reception outside on the church’s lawn so that everyone in town and several of his prominent friends from the Wyoming Stock Grower’s Association could attend.

  But the church yard was right next to the baseball field, and even though Rupert hadn’t attempted to talk to her in the past few days, he had apparently made other friends.

  “Is he just going to sit there all day?” she asked after
staring at him for far longer than she should while discussing reception details with Pearl and Lucy Faraday.

  “Who?” Lucy asked, lowering the two tablecloth swatches she’d been studying.

  “Him,” Pearl answered, a teasing light in her eyes as she nodded across the field to Rupert.

  Lucy twisted to have a look. Her expression brightened. “Oh! Mr. Cole. He’s such a lovely man. Gideon and I had him over for supper last night, and he entertained the children all evening with stories of his friends in Everland.”

  Bonnie could have been knocked over with a feather at that pronouncement. “You invited him to supper?” she gaped.

  “Yes, of course. He’s doing some work for my father and the town building commission. We asked him to put together some designs for new houses.”

  An odd, squiggly feeling formed in Bonnie’s stomach. Of course, that explained the sketching, but why? Rupert already had a thriving business with his partner in Everland. Why would he even think of doing work for Haskell? Unless he was planning to stick around. How much would Howard and the town pay Rupert to do that work?

  Deep shame and disgust with herself for jumping straight to thoughts of money forced Bonnie to turn away from the baseball field. She cleared her throat. “We really do need to make some decisions about this reception.”

  “What a wonderful thing for Mr. Cole to build houses right here in Haskell,” Pearl said in a dreamy voice. “Isn’t that a wonderful thing?” She sent Bonnie a pointed smile.

  Bonnie pursed her lips and sent Pearl a flat stare in return. Whose side was she on anyhow?

  Lucy’s smile widened. “Is there something I don’t know about?”

  “No,” Bonnie snapped.

  “Maybe,” Pearl whispered at the same time.

  Lucy’s expression burst with curiosity. “You don’t…you don’t know Mr. Cole, do you, Bonnie?”

  “Evidently not,” she muttered, then snatched one of the swatches from Lucy’s hand. “I like this one.”

  Lucy and Pearl exchanged a look that Bonnie didn’t like at all. She managed to get the two of them to focus on work, but Lucy was onto something, and Pearl was most certainly plotting. It didn’t help that a swell of laughter erupted from the baseball field. Rupert had abandoned his work on the grandstands and was now throwing a ball around with Trey and Albert. What did he think he was doing, making friends with her friends, playing games with them? Well, she most certainly would not let him play games with her.

  She held on to that determination into the weekend and well into Sunday morning. Church was one of the main social events of Haskell society. George was unique among preachers in that he let her girls attend services, but he had requested that they sit at the back of the church, seeing as some of the townsfolk didn’t approve of them. Bonnie sat with them some Sundays and with the Bonneville family the rest of the time. Today she took a seat at the end of the pew beside Pearl and Domenica.

  “Ugh. Papa, I don’t see how you can marry a woman who degrades herself by sitting with those disgusting women,” Vivian Bonneville snorted as she escorted her father through the church door. Her own husband—and third cousin—Rance followed behind, Melinda and Bebe Bonneville bringing up the rear of their group.

  “Pee-eew!” Melinda sniffed, waving a hand in front of her nose. “They smell like sin.”

  Bebe breathed in deeply. “Actually, I think that’s rose perfume. It smells rather nice.”

  “Shut up, Bebe,” Vivian and Melinda snapped in unison.

  “Girls,” Rex growled. It was all that was needed to scold Vivian and Melinda back into order. He pointed to the pew near the front of the sanctuary, sending the rest of his family on their way, but held back to frown at Bonnie. “I won’t have you sitting with these trollops after our wedding on Tuesday.”

  “I know, Rex.” Bonnie kept her voice strong, but she wanted to sigh, to weep.

  “It’s enough of a disgrace for people to see you sitting with them now knowing that our nuptials are imminent.”

  “It’s nothing the good folk of this town haven’t seen for years now.”

  Rex suddenly lurched toward her, leaning over her in a threatening, domineering way that he’d never used before. “It has served my uses for you to maintain your reputation as a harlot while connected with me all these years, but things are about to change. Do you understand?”

  An uncharacteristic prickle of fear raced down Bonnie’s spine. She had to remind herself that she could handle Rex. She’d always been able to handle him.

  “Yes, Rex. I understand,” she murmured.

  “Good.” He sneered, straightened, then marched down the aisle to sit near the front of the church with his family.

  “And you wonder why so many of the girls refuse to come to services at all,” Domenica muttered by Bonnie’s side in her lilting, Spanish accent. “When El Diablo sits at the front preening while those who think nothing of themselves and sacrifice all for others are forced to the back.”

  Weary to her soul, Bonnie patted Domenica’s hand. “I’m sure there are plenty of folks around here who know just how good and caring a person you are and how much your sacrifices mean.”

  Domenica’s eyes widened. “I was talking about you, mi amiga.”

  Of all things, Domenica’s kind words made Bonnie’s heart sink. Was she really doing the right thing by her girls in marrying Rex? Money was one thing, but what about respect?

  Her swiftly sinking mood was jolted as Rupert strode into church, reached her pew, and bent over to whisper, “Scoot over, would you?” He didn’t wait for her to move before wedging himself between her and the end of the pew.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed low enough so that no one could hear. One sidelong glance at the row of her girls was enough to see they had all burst into knowing, teasing, heartfelt grins. Traitors, every one of them.

  “Sitting together is what married people do on Sundays,” he whispered back, an impish light in his eyes.

  Bonnie sat straight and stared straight forward. She knew full well her cheeks were as red as cherries, but there was nothing she could do about it. Almost a week of hovering around Haskell, not speaking to her, and now this.

  “We’re not—” She clamped her mouth shut before she could blurt out that they weren’t married anymore. Rupert hadn’t signed the divorce decree. She hadn’t mentioned that she’d asked George to file a forged document. As far as Rupert knew, everything was just as it had been the week before when she’d gone to Everland.

  “I don’t think we ever sat in church together,” Rupert went on in a low mutter for her ears only. “Maybe that was our problem.”

  “Don’t you go finding religion on me now, Rupert Cole.” She had to lean against his side and turn her lips to his ear to be sure the Tremaine family in the pew in front of them didn’t hear. “I love and respect God as much as most people, but neither you nor I are big enough hypocrites to pretend we’ve always trod the straight and narrow.”

  Rupert shifted even closer to her, to the point where she could feel his breath tickling her ear as he said, “Sometimes I wonder if that straight and narrow was really God’s idea or if some fool made it up to keep folks in line.”

  Bonnie tsked. “Blasphemy in church.”

  “Would you prefer God’s honest truth then?” He slipped his hand over her gloved one, twining their fingers. “Like how much I love you and miss you, how you’ll never find anyone else who makes your blood boil and your skin sizzle like I do?”

  Ripples of longing and some very un-church-like sensations shivered through her. She should pull her hand away from his. Anyone could walk past the pew and see them holding hands, feel the sensual energy enveloping them.

  In fact, before she could finish forming the dangers in her mind, Rex straightened and twisted to stare back at her from his seat on the aisle so many pews in front of them. Anger flared through his expression, but that simple emotion was quickly eclipsed by a much more terrifying sort o
f calculation.

  “Oh, help,” Bonnie muttered.

  “Praying already?”

  “Rupert, hush!”

  She was saved from further embarrassment or temptation as the organist launched into the first hymn and George made his appearance at the door to his office. The congregation stood, and the service officially began. For the space of forty-five minutes, at least, Bonnie could have something else to think about. But more and more as George’s sermon about the importance of fair competition and sportsmanlike behavior went on—probably because of the finals of Haskell’s baseball league which would take place just after the potluck—Bonnie found herself concentrating on the heat of Rupert’s body, the scent of him beside her.

  As soon as the sermon was over and the last hymn sung, Bonnie practically leapt to her feet and climbed over Rupert to flee.

  “I have to help set up the potluck,” she explained before dashing outside. Even then, once she was in the fresh, fall air, she couldn’t breathe. Every part of her longed to throw her arms around Rupert, to beg for his forgiveness and to make plans to live the rest of their miserable, sinful lives together, but she couldn’t. But now, even that argument seemed hollow and repetitive to her, like a mosquito buzzing near her ear that wouldn’t leave her alone, no matter how much she swatted. Everything had become so hopelessly muddled.

  “Don’t think I didn’t see what was going on there.” Rex caught her by the arm as she rounded the corner of the church to fetch some of the potluck dishes from a shed.

  “Rex!” She nearly jumped out of her skin, her heart pounding so hard it made her dizzy.

  “That man. He was the one from the other day. Something about Everland.”

  The fierce light in Rex’s eyes burned so hot that Bonnie was sure everything was about to blow up in front of her. If she was going to go down, at least she could go down for the people and causes she loved. “His name is Rupert Cole,” she reminded him.