Some Like It Ruthless (A Temporary Engagement)

by Bryce, Megan

  Half the men working stopped to watch her. Cole guessed wherever she went, half the men stopped working to watch her.

  He would have to keep her busy or nothing would get done out there. Give her her own office or nothing would get done in his.

  Then he told Paul to find a desk for her to put in Cole’s office. ‘Cause nothing was going to get done.

  Before Maggie had made it back from her Walmart run, another car slowly made its way down the drive. Cole watched and decided this was someone he would have to deal with. No one drove down the drive that slowly unless they were from the city.

  By the time he’d made it outside, the driver had parked and was making her way to the office.

  Cole said, “Ginny? I thought I lived far enough away from Dallas to keep visitors away but I guess not.”

  Her hand whipped out, across his face, the crack of it echoing against the ring of trailers. A dozen men stopped to stare.

  Cole rotated his neck and said to the men, “Women trouble.”

  He got a few laughs, a few scowls, but they started moving around again.

  He said to Ginny, “I was only kidding about visitors,” and tried to take her arm, lead her to the office. She ripped it away and headed back to her car.

  “You drove four hours just to slap me?”

  Ginny whipped around to glare at him. “I’d do it again. Stop blackmailing my sister into sleeping with you!”

  “You didn’t know either? How’d you get out here so fast? I told Tanner not even two hours ago.”

  “Maggie told me. This morning.”

  She looked around at the men, some watching, some wishing they were anywhere but here. She said quietly, “What deal have you made with her this time?”

  “This time?” He laughed, a hopeless chuckle. “I want forgiveness for last time.”

  “You know that she’d sacrifice anything for Caldwell, for the ranch house.”

  Cole nodded. “I know it, and I would have accepted sex as payment but she’s wised up since she was eighteen.” He pointed his finger at her face. “You know that’s not why she’s sleeping with me now. You called me, told me she wanted me. Needed me.”

  Ginny relaxed, the pucker to her lips smoothing out. “I did call you.”

  Cole only nodded.

  She said, “I wanted her to have you if it made her happy. And then I was worried you’d rip her heart out like last time. And then she said you never did because she didn’t love you in the first place. Which I didn’t believe because why would she have been sleeping with you if she hadn’t loved you, and then she said it was to save Tanner’s family. And I felt horrible because I’d pushed her to ask you for help this time but I hadn’t known what kind of. . . what kind of shithole you really are.”

  He was that kind of shithole. And he couldn’t decide if wanted to laugh at her attempt at cussing or cry because Maggie had never loved him.

  He turned away and she said, “Do you love her even a little bit or is it just a game, Cole, to get in her pants?”

  He looked back at her, didn’t say anything, and she said softly, “Maybe she ripped your heart out.”

  “I ripped my own heart out. My only excuse is I didn’t know I was doing it at the time.”

  Hadn’t known until Ginny’s husband had sat there, golden and shining, but no longer a rival, no longer loved.

  Ginny said, “Maybe Maggie still doesn’t know that’s what happened.”

  Cole huffed a laugh. “I think that’s likely.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t know that’s what’s happening now.”

  Cole didn’t say anything again but he didn’t have to. That look came over Ginny’s face, that look that came over any woman’s face when she knew a man had fallen. A soft smile, dreamy eyes, her head tilted just a little.

  All because a man had found a part of himself that he couldn’t live without, a part of himself he had no idea how to keep. Keep with him, keep loving him, keep happy.

  All a poor guy could do was hope a ring would do it.

  Cole already knew that wasn’t going to work with Maggie. He was having a hard enough time getting a temporary ring on her finger. How would he ever get her to wear a real one? Until death do us part, for better or worse?

  Maggie had wised up since she was eighteen, and he knew the only reason she’d given in on the sex was because he was good, dammit. They were good.

  Good, even great, sex did not a marriage make.

  Ginny said, “She’s happy with you, Cole. Don’t screw it up.”

  “Got any hints?”

  She smiled slightly. “No. But I think it fair to warn you that if you break her again, you won’t survive it. I may not act like a Caldwell all the time but I am one. And I will destroy you.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh at her. He was half a foot taller than her, she was thin enough to break with one hand.

  He’d never thought Virginia Caldwell belonged. She’d been protected, babied, her whole life. She was the softer side of a bunch of calculating, cold-blooded sharks. They were at home in Dallas and they protected her.

  But she stared at him long enough to make him want to take a step back. Long enough to make him think there was Caldwell blood running through her veins after all.

  He nodded and she said, “No hints on how to keep Maggie happy, but I do have an offer for you.”

  Eleven

  Tanner didn’t make it back to Dallas.

  Halfway there he had to pull over. The shaking was too bad to drive, the sweats drenching his clothing, his vision blurring. He shouldn’t have driven out by himself. He hadn’t had a drink in nearly 24 hours and he hurt.

  He tipped his seat back, wondering if he could call Ginny to come get him. Wondering if he should call Cole because it was that bad. Laying here wasn’t making anything better. But he knew both Cole and Ginny were a couple hours away.

  Too far.

  His body screamed for a drink.

  It would make this pain go away. Would make everything better.

  But Tanner didn’t have a drink. He’d passed Abilene miles ago, was more then ten miles from anywhere, dry shrubs and dry land was all he could see, and he couldn’t drive an inch. Couldn’t drive even to the nearest gas station for a beer.

  Vomit spewed from his mouth before he could sit up, before he could open the door.

  He turned to his side, letting it dribble out his mouth, drip down the side of the seat.

  He closed his eyes, praying to God he wasn’t actually dying. He didn’t want to die a failure.

  He didn’t want to die penniless, didn’t want to leave Ginny a widow at twenty-nine.

  His body shook, sweat poured from him. He thought he might have to vomit again and he moaned.

  God. Oh, God.

  He was alone. All alone. Would die alone. Would die a drunk and a failure, vomiting on the side of the highway.

  Ginny murmured to him, holding her hand to his forehead, and Tanner sobbed.

  He was hallucinating now, the end had to be near.

  Ginny shouted, “Tanner!”

  He opened his eyes to find her leaning into the car.

  He pushed at her, trying to get out of the car, trying not to vomit on her. She jumped back and he bent over, heaving.

  When he finished, she helped him sit back up, and he whispered, “I need a drink. Please, Ginny. God.”

  He shut his eyes tight, breathed in and out.

  She pulled her car up close, helped him get in. She had to stop once because he’d hung his head out the window, vomiting again, but she held his hand while she drove, talked softly until she pulled into a gas station and ran inside.

  She came back out carrying a tall can. He heard the can pop open, smelled the beer, and when she lifted it to his lips the first taste was like a man dying of thirst getting a cool drink of water.

  He drank the whole can. The shaking stopped, his stomach quieted, he stopped sweating.

  The transformation was miraculous. He
felt almost instantly better, could now smell the vomit still clinging to him, opened his eyes to see Ginny squatting beside him looking worried. The relief he felt was horrifying.

  He looked into her eyes and began to cry. Tears dripped down his face as he choked, “I think have a problem.”

  She ran her hand across his forehead. “That was from not drinking?”

  “Why was it so bad, Ginny? It’s only been one day.”

  “When was the last time you went a day without drinking?”

  He shook his head. Couldn’t remember. He didn’t keep track, he just drank when he felt like it. When he needed it.

  He’d needed it a lot lately. He’d needed it a lot for a while now.

  He took a deep breath. “What if I can’t stop drinking? I can’t do that again, Ginny. If you hadn’t come. . .”

  “We’ll go see a doctor.”

  “There’s no money for a doctor.”

  She reached across him for her purse, digging through it and pulling out a check. She handed it to him and said, “There is now.”

  He stared at the signature. “This is Cole’s company.”

  “I sold my shares of Caldwell.”

  “You. . .” He looked back up. “Why?”

  “For Harwood’s deal. I don’t know if that will be enough, and I’m not saying I don’t have to approve it, but it’s for us. We’re the Beaumonts, Tanner. You and me. This is our shot, our dream. And we’ll fall or stand on our own four feet.”

  She put her hand on his arm and said, “I think we’ll stand.”

  He waved his hand at the vomit covering his shirt. “You do?”

  She said, “Did you go ask Cole Montgomery to work with you on a deal for Jackson Harwood?”

  “Yes. He said no.”

  “Oh. Well, you still did it. You’ll do what has to be done. Even when you don’t want to.”

  “He gave me something to take back to Harwood. I’ll get a commission, sort of.” If he could get Harwood to accept it.

  Ginny smiled at him, her face radiant, and he said, “Maggie’s not going to like it.”

  She waved that away. “Maggie understands business. Understands working with people you’d rather be shooting.”

  “That a direct quote?”

  She nodded and put her hand on his knee. “I know you’ll do the same for your drinking. You’ll do what has to be done.”

  “It’s a little different.”

  “Is it? Have you given up? Are you thinking right now that you’ll just have to keep drinking, there’s no way to beat it?”

  That’s not what he was thinking. He wouldn’t go cold turkey again, he’d thought he was going to die.

  But there might be drugs he could take to help with the withdrawal. Or maybe he could taper off. Drink less. Go to therapy. Even AA.

  He looked into her eyes and she was smiling at him.

  She said, “I know you’re not thinking of giving up. Even now. Even covered in vomit. ‘It’s not how many times you get knocked down that counts, it’s how many times you get back up.’”

  He smiled at her quote, squeezing her hand. “And who said that?”

  “George Armstrong Custer.”

  Tanner blinked and said, “The one who didn’t get back up again ever?”

  “Tanner, everyone doesn’t get back up eventually.”

  “Yes, well, he did it rather spectacularly. No one with him got back up again either.”

  She laughed a little. “It does put a different spin on it, doesn’t it? But I still like it. I still think it means to get back up again until you absolutely can’t. And that’s when you’re dead.”

  He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, a smile on his lips.

  She closed his door and when she got in the driver’s side she said, “So. We’ll go see a doctor.”

  He nodded. “Yes. You’re right, I’m not dead yet. I’ll try again.”

  “I know you will.”

  He opened his eyes, looked at the check. “I can’t believe you sold your shares. I can’t believe Cole bought them.”

  “You can’t?”

  He could tell by her voice that she’d seen what he’d seen. Cole Montgomery was in love with Maggie. That’s why he wanted to buy the loan from Harwood, why he would buy shares of Caldwell when it was worthless. Less than worthless.

  Tanner said, “I never thought I’d say this. But poor bastard.”

  Ginny said, “I thought the exact same thing.”

  Maggie spent the week in Midland. Four whole days, not leaving until Friday morning and only then because she had things to take care of before the weekend. Cole had asked and she’d stayed, and she didn’t know what that meant. Except that she’d been horny and he’d been Cole. And God, she’d do it again. Was doing it again come Monday.

  Except next week she’d be bringing supplies. Clothes, toiletries.

  She’d been forced to rough it, relying on what she could find instead of dressing to kill. It was surprising how little clothing could cost when all you were buying was jeans and t-shirts from Walmart. And boots.

  Cole hadn’t seemed to care. Although he did like her wearing her heels late at night, when they had nothing else to do.

  Which wasn’t often. Because Cole hadn’t been exaggerating. He worked long, hard hours. He visited wells, poured over maps, kept track of injuries, distances drilled each shift, flowing barrels, crude futures.

  Maggie fell into bed each night, too tired to care that they did not, in fact, fit in a queen. Cole’s toes hung over the edge, Maggie’s head had a permanent bruise from the headboard. Cole slept with his nose pressed into her neck, his soft snores moving her hair back and forth.

  They’d never slept together. Before.

  She’d never slept with any man, always leaving or pushing him out when the scratch had been itched.

  She liked it fast and then gone.

  But with Cole sleeping next to her, sharing an office, living in a trailer with little to no privacy, there was no gone. No stepping back.

  Her only time alone was when he went to visit his wells and half the time he dragged her along with him.

  They spent twenty-four hours together, and she’d never been so relaxed. She hadn’t eaten so much food since. . . never. She’d never laughed so much, never had someone who could listen to an idea and then one-up her.

  They thrived on trying to one-up the other. She lived to hear Cole yell for Paul to type up a proposal.

  Maggie parked in front of the ranch house and sat in her car, thinking she’d never had such a fun week. She hadn’t wanted to come home.

  She looked at the old bricks and storm shutters and thought it looked different. It didn’t look so much like home anymore.

  She nearly knocked on the front door before entering, then shook herself. She’d only been gone four days.

  She went straight to her bedroom, needing a shower in a stall bigger than a refrigerator before heading to the office.

  Ginny followed her in a few minutes later and her eyes went into a flurry of blinking when she saw Maggie. “What are you wearing?”

  Maggie looked down. “Just jeans.”

  “Is that a zombie on your t-shirt?”

  Maggie laughed, shrugging. “I thought why not? Who’s going to see me?”

  “Cole?”

  “He wanted one. Kept trying to see if this one would fit him.”

  Maggie laughed again, rummaging through her closet trying to find something to wear to the office. She didn’t need a man-killer outfit but she did need to look professional.

  Maggie said, “I’m going into work for a little while and then over to Cole’s.” She grinned at her sister over her shoulder. “Video games.”

  “You’re not staying here tonight?”

  Maggie pulled out a white wrap top, loose tan pants, then paused. “It’s weird, right? I should need some time to myself.”

  “Not weird. Nice.”

  Maggie shook her head. “No. I’ll call
him, tell him I’m not coming over. He could probably use a break, too.”

  Although he hadn’t acted like he needed a break. He’d tried to give her his house key so she could get in if she got done before he got back.

  Ginny said, “Do you want to be alone tonight?”

  She didn’t. She wanted to play video games and sleep with Cole on a bed large enough to experiment on.

  Maggie sat down, laying her clothes out neatly beside her and smoothing her hand down them.

  She said quietly, “I’m forgetting. I think I already forgot. I promised him forgiveness, but I was supposed to remember. He’s not a friend.”

  “If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, maybe it is a duck.”

  “Do you really think Cole has friends?”

  “Uh. . . do you have friends?”

  Maggie snorted. “Okay. Point taken.” She closed her eyes, sighed. “That’s what this is then. Friends. Friends who have to watch their backs.” She opened her eyes. “That’s fair if he has to watch his, too.”

  Ginny shook her head, looked up to the ceiling. “Maggie. I don’t think he’d hurt you again. I think you can trust him.”

  “Well, I may have forgiven him. I’ve probably even forgotten. But trust? Trust Cole Montgomery? That sounds stupid, and I’m not stupid.”

  Ginny scrunched her face up in pain, picked at her nails, and said quickly, “I sold my shares to him.”

  Maggie jerked her head back. “What?”

  “Tanner needs funds. My shares are all I have left.”

  Maggie opened her mouth and then just sat there.

  She finally said, “Your shares aren’t worth anything right now.”

  “You’ll make Caldwell profitable again. I know it. He knows it.”

  Maggie’s heart contracted and for a second she thought she just might be having a heart attack. She whispered, “You gave Cole half of Caldwell?”

  “No. I sold it to him. And it wasn’t half, it was thirty percent. I still have proxy voting for half of Daddy’s shares, like you.”

  “And are you going to sell Daddy’s shares when you get your mitts on them, too?”

  “If I need to.”