Convenient Cowgirl Bride

by Silver James

  By the time Savannah returned with Indigo, Chase had bought fresh alfalfa hay and a bag of grain and filled the stall’s manger and feed bucket.

  He’d learned long ago it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission. Far fewer arguments that way. But he didn’t quite manage to get her off the property before the vet showed up. They had that argument while the doctor examined her horse. When he delivered his prognosis—a deep muscle bruise, possibly bone chipping—all the fight went out of her. And Chase’s heart went out to her—a wholly unexpected, and unusual, feeling.

  Savannah didn’t argue when he led her to his Jag. She looked defeated as he settled her into the passenger seat. He got behind the wheel and glanced at her before putting the sleek car into gear and driving off. “I’m sorry, Savannah. Indy will recover, though. That’s good, right?”

  “Yeah.” She wouldn’t look at him, and her flat tone didn’t make him feel better.

  They rode in silence for several miles. Savannah inhaled deeply and straightened her shoulders. She opened her mouth to speak, but the ringing of his phone interrupted. He hit the answer button on the steering wheel.

  “Chase Barron.”

  “Where are you, Chase?”

  “We’re driving back to the hotel, Tuck. What’s up?” He didn’t like the tight sound of his cousin’s voice.

  “You need to pull over and take me off Bluetooth.”

  “Okay.” He located a convenience store up ahead and pulled in. With a few deft motions, he disconnected the phone function and held his cell next to his ear. “Talk to me.”

  “I just got a request to free up two of the suites on the penthouse floor. For Uncle Cyrus and the Carrolls—father and daughter.”

  Chase glanced at Savannah, who was pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping, not that she had a choice in the close confines of the sports car. “When?”

  “They’re arriving Friday.” Tucker cleared his throat on a choked chortle. “I’m not supposed to tell you. Your old man is planning to ambush you.”

  “Ha. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He cut his eyes to the passenger seat, an idea starting to form in his brain. A really bad idea. Or one that was utterly brilliant. Chase couldn’t decide. “Not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”

  Disconnecting the call, he put the Jag in gear and pulled back out into traffic. For the entire ride, until he turned into the valet lane at the Crown, he didn’t give Savannah a chance to question him. With his hand gripping her arm just above the elbow, he guided her inside and to the VIP clerk at check-in to get a card key. In the private elevator, he punched in the number for her floor.

  “We’ve comped you a room, and your things are already there. Grab a shower and clean clothes, then buzz me at extension seven star star one. I’ll come down to get you, and we’ll go back up to the apartment. We’ll decide on lunch and order.”

  “Mr. Barron—”

  “Chase. Please, Savannah? Just do this for me. We’ll figure out something about your situation, okay?”

  “Okay.” The doors slithered open silently and she stepped out. He leaned against the panel, keeping the elevator open. “It’ll be okay, Savannah.”

  She tilted her head and watched him through unblinking eyes. “Why are you being nice to me?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked into a sardonic smile before he could stop himself. “I have no idea. I just know that I want to.” He freed the door and it closed on her bemused expression.

  Upstairs, he paced through the apartment, fitting pieces of a plan together. He had a crap ton of stuff to do and very little time to do it in.

  Forty-five minutes later, he had a handle on almost everything. All he needed now was Savannah’s cooperation. Considering the deal he’d put together, he figured it wouldn’t be too hard to win her over, despite misgivings expressed by his brother Chance, and by Kade.

  * * *

  Savannah stood under the hot water pouring from the rainfall showerhead. Her room was like a little minisuite. There was a sitting area with a huge LED TV, and a small table for two next to the window that looked out over the Strip. The mattress on the king-size bed bounced her a little when she flopped on it, and then sucked her into its memory-foam goodness. The bathroom was...huge, sporting a whirlpool garden tub big enough for two and a separate granite-walled shower big enough for even more.

  She pressed her hands against the stone wall and bowed her head. If some tears mixed in with the water, who would know? Besides her. She didn’t cry. Didn’t have the time or the inclination for it. But here she was, bawling twice in less than twenty-four hours. Letting go of a dream was hard, but she had no choice.

  Indigo was hurt too badly to race. In fact, the vet had wanted to take him to the clinic for X-rays. Her horse was done. Out for at least three months, if not forever. The whole thing was so stupid. She’d been mounted, waiting her turn to run at a rodeo last month in Denver. Another competitor had ridden up beside her and within seconds, the other horse had freaked, whirled and nailed poor Indigo in the gaskin, the area between the thigh and hock. She’d checked Indy, but there was no broken skin. Thinking the flighty horse had missed, she’d run the barrels that night and Indy pulled up lame at the end of the run.

  Guilt swamped her. One of the guys with the rodeo stock company had looked at Indy for her. He knew almost as much as a vet and had diagnosed a deep bruise. He’d recommended rest. Hot packs. Then alternate hot and cold packs. She didn’t have money for a vet and she darn sure wasn’t going to call home for a bailout. Her mother and Tom, Mom’s latest loser boyfriend, would be all up in her face with the I-told-you-so’s. Well, they’d told her so, and now she had no choice but to tuck her tail between her legs and sneak home. Her shoulders shook as she cried harder.

  Maybe Kade would loan her enough money to get back to Oklahoma, though she didn’t know what she’d do once she got there. Surely some of the restaurants or clubs in Oklahoma City were hiring. She’d need good tips to pay Kade back. She’d have to sell Indy. She couldn’t afford to board him—or get him properly doctored by a vet—and with Tom living with her mom, she couldn’t stay at the farm.

  The thought of losing her horse hurt her heart. The first time she’d put him through his paces she knew she had a winner, and it had revived her dream of becoming the Champion All-Around Cowgirl at the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo.

  And now that dream was dead, ground into the red dirt she’d never be able to shake off her boots.

  Savannah twirled the shower handle and the water flow stopped. Braiding her hair while it was still wet, she didn’t bother with makeup—not that she often wore any—and pulled on a pair of clean jeans, her boots and a T-shirt. She didn’t want to see Chase Barron, sit in the same room with him, have lunch with him. Chase knew too much, saw too much. And with his dark hair, coffee-colored eyes and dimpled grin, he was far too dangerous for her to deal with when she was feeling this vulnerable.

  Still, she picked up the phone and dialed his extension. While he’d been a major jerk in the beginning, he had stepped up to help when no one else had. Not that she needed help. She was just fine on her own—had proved that since she was twelve, when her mother brought that first scumbag home and he’d tried to get into bed with Savannah. She’d handled everything life had thrown at her so far. She would handle this, too. Because she had no choice.

  * * *

  When his phone beeped to announce Savannah was waiting, Chase was as ready as he could be. He went down in the elevator to retrieve her. Over hamburgers—her choice for lunch—he laid out his plan.

  “I want to sponsor you.”

  She choked, grabbed the glass of expensive spring water he’d poured for her and chugged it. “Excuse me?” she sputtered once she could talk.

  “You
want to go to the National Finals, right?”

  She nodded but didn’t speak.

  “I know Indigo is out of commission for now. I know you’re on your last dime, almost literally. I know that piece-of-shit truck won’t make another thousand miles, much less the ten thousand you’ll need to drive to hit enough rodeos to qualify for Nationals.”

  Savannah just watched him, brow knitted, lips pursed. He really wanted to kiss those lips. Which was crazy, given what he was about to propose. When silence stretched between them, he pulled his eyes away from her mouth and refocused on her eyes.

  “I’ll sponsor you. Well, technically, Barron Entertainment will. The company will provide you with a new truck, a new trailer—both carrying our name. I’ve talked to Kade about a replacement horse. He has one in mind and can have it here before the first round Friday night. I’ll pay your gas, all other travel expenses, entry fees, insurance, stall rentals and whatever rodeo-related expenses you have.”

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, her eyes wide now, and unbelieving. He wanted to chase her tongue with his lips. That could wait. He had to win her over to his plan first. “After Nationals, win, lose or draw, I’ll pay you a bonus of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

  “There has to be catch.”

  His little wildcat didn’t trust easily. That was okay. He had every expectation he could convince her this was all to her benefit.

  “What, besides barrel racing, do I have to do to receive this Barron bounty?”

  “Marry me.”

  Four

  “Marry you.” Her voice was flat to her own ears, though she all but screeched her next question. “Are you out of your frickin’ mind?”

  “Maybe.”

  Savannah stared at Chase, wondering what bizarre thing would come out of his mouth next. “You’re crazy. I’m not going to marry you. I... You...” She breathed through the tightness in her chest. He’d dangled her dream in front of her only to jerk it out of her reach. “No. You’re completely nuts. Less than twenty-four hours ago you had Security perp walk me out of this hotel. Now you’re all...” She fluttered her hands, at a loss for how to describe his actions. “Crazy. Just crazy.”

  “Please hear me out, Savannah.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, leaned back in the very comfortable chair and cocked a brow. “Fine. I’m listening.”

  “I find I’m in need of a wife.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “A wife of my choosing, not my father’s.”

  She leaned forward, curious despite her misgivings. This explanation was going to be a doozy.

  “I’m fairly certain you’re aware of my...reputation.”

  The snort escaped before she could hold it back. “Reputation? What? You mean the one that lands you on the front cover of every tabloid from LA to London? A different woman in your bed every night? Or do you mean the sex tapes floating around the internet? Yeah. I think the whole world is aware of your reputation, Mr. Barron.”

  He attempted to look contrite but she didn’t buy it for a second.

  “Call me Chase, please.” He brushed a manicured hand through his expertly styled hair. “Look, Savannah, this is a win-win for you. And for me.”

  “You still haven’t explained your reasons, Chase.”

  “My father has decided I need to settle down, and I need to get married in order to do that.”

  “So why me?”

  “Because he has an acceptable wife picked out for me already.”

  She couldn’t breathe for a moment, and her voice sounded slightly strangled as she pushed out words she didn’t want to say. “An acceptable wife. And I’m not. You want to marry me because I’m a dirt-poor, Choctaw cowgirl and it will piss your old man off.” Heat surged in her cheeks and her fingers tingled from adrenaline. She wanted to hit him. Or run. Anything but sit here and be embarrassed by this rich clown.

  “No, Savannah. That’s not true. Not really. Yes, I need to be legally married before he gets here Friday. Yes, you happen to be here and in a position where we can help each other out. But no, it didn’t occur to me that you’re...that you would be something to taunt him with. Well, beyond the fact that I’d be preemptively marrying you before he could try to force me to marry Janiece.”

  He sank onto the granite block that served as a coffee table, scrubbing at his face with the palms of his hands—hands, she reminded herself, with a better manicure than her own. There he sat in designer slacks, a starched cotton shirt with so many threads she probably couldn’t count that high, his high-dollar haircut and boots that likely cost more than she’d made last year. And here she sat in faded jeans fraying at the back pockets, scuffed boots all but falling apart, a T-shirt advertising a boot company, and her hair semitamed into a braid.

  “But I have to be honest, now that you’ve brought it to my attention. Yes, if you marry me, there will be flack. From the old man and probably from my family. I’ve already talked to my brother Chance. He’s an attorney. I want him to draw up a prenuptial agreement.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Chase held up a hand to stay her argument.

  “It’s to protect you as much as me. I’m making certain promises to you. You have every expectation that I’ll deliver. The prenup ensures that you’ll be taken care of, as promised. I won’t lie. Chance is not happy with me, but that’s par for the course. I’m sort of the bad seed in the family.” He offered a boyish grin meant to disarm her, and it succeeded—to a point.

  “I’m not your type, Chase.” She tried to meet his gaze head-on and add a glower, but she couldn’t keep her eyes from sliding to the side as she spoke the truth. “I’m rough. I live from payday to payday. I don’t wear heels or designer duds. I don’t talk like you. Heck, I bet your hands are softer than mine. No one is going to buy this marriage as anything other than what it is—a marriage of convenience to get you out of trouble with your father.”

  Chase couldn’t deny her words, nor would he do her the disservice of trying. She told the truth, but at the same time, there was something compelling about that. Most women—okay, every woman he’d ever dated—wanted something from him and would tell him whatever they thought he wanted to hear in order to get it. Savannah was different. She was...real. What he saw was what he’d get. And what he saw fascinated him.

  She was prickly, stubborn, full of pride, curvy, tomboyish—all the things he stayed away from when it came to women. She’d be way more trouble than she was worth. She’d be a crimp in his social life. She’d bedevil him like crazy. And some perverse part of him looked forward to the challenge, actually craved it. He watched her struggle to meet his eyes, realized she was feeling exposed and didn’t like the feeling.

  Despite his social failings where the opposite sex was concerned, Chase understood people and their motivations on a visceral level. That made him extremely successful in the entertainment business. He sensed this woman would always speak the truth, at least as she perceived it. He’d appreciate that in the long run, if not always in the present. And despite her strength, there was a vulnerability shrouding her that stirred a deeply buried protective streak.

  “I won’t embarrass you, Savannah. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’ll take care of you for the length of the contract between us. You’ll walk away at the end with what I’ve promised—new truck, the trailer, the horse we get from Kade, all your expenses. Clothes. Food. Hotels. Vets for the horse, including Indigo. I’ll get Kade to bring your new horse out and he’ll take Indigo back to the ranch to heal. You keep the money you win. You’ll have enough to keep you going when we divorce. I’ll even do something stupid so it’s all on me. You can walk away free and clear with your head high.”

  “Why, Chase? I still don’t get it. Why not just tell your father to go...” She stopped before using the word on the tip of her
tongue and corrected it to “Uh...take a flying leap? You’re an adult. Why let him control you?”

  She had a point, but his reasons were so messed up, a battery of psychiatrists would have a field day trying to figure out his family dynamics. “Look up the term dysfunctional family in the dictionary. The definition will be two words. The Barrons.” He lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “But you deserve the truth. I’m weak, Savannah. And a coward, pretty much. My father is a right bastard, and he’s ridden roughshod over every one of us. He’s threatened to fire me. Chance fixed the family trust so I’ll be taken care of, but I wouldn’t be in charge of Barron Entertainment.”

  He pushed off the table and strode to the windows. Las Vegas and the desert beyond spread before him in a seemingly endless vista. “I like what I do. Hell, I love it. But more important, I’m good at it. I wasn’t good at anything growing up.”

  Chase snapped his mouth shut and stiffened. What the hell was wrong with him? He never revealed his true thoughts to anyone. Not even Cash, especially not now. He wasn’t smart like Chance. He wasn’t a leader like Clay. He wasn’t honorable like Cord. And he sure wasn’t like his twin, always putting the family before his own needs. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  “We’re not consummating the marriage.”

  Thankfully, her words interrupted his reverie. He turned his head, and heat curled deep inside as he swept his gaze over her. She really was beautiful in a down-to-earth way. He didn’t miss the widening of her eyes, the quick intake of breath that swelled her breasts or the delicate shiver that skittered over her skin as he watched her.