The Marriage Stampede (Wranglers & Lace #5)

by Julianna Morris

  How had he gotten himself in such a mess?

  Chapter Six

  Logan rolled over in his sleeping bag and stared at the canvas tent above him. He’d been on the ranch for six days. Six of the most frustrating...and best days of his life. Damned if he wasn’t having more fun than he’d ever thought possible.

  Merrie was a pint-size tornado who swept everyone along in her path. The drawbacks of lukewarm showers and a hard ground to sleep on seemed insignificant when she laughed and teased her way through the day.

  Her grandparents loved her dearly.

  The guests adored her.

  All the cowboys were wild about her—they’d crawl naked through a field of cockleburs if she asked them.

  And Logan was dying of frustration, even when she made him laugh—which she did a lot. There hadn’t been any more kisses, “friendly” or not. Mostly it was tough, dirty work. In his unique position of being a long-term visitor and “friend of the family,” he got drafted into all kinds of chores, which weren’t part of the usual vacation package.

  Like haying.

  Or shoveling manure from horse stalls.

  All of which was still fun, because Merrie attacked every task with the same exuberance she applied to working cattle or riding fence lines.

  Logan had asked Eva Harding about paying for his visit, only to be brushed off with an indulgent smile. Hell, he’d happily pay the full price as long as Merrie stayed next to him, with her bright laughter...and the shimmering awareness in her green eyes. That was the only thing keeping him sane—the knowledge that Merrie wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  Yawning, Logan crawled out into the cool morning. The sun still sat below the horizon, though the stars had begun to fade from the sky. He stretched, then hiked toward the showers with a towel-wrapped bundle under his arm. It was Wednesday morning, the first morning with a new group of “dudes.” While they might not have realized the iffy possibility of hot water, it was better to arrive early than take his chances.

  “Good morning.” The husky contralto of Merrie’s voice came from the shadows around the low building.

  His body tightened with pleasure. “Good morning.”

  She held out a box. “Grandmother washed your clothing. I was going to put them by your tent, but since you’re already awake...here you go.”

  He peered inside, seeing his shirts, jeans and other garments neatly folded within. “Gee, I think she likes me.” “I can’t imagine why,” Merrie retorted. “You being such a stuffed shirt and all.”

  Logan’s mouth twisted ironically, though he knew Merrie only meant to tease him. Truthfully he was uncomfortable around the Hardings. It wasn’t their fault. Families...happy families were a mystery to him, and he’d often seen Merrie watching him with a puzzled frown on her face when he couldn’t relax in their welcoming circle.

  Perhaps it was better that way.

  As much as he desired Merrie, they didn’t have much common ground. She belonged on the ranch and he was headed back to the city after his vacation.

  Damn. Logan didn’t want to think about leaving. Not yet. They had plenty of time left. His immediate future with Merrie was the only thing he wanted to think about.

  “How about taking a shower with a stuffed shirt?” he drawled. “I’ll scrub your back...and anything else that might need washing.”

  She turned toward the house. “Not a chance.”

  “I didn’t think so, but I had to ask...friend.”

  Merrie bit on her lip to keep from smiling. Logan didn’t give up...he just varied his tactics. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” she said over her shoulder. “Be sure to bring an appetite.”

  Behind her, Logan muttered something vaguely lecherous, having to do with appetites and what really made him hungry. Merrie just kept walking.

  If anyone had predicted she’d enjoy spending time with Logan Kincaid, she would have said they were crazy. He was a stockbroker, for heaven’s sake. Just the name of his career was enough to raise images of peevish, antacid guzzling men with “hypertension” and “early death” tattooed across their foreheads. At least, that’s what she’d always thought.

  But Logan didn’t talk about investments or stock portfolios, though he seemed interested in her ideas for the ranch. Mostly, the only “stock” he talked about were horses and cattle. And he worked hard, turning his hand to the dirtiest, most unglamorous jobs.

  “Is everything all right, dear?” her grandmother asked as she drifted into the kitchen, a pensive look on her face.

  Merrie looked up. “Sure. What could be wrong?”

  “I don’t know...something connected to your young man, I suppose.”

  “He isn’t my young man.” But she bit the inside of her lip, staring at the vase of wildflowers on the table. “Logan just wants to, uh, fool around.”

  “That could be nice.”

  “Eva Harding, that isn’t a proper thing for a grandmother to say,” Merrie scolded. “You’re supposed to be worried about my virtue, not encouraging me to do something foolish.”

  “Virtue is such an old-fashioned word,” Eva said complacently. “I prefer to think of it as exploring your possibilities.”

  “There aren’t any possibilities. Logan is interested in sex. Period. He certainly isn’t in love with me.”

  The elder woman’s smile was serene. “Don’t let that bother you. Men tend to think with their bodies first... it takes a while for their hearts to catch up. But eventually they do.”

  Merrie’s own heart skipped a couple of beats. “No, it’s not like that I mean, I don’t want him to fall in love with me. He’d never want to live on the ranch.”

  “The Bar Nothing isn’t everything, darling.”

  “Don’t say that.” Merrie crossed her arms over her uneasy stomach. “You don’t agree with Granddad, do you? That I can’t handle’ the ranch because I’m a woman?”

  Eva shook her head, though her eyes were troubled. “No, dear. I know you could do it. But it would be a lot easier with a man like Logan. Don’t give up on him, dear. He’s a good man and he may surprise you.”

  Give up on him? Merrie winced. Nothing could come of her friendship with Logan, no matter what her grandmother thought. He’d made it very clear he wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship—either in Seattle, New York or Montana. Besides, even if he wanted to get married, she didn’t meet any of the basic qualifications on his silly “wife” list.

  And she didn’t care, anyway.

  Right?

  Absolutely. Merrie looked out the front window, seeing the beauty of the open land falling away. This was home. Logan might make her heart pound and turn her palms damp, but that’s where it ended. The idea of them falling in love was ludicrous...so ludicrous she grinned at the thought.

  When all else failed, she could rely on her sense of humor.

  Merrie felt almost calm when she walked into the mess tent an hour later. Logan sat at one of the tables, joking with the other cowboys...he got along fine with them so long as they didn’t try to kiss her.

  If he’d been any other man she’d suspect him of being jealous, but jealousy and male possessiveness weren’t quite the same thing. Logan had simply staked out his claim, and didn’t want any poachers before he’d played it out.

  Merrie’s eyes narrowed, but Logan just waved, motioning to the empty chair across from him. She crossed her arms stubbornly and stayed put.

  “Hey, Red,” said a voice in her ear. “You got a burr under your saddle?”

  She glanced at Chip. He’d restocked the condoms under his hatband, having depleted the supply the previous week with a lady CEO from Los Angeles. One thing about Chip, he made no promises and was honest about his intentions—heck, he advertised them on his hat.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sure you are, Red.” Chip rolled a handmade cigarette and stuck it in his shirt pocket for later enjoyment—they didn’t allow smoking in the mess tent. “You know what? I kind of like Logan. H
e isn’t bad for a slicker.”

  “Men always stick together,” she muttered direly.

  “Now, Red.”

  “I’m going to eat.”

  The cowboys chatting with Logan scattered as she walked up and plunked her plate down, tipping their hats and making up dumb excuses why they had to leave.

  “What did you do?” Merrie asked wryly. “Threaten them with tar and feathers if we weren’t left alone?”

  “Nonsense. I’m a very civilized sort of guy.” Logan assumed a wounded expression as he took a swallow of coffee. “Don’t you enjoy having breakfast with me?”

  She ducked her head to hide her amusement, at the same time slipping a piece of bacon to Bandit. “You’ve charmed everyone else on the ranch, why worry about me?”

  “But, honey, you’re my personal—”

  “—wrangler,” she finished for him. “That excuse is wearing thin. You need a wrangler like I need a hole in the head.”

  “You promised.”

  “Huh.”

  He grinned his devastating best, and she forgot why she was annoyed. Men like that shouldn’t be allowed around women, they could make them do all sorts of silly things—like forget their own name.

  The visitors drifted slowly into the tent, lured by the smells of coffee and the cinnamon rolls Eva Harding always baked the first morning a fresh group slept at the Bar Nothing. Merrie got up and joined her grandparents, who were chatting with the different families.

  New visitors always had lots of questions about the ranch and what they’d be doing. Kids were the most fun. They threw themselves into being “cowboys” without a self-conscious thought. By the time they left, most would be talking with a Western drawl and riding circles around their more reticent parents.

  Merrie smiled, pushing aside the vague yearning Logan always made her feel. Logan Kincaid could be a friend, not a lover. After all, owning the Bar Nothing would be a lot more satisfying than a temporary relationship with an uptight stockbroker who despised marriage.

  At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

  Logan sat and drank more coffee while he waited for Merrie. He loved watching her in action. She just plain liked people, and it showed.

  After a while everyone began gravitating toward the main barn, where they would be matched with mounts and wranglers, and discreetly observed for their level of ability.

  “You’ll love it,” Merrie enthused to a shy teenage boy. “There’s nothing like sitting on a good cutting horse and moving the herd. I’ll bet you’re great with horses.”

  The boy looked at her with adoring eyes and Logan shook his head. Another conquest.

  Despite the noise and bustle of unskilled “hands,” the horses stood patiently, accepting timid pats on the nose and the laborious process of being saddled. And through it all, Merrie darted in and out, encouraging and making them all feel at home.

  But later...Logan’s eyes gleamed in anticipation, they’d ride alone, and he might make some progress. Merrie had to be getting tired of this “friend” business. Then all at once, a piercing, demanding voice cut across the happy bustle.

  “My God, Logan. This is where you’ve been hiding? In this...this place?”

  He looked up and saw Gloria Scott standing ten feet away from him, dressed in designer silk and the handmade, leather Italian pumps she prattled about constantly. The pumps had suffered a bit—they weren’t intended for walking through a barnyard. His mouth twitched.

  “Hi, Gloria. Nice to see you.”

  “Ugh. You’re...you’re filthy.”

  Logan glanced down at his jeans where he had brushed a streak of dust from his hands, then shrugged and leaned against the corral fence. “What brings you to Montana?”

  Gloria’s icy blue eyes got colder. “We didn’t know where you’d gone. Father was concerned...he’s called and called your answering machine.”

  “Sorry...I forgot to check for messages.” Logan tried not to laugh, but it was difficult. Why had he let Gloria’s marriage schemes annoy him so much? She was a riot—he should have been laughing all this time rather than wasting energy gritting his teeth.

  “Logan?” Merrie said at his elbow.

  He glanced down and put a lazy arm around her shoulder. “Hi, honey. Guess who dropped in?”

  Gloria’s face was remarkably similar to a cat whose tail has been shut in a door. “How charming. You went on vacation with your maid. Logan, dear, that’s very democratic, but I don’t think it was the best idea.”

  Merrie dropped the bridle she’d been carrying... possibly to free her arms for action. “Now see here, you don’t have any—”

  “Honey...she’s a guest,” Logan said hastily, tightening his hold on Merrie. She looked ready to beat the other woman into the ground with a broom handle. And while he’d enjoy watching, he’d rather have Merrie expend her energy in a more rewarding direction...like with him.

  “I’m not anybody’s maid.”

  “Of course not,” he soothed, then looked at Gloria and gave her a totally innocent smile. “Merrie’s family owns the Bar Nothing ranch. It’s quite a place—they offer the finest dude vacations in the country.”

  Gloria didn’t look impressed.

  Then a truly wicked idea occurred to Logan. “I’m awfully glad to see you. You can be the first to congratulate us...Merrie and I are getting married.” Without dropping a beat, he put his other arm around Merrie’s waist, pulled her close and kissed her astonished mouth.

  A startled murmur rippled through the crowded yard, evidence they’d heard his announcement. Whispers of “Did you hear that?” and “How romantic” were mixed with an outraged scream from Gloria.

  Married?

  Furious, Merrie pushed at Logan’s chest without success. The miserable rat—he was just having fun at her expense. Still...she couldn’t keep from moaning at the heat of his open kiss.

  It wasn’t wise to get near him. She was too vulnerable... her body too responsive to his warmth and strength. Casual sex and quickie affairs might appeal to Logan Kincaid, but she wasn’t made that way. Since that afternoon on the ridge, she hadn’t let him touch her any more than necessary.

  As soon as she was free, she’d throw Logan to the wolves. Actually one wolf...Gloria What’s-Her-Name and her insulting, snobbish attitude. They deserved each other. She’d rescued him from the woman once already, that’s all he could reasonably expect in a single lifetime.

  Yet when Logan’s grip loosened, Merrie couldn’t help clinging to his shirt. Her knees felt funny—sort of like they belonged to a newborn calf.

  “I’ll get you for this,” she whispered, gulping several breaths of air. She peeked to one side and saw an array of faces, staring at them with shades of delight, excitement and confusion.

  Except for Gloria. Gloria looked like the Wicked Witch of the West after she’d been doused with water. A perfect, freeze-frame pickle face.

  Oh, well. Merrie shrugged mentally. It wouldn’t hurt to play along. Her “engagement” could last a few minutes, and she’d tell everyone the truth after Gloria left.

  “We were supposed to tell my family first, darling,” she told Logan sweetly. “We agreed to keep it a secret until then.”

  “I couldn’t help myself, honey.” He kissed the corner of her mouth with a foolishly adoring expression on his face. “I wanted to share the news with my old friend. And I know how you feel about friends. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  The “friend” part almost got him kicked, but Merrie remembered at the last moment that it wouldn’t seem very affectionate for a new fiancée.

  “Right, darling,” she said, at the same time trying to unclench her jaw.

  All the endearments were beginning to nauseate her, and they weren’t doing much for Gloria, either. Though she still seemed a little green, a calculating look had crept into the woman’s eyes.

  “This is so sudden, Logan,” Gloria drawled.

  “It came as a surprise to me, too,” he sa
id cheerfully. “You know how I feel about marriage.”

  “Yes, of course. But your little Merrie, er, what was the name?”

  “Foster,” Merrie supplied, returning Gloria’s synthetic smile with one of her own.

  “Miss Foster seems to have changed your mind about getting married.”

  “You bet There’s nothing like taking a relaxing vacation together—it really gets you close. I fully recommend it if you want to get married.”

  Merrie bit her lip. Logan was terrible. He was deliberately rubbing Gloria’s nose in the fact that she’d ruined his vacation plans in Mexico—only to have her husband “quarry” caught by someone else in Montana. Even if the other woman suspected their engagement was bogus, it couldn’t be pleasant.

  Gloria squared her shoulders. “I see. You’re right, I’d like to stay for one of these dude vacations and see what happens. You have room for me, don’t you, Miss Foster?”

  “Er...” Merrie gulped imperceptibly, aware of everyone’s avid gaze upon them. Forget the romance of the West, they were enthralled with the immediate drama of a lovers’ triangle. Even the wranglers were leaning closer, waiting to hear what would happen next.

  “We always have room for one more,” she mumbled.

  “That’s right.” Logan gently pulled her close, so that her back rested against his chest. He crossed his arms over her breasts, and though it was ridiculous, he was warm and solid and made her feel protected. “Honey, I have an idea...how about assigning Chip as Miss Scott’s wrangler?”

  Merrie choked and Logan kissed her hair, whispering a suggestion that she control herself... while his body shook with suppressed laughter.

  “How about it, Chip?” he asked, lifting his head. “You free to handle this for us?”

  Chip ambled forward. “Be happy to take care of the little lady. Don’t you worry about nothin’, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat to Gloria before spitting a stream of tobacco juice into the corral. “We’ll get you all taken care of.”