by Silver James
“You sure?”
“More than I’ve ever been. Being with her? It feels right, Tucker.” Chase brushed his fingers through his hair and leaned forward, an elbow on his knee. Lowering his voice, he added, “Cash didn’t take what I had to say very well.”
“I can imagine.”
“He set it up, Tuck.” Anger leaked into his voice. “My own twin planned it out to hurt Savannah.”
“That’s low, cuz.”
“Yeah.” Silence stretched between them, though the arena came to life around him and crowd noise covered what he said next. “Something’s wrong, Tuck.”
“Yeah. The Feds are crawling all over us.”
“I meant Cash, cuz. He’s not...”
“He’s not who you thought he was? You know, Chase, for a businessman as smart as you are, you sure wear blinders where your family is concerned. If your old man weren’t my uncle—”
“What about Cash?”
“He’s got a mean streak, Chase. He’s always had it, even when we were kids. You got all the sunshine and rainbows. And Cash? Cash got the thunder and lightning.”
Opening and closing his mouth several times as he attempted to form an answer, Chase finally gave up. “Not gonna discuss that now. Tell the Feds I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Get with Bridger and find out what’s been happening at our other properties. And get the accountants lined up. The Justice Department has wanted a piece of us ever since Clay won his first election.”
* * *
Savannah took Chase to the airport the next morning. After dinner and dancing at one of the cowboy bars, they’d spent the night making love. She didn’t want to say goodbye, afraid she’d lose something important if they were apart. They stood on the tarmac, Chase delaying getting on the plane as if he didn’t want to go any more than she didn’t want him to leave.
“Gonna miss you, kitten. And remember, if I text, I’ll use our code word.”
She was pretty sure she blushed to the roots of her hair. “Purr is not much of a code word, hoss.”
“But you purr so prettily when I make you come.”
Now she was positive her face was scarlet. “Shut up.”
Chase laughed, a deep rolling sound from his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her so they could kiss, then swung her around and around until she was giggling and dizzy. “Put me down, you big goof.”
He did, though his hands lingered on her waist, and he smiled down at her. “Can you make it home for a visit after Frontier Days?”
Savannah stilled at the word. Home. His home. The apartment in Vegas. Where he’d thrown her out of his bed, and then taken her to the heights of passion in that same bed. Moments passed and Chase squeezed her waist. She stammered out a breathless “Yes. I’ll try.”
He kissed her again, slowly, like she was some delicacy to be savored. She melted against him, her fingers curling in the lapels of his jacket. She rolled up on the balls of her feet to get closer to him, clinging just a little as he started to pull away. Part of her wanted to say the words, but she clamped her jaw shut as soon as she’d said, “I—”
“I?” Chase kissed the tip of her nose as she dropped back to stand flat-footed. “I what, kitten?”
She scrambled to fill in the blank. “Miss you. I will miss you.” A lot. A whole, whole lot.
“Good. That means you’ll be thinking about me. Turnabout is fair play, because I think about you all the time.”
The flight attendant appeared in the doorway of the executive jet. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Barron, but the pilot says there’s some weather moving in. We need to take off now to have any chance of missing it.”
“I’ll be right there.” Chase turned back to Savannah. “Really gotta go, kitten. If you can’t make it to Vegas, I’ll see you in Dodge City.” He flashed her a lopsided grin with a hint of dimple and a wink. “Provided Dodge City has an airport.”
She sputtered in support of Dodge. “For a man born and raised in Oklahoma, that’s just mean. Dodge City is awesome.”
“It is when you’re there.” He glanced over his shoulder and waved at the flight attendant. “Gotta go, babe. Call me.”
“Ditto. You, me.”
They kissed one last time until Chase broke away. He paused at the door to the plane and waved. Savannah backed up, but waited, waving at him until the plane taxied away.
* * *
Savannah didn’t go to Vegas between rodeos. Chase had to fly to Miami. He didn’t join her in Dodge City. Or Caldwell, Idaho. Something related to his business always came up. Savannah would have been angry or hurt, but Chase called her constantly. He even bought her an iPad so they could Skype, and she could respond to his sexy emails. And oh, boy, did he send sexy emails. She would read them and blush, and then the ornery cuss would tag her on Skype just so he could see her face.
Deep down, Savannah knew he wasn’t avoiding her, despite evidence to the contrary. Even Tucker vouched for him. So she did what she’d always done. She drove from rodeo to rodeo. She competed. She mostly won, sometimes lost and learned she could call Chase when she was feeling down. He never failed to take her call. If he was in the middle of a meeting, he took a moment to talk to her, and then set a time when they could Skype.
September rolled around and that meant the Pendleton Round-up. Like Calgary and Cheyenne, Pendleton was one of the big ones. It was an important rodeo with the stiffest competition. Winning at Pendleton was a big deal, but she was so lonely, she could barely get out of bed.
Staring at the mirror in her hotel room, she reminded herself of her idiotic tendencies. “He’s a busy man, Savannah. He runs a huge corporation. And you’re just his...” She stopped speaking as she considered what exactly she was. What had he said all those months ago when he proposed this? A marriage of convenience. “That’s all you are, girl. Just a convenient wife. Yeah, he likes the stuff we do in bed. He probably even likes you. But forever? Nope. When the year’s up, he’ll be done with you, ready to move on.”
She made good time in the afternoon run. Her evening run was even better. She was in Cimarron’s stall, brushing him down, when she looked up. Chase stood in the stall door, a half smile on his face and something she couldn’t describe in his eyes.
“I remember standing in a stall like this in Vegas, watching you worry over a horse. Watching you straighten your shoulders when the world tried to slam you to the ground.” His quiet voice washed over her, filling the empty spaces that had opened up in his absence. He stepped in, closed the gate behind him. He took the curry brush from her hand, tossed it into the bucket in the corner of the stall. “I’ve missed you, kitten.”
Savannah fell into his arms. “You’re here. You...” She cupped his cheeks and kissed him. “You’re really here.” She closed her eyes as she laid her head against his shoulder, hoping to stem the relieved tears forming there.
“I’m really here. And if my brother Chance hadn’t warned me about making love on straw, I’d show you just how excited I am. But you have a big, comfortable bed in your hotel room, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She grinned at him as his eyes grew hooded and that dang dimple came out to play.
“Yeah.”
Oh, the things her man could say with only one syllable.
Twenty
Vegas. She was in Vegas. Savannah’s emotions were as crazy as a Tilt-a-Whirl. She’d made the National Finals. As a top-fifteen money winner, she was one of the last cowgirls standing in the race to the All-Around Cowgirl Championship. She’d done it. Being here was exciting, the culmination of everything she’d worked for since her first win, at the rodeo held in conjunction with the Western National Stock Show in Denver last January. October and November had been nuts—totally crazypants with back-to-back rodeos as she pushed to make the cut for the NFR.
Vegas. Y
eah, but. She was in Vegas. In Chase’s home. Well, his apartment atop the Crown Hotel and Casino. With a whole rack of her clothes in the closet, most of which still had the price tags attached. All of which she’d stared at for almost an hour, trying to decide what to wear. Chase wanted her to go with him to Barron House for dinner with an associate and his fiancée.
“I want to show you off,” he’d said.
Which made her panic. She almost broke out in hives just thinking about the Barron House. She couldn’t stall any longer—not if she was going to be on time. There was no way she’d be late—even fashionably. So her emotions had run away to the carnival and were currently riding every scary ride on the midway.
Savannah twisted off her wedding band and grimaced. No matter how often she cleaned her hands, the black mark continued to encircle her ring finger. She tried not to let it bother her. She really did. But after their wedding, especially when their relationship went to new levels of commitment, she’d figured he’d buy her a real ring. Except he hadn’t. In fact, he hadn’t bought her any jewelry at all—not that she wore much, but still. It was the principle. Drying her hands and slipping the cheap ring back on her finger, she tried not to think about waking up the morning after their completely Vegas-style wedding and having to face Chase’s father. Then there was that scene with the maître d’ at the restaurant—the one his father had witnessed.
She smoothed her palms down the coffee-brown microsuede skirt she’d chosen to wear. Paneled, it hugged her curves yet still swirled around the pair of custom-stitched boots on her feet. She’d dithered—and wasn’t that a fun word to describe the near-panicked freak-out she endured while picking out an outfit to wear. She eventually breathed through it and chose a cashmere sweater the color of butterscotch to go with the skirt.
With the addition of a turquoise-and-silver squash blossom necklace and a fringed shawl, she figured even the snooty maître d’ would be impressed. The still-vivid memory of that encounter plagued her all the way down in the elevator.
With more confidence than she felt, Savannah wended her way through the main floor of the hotel to reach the restaurant. She slowed when the front entrance came into view. If Chase arrived first, would he wait for her? Or would he already be seated at his table with the couple? Was she late? She glanced at her watch. No. She was a few minutes early. Breathing deeply, she controlled her emotions. She was Mrs. Chase Barron. She could do this.
Approaching the host stand, she plastered a smile on her face, all the while rehearsing what she was going to say. Good evening, I’m Mrs. Barron. Is my husband’s table set up for our guests? Good evening, I’m Mrs. Barron—
“You have some nerve.”
The cutting voice interrupted her thoughts and her forward momentum. She’d been so wrapped up in getting through the next few minutes, she’d totally tuned out everything around her. But when she looked up, she found herself face-to-face with Cyrus Barron. She scrambled to collect her thoughts. Was he supposed to be there for the meeting? Had Chase told her and had she blanked it out?
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You have no class and no sense of propriety. Parading around pretending to be married to my son.”
“She is married to your son, old man. I don’t recall inviting you to dinner after the meeting this afternoon.”
Chase. He’d come up behind her and even now ignored his father to smile at her, his eyes warm and appreciative as he took in her outfit. He dropped a kiss on her mouth, careful not to smear her lipstick.
“Don’t kiss that woman in public.”
Chase narrowed his eyes at his father’s derogatory emphasis on the word woman. “Don’t go there, old man.” He stepped in front of Savannah, partially shielding her, acutely aware that his father had bushwhacked her.
“We’re done, Dad. You don’t get to do this to my wife. You don’t get to do this to me.”
“Shut up, Chasen. You listen to me, boy—”
“I am not your boy. I am the CEO of Barron Entertainment. I run this hotel and ten others. I oversee radio and television stations and a whole group of other entertainment enterprises. I make this family a ton of money. I’ve worked my butt off to get where I am and you will respect me as the corporate officer who made that happen even if you don’t respect me as your son.”
His anger made him reckless and he pressed closer to his father. “I get it now.”
Cyrus’s eyes widened, but he leaned toward Chase. “Get what?”
“Why our family sucks. Two things are gonna happen now. Either you apologize to Savannah and return to your table, or I will have you escorted out by Security and banned from this property.” To emphasize his statement, Chase eased Savannah to his side, his arm around her shoulders in a show of support.
“You’ve made your bed, boy.” He flicked his gaze over Savannah. In a voice as cold and insincere as he was, Cyrus added, “My apologies.”
Chase turned Savannah into his chest, both arms around her. He rubbed the top of her head with his chin and murmured, “My old man is a jackass, kitten. I’ll make sure you’re never alone with him again. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Holding her hand, he brushed past the maître d’, who stood there as still as a statue. “I have two guests coming. Mr. Brown and his companion. Show them to my table when they get here.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, Mr. Barron.”
He seated Savannah at their table, ordered wine for her and a Scotch neat for himself. After the waiter disappeared, he took her hand and pulled it onto his thigh under the table. “Breathe, kitten. You’re fine.” He let his appreciation for her beauty bleed into his expression. “And gorgeous.” He fingered the sleeve of her sweater. “Soft. Like the woman wearing it.”
And there was the pink tingeing her cheeks that he so enjoyed. No one had ever spoiled this woman, had ever told her she was beautiful and cherished. He had plans to do both for a very long time. But the waiter came back with the drinks just as the other members of their party arrived, interrupting him. After a round of introductions and then everyone ordering dinner, Chase settled in, his arm around the back of Savannah’s chair while he turned his attention to Jason Brown. Brown fancied himself a corporate raider, and the man had his eye on one of the Barron properties. If the price was right, Chase would do business, but that if was a huge question mark at the moment.
* * *
Savannah, still shaken from her encounter with her father-in-law, did her best to entertain Heather with the last name she couldn’t remember. During introductions, she’d learned that Heather and Jason’s wedding was imminent. During their meal, she discovered that Heather couldn’t speak or eat without waving her left hand. The huge diamond nestled in a pile of big diamonds glittered in the light cast by flames dancing in the nearby fireplace. Savvie was duly impressed—what woman wouldn’t be? Still, she was getting fed up with Heather flaunting her ring.
Chase and Jason were deep in a discussion about cost overruns and acceptable losses. Savannah tuned in to them. Even though she didn’t really understand the terminology, the men’s conversation was infinitely more interesting than Heather’s incessant wedding chatter.
“What about yours?”
Savannah jerked her attention back to the other woman. “Excuse me?”
“Your ring?” Heather huffed out a breath to indicate her irritation. “I was asking about your wedding ring.” She made a dismissive gesture by flicking her bediamonded hand toward Savannah’s left hand.
Glancing down, Savannah just managed to hide her wince. The dark circle left on her skin by the cheap metal was clearly visible again.
“Considering how much the Barrons are worth, I figured you’d have double the number of carats as I have in my ring. At a minimum.”
Embarrassed, Savannah struggled to hold on to her composure even as Jas
on chastised his fiancée.
“Seriously, Heather? We discussed this.” Jason turned to Chase, who kept his gaze focused on Savannah. “I’m sorry, Chase. Heather and her sorority sisters have this whole mine’s-better gamesmanship going on. I’ve cautioned her that not everyone is as concerned about quality or quantity as she is.”
Savannah couldn’t meet Chase’s intense stare, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her.
Heather huffed out a breath, ignoring Savannah and focusing on her fiancé. “But look at her hand, Jason. That ring is just...cheap.” The woman pitched her voice just loud enough that the large group seated nearby, and Cyrus Barron, turned to watch.
Chase reached over and clasped her left hand. He lifted it, staring intently while he rubbed his thumb over her ring finger, before raising her hand to his mouth for a kiss. Then he turned the intensity of his stare on Heather.
“I’m a very lucky man, Ms. Martin. My wife is a cowgirl. She has her priorities straight. Savannah is also sentimental. There’s a story behind this ring and she wears it to remind me what’s important.” He raised his free hand and their waiter appeared immediately. “Add twenty-five percent to the tab for your tip, Kirk.”
He pushed back from the table, still holding Savannah’s hand for a moment. Then he released her so he could hold her chair as she stood to join him. “I think we’re done, Jason. Ms. Martin, I wish I could say it was a pleasure.”
Chase didn’t wait for a response from the couple. He tucked Savannah’s hand into the crook of his elbow and walked out of the restaurant with her. Cyrus caught up to them.
“When are you going to come to your senses and end this travesty of a marriage?”
“Shut up, old man.” Chase’s hand clenched around hers as she stiffened beside him.
Smirking, Cyrus shook his head. The smirk morphed into a coldly deliberate sneer. “You won’t win, Chase.”
Savannah could breathe again at Chase’s next words.
“I already have.”
