Convenient Cowgirl Bride

by Silver James

  Thirty minutes and a leisurely water taxi ride later, they were seated on the patio of Cantina Cactus. He ordered her a top-shelf margarita on the rocks with extra salt, and a Corona for himself. When the waitress returned with their drinks, Savannah ordered dinner in a clipped voice, ignoring him. He added his order, then leaned back in his chair. He’d debated their seating arrangement and opted to sit across from her.

  There were several reasons—he could see her face, and she was basically cornered by the railing surrounding the patio at her back. Mainly, though, she wouldn’t be able to see anything he might do beneath the table, like logging into his fake Twitter account and tweet using the #FindChase hashtag. He’d resorted to the ruse to both avoid the paparazzi and to use them as needed. He hoped he didn’t have to employ such antics tonight but... One look at Savannah’s face, he figured his thumbs would be getting a workout.

  After their meal arrived, Savannah rolled a flour tortilla and waved it. “Are you sure you want to do this in public?”

  “Do what, kitten?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Kitten.”

  She threw up her hands, still clutching the tortilla. “Gah! What do you want, Chase?”

  He composed his expression to what one ex-girlfriend called his dreamy-eyes-and-dimple face. Something flickered in Savannah’s eyes so he hoped it was working. “I want you, sweetheart.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Okay, look. I screwed up.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Yes, I think. Which I wasn’t doing at the time. Look, darlin’, things get intense with my dad. There’s a long history there, and I didn’t mean for you to get caught in the middle.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Her voice was so soft he wasn’t sure he heard her. “Excuse me?”

  She raised her chin, and he admired the stubborn tilt. “Yes, you did. You dragged me into the middle the moment you put this ring on my finger.” She held up her left hand, fingers splayed.

  “I was up front, Savannah.”

  “So was I. And I made a mistake.”

  Chase stiffened. If she called off the marriage, he was up a creek full of excrement. “A mistake.” He enunciated those words very carefully and there was no question mark at the end when he said them.

  “Hands off. I didn’t stick to my rule. That was my mistake. I slept with you. I won’t be that stupid again.”

  “Excuse me? Sleeping with me was a mistake? Really? And how many times did you get off?”

  Pink colored her cheeks, and she broke eye contact. He’d flustered her. That was good, and his anger receded a little. He couldn’t lose control. Not if he wanted her back in his bed—and not just to sleep. Reaching across the table, he clasped her hand, tightening his grip slightly when she tried to pull away.

  “Kitten, listen to me. Saturday night was not a mistake. Not for me. Yes, twenty-four hours later I totally screwed up. This whole marriage gig is new to me. I’m not used to looking out for someone else. I’ll make it up to you.”

  Savannah raised her eyes to gaze into his. “Don’t do this. Don’t be nice and apologetic. I don’t want to like you. I just want to get through the next twelve months.”

  “Is everything okay with your food?” The waitress appeared with a water pitcher.

  Chase glanced up at her. “Everything is fine, thanks.” After the woman wandered off, he realized the moment had passed. He’d have to activate Operation Twitter. “Eat up, kitten, before your dinner gets cold.”

  Following his own advice, he shoveled several bites of his chiles rellenos into his mouth. After a sip of his beer, he dropped his hands to his lap and started typing. Time to pull in the big guns.

  * * *

  Savannah stood on the balcony of their suite watching the traffic on the Riverwalk. Water taxis cruised, leaving gentle waves in their wake. Pedestrians thronged and a mix of music floated up.

  She’d managed to choke down only half her tamales before the paparazzi found them. She’d had to pose with Chase, a smile on her face, and then eyes closed in pretended bliss while he kissed her—his way of bribing them to go away. They didn’t go far, and the restaurant staff sneaked the newlyweds out through the kitchen.

  Savannah’s feelings were all over the map where Chase was concerned. She didn’t trust him. Couldn’t trust him for so many reasons.

  He was a player. Egotistical. Self-centered enough to be a narcissist. Yet when he smiled—the smile that played peekaboo with his dimple and lit up his eyes—she could fall in love with Chase Barron. Way too easily. And if she did, he’d only break her heart. She was a means to an end. A convenient wife in inconvenient circumstances.

  “Kitten?”

  She hadn’t heard the door behind her open but Chase was suddenly there, his arm circling her waist and pulling her to him. The hard length of him nestled against her bottom. She didn’t realize how chilly she’d been until his heat surrounded her.

  “You should go to bed,” she said briskly.

  “As soon as you come with me.”

  “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

  “Savannah.” He swept her hair off her neck before his lips began to nibble. She stiffened, but he just held her tighter. “I said I was sorry, Sav. I meant it. But we’re still married. We’re still good together in bed. Why deny ourselves that pleasure?”

  “It’s a bad idea, Chase.”

  “No, it’s not. In fact, I want you to see a doctor tomorrow.”

  Her head jerked up and connected with his face.

  “Ow. Damn, woman. You tryin’ to kill me?”

  She twisted and turned but now he had her back braced against the railing. She hadn’t bloodied his nose, thankfully, but she was still wary. “Why do I have to see a doctor?”

  “Birth control. I’m clean. You said you hadn’t dated in a long time—”

  Heat suffused her face, and she pushed against his chest with her palms. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Sav, it’s okay. I figure you’re clean, too. I’m always careful, but with you? With you, I want it all. I want to feel you surrounding me, with no barrier between us. That’s all I’m sayin’. Okay?”

  Her agreement came out a little breathier than she would have preferred. This man got to her—in all the wrong ways. She didn’t—couldn’t—fight when he dipped his head and his mouth sought out hers. His tongue teased, asking for entrance, and she parted her lips even as she parted her legs so he could stand between them, his hot, hard desire evident as he rubbed against her center.

  “Come to bed, Savannah,” he murmured against her cheek when he broke the kiss. He backed away just enough to sweep her into his arms.

  He carried her inside to the bedroom and settled her on the bed. “Be right back,” he whispered. She heard him out in the living area shutting and locking the balcony door, closing drapes, checking the security bar on the front door. Then he was back, shedding clothes as he approached her.

  “Seeing you lying there, it’s like Christmas. I get to unwrap you and find the present beneath.”

  Her heart melted even as her brain jumped up and down trying to get her attention. She ignored the logic and went for emotion. Tonight—just tonight—she’d take what he had to offer. He’d make her feel cherished and wanted. He’d soothe her loneliness with gentle but demanding hands. He’d make love to her, even if it was only sex in his mind. She could live with that. Yes, for a year, she’d take what he offered. And when the time came, she’d walk away and hope her heart survived.

  Sixteen

  That week in San Antonio passed like a dream. Savannah’s times remained top-notch, and while Chase didn’t hover, he was around. A lot. He hung out in the contestants’ hospitality room. He took her to dinner. They held hands. He m
ade her laugh. And his kisses curled her toes despite her best intentions. He made love to her at night in ways sweet and sometimes dirty, but always satisfying.

  She’d broached the subject of his work, but he waved away her concerns. “I can work anywhere I have a laptop, sweetheart.”

  And it seemed that he could.

  Then it was Sunday. She won the barrel racing and picked up her check from the rodeo office, but even more importantly, she added points to her total. Chase was in the mood to celebrate, so they did. They went to New Braunfels, ate, and then partied and danced at Gruene Hall to a live band. Savvie never considered herself much of a dancer but Chase could boot scoot with the best of them.

  They returned to the hotel, ordered up late-night appetizers, fed each other, drank beer, laughed and fell into bed happy. Chase made love to her slow and easy, much like their night had been, and she fell a little more in love with him.

  He followed her to Bakersfield, Beaumont, Wichita. To Helena, Minot, Abilene. She participated in a few all-girl rodeos along the way but Chase didn’t stray. She didn’t hide her face in checkout lines because they’d faded from the tabloids. Paparazzi occasionally popped up, but there was nothing juicy about an apparently happily married billionaire and his cowgirl bride.

  Savannah relaxed. And that was her first mistake. They’d been together for almost six months. Chase was off in the Bahamas wheeling and dealing over some big new resort. She’d been on her own for a week and was settled in her hotel in Reno, gearing up for the weekend and the rodeo. While the hotel wasn’t a Barron property, it was luxurious, and she was treated like a VIP. Like so many of the big hotels in Reno, it had a casino and restaurants. After her experience in Vegas, she shied away from those. She wanted a comfortable place where a cowgirl could sit and eat a burger, drink a beer and maybe listen to some county music on a jukebox.

  The hotel doorman directed her to Riley’s Saloon and got a cab for her. “Hard to park, and if you have more than a beer or two, you’ll want to take a cab back. Local cops have a no-tolerance rule.”

  She’d learned to tip doormen and cabdrivers. Hers passed over his card, told her to call when she was ready to go back to the hotel and tipped his baseball cap to her. She walked into Riley’s to the sounds of Toby Keith’s “I Love This Bar.” Perfect.

  After her eyes adjusted to the lower lights, she looked around. There were a few tourist types, but it was mostly locals and several tables of rodeo cowboys. A couple of the guys nodded or waved, and one stood up. He motioned her over to the empty chair at his table. Jess Lyon was a cowboy’s cowboy and a cowgirl’s dream come true—ruggedly handsome, broad shouldered, a hint of bad boy in his grin. Savannah had known him forever.

  Full from her burger, mellow after two beers and comfortable in her surroundings, she leaned back in her chair. Jess’s arm was draped across the top and her shoulders brushed against it. Carrie Underwood was singing about taking a smoke break, and Jess leaned in to speak directly into Savvie’s ear.

  “Heard a rumor, sugar.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yup. Seems someone’s photo just got added to the NFR site under barrel racing’s leaders.”

  She squealed and, without thinking, turned in her chair, grabbed his face and laid a smacking kiss on his lips. Then she grabbed her phone from her hip pocket and started Googling the National Finals Rodeo site. There she was. She was hot on the trail of the top leaders. She thumbed over to her contacts list and hit Chase’s number, all prepared to give him the good news.

  Her call rolled to voice mail. Disappointed, she left a message amid shouted congratulations from the cowboys in the bar. Celebrating, she stayed later than she’d planned, drank more beer than she should have and ended up accepting a ride back to her hotel with Jess. He left her at the front entrance in the doorman’s solicitous hands, driving away to her shouted thanks.

  Reno was another conquest. She walked away with a first place and a hefty check. Her life was good and next up was Cheyenne Frontier Days. Chase had promised to meet her there. While she hated to admit it, she missed him—and not just in her bed. She missed his boyish grin and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. She missed holding his hand as they walked and the sound of his voice. She’d called him several times—getting voice mail—but she left messages telling him that she missed him and was looking forward to reconnecting in Cheyenne.

  Tucker had leased a condo for them in Cheyenne and made arrangements to board Red and Cimarron at a nearby ranch. She had a week off and once Chase arrived, she planned on taking some vacation time with him.

  After arriving in Cheyenne and settling in, Savannah went to the grocery store to stock up and was pushing her basket toward the cashier when one of the tabloids caught her eye.

  She sucked in a sharp breath, then lost it in a whoosh as she caught the two pictures on the cover. One was of Chase, standing with a model-thin woman in a backless dress. Chase, with his hand resting on the small of her naked back. Chase, smiling his sexy grin into the lens of the camera. The other photo featured Savannah. In Riley’s, kissing Jess.

  Oh, no. Nonononono. This was bad. Very, very bad! She didn’t hesitate. She grabbed all the copies and dumped them into her basket. She checked out, numb to everything around her. Getting the grocery bags to her pickup was a struggle. Getting in her truck was harder. Driving while panic blurred her vision was almost impossible.

  Finally back at the condo, she dragged her purchases inside and left them on the kitchen counter. She called Chase. Voice mail. Again. She managed to leave a choked “Call me, please!” before she cut the call and dialed Tucker. Voice mail. She left the same message. How could things go so wrong?

  * * *

  Chase ignored his phone and glared when Tucker’s rang. Wisely, his cousin didn’t answer, either. He shoved the tabloid across the coffee table. “Wanna explain this?”

  Tucker glanced down, then met his gaze. “Not me who was out with Diane Brandenburg.”

  “I wasn’t out with her. And I damn sure didn’t kiss her.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Of what?”

  “The fact your wife was kissing another man.”

  “Wife in name only, cuz, as she’s proved.”

  “You claim being with Di was innocent. Has it occurred to you that Savannah is innocent?”

  “I didn’t kiss Di.”

  “And Savannah was in a bar, sitting at a table with eight other people. Savvie is not the type to make out in front of an audience.”

  “How do you know?”

  Tucker stared at him, his expression incredulous. “This is Savannah we’re talking about, Chase. Not even Cash could turn up dirt on her. She’s had a couple of semiserious boyfriends—one in high school, one in college.” His cousin studied him for several long moments. “You really like this girl.”

  “No, I don’t,” Chase answered quickly. From the arched brow he got in return, maybe too quickly. “It’s business, Tucker. Always has been.” He muttered a few cusswords under his breath.

  “Ah, so all that spending time with her, holding hands, kissing for the cameras was just...work.”

  “No, it was to make a point to my father. And the minute I was out of sight, she didn’t bother to stay in touch.” His phone pinged again. Irritated, he jerked it out of his pocket and scrolled to Voice. He had over thirty messages. All from the same number. Savannah’s. “What the hell?”

  He checked the times and dates. The calls went all the way back to the week she was in Reno, including the night she was in that bar with that cowboy Casanova. Well, this would be good. He hit Playback and put it on speaker.

  “Chase! Chase! Guess what! Jess just gave me the news. I made the NFR leaderboard. I’m on the website. So excited. Everyone here is thrilled. Me, too. Miss you. Call me when you get this! Bye!”

  He
refused to meet Tucker’s disapproving gaze as they listened to the next message. “Hey, baby. A little drunk but I’m back at the hotel. Jess gave me a ride. He’d like to meet you ’cause he says you make me happy. You do, you know.” She giggled. “I shouldn’t admit that. Miss you, hoss. Bunches.”

  They listened to each voice mail she’d left, ending with her final two, the choked “Call me, please,” left several minutes before. It was the first call he’d deliberately ignored. The last message was a soft sob and a whispered “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, that definitely sounds like a woman playing you for a fool, Chase.”

  “Shut up, Tucker. Why the hell didn’t I get these calls when she made them?”

  “Good question. I’ll try to find out.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Chase landed at the Cheyenne Airport and drove directly to the resort where Tucker had leased the condo. Savannah’s truck was parked in front of one of the rustic redwood buildings. He didn’t bother stopping at the office to grab a key. If Savannah wouldn’t let him in, he’d kick in the door and pay for the damages.

  He parked his rental SUV, left his bag in the vehicle and marched up to the door. It was jerked open as he raised his hand to knock. Savannah’s eyes were red rimmed and puffy. She’d been crying. Her expression shifted from hopeful to guarded then back. He did the only thing he could think of under the circumstances. He opened his arms, and she fell into them.

  “I’m so sorry, Chase. So-o-o sorry. I didn’t know a reporter was there. It was just some of the rodeo crew.”

  “Shh, kitten, s’okay.”

  “Nonono. I kissed Jess. I did. But it didn’t mean anything. I was just excited when I got the news. He’s a friend. Just a friend. He was there. I was excited so I grabbed him. That’s all. He has a fiancée. I promise. Just a friend.”

  “Savannah.” He moved her inside and got the door shut behind them. “Easy, honey. Deep breaths. And please don’t cry.” He managed to get her to the couch and settled in his lap before her breathing was under control. In normal circumstances—with any other woman—tears had no effect on him. Savannah’s tears ripped into his heart with sharp kitten claws. He didn’t want to make her cry. Not ever.