The Broke Billionaire's Cowgirl Bride: Love is the only sure bet (Las Vegas Brides of Convenience Book 4)

by Anne Martin

  “Oh! I’m so sorry!” I grabbed him and dragged him to the sink, holding him under the cold water while I sprayed him down.

  He stared at me from that awkward position beneath my breasts. I lifted my hands and stepped back.

  “Sorry. I’m not used to having company in the kitchen.” I turned around and went back to the stove, trying to shake off the strange familiarity, having him around when I used to know him so well.

  “Why not? You could have a man who could do all your cooking for you.”

  “I couldn’t afford a chef, and if I got one, it would be a woman.”

  “I’m talking about a lover. Sex for cooking. It’s a good deal.”

  “For who?” I glared at him as I stirred those beans.

  He stared back with something in his eyes that made me have to look away.

  “Tomorrow we’ll have to sell a car,” I said.

  “Or two.”

  I glanced at him. “Really?”

  “I’ll call a broker tonight. He’ll come first thing and you can know your options.”

  “My options? I have the deed to the house, not the cars.”

  He cocked his head. “Is that right? How are you going to pay for the wedding so I can get the deed back? The idea of all those cars being liquefiable assets, it’s mighty tempting. I know a place…”

  I sighed. “Fine. I’ll keep the cash until the wedding. How fast do you think we can do it?”

  “You need to hire a person who does big weddings for a living. How long do you want to live with me?”

  I stared at him and my mouth went dry. Did he look better with red splatter burns on his face? Yes, he did. “Right. I’d like to wrap it all up before my surgery. Two and a half weeks. Does that seem cutting it close? Probably so. All right. Who’s a good wedding planner?”

  He shrugged. “What kind of wedding do you want? Different planners specialize in different things. Do you want trashy? Classy? What do Jessie Strait’s wedding dreams look like?”

  I bit my bottom lip and grabbed the pot, carrying it over to the bar. “Hot pad, please.”

  “They’re called trivets,” he said, slipping the brass thing onto the bar.

  I shot him a look. “Such a big word. I’ll have to put it on my list.”

  “Do you really have a list?”

  “Oh, I do. I’m not naturally verbose. I’m better with my hands.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows and I shook my head, dodging around him to grab the biscuits out of the oven. I scraped them into a bowl and set them next to the beans.

  He said, “Your letters were full of big words. Maybe you had someone else write them for you.”

  “It’s called a thesaurus. Don’t remind me of those letters. I spent hours reading those books you talked about. Sophocles? Such a waste of time. I did like Socrates.”

  “Did you? So if Socrates and Sophocles got in a fight, Socrates would win?”

  “Of course. He was a man who held to his convictions no matter the stakes.”

  He leaned his elbows on the bar, too close to the beans, like he hadn’t learned his lesson. “So personally you have a thing for Socrates. Interesting.” He did that thing with his eyebrows again.

  I nudged him with my elbow hard enough to give him a bruise if he bruised easily. “You make everything sound so suggestive. I don’t remember you being like that.”

  “I was, you just didn’t mind. You’ve probably had enough of men being suggestive to last a lifetime. I apologize. I’ll try to keep this whole thing more sponsor and gambling addict than former lovers who fit together very well.”

  I shot him a look and served us up on the fancy plates with gold leaf. I sat and took a bite while he stared at me.

  “Don’t you pray?” he asked.

  “No. The gambling gods don’t have my allegiance.”

  “Jessie, your rules, are they really your rules or did you just make them up for my benefit?”

  I stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “Most people want to wait until marriage for religious reasons. I always assumed you were deeply religious.”

  I took a bite and chewed while I thought about. This wasn’t really something I wanted to talk about, but he was sort of easy to talk to, for someone who would never actually respect me. We had a history. Whether I liked it or not, it made him someone who might understand.

  “My grandma loved a cowboy. He left her with my mama and a smoking habit. I grew up hearing how men only wanted one thing and would leave once they’d had their fill of it. My mother waited until marriage. My daddy took her with him when he left, but the baby was too much trouble. She chose him instead of me. I still haven’t decided whether it’s better to go with a man or stay with the baby. I don’t want to choose. I made rules so I wouldn’t have to. I’d set my heart on marrying a nice banker or insurance agent, you know, something reliable and boring.”

  He nodded with a frown creasing between his brows. That line was new. “You thought that I was reliable and boring?”

  I took a forkful of beans and put them in his face. He opened his mouth mostly in surprise. “You talk too much. You were a shiny new breed I couldn’t wait to learn. You had roots. That’s what I wanted.”

  “And now you have them. Are you sure you want to give them back? I’m not doing anything with them. These beans are actually really good. Cowboy beans? How have I not had them before?”

  I smiled at him. “They’re even better baked in an old cast iron pot under the stars. Have some biscuits. They’re good.”

  He took a bite and nodded, staring at me intently. “They are. Why not be a cook instead of a trick rider? It seems like the sacrifices would be smaller.”

  “So would the pay-off. Besides, I only make five things. I do them well, but it’s not enough to impress anyone.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  I bit my lip and focused on sopping up some of the bean juice instead of looking at him. “That’s just because your billionaire friends only know how to cook French food. Eat your salad. Give me your phone.”

  He pulled it out of his pocket but held onto it. “Why?”

  “Gambling. You’re home in a big old place that makes you feel things. You want to get rid of it and those feelings. I’m guessing it’s something to do with your mama. Look, you can drink yourself into oblivion, but no gambling.”

  He stared at me. “I have a better idea. Play one game. If you win, I’ll give you my phone.”

  I frowned at him. “The game?”

  “Go fish.”

  “Not strip poker?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get me naked? I knew you bought me these clothes just so you could take them off me.”

  “Oh, stop. It’s just that usually when a guy offers me a game… Fine. One game. Go fish.”

  It was ridiculous. He had a serious poker face, and so did I, so every time he asked for tens, or two’s, I’d have to really look like it was a serious question before I said, ‘Go fish,’ all dramatic.

  When the game ended, the beans were cold, but I was still nibbling on biscuits, and he’d taken to dipping them right into the bean pot.

  I took that last set and slapped them down with a whoop. “Hand it over.”

  He slid the phone over but held onto it when I tried to take it. “One more game.”

  I shook my head. “I’m still wiped out from the drive. I’m too old for all night poker games.”

  “Go fish games?”

  “Or go fish. Night, Jackson. Sweet dreams. First thing in the morning, we’ll sell the car and find a wedding planner.”

  “Sounds good. Night, Jessie. You didn’t have to take the servant’s quarters.”

  I turned around to stare at him. “The servants get to live like that? Maybe I should have applied myself to cooking.”

  I walked out of the kitchen, my boots clicking satisfyingly against the floor. I smiled all the way to my room. That game had felt like it had always felt with
him. As in, fun without ulterior motives. I’d just liked being with him. That was the most dangerous thing of all.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, I said good-bye to the Lamborghini and the corvette. The broker kept glancing at me like I hadn’t used him to spend an exorbitant sum to buy the Lamborghini out from under a friend of mine. I genuinely didn’t have cash to pay for it now. I’d never gambled so heavily before. Somehow, it didn’t bother me, knowing that I might lose every cent I’d ever had. My father’s warnings, his refusal to give me a cent if my wager proved unsatisfactory, I took as proof that I was doing something right. Ever since he’d given me the ultimatum, marry the girl, lose my family, and I’d chosen to offer Jessie less than she was hoping for, I took my father’s advice with a grain of salt. I would have ignored it entirely, but the proof was so overwhelming, the lies she’d told, the identity she didn’t have, how could I offer her marriage when I had no idea who she was?

  I’d seen my friends get married to people we’d known our whole lives, but that wasn’t exactly a guarantee. No matter who you married, you woke up to a stranger. I was gambling now, betting that she didn’t have some trick up her sleeve, or at least that I’d manage to survive the ride and turn her play into my win. That hand in Vegas, I could have won. I could have taken her ranch along with everything she put on the table. I could have swept her off her feet and into the poorhouse. I hadn’t wanted the house and I certainly didn’t want her ranch. So what was I doing in the passenger’s seat of the Bugatti as it growled over the pavement towards the wedding planner she’d found?

  We pulled up at the curb in front of a shop declaring, ‘Cupcakes and Capes!’ like that was inspiring. What kind of wedding would we have? If she wanted me in a cape, well, she’d have to bat her eyes for an extra second or two to get me into one. As for tights… Let’s hope she didn’t want me in tights.

  She got out of the car, slamming the door so hard I winced. “It’s like a batman car,” she said, cocking her head as she stared at the silver and blue thing.

  “Thank you.”

  She turned her big blue eyes on me. “You could be a vigilante, but instead you spend your nights gambling.”

  “Vigilante work is hard on shoulders.” I raised my arms and rolled my shoulders, noticing the way her eyes followed the movement while her lips parted slightly. Where was her poker face, or did she want me to think she wanted me? I stopped moving because I couldn’t second-guess her without getting a headache.

  “Come on, Batman.” She hurried towards the shop in her jeans and boots. She pushed the door open and the happy bell jangled. The smell of mule and sawdust hit my nose.

  “Hi there! Come on in! What can I do for you?” The peppy strawberry-blond girl behind the counter looked up from the white rabbit she was holding by the scruff of the neck.

  “Debby? Is that you?” Jessie asked, staring at the other girl.

  “Jessie Calhoun?” The other woman let out a shriek that made the rabbit convulse and escape. The woman climbed over the counter in her silver boots and Jessie met her halfway across the floor. The women hugged and squealed like I’d seen from a distance, but never with anyone I was supposed to know.

  “Let me look at you!” Debby pulled back and stared at Jessie then kissed her right on the lips.

  “Ugh!” Jessie pushed her away and then bent down to snatch the white rabbit before he could dart out the door. “You don’t kiss girls on the lips, Deb.”

  “Why not? You got a feller who’d be jealous? Who’s this?” Deb turned to me and held out a hand while her eyes sparkled. “I’m Deb. I’m Jessie’s only friend, mostly because I keep tracking her down. You’ve got to keep your eyes on this one or you’ll lose her.”

  I blinked at her. “I had noticed that.”

  She turned away and took the rabbit from Jessie. “So, what brings you here? Didn’t think you’d ever come back to Dallas, not after that whole thing with the billionaire bastard.”

  Jessie stared at me and then at Deb. “Well, I need a wedding planner. I’m marrying a billionaire. Gambler. This is Jackson Dewitt. Anyway, we’re doing a wedding, and I thought you’d like the business.”

  Deb stared at Jessie, hazel eyes going distant and distracted before she nodded. “Okay. I’m guessing puppies and kittens, or have your tastes matured?”

  “Puppies and kittens would be fine. Um, okay. Can we sit down or something?”

  “Oh, sure.” She gestured us into the back, where half of the room held a mule chomping on hay, and a monkey climbed around on the shelves above us. Deb sat down with the rabbit in her lap and nodded at the bench across from her. I sat but Jess took her time, cooing over the mule, scratching behind his ears and making him feel like the luckiest critter in the world.

  “You need a job, you know you can call me. A trick rider like you, one that actually likes kids, you could make bank. Now that you’re back in Dallas, you’ve got to stay. Do you have a guest list ready?”

  Jessie froze and then shot me a look. “Guest list?”

  “I’m inviting all my ex-girlfriends. That’s about a dozen right there, plus their significant others.”

  “A dozen?” Jessie asked with a frown.

  “Did you want more? Maybe you meant all the girls who wanted me to propose. I can’t gauge that as clearly. Let’s just invite every woman I’ve ever talked to.”

  Deb snorted and patted my back. “You’re funny. I can see why she likes you so much. What do you do? Cowboy? We’ll have to talk budget first thing. Jessie, how much can you drop on this shindig? I know it’s expensive, but at least five grand if you want a band and animals. Keeping the food simple, you know? I could probably get the band in exchange for your trick riding if you want.”

  “Deb! I don’t do that kind of trick.”

  Deb snorted and laughed, rocking back and forth with the terrified rabbit. “Oh, Jessie, I missed you. It’s a band of lesbians. She’s looking for some entertainment for her niece’s birthday. She wants to be a rodeo princess when she grows up. No one does Rodeo princess like you. I’ll have to do it otherwise.”

  “You were an actual rodeo princess. I was just a hand.”

  “That’s just because you were too proud to be voted on your looks instead of how fast you could rope a cow. How are your rope skills? I’ve been practicing. Do you want to make a small wager? We can do it out back.”

  Jessie licked her lips and looked at me for help. The monkey had climbed onto my shoulder and was searching my hair for lice. I imagined. In all my world travels, I’d never had a monkey on my shoulder before.

  “Miss Debbie,” I said then cleared my throat until I got her attention. I reached into my wallet and started pulling out hundred dollar bills. “We want a serious wedding at the Dewitt Manor. My Manor.”

  Deb’s face went slack as the bills piled up in her hand.

  “This is a retainer. We’d like to have the wedding in two and a half weeks. Jessie has an appointment after that she doesn’t want to miss.”

  “Appointment?” Deb asked in a daze.

  “I’m getting rid of the breasts,” Jessie said looking down at her chest like it was just the two of them.

  It made me smile. This was a side of her I’d never seen, so comfortable in this chaos, soothing the mule and removing the monkey from my head like she did that kind of thing all the time.

  Deb tucked the cash down her shirt. “Ah, I’m honored by the vote of confidence. Jessie, are you sure you don’t want someone who specializes in weddings? Not that I can’t do it, but it just seems like if you’re actually marrying money, you’d want…” She trailed off as she looked between me and Jessie and back again.

  She stood up suddenly and handed me the rabbit then gripped Jessie’s shoulders. “What does Cora think about him?”

  Jessie stared back, blue eyes getting bigger and bigger.

  “You didn’t tell her, did you? Jessie, at least tell me that your grandma knows you’re in town.”

 
; Jessie winced like she’d been hit. I felt a surge of protectiveness towards her, but the monkey was trying to check the rabbit for goodies, and the rabbit wanted none of it. Juggling rabbits and monkeys wasn’t on my resume. It could be now.

  “She doesn’t want to see me. It’s better this way.”

  “Oh, no, it isn’t. Don’t you dare break that old woman’s heart. Again. You can’t go off and get married in Dallas without telling her about it. Seriously, Jessie, sometimes I think you were raised in a barn.”

  “And you’d be right. Seriously, Cora doesn’t want to come to some ritzy wedding so she can see her grandbaby make a fool of herself and her groom.”

  “And your dad? Does he know?”

  Jessie started laughing. “Can’t you just imagine? My dad taking a break from a roulette table long enough to give me away? My fiancé’s a gambler. My dad is going to stay far from him.”

  “Jessie, sometimes you’re so dense it hurts. I guess I should feel honored that you bothered to come in here.”

  “Well, I thought you could use the business.”

  “Business?” Deb sighed with infinite levels of exasperation. “Sometimes I think you really, really don’t understand how lovable you are. Tell her she’s lovable,” she said to me.

  I blinked at her. “You’re very lovable.”

  “Very? Seriously? You won’t do at all.” She turned back to Jessie. “You need someone with a little more spirit. What about Matt?”

  “He’s old. I’m engaged. I’m not looking for another suitor.”

  “He’s only forty. He’s divorced, but he looks good. He started a business back a ways and now has three feed stores in the area. He’s stable and he can still handle horse flesh.”

  “Then you marry him. He’s like my brother.”

  “If he’s family, I guess I’ll put him on the guest list.”

  Jessie’s shoulders slumped. “I’m kind of trying to come across as a flashy Las Vegas big deal.”

  “You’re talking like this is a show, not a wedding. This is about you and your gambler’s perfect love. What’s this about ex-girlfriends?”

  Jessie grabbed my arm and started dragging me out of there. We were out on the sidewalk when she realized that I still had a monkey and a rabbit. She quickly took them away from me and handed them over to Deb.