Not Just a Cowboy (Texas Rescue)

by Caro Carson

  Have I been hoping for him to change my mind?

  He paused to kiss her in the lobby. He paused to kiss her by the elevators, and then he pushed through the glass doors to go out the other side of the hotel, and Patricia realized he knew her very well. Oh, so very well.

  The park between the hotel and Lady Bird Lake was littered with sailboats on trailers. Little two-man boats with colorful sails were just waiting to be rolled into the water. They were nothing like her sailboats, her twenty-and thirty-five-foot beauties moored at her house on Canyon Lake, but they were sailboats all the same, designed to catch the wind and race across water.

  Patricia looked to the sky, automatically checking the sunny weather. The lake was perfectly calm. Luke came up behind her and pulled her to his chest.

  She sighed. “We’re not dressed for this.”

  He kissed her ear. “I only have a day. No time for wardrobe changes. If you feel a wardrobe malfunction is imminent, though, be sure to get my attention first.”

  “You’re really not as funny as you think you are, Waterson.”

  She wanted to smile as she said it, but she suddenly felt very, terribly sad. Sad enough to cry, and there was something about Luke that seemed to make her want to cry. It was a weakness around him.

  “Are we going to go sailing?” she asked. Weakness made her impatient.

  Luke spread one arm wide, gesturing toward the variety of sailboats before them. His voice was strangely serious when he spoke.

  “Choose your destiny.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The two-man sailboat skimmed with surprising speed along the water. Luke recognized that there were expert hands on the reins, to put it in cowboy terms, so he reclined next to Patricia as she perched at the rear of the boat and handled everything with ease. He practically had his head in her lap, so he could look up at her and enjoy her pretty face. She looked completely and utterly at home, focused and yet relaxed. His Thoroughbred was doing what she’d been born to do.

  “He has to be the right age,” Patricia said quietly.

  Luke almost asked who? because he’d been so content to watch her blond hair in the sunlight. The pins had lost their battle as soon as Patricia had captured the wind.

  “Not too young, not too old,” she said. “At least average-looking, although my father and his cronies are strange people to judge male beauty.”

  “So far, so good.”

  She looked down at him and smiled, but she didn’t seem happy. Maybe resigned was the right word for her expression.

  “I think you’re too good-looking. Daddy wouldn’t like that.”

  Luke thought back to the NFL game where he’d seen Daddy Cargill. He was an imposing figure. Patricia shared his bone structure. It bothered Luke to be reminded that the bastard was truly her father.

  “He must own land. Texas land, of course, and not just a little suburban house plat. Oil fields would be best, but Daddy didn’t technically say there had to be oil on the land. He must have a million in liquid assets. Cash he can get his hands on, not something like a vacation home that’s appraised at a million.”

  Luke recognized himself. He felt unnaturally calm. His emotions were neither hot nor cold. He just existed for a moment, letting Patricia’s words sink in.

  He was the perfect candidate for her husband hunt. The liquid assets were high, and he thought only a fool would keep that much ready cash or stocks on hand, but Luke could sell off his cattle early in the season, if a man really needed a bank balance to read a certain number on his wedding day.

  He thought this all through in a detached way. Then one clear emotion broke through his neutral review of facts: outrage.

  There was no way on God’s green earth that he was going to play any game by Daddy Cargill’s rules. If Patricia realized he was not just a cowboy—and God, he hadn’t meant to deceive her so thoroughly, but now he was glad he had—then he’d end up with a wife who’d married him for his money. He’d marry Patricia Cargill if she asked, but only when she realized how much she loved him, not how much land he owned.

  My God, I would marry Patricia Cargill.

  The truth of it was obvious, now that he’d thought the words. He rubbed his jaw, wanting to file away these sudden revelations before they showed on his face. From now on, he was a cowboy, and nothing more as far as Patricia Cargill could know. A cowboy who loved her.

  “The last requirement is fairly easy. He has to have a job. How many men would meet the other requirements without working? People who just slip into an inheritance are very rare.”

  “Present company excluded.” He congratulated himself for coming up with a rejoinder when his mind was still reeling.

  “I am very rare.”

  “But you do work, and hard, for Texas Rescue.”

  “Thank you. It’s a pretty unfair parameter for my father to place, though, considering Daddy’s never worked a day in his life. His cronies probably believe the oil-rig story. Everyone does.”

  “Except me.”

  “And my mother. I wonder if she always saw through him, or if her first year of marriage was a crushing disappointment.”

  “You could ask her.”

  “That would imply that we have some kind of regular communication.”

  His poor princess. Such a hard life she’d been handed on her silver platter. But she didn’t have to keep living it. This day was meant for him to show her a better option.

  “This is the good life,” Luke said. “Is there really anything more that you need?”

  The sail began to deflate. Patricia loosened a rope and wind pulled the nylon taut immediately. “Why do I think this is a loaded question?”

  “Can you sail and kiss me at the same time?”

  “That’s definitely a loaded question.”

  She made him wait for it, but she finally bent over and kissed him. She even slipped him a little tongue, shy and quick. Funny how she could be shy after they’d made love out in the open, under the stars.

  “You’re making the sailing tricky by lying on my side of the boat,” she said. “I have to compensate for the uneven weight.”

  “You like the challenge.”

  She quirked her lips a bit. “You could just move over to the other side and lay down there.”

  “That would put the rudder between us. I don’t want a rudder in my face. I like what’s in my face right now just fine.” He settled his head more firmly in her lap and looked up at her face. Of course, he had to look past her boobs to get to her face.

  When she looked down at him, he wiggled his eyebrows and was rewarded with a laughing roll of her eyes. She was so beautiful when she laughed. She was beautiful when she didn’t laugh, too. And she was most beautiful when...

  “Can you make the boat stop?” he asked.

  “Stop? We’re cruising perfectly.”

  “Yes, we are. Make the boat stop, darlin’, and then lay down here with me. We haven’t had enough chances to make memories.”

  She made him wait again, an eternity this time as she tacked the boat, but when she had them in an uncrowded spot, the sails went slack and she started tying things off.

  “When I wonder if there is anything more I really need in life,” he said, as she settled beside him, “my answer will always be more of you.”

  She didn’t answer him in words, but her responsive body gave him the answer he wanted to hear.

  * * *

  They turned the boat in as the sun was setting. Luke didn’t want Patricia to see the color of his American Express card as he paid for the extra time they’d kept the boat. He’d be damned if she chose him now for being rich.

  He just wanted her to choose him.

  So before he gave the rental attendant his card, he gave Patricia the keys to his truck, knowing full well she’d go dig out the cell phones he’d left in the glove box. What he hadn’t expected to find when he joined her in the truck cab was a white-faced, shell-shocked Patricia.

  “What’
s wrong? What happened?”

  “My mother called. She never calls.” Patricia held out her phone and played a voice mail.

  Hello, Patricia. I hope you’re well. I did hear the most interesting news today, and I wondered if you’d heard it, as well.

  The voice sounded distinctly like Patricia’s. Bone structure from her father, vocal cords from her mother—he wondered if Patricia realized she shared more than a famous name with her family.

  The Houston Cargills got a ruling on their trust fund. It seems the court decided that Cargills by marriage can sign the name as legitimately as Cargills by birth. Of course, it doesn’t matter to me, but I did wonder if dear Melissa’s divorce had ever gotten filed. She’s been missing from the club for the last few days. You might want to check into it, dear. Everything’s fine here, give your father my love. Or better yet, don’t. Ciao.

  Luke looked at Patricia’s white face, and he knew someone named Melissa had a legal marriage to Daddy Cargill.

  Patricia tapped one particular app on her phone. “I noticed a strange charge the Friday before the hurricane.”

  He wasn’t sure what a man was supposed to do in this situation. Commiserate with the heiress? He tried. “And then you were at the disaster site without any way to check.”

  Her phone screen changed color, and she looked into it like she was looking into a crystal ball.

  What the heck. He might as well ask. “How bad is it?”

  “About a million so far.”

  He was struck silent. The one aspect of the Cargill legend that was apparently true was the income.

  Her crystal ball must have shown her something awful. She literally backed her face away from what she saw on the phone. “Half a million dollars just cleared today. Today.”

  Her gaze locked on his, her eyes extra dark in her unnaturally pale face. “I was on my way to the bank. You stopped me.”

  He said the first thing that came into his mind. “I’m sorry.”

  She was chillingly calm. She even leaned back into the seat as she gazed out the windshield at the humble cars of the hotel patrons. “Half a million dollars today, while I was sailing. We had half-a-million-dollar sex. I am my father’s daughter, after all.”

  The truck cab seemed huge. Patricia was too far away physically. He was afraid she was growing unreachable, mentally, but he tried. “If this Melissa is a legal second signature, then they could have authorized that half-million right in front of you. You would have watched it happen, and you wouldn’t have been able to stop it. Are you listening to me? I’m glad you were sailing. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

  “You’re right, of course. The sailing was very nice.”

  Yeah, she was not in a good place mentally. Luke walked around the truck to her side, yanked open her door, and bodily lifted her out of the cab. It was enough to snap her out of her daze.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Are those sandals comfortable? Good, because we’re going for a walk.”

  They hadn’t gone far when Patricia suddenly snapped her fingers and stopped on the hotel’s sidewalk. “It’s not legal. In Dallas and Houston, you need three signatures for every expenditure. The only reason Austin requires two is because there are only two Cargills in Austin. If Melissa is now the third, then all three of us needed to sign. I’ll phone the bank first thing in the morning. It’s going to be a mess, but it can be undone.”

  Luke looked her over. Her color was returning to normal. “Honestly, I don’t know whether to be appalled or impressed.”

  But she was still rolling with her train of thought, dollars and legalities on her mind. “I need to make this marriage happen more than ever. Every time Daddy gets married, I’m going to have to convince both him and his wife to sign for every expense. That will be a nightmare. I’ve got to get out while I can.”

  The woman he’d just made love to was planning to marry a stranger as soon as she could. It made Luke’s stomach turn.

  “Listen to me, Patricia. Walk away from the money. It’s making you miserable.”

  “My inheritance is not making me miserable. Daddy Cargill is.”

  “That’s the problem. If this marriage takes place, and if your father honors his deal, you still won’t be free of Daddy Cargill. His share of the money will still require your approval.”

  “I’ll have to sign his checks, but I won’t care how he spends his half.”

  Luke laughed, because otherwise he’d break down. He knew she didn’t see the absurdity of her claim. “You will care. You can’t stand to see Cargill money wasted. You say he has pride in the Cargill legend, but you’re the same.”

  She stepped back. “Don’t say that. Don’t say I’m like him.”

  “How long do you think it will take him to lose his last penny?”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “You’ve already calculated it, haven’t you? You know exactly how fast he’ll lose it. You’re looking forward to proving that you can handle your half better. It’s poison, don’t you see? That money has owned you for thirty-two years.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” She looked so fierce, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest and her hair hanging wild. Fierce, and all alone.

  “Choose to walk away.”

  “The law won’t let me.”

  “The law can’t force you to be rich, Patricia. You’re choosing the money, and you’re choosing it over me, damn it.”

  They’d raised their voices at each other. They were facing off like fighters, not lovers.

  “Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t tell me what to do. You cannot possibly imagine what it’s like to be me. Money hasn’t destroyed my family. Passion has. Passion like this. I never raise my voice. I never cry. This is what rips marriages apart. This is what destroys families. Don’t tell me to choose this.”

  “You can’t decide not to feel passion.” Luke remembered, suddenly and too late, how she’d been so distressed when she couldn’t not care about a firefighter. About him.

  “Darlin’, passion can be a bond, too. It can hold two people together.”

  She looked away from him, impatient. “It does not. Sex is fine. People get together, they have a few laughs, someone moves on. But passion is different. People yell, and they cry, and they leave without letting you say goodbye.

  “You think I’m crazy to choose a marriage without passion, but I’m not going to be like my father. He loves the drama and the ups and downs, and he forgets what’s important. He’ll remember now. For the rest of his life, he’ll remember that the spinster he laughed at for not knowing passion turned out to be the best Cargill of them all.”

  Luke let her words sink in, trying to imagine the little girl she’d once been. “Your father has done a lot of damage to you. I can see why you want your revenge.”

  “Revenge?” She frowned as she repeated the word.

  “I imagine that after thirty-two years, it would be very hard to be this close and then deny yourself your revenge.”

  “That’s such an ugly word.”

  “I can’t tell you what to do. I’m hoping you decide to forgo it, though, because I love you.”

  She looked up at him then, eyes wide. Alarmed, perhaps.

  “It’s not a crazy kind of love. It feels very solid in here.” Luke pressed his fist to his chest. “I know I came into the game at the last minute, but I want to offer you a choice. You can finish your game, and be Patricia Cargill, the heiress who saved the family fortune from Daddy Cargill’s ruin, or you can be Luke Waterson’s woman. Loved and valued and cherished.”

  “I can’t be that and Patricia Cargill, too?”

  “You can. You are. But it seems to me that Patricia Cargill doesn’t particularly enjoy her life. You could be Luke Waterson’s girl, and you could relax your guard, and you could—”

  “Lose my inheritance.” She said the words adamantly. “I had no childhood because of it. I’ve spent my entire adult life fighting my
father to keep it. It’s not revenge, Luke. It’s justice. I deserve to have the life I want. I want to spend money on what is important to me. To me, do you understand? Without sweet-talking and wheedling and begging any man for permission to do what I want to do. I’m thirty-two. I will have my own life, and I will stop enabling his. I will.”

  She was so angry, she was crying.

  Luke held open his arms. It was her choice. If she wanted his comfort she had only to walk forward.

  She did. Luke closed his arms around her, and she clung to him while she tried so pitifully to not cry.

  “I know Patricia Cargill is unhappy,” she said, not sobbing, “but I am her, and I will get free of my father no matter what it takes.”

  Luke stroked her hair. “Then you be her, and this cowboy will love you, anyway. I just pray you choose to let go of the poison. The money is poison. The revenge is poison. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The night of the annual Cattleman’s Association black-tie gala would be the night Patricia Cargill found the right man to marry. It was her last chance. She could not fail.

  It had been two weeks since she’d gone sailing with Luke, two weeks of using cold logic to choose the course of her life. She’d spent a sleepless night imagining marriage to Luke. As Mrs. Waterson, she would remain in her current financial situation. She’d be no worse off than she’d been for the past thirty-two years, with the positive addition of living with a man who loved her.

  Daddy, Melissa, I need an allowance established at the feed store. No, more than that. Luke needs a new saddle. Yes, I know he got new bridles, but these things wear out when you’re a cowboy.

  Luke would not have taken a dime of her money. She could not have bought him a gift, because her money was always half Daddy’s. Children would be an issue. One child would bring the amount of Austin Cargills to four, depending on Daddy’s marital status. Two children would mean five Cargills. When they turned eighteen, her two children could help her overrule Daddy and his wife du jour.