Outside, Holly could hear music—the country band that been hired. They were playing a Western-tinged “Can I Have This Dance,” a love song that’d been popular even before she was born.
Erika spoke. “Something’s been bothering you ever since last weekend.”
Holly hadn’t told her friend about the dinner yet, but now the room, with its white walls and simple mountain landscape paintings, had the air of a confessional.
A last-chance way station on this crazy ride.
“I never expected to think of Bo as more than a…” Holly didn’t know how to put it.
Erika waited her out.
“…a guy.” No, that wasn’t good enough. “What I mean is that Bo was Bo—the man everybody thinks is so great. The superficial smiling person you see around town on those posters. We didn’t talk about anything deep. I didn’t even tell him much about Alan, but then…last weekend…”
“Ah,” Erika said. “Something broke open.”
“I saw a whole new side to him.”
And she hadn’t known what to do afterward, as the conversation between her and Bo and their guests had lightened up significantly over the rest of the appetizers, then dinner. It was as if the talk of the murders—and their effect on Bo and the rest of the Cliftons—hadn’t occurred at all.
During the week, every time Holly had gone to his campaign office, or every time he would walk her through town to greet the citizens and show off her blossoming belly, she’d felt caught in a sort of limbo. Once, a few days ago, as they’d lunched at the Hitching Post, she’d tried to broach the subject of the dinner, but Bo had expertly steered her off course with one of his lighthearted grins.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he said, as if it was a touchstone for him.
But why should she care about any of it when she and her baby would be out of here soon, anyway?
“I’d convinced myself that Bo wasn’t all that complex,” Holly added, “but that isn’t necessarily true.”
“It was easier when he was just a charmer, huh?”
“Much.” Holly traced a bottle of honey-scented perfume she’d brought with her. The scent turned her stomach now. “I never really thought about how much Bo and his family have gone through. In comparison to him, I haven’t experienced anything.”
Perhaps Arthur Swinton was right every time he insinuated in the press that Bo was predatory for going after a woman thirteen years his junior. “Maybe this really was a bad idea.”
Or maybe Holly was merely afraid that she’d underestimated so much about Bo.
Including her feelings for him…
Erika squeezed Holly’s shoulders. “As you know, I never did understand why you’d choose a fake marriage over single motherhood. This might only be the start of your problems, Holly.”
No argument there. But was this easier than it would’ve been to just tell the truth to her family? To try and make it on her own with her child?
Holly felt her baby moving in her, and in a moment of whimsy, she could almost imagine that the baby already was looking around for Bo. She actually had the gut feeling that her child rather liked Bo, even though Holly knew she might only be justifying the choices she’d made.
Then again, there’d been times with Bo when she’d truly been content. Actually, scratch that. She’d been happy. Like when they’d sat on that park bench and he’d put his hand on her tummy and she’d thought, What if…?
The band from outside started playing Pachelbel’s “Canon in D.” It was Holly’s cue.
She’d given him her word.
She was going to do this, for her baby.
For…
Not knowing how to complete that thought, Holly got up from the chair, holding her bouquet of wildflowers in one hand, palming the bottom of her belly in the other. During the last week, there’d been a noticeable curving of her tummy—finally—and the roundness of her baby showed clearly under her dress.
“You’re really doing this,” Erika said.
“I made a promise.”
And that was the most important thing, right? That’s why she was going to carry on…
Erika kept any other objections to herself as she and Holly came out and into the hallway. Then, in the next wonderland minute, Holly was outside, where the clouds had revealed a warming sun and the Wild West theme was in full play. Her dad was waiting for her by the wildflower-lined aisle, which arrowed between the hay bales that served as seats.
She saw a small group of her college pals sitting together, smiling in spite of their surprise at Holly’s lightning-quick wedding news and her pregnancy.
It also seemed as if most of Thunder Canyon had turned up. Vaguely, Holly recognized Dillon Traub, who seemed to be thinking of his own upcoming wedding to Erika as he held little Emilia and watched Holly’s matron of honor, his heart in his eyes. Near him, his cousins Dax and DJ sat with their wives and kids. Marlon Cates and Haley Anderson, Holly’s ROOTS coordinator, were also here for the nuptials. Marlon’s twin, Matt, sat on the other side of him, a more serious version of the brother who always seemed to have a twinkle in his eyes.
Holly’s gaze traveled forward to where Grant was standing up for the groom, even though Holly knew he was doing it against his better judgment.
Then she got to Bo.
Her body flared with a desire that burned as she saw the same look on his face that he’d worn in the bridal shop when he’d first spied her in this gown.
Grant nudged his cousin, but Bo’s expression didn’t change; he kept wearing it right along with that ever-present Stetson. She’d half expected him to, even now, be wearing the rest of his cowboy gear, yet, instead, he had on a black tuxedo that put all the other men who’d ever worn one to shame.
A cowboy gentleman.
Hers.
And it didn’t even seem like a lie right now—her wanting to get down the aisle as quickly as possible, her wanting to just be near enough to him so that she could feel the tingle of his presence nearby.
As “The Wedding March” kicked in, Holly went to her father and took the first step toward Bo. Then another.
Then it was as if she’d lost time, all the minutes tumbling away to the moment when she heard, “You may now kiss the bride.”
Bo turned to her, carefully lifting her veil, folding it back over her head.
Holly’s pulse was going so fast that it threatened to spin right out of her, and as Bo got that grin on his face—Don’t worry about a thing—he lowered his mouth to hers.
Closing her eyes, Holly felt his lips pressing, warm, soft, a world away from any kiss she’d ever felt before.
Wrapping an arm around his neck, she pressed right back, desire welling in her as she tasted Bo—a tinge of mint, a hint of an alternate future she might’ve had if things had been different and she really had met Bo in Bozeman…
She leaned back, and Bo took advantage, taking her all the way into his arms and performing a Gone with the Wind embrace that pleased the crowd to no end.
They cheered as Holly came up for air, Bo’s lips still right above hers, so close that her mouth still vibrated.
He smiled down at her, his gaze a little wild, just like the Bo she’d heard rumors about before. The untamed bachelor.
He also looked like a man who wanted much more than a kiss.
When he brought her back to a stand, Holly had to claim her balance, and her hand flew to her headdress, as if it would help her to steady herself.
Her lips still tingled, her chest light, as if he’d stolen more than the breath from her.
As she looked out at her friends and family, they looked back, clapping loudly. They saw her as a true bride, didn’t they?
For now, Holly actually felt like one, and she clung to the sensation, knowing that all too soon she would have to let it go.
After the ceremony and the pictures with the professional photographer that followed, Holly excused herself to go to the house and freshen up.
And damne
d if Bo wasn’t still under the enchantment of that kiss at the altar.
As he waited in the living room, he could hear the band strike up the first tune on their reception song list—the lively “Orange Blossom Special.” His heart, which had never really recovered from that kiss, either, beat in stomping time to the music, racing.
That kiss… It had rocked him when he hadn’t been expecting anything of the sort to happen. It had simultaneously been soft and earth-shattering, and Bo had no idea how that could even be possible.
Get ahold of yourself, he thought as he sat on the edge of the sofa, tapping his fingers on his thigh, out of time to the music. Remember what Holly is to you.
And then she came out of the hallway.
It was almost as if she was walking down the aisle all over again, and he felt the same jump-start of his pulse, the same abrasions that scratched fire through his core.
She’d taken off her veil, leaving a few stray curls to tickle her neck. But she was still carrying that wildflower bouquet, though she was losing petals by the moment.
When he’d caught his breath sufficiently enough to speak, he raised a finger. “Just one more thing before we go back out there.”
He reached next to him on the sofa, grabbing an old Shady Brady cowboy hat that used to belong to his grandmother during her honky-tonk days. The relaxed straw gave it a lethargic shape, but the band of fluffy brown, white and black feathers lent it a lot of spirit.
“Something borrowed,” he said, going to Holly and fixing it on her head.
Some women would’ve complained about what their hair might look like after taking off the hat, but not his bride.
“I love it!” she said, laughing.
“This belonged to Grandma, too.”
Holly bit her bottom lip, her gaze catching Bo’s, and his gut clenched.
“We’ve got a lot to thank her for, don’t we?” she asked. “First the ring, now…”
“If she was here, she’d definitely be asking for that hat back after you get your fill of it.” He’d reverted to small talk as quickly as possible. No more emotional stuff. He’d left that behind last weekend, knowing he couldn’t handle anything beyond what he’d already revealed to her.
He held out his arm, and she linked hers in his.
“Shall we?” he asked.
She nodded, and all seemed back to rights—a bride and a groom made to order for a political plan.
They stepped out of the back door of his house to a blast of fiddles and guitars from the band, which was playing from the back of a long flatbed truck stacked with hay bales and decorated with bandanas and gingham. Smoke from the barbecue traced the air, along with shouts of joy from the crowd. To the right, the creek burbled merrily, and several couples stood by it, drinks in hand to toast the emerging newlyweds. To the left, kids ran around playing the games Trish the coordinator had thought up to amuse them: horseshoes, straw horse lassoing, a treasure hunt.
It wasn’t long until Bo was separated from Holly while they welcomed their guests, most of whom obviously didn’t see the wedding for what it really had been.
He snuck a look at Holly, missing her again for some reason, although she wasn’t but five feet away. Maybe the guests had seen all those looks he’d been secretly casting at her. Was that why things had gone so smoothly, because the attendees believed those glances?
When he caught her subtly peeking over at him, too, his heart twisted up, just as addled as his brain was.
Grant was the first one who made it over to them, along with Steph, and they did a fine job of not giving Bo their don’t-blow-it expressions as they moved on to Holly.
Connor McFarlane and his fiancée, Tori Jones, followed. Then came Dillon Traub, Erika’s fiancé, who vigorously shook Bo’s hand.
“Congratulations,” he said.
“The same will be in order for you, come next month,” Bo said. “You nervous, doc?”
“Not on your life.” The man’s dark blond hair caught glints from a sun that’d been kind enough to make an appearance today. “Besides marrying the woman of my dreams, my family’s coming to town. My brother, Corey, and the other Texas Traubs. Thunder Canyon won’t know what to do with us.”
And then it was on to the others, including Holly’s brothers, who grudgingly shook Bo’s hand in turn.
“You’d better take care of her,” Hollis said.
Dean, more of the silent type, nodded, although Bo knew he meant the warning just as much as Hollis did. Nick only looked Bo up and down before shaking his hand, too, then going to his sister, who got a big hug.
Progress.
Hell, Hank Pritchett even gave Bo a most father-in-law-like embrace when it came to his turn.
After what seemed to be about a hundred handshakes, the most important man in Bo’s life finally showed.
When Bo saw his father, with his craggy skin, gray hair and the charcoal suit he’d been wearing every Sunday to church for decades, he pulled him in for the most crushing hug of all. He’d met with his dad just before the ceremony, but he was just as glad to greet his father now as he’d been then.
“Hey, now!” Carlton Clifton said. “Did you expect me to take off before the cake was served?”
“No. You wouldn’t leave me to face all this alone.”
The comment betrayed Bo’s biggest letdown—that his mom hadn’t shown up. See what a busted marriage got you? Disappointment. Fortunately, he was already prepared for his own marriage to end.
She’d stuck to her guns about not attending if Carlton was going to be there. She’d expected Bo to pick between her and her ex-husband, and she was punishing her son for failing in his decision.
But he would live. He’d been coping for years now.
Bo leaned over to Holly and laid his hand on her arm. She turned to him, seemingly breathless. Erika, who she’d been talking to, walked away, keeping a friendly yet cautious eye on Bo.
But he was too caught in the moment to dwell on it. “Holly, you remember my dad?”
“Yes.” Her smile was wide, excited. “Thank you so much for being here, Mr. Clifton.”
His father embraced Holly with all the bliss of a dad who’d never thought to see a daughter-in-law in the family, especially one as wonderful as her.
Bo felt gouged. He was going to end up disappointing his father when the marriage eventually “fell apart.” Unless…
Unless what? There was no “unless.” Changing Thunder Canyon was one thing, but changing his own stripes and allowing someone in his heart, just as his dad had done?
Wasn’t going to happen. Bo wasn’t ever going to allow himself to be as crushed as his father.
His dad held Holly at arm’s length. “Welcome to the family.”
Too bad his mom wasn’t here to say the same.
Even as Bo thought it, Holly glanced at him, and he knew that she sensed that something was wrong.
The sadness had to be written all over him.
Bucking up, Bo grinned, putting an arm around her and his father, pretending as if this family union was going to last.
And even wishing in his heart of hearts that it was possible.
Chapter Seven
An exclusive honeymoon suite in the resort’s main lodge had been booked for them. But after Holly and Bo were cheered out of the wedding reception with a shower of wildflowers tossed by their guests, Holly was ready to crash on anything—even an air mattress in the back of a pickup.
Yet she was the mayor candidate’s wife now, and Bo had seen to it that she would be treated like one.
As she entered their room ahead of Bo and the bellboy, her nerves reared up, bucking and pawing.
It wasn’t due to the extraordinary sunset view of the private cottages and mountains outside of a window that stretched from one end of the suite to the other. Her anxiety hadn’t even been spurred by the luxuries, such as a wide-screen plasma TV, a minibar and a linen-draped dining table that had been set up in the connected lounge, complete wit
h silver candlesticks and scattered rose petals…
As Holly rested her luggage on the thick carpet, she tried not to glance again into the other room through the adjoining door, where a king-size bed peeked through sheer drapes of A Thousand and One Nights netting. A hot tub big enough for two waited nearby.
What had she gotten herself into?
Bo folded a tip into the bellboy’s palm, and the kid thanked him, leaving with a huge smile on his face, closing the door behind him.
The slight click of the lock jerked Holly’s next to last nerve.
“So…?” Bo asked, sauntering to the lounge area, tossing his overnight bag onto a cushiony velvet sofa. “What do you think?”
How could he be so calm? Weren’t the rose petals, the hot tub—or good heavens, the bed?—freaking him out in the least?
No, of course not. Bo, still dressed in his tuxedo and cowboy hat, was taking all the accoutrements of their charade in stride. In fact, he had that devilish gleam in his eyes again, as if he’d been waiting to see her reaction to what he must’ve known would be waiting for them inside this room.
Okay. She could be casual about this, as well. After all, the hotel staff needed to believe things were going to get romantic on this well-publicized wedding night, so there would have to be an ooo-la-la dinner and so on.
She could play along, just like always.
Holly went to the window. If she was going to comment on anything, it was going to be the view. “The coordinator really did her job right. I’ll have to tell Rose that this room was a good call.”
“Only the best for my bride.” Bo fell back onto the sofa, kicking his booted feet up on the wide mahogany table and tossing his hat onto a nearby chair. Clasping his hands behind his head, he reclined, sending a roguish waggle of his brows to Holly. “What do we do now?”
Za-zoom.
Holly now knew what it sounded like when anxiety shot through the roof and into the stratosphere.
What to say to him, her husband?
What to do with him…?
Get yourself in order, Hol. “First things first,” she said calmly.
When the Cowboy Said ''I Do'' Page 9
