Pretending to Wed

by Melissa Jagears

  In a corner of the hotel’s restaurant, Corinne squirmed in her seat, hoping no one was paying attention to them. If Nolan’s business proposition went nowhere, they could still stir the gossip mill if they ate together in public. She’d rather not deal with that.

  Nolan reached into his pocket and pulled out his paper, smoothing it open upon the table and spinning it toward her. “You should read this before we start. It’s nothing more than a skeleton of a contract, but I figured it’d be best to come up with exact terms together. This isn’t—”

  “I’m not sure a contract is what we need.” She skimmed his neat paragraphs.

  He lifted his gaze to hers. “You don’t want to negotiate?”

  “As nice as this is, if we have to marry for this to work, we won’t be able to dissolve our partnership if one of us doesn’t fulfill our obligations.” She tucked back a loose tendril of hair. “It comes down to if we can trust each other.”

  Frowning at the contract, he started refolding it. “I suppose this wasn’t necessary, then.”

  “Oh, no.” She put a hand atop his, but slid it right back off in case someone was watching. “It proved you were serious—that you intend to follow through. I’d not have discussed the possibility without it.”

  He nodded, but didn’t seem reassured. “What do you want to discuss, then?”

  “Our expectations of one another. If what I’m willing to do is enough for you to give me a percentage. Besides, stipulations like ‘no unwanted romantic gestures’ would look silly on a business contract.”

  “‘Unwanted romantic gestures?’” He blinked, his face confused. “Are you saying there will be wanted ones?”

  Heat filled her face. She worked hard not to lower her gaze like an embarrassed school girl. “No. But we have to face the possibility of complications.”

  “What sort of complications?”

  “That you fall in love with me.”

  Nolan took in Corinne’s serious, no-nonsense expression.

  She said nothing more. Seemed she didn’t think falling in love with him was a possible complication.

  He closed his eyes for a second, chastising the sudden pang in his chest. This wasn’t a romance. He didn’t want her to fall for him. “All right, how would you want that handled?”

  “In normal situations, if someone gets rebuffed, the pair could keep their distance. The disappointed party could move on, but we’d not be able to do so.”

  “So what’s the plan?” It seemed she’d thought this through. Perhaps the likelihood she’d agree to this was higher than he’d thought.

  “If either of us feels attracted to the other, we’d need to ask permission to court, as if we weren’t married. If the other said, ‘no,’ we’d have to concede.”

  He leaned back and rubbed his jaw. He’d never heard of a woman asking a man to court, so she likely meant this stipulation solely for him. “So if the feelings aren’t ever mutual?”

  The hostess approached, and they both remained silent as the young woman set Corinne’s ham and fried potatoes and Nolan’s pork chops on the table.

  Corinne laid her napkin in her lap and looked back at him once the hostess left. “You’ll have to decide whether you could endure being married to someone you’re attracted to, knowing you could never move on. Or, if you fell in love with someone else, never being free to pursue her.”

  He blew out a breath. Complications, indeed.

  Silence grew as neither of them moved to start eating. Oh! She was likely waiting on him. “Would you mind if we said grace to ourselves?”

  “Of course not.” She folded her hands to pray.

  He shut his eyes.

  God, she’s right. I’m more likely to fall for her. As a man… I can’t deny I’m susceptible to urges—married or not. Will I be able to have her near, but never have her? I’ve already chosen not to entertain any attraction I’ve felt for women—but this would be different.

  He’d have to guard his heart against romantic nonsense, as she’d said.

  The clinking of her silverware startled him into finishing his prayer, thanking God for the usual things and begging for discernment.

  He picked up his fork and straightened. Time to discuss business. “So, what do you intend to do to earn your control of the purse strings, and how much are you thinking?”

  “I haven’t given that much thought, considering you’ve only now convinced me you mean to follow through. Maybe thirty-five percent?”

  He nodded. Considering that number was only five above what he’d written up, he’d not quibble. Even if she ended up doing nothing, sixty-five percent was a heap better than zero.

  She took a bite of her potatoes and looked up contemplatively. “I’m willing to do all the typical household duties, of course. Feed your workers, clean the house—unless you have someone already doing that. I’d also want to learn how you run the place in case something happens. I can ride—or at least I used to.”

  “I’ve always taken care of the meals since I work from the house most of the time. Nothing fancy, though. And I don’t ride for lengthy periods anymore; my missing leg makes me feel off balance. I hire hands for that.”

  “How many men do you have, and how old are they?”

  Why did she need to know their ages? Was she trying to decide if his men could be another ‘complication’—that she’d fall in love with a cowboy and be unable to do anything about it? Having her fall for someone else…

  He rubbed his chest where a strange sensation clenched inside him. “I have three I keep year round and a foreman. The youngest, Tim, is nineteen. Abel is in his early thirties and splits his time between my ranch and his brother’s. Rascal is upper fifties—he’s worked for my father since before I can remember—and Sal is almost fifty, I think.”

  What if one of the hands fell for her?

  Even if he had no hold on her heart, he’d fire that man in a heartbeat. Making eyes at the boss’s wife was not a quality he wanted in a ranch hand.

  “Can you get on with only four?”

  “I hire more for cattle drives and any other times the five of us aren’t enough.”

  She took a bite of her potatoes while sporting a faraway, worried look.

  “You can have a say in who we employ if you wish. If any of them make you uncomfortable for any reason, we can talk. Though I hope you’ll agree to most of my choices. Half the reason I’ve done so well is because of who I hire.”

  She nodded, looking relieved. “What if I want to check your books? Will you let me inspect your figures whenever I choose? Are you willing to give me straight answers when I ask questions or will you patronize me by saying I don’t have to worry my ‘pretty little head’ over numbers?”

  “If I didn’t consider you sensible enough to handle business matters, I’d not have drawn up a contract. I’m willing to discuss whatever you wish.”

  Her expression turned less guarded, eager even. “I’m obviously unfamiliar with ranching. How often do you sell cattle?”

  “In the fall. All other income is incidental: stud fees, equipment rental, hay surplus, and the like. Since the bulk of our money comes but once a year, I have to be careful. One of the reasons we’ve prospered is because I follow a strict budget. I spend only what we have, rather than what I expect to bring in.”

  She scooted her potatoes around on her plate, staring out the window behind him. Seemed she needed time thinking things through. He started working on his own meal, which had grown cold.

  Beneath the table she knocked his leg once, twice. Did she realize that was his false leg or did she think she was kicking the table leg?

  Maybe he should write a list of things he wouldn’t want her to do that wasn’t business-related, like rushing over to help him if he was struggling to stand, or—

  “All right, I’ll marry you.”

  He swallowed hard. Had she said what he thought sh—

  “But I’ll need you to front me a hundred dollars.”

&nb
sp; He swallowed harder. “A hundred dollars?”

  Chapter Nine

  If Nolan’s eyes could have gotten any bigger, they might’ve fallen out of his head.

  For a moment, she contemplated taking back the request for money. Her brother-in-law would probably be happy with half a hundred, but she had no idea how much Nolan would bring in come fall. And she’d have little time to learn enough to help him bring in more.

  If he didn’t agree, would he renege on the whole thing?

  In a way, her heart had already latched itself onto everything he was offering: a home, partnership, rest.

  However, if he only got paid once a year, could she be sure she could pay her sister and brother-in-law what she owed anytime soon?

  “Why do you need a hundred dollars?”

  “It’d prove you’re serious.”

  “I could see that, but at the same time, I want to know what you’re using it for. If I’m giving you part of my profit, I need to know you’re the kind to spend it wisely.”

  She pressed her lips together, but then, she’d want to know the same about him, too. “I owe my sister and her husband money.”

  “A hundred dollars?” He whistled, a high tone that swooped straight into a low note. “For what? No wonder you’ve been troubled lately.”

  How long had he been paying attention to her worries? “Actually, I owe them a little over three hundred. My brother-in-law loaned me money to purchase the building I used in Rapid City. Then the place burned down. What I had in savings had to cover starting over. I only had enough for supplies and equipment, hence why I’m renting.”

  “He needs a hundred now?”

  “He’s got a baby, possibly two, on the way, and his panning isn’t going well. He asked me for more than I usually give him. If you don’t get paid until fall…”

  Nolan nodded absentmindedly and stirred more sugar into his tea.

  Thankfully, he didn’t seem curious about why her first laundry had burned down. She’d moved to Armelle because no one would rent to her in Rapid City after finding out an experiment had started the fire. If she’d burned the place down cooking, people probably wouldn’t have been so opposed to letting her set up shop again. And of course, she’d wanted to get as far away from Randolph as possible.

  Their hostess showed up and took away Corinne’s plate. When the young lady reached for Nolan’s, he stopped her and started again on his abandoned pork chop. He chewed in silence, looking off into space.

  Was Nolan considering giving her the money? Could she marry him if he didn’t? It wasn’t as if she was sure she could pay her brother-in-law as it was now.

  “I’m afraid a hundred dollars is a lot.”

  Her buoy of hope sank like a rock. Maybe it had been too much to ask, but if he couldn’t afford it, then where would she get the money—

  “Could you wait until after we married?”

  She stiffened. Though she trusted him more than most men in town, she needed to know he’d follow through on his promises before she got stuck with him. She knew that for a fact. “I’m afraid not. They need it.”

  He squirmed. “All right.”

  Her mouth fell open, but then she snapped it back shut.

  The rock that had settled in the pit of her stomach expanded into a happy bubble intent on lifting her out of her seat. How merciful was God to give her better than she’d ever hoped for after she’d messed up her entire life!

  And her past wasn’t even a factor.

  Nolan pushed away his now empty plate. His face didn’t appear as jubilant as she felt, but the lines of tension around his mouth had eased.

  She folded her napkin and gave him a smile. “I’ll do my best to be worth taking on, partner.”

  She held out her hand, and he shook it.

  The pain caused by their handshake barely registered.

  Hours after he and Corinne had ironed out what she would do to earn her thirty-five percent and the hundred dollars she was asking for, Nolan waited for the customer Leah was helping to leave before he approached the counter.

  “Back so soon?” Her eyebrows lifted, though one didn’t move up as far as the other.

  He refused to squirm. It wasn’t as if he were a young man asking permission to take Leah’s daughter on a walk. “May I speak with Miss Stillwater?”

  Leah pointed behind her, just as Corinne walked in through the doorway.

  “I—” Maybe he shouldn’t come right out with the fact he’d already withdrawn the hundred dollars. “May I speak with you?”

  She turned sideways and gestured for him to precede her into the back room.

  Stepping through the doorway, he stumbled over a haphazard stack of crates and into some metal pipes jutting from a crowded workbench. Thankfully, he caught himself.

  The whole room was full of tables overflowing with scraps. What a mess. The banker should be ashamed of himself for forcing a renter into storing all this junk.

  “Come with me. I have to keep working.” Corinne grabbed a basket of wet clothing, deftly zigzagged through the maze of stuff, and walked out the back door.

  He followed her outside and frowned up at the contraption attached to the corner of the building where she’d stopped. Several long wooden rods were screwed into the siding on hinges, which she had fanned out like a spiral staircase.

  She pulled a pair of trousers from her basket. “I hope you don’t mind if I hang clothes while we talk.”

  “Of course not.” He took a step closer and pushed a wooden bar back and forth, testing its movement.

  “I don’t advise making one of these for your ranch unless you intend to start a laundry. It’s handy, but costs more than a clothesline. I just didn’t have enough room for another.”

  Her yard—if leveled dirt could be called a yard—ran only a handful of feet before smacking up against an uneven sandstone walkway separating it from the next backyard. Linens were already waving on the short, doubled line that filled the space.

  “Would you want to start a laundry on the ranch?”

  “Goodness, no.” Grimacing, she flicked out another pair of trousers. “For the household wash, several clotheslines will suffice, which I assume you have.”

  “Yes. Along with some stiff bushes to drape things over.” She so easily spoke of chores on his ranch. Would she actually be hanging up his clothes soon? He picked up a pillowcase and flicked it before draping it over one of her rods. “So I—I went to the bank.”

  She stilled.

  “I’ve got the money.” He reached into his pocket and wrapped his hand around a large portion of his savings.

  Her chin crunched into a disbelieving frown. “Already?”

  Did that frown mean she’d hoped he’d changed his mind? “I do need to make something clear before proceeding, though. If you run with the money, you’ll get nothing more from me.”

  Her frown wriggled up slightly. “No need to worry about that. Thirty-five percent of a ranch? I’ll be sticking around and doing what I can to help. If your bank account prospers, so does mine.”

  A businesswoman through and through. Even if she murdered him in his sleep, the ranch would be in better hands than his cousin’s. “I know you told me earlier it was none of my business, but perhaps it is now. Are you sure you want to give up marrying for love?”

  “I already have.”

  “What if the right man came along?”

  She looked away, smoothing out the nightdress she’d hung. “I was once betrothed to a man who could’ve fulfilled all my dreams. Another who said he couldn’t wait to be with me forever. Both were not who I thought they were.” She stopped to hang up some stockings. “If my dreams had come true, I would’ve been stuck with men I now wish I’d never met. I know better than to trust myself in finding the ‘right man.’ With that being said…”

  Turning to face him, she tilted her chin up. “I will not tolerate abuse of any kind.”

  His heart kathunked at the thought of any man laying hands
on her. “And you shouldn’t have to.”

  “If you mistreat me—agreement or no—I’ll leave, and you’ll lose your ranch.”

  “And I’d deserve it.”

  She stared deep into his eyes and must have found the assurance she wanted, for she nodded and dropped her gaze to his hand, which was tightly clenched around a small roll of twenty-dollar bills. “I intend to work hard for you. You’ll make that money back in no time.”

  She didn’t know how long “no time” could take considering ranching success depended on nature’s mercy, but he certainly believed she’d work hard once she was able.

  Was she really agreeing? Was he in his right mind to give so much to a woman he barely knew?

  “However, why don’t you think about it longer? I won’t hold it against you if you decide against marrying me.” She put a hand on the side of his arm and looked at him as if he were a scared jackrabbit.

  Perhaps he was. The closer he got to her, the harder it was to breathe. Could he truly go through with this?

  “We should pray more, yes?” She nodded, causing even more blond waves to fall out of what was always a messier updo than what the other women around town sported. “Neither of us will lose our livelihoods in a couple of days. Why don’t you take the weekend to decide?”

  “All right.” The feel of her hand lingered on his bicep, though she’d let go of him already.

  She blinked up at him with eyes the color of strong coffee.

  “I, uh, … I’ll just leave then.” But his feet stayed stuck. If any other man was taking leave of the woman he planned to marry, there’d be a kiss goodbye.

  Would kissing always be off the table?

  “Uh, Nolan?”

  He blinked. And found himself leaning. A few more inches and she’d be up against the wall.

  He’d not even have to tilt—

  “Nolan?”

  He shook his head and pushed away, then patted her upper arm as if she were a chum—or worse, his horse.

  “Sorry.” He snatched his hand back and clenched it at his side. “I should go now. I’ll be back after the weekend.”