When the Cowboy Said ''I Do''

by Crystal Green

  “I’m doing fine,” Holly said, putting that sunshine brightness into her voice. The sparkly tone that had carried her through so many years of attempting to please everyone, first and foremost among them herself.

  “Good.” Rose hesitated.

  Weird, because Holly didn’t think a woman like Rose Friedel paused in much of anything.

  Then the woman continued. “I’m concerned, Holly. And I thought you might need an ear to hear you out.”

  No use lying to the woman. She was as sharp as a tack.

  “Bo and I are working through things,” she said carefully. “There have been some…curveballs in our deal.”

  “I thought so. I know what you said last night, about him staying the course. But I wondered if you really meant it—that he shouldn’t dissolve this marriage. Because matters are going to only build during the next couple of weeks, Holly. Are you ready for that?”

  Build in what way? Holly wanted to ask. With the politics?

  Or with her and Bo?

  She wanted to tell Rose about how he’d looked at her in the moonlight, how she would bet her life on the fact that there’d been something to his gaze, his touch. Something she couldn’t give up on, even if he’d only left her notes this morning.

  The baby moved inside of her, as if he or she agreed with everything. Holly took that as a sign. It was better than listening to her fears.

  “I’m ready for anything,” Holly finally said.

  “All right then.” Rose sounded relieved, but Holly didn’t know if that was for the campaign’s sake or Holly’s. “You call me if you need anything, okay? The campaign’s important, but…”

  The manager left it hanging. It was obvious that Rose had invested all her faith in Bo, too.

  “Thank you, Rose,” Holly said.

  She hung up the phone, staring at it for what seemed like ages. Long enough so that, when she felt a twinge in her lower back, she snapped out of it.

  Drawing in a breath between her teeth, Holly went to the bathroom, but when a wave of nausea rolled her, she got to her knees, leaning on the tub’s ledge.

  What was going on? This had never happened before…she’d never gotten sick…

  After the ill feeling faded, Holly’s common sense kicked in. She got her cell phone and laid down on the bedroom floor on her left side—she remembered having read somewhere that this was what to do in case of premature labor…which was not what was happening now, she told herself.

  Then she waited for a time, seeing if she had reason to call the doctor. But after about a half hour, she was fine, and she crawled back into bed.

  The dull ache of her back lessened, and she ran her hands over her belly, turning to the one person who would never make her wonder. Who would never leave notes or leave her hanging.

  “No matter what,” she told the baby, “we’re going to make it. We don’t have to count on anyone but ourselves.”

  And that included Bo.

  Chapter Ten

  The minute Bo pulled into a spot near the main entrance of the Thunder Canyon Resort, Rose stealthily opened the back door of the SUV and slipped inside quite naturally, as if she performed these kinds of spy-like maneuvers every day.

  “Just so you know, I called to check in with Holly this morning,” she said, tapping her cell phone against her palm while lasering that campaign manager/schoolmarm stare on him.

  Bo surveyed her in the rearview mirror, wondering if he’d heard her correctly.

  “Did you just say that you called my wife?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did.”

  They were fifteen minutes early for a meeting, where they would be having a lunch with several local businessmen in the upscale Gallatin Room. He was going to listen to their suggestions and expectations for a new mayor, and he didn’t have time for this—Rose inserting herself into his marriage.

  He wasn’t sure just why it seemed like such an invasion. It had to be those morning-after jitters he’d been experiencing.

  Withdrawal from all his years of bachelorhood?

  But he’d never gone through this kind of mental crisis before. Why now?

  Why with Holly?

  Rose held up her phone. “Contrary to what you might think, being your manager covers more than just politics, and I’ll be doggoned if I leave damage behind me when I go back to huddling in my little house by the lake after this campaign. Based on what I saw between you and Holly last night, I suspect that communication with her is lacking, dear boy, so, yes, I took the initiative. I called her.”

  The warmth from the heater was cooling since Bo had shut down the engine, and it left the air with a gathering chill.

  He took his gaze off the mirror and tugged on his leather gloves.

  He wasn’t going to ask what Holly had said during that phone call. But had she spilled her sorrows about Bo? Had his “wife” mentioned how he’d given into her last night and now he was acting like he regretted his folly so much that, this morning, he’d left polite, distant notes along with a breakfast?

  Bo couldn’t say how many times he’d almost gone back into Holly’s room before he’d finally deserted the house for the office. He just knew that, every time, he’d held to the fact that being near Holly again would spell trouble.

  Hell, once, his dad had probably brought his mom breakfast in bed. They had probably enjoyed mornings where they’d laughed together, lazing away a few hours until dragging themselves up and out, enjoying each other’s company until…

  Bo grabbed his hat from the passenger’s seat. His parents had liked each other’s company until something had happened to make them not like it. Who knew what the catalyst for their eventual separation had been—a single, decisive moment when they’d both decided that they didn’t love each other? Or a string of circumstances that had built and built over the years, crushing them both under its weight until they couldn’t take it anymore?

  Whatever it was, Bo had promised that he would never repeat their mistakes, and that started with his unwillingness not to give up his heart—especially to someone who’d agreed to be only a temporary wife.

  Yeah, this whole marriage hadn’t gone how he’d anticipated, but he was determined to give his wife everything else she needed. He wouldn’t be another Alan for Holly and her child, getting in too deep and then leaving, as most people seemed to do these days, whether it was through splitting up a marriage or even dying, as Holly’s mom had done to Hank Pritchett.

  Unlike the others, Bo was going to stay with Holly through thick and thin, supporting her even after their marriage ended. They’d just taken a wrong step last night, that’s all, but he was going to fix that error, make her see that she was still highly valued, although they wouldn’t go to bed again.

  He wouldn’t be leaving her at all. The kind of support he was offering was stronger than love, which could disappear so quickly and easily.

  Putting the hat on his head, Bo felt covered. “Well then, Rose. Seems as if your job description as campaign manager has a wide purview these days.”

  “Bo,” Rose said.

  There was a caring ring to her voice that made him stop reaching for the handle of the door.

  Then she added, “I made your housekeeping my business because I see a train wreck coming, and I just can’t sit by and watch it happen.”

  He almost told her to mind her own affairs, but then he looked into that rearview mirror again, saw the sympathy in her gaze.

  He couldn’t fool her, not Rose, who saw through so much.

  Still, he pulled down his hat so it covered most of his eyes. “For the first time in my life, I have no idea what to do. Can you believe that? Me, the man who wants to run Thunder Canyon.”

  A moment passed, as if Rose was surprised that he’d admitted it, and he heard himself going on, although he wasn’t about to tell her everything about Holly.

  About how involved they’d gotten last night.

  “Holly and I have become…closer…than we thought we’d be
,” he said.

  “I understand.”

  Did she?

  “What did Holly say to you this morning?” he asked, giving in.

  Rose glanced at the phone in her hand. “Nothing much, but that girl sure as heck isn’t about to abandon ship. My impression, though, is that she’s staying because of something other than the deal you made with her.”

  A thrust of fear jarred Bo.

  Or was it something else so foreign that he just couldn’t identify it?

  Whatever the case, it remained in him, making him feel as if he was about to jump off a city skyscraper with nothing but a thin rope around his ankles.

  “I won’t go into details,” he said, watching the windshield, how it was fogging, making the situation even hazier. “But I acted pretty wrongheaded before I left the house this morning. Like you said, I don’t communicate very well with Holly. I’m not used to having to communicate with anyone.”

  “You’re a well-entrenched bachelor, that’s why. Did it ever occur to you, though, that you might learn how to function with a woman around?”

  No, he thought. He’d learned a lot of lessons through observation, and it was too late for him. A bachelor always had a “good until” date on him before he went beyond the point of being good for anyone, and he’d reached it years ago.

  So why was that strange feeling still floating around in him, as if waiting for him to claim it?

  Rose clucked her tongue. “This is my fault, too. I shouldn’t have been so cavalier about this plan, either.”

  “Now don’t go saying stuff like that.” He’d fisted his coat, which he’d pulled onto his lap. “I was the one who suggested it. I was the first to think it’d be fine and dandy to take advantage of a girl who was too young to know any better and in a bad position to boot.”

  “A girl?” Rose moved forward in the backseat. “Bo, maybe you should take another look at Holly. She’s no little girl. And I think she knows damned well what she wants out of life, even though she only needed a short time to get herself back on track after her experience with her ex.”

  Not a little girl.

  And last night, Holly had made it clear that she wanted him. He’d returned each kiss, too. Damn it, even now he craved her, and it was more than he’d ever craved any woman.

  But it wasn’t fair to Holly—she’d come to care for a husband who couldn’t return what she had to give. Bo just didn’t have it in him, not beyond taking care of her and Hopper with money. He wasn’t capable of…

  There came that floating word again, but this time, Bo banged straight into it.

  Love?

  He tried to get away from it as fast as he could, but it stayed with him like a growing shadow, following his every dodge, refusing to go away.

  He put on his coat, adding layers to himself.

  “So that’s it?” Rose asked. “That’s where you’re leaving this?”

  “There’s nowhere else for me to go.” He put his hand on the door. “I was attempting to be the hero for Thunder Canyon, but I’m the bad guy. What else is there to say?”

  “That you really did have her happiness in mind when you set out to do this?”

  He had, but he could imagine Holly at home right now—how she probably wasn’t smiling much. He hadn’t made her life better at all, although that was what he promised everyone else in his rally speeches.

  “I did want to make her happy,” he said.

  Rose laid a hand on his shoulder. When he glanced down at her fingers, he saw her old wedding ring, how the gold still glistened even years after her husband’s death.

  Just another case of being left behind, he thought, before realizing that Rose loved her husband enough to still wear that band.

  “It looks like her happiness isn’t the only thing that’s being destroyed,” Rose said.

  It took Bo a second to comprehend what she was talking about.

  His own happiness?

  And maybe she was right. Holly was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  And the worst.

  So what was left to do? Prolong their relationship and get in even deeper before it ultimately ended?

  Hardly. But he had a different responsibility to Holly and the baby, and he was going to live up to it. He would just have to stay away from her in the carnal sense. No more bed play. No more kisses, caresses…

  Slipping out from under Rose’s hand on his shoulder, he opened the car door and went outside, feeling as if he had muddled through some small part of his dilemma.

  At least until he got home tonight.

  After the business lunch, Bo had decided to call Holly, just to keep tabs on her. It was the right thing to do, he told himself.

  The good guy thing.

  But their conversation had been brief, to the point and all business, so when they hung up, he didn’t feel any better.

  For the rest of the day, the air pressed down on him like a slab of granite slowly falling from the sky, and he couldn’t get out from under it while he checked in with the foremen from his ranches, who had taken over operations when Bo had decided to run for office. Things didn’t improve while he performed door-to-door campaign visits, either.

  He just couldn’t erase Holly from his mind.

  Bo finally got home around dinnertime, arriving to the aroma of cabbage, beef and bread. When he discovered Holly in front of the kitchen stove, a wooden spoon in one hand as she stirred the contents of a cast-iron pan, he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the curls that had escaped from the barrette holding her hair away from her face, how they tickled the smooth skin of her neck.

  Skin he’d taken so much joy in kissing last night.

  Bo didn’t know what had filled his veins, but it didn’t feel like blood anymore—it felt more like fluid strings, pulling him closer to Holly, tightening his insides, wrapping him up in a helpless bundle.

  Then he noticed that she had her other hand on her back, as if it was aching.

  He started to ask what was wrong, but she must’ve sensed him standing there and she turned around.

  There was no pain on her face, just a smile—a glimpse of sunshine—that blinded him. Or maybe blindsided would’ve been a better word.

  But then she seemed to remember that he’d left her notes this morning, and her expression cooled.

  “Hi,” she said. “How was the rest of your day?”

  The alteration in her mood affected him, his gut smarting, as if pummeled.

  “Good.” Then he gestured toward her back. All business—he would remember that and not expect any more smiles that he didn’t deserve. “Is your back okay?”

  “Oh.” She looked down at her hand, as if she hadn’t realized she’d propped it in such a position. “Yeah, I’m fine. I had a bit of an ache here this morning, a little nausea, too, but my time’s approaching and my body’s going to be adjusting. It’s not a big deal.”

  “So everything’s normal?”

  “You don’t really want to hear about the details of pregnancy, Bo.”

  “Yes, Holly, I do.”

  He’d said it before censoring himself, but, hell, he wasn’t sorry. Not even when she got a surprised look on her face.

  Did she really believe that he didn’t give a crap…even if they were just faux spouses?

  “Whether you want to talk or not,” he said, “you deserve a sit. I’ve got the rest of dinner.”

  She turned off a burner, and he led her to a kitchen chair.

  “The food’s almost done,” she said.

  “Then that’ll make this all the easier on me.”

  She leaned back in her seat, and he pulled over another chair so she could prop her feet on it. She was wearing thick pink woolen socks under her long flannel skirt and he remembered how cute her toes had been, how graceful the arches of her feet were while he’d massaged them last night.

  Holly smiled at him in thanks, and that did even more to slay Bo.

  “Did you call the doctor about th
ose aches from this morning?” he asked almost gruffly, going to the stove. After stirring the beef and bean sprouts dish, he extinguished that burner, then moved to the oven, which showed that the wheat bread had only about thirty seconds left on the timer, so he turned off the heat there, as well.

  Turned off the heat everywhere.

  “I didn’t need to call her, Bo. But just to make you feel better, if the aches persist, I’ll go in for an appointment.”

  Guilt was niggling at him. Backaches. Nausea.

  Had their activities last night done something to the baby?

  He would never forgive himself if that was true.

  He knew what he had to do now. The right thing. The only thing.

  “Holly,” he said, sitting down at the table with her. “I’m worried about the baby’s safety.”

  She nodded, as if wondering where he was going with this, although he suspected she knew, based on the wary shadows that had crept into her gaze.

  “And,” he said, “I think it might be wise for us to back off of the physical stuff between us.”

  There. A firm excuse to stay away from her. A down payment on buying more time for this marriage, because if they didn’t have to deal anymore with the tension sex presented, they would get along a whole lot better.

  But Bo didn’t feel so great when Holly visibly straightened in her chair, her shoulders stiffening. She even blinked, as if belatedly absorbing a mental blow.

  Bo didn’t know if he could hate anyone more than he did himself at this moment.

  “What I mean,” he said, trying to soften the situation, “is that this backache and nausea from this morning might be directly tied to physical activity.”

  “Dr. Aberline said that I could be careful on the…honeymoon.” She glanced at the table. “That sex is okay as long as it isn’t too strenuous. She said that I might not be too in the mood for making love, anyway, but…”

  But he knew from reading that some women’s hormones revved up. And he did that to Holly.

  “You’re going into your eighth month,” he said in a last ditch effort. “We should be as careful as possible.”