Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy?
Abigail Sharpe
New York Boston
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In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
To Heather Domin, who unknowingly started it all.
To Eileen McKinnon (I miss you, my friend!) who knowingly kept it going.
And to David and the boys, for their support and love along the way.
Acknowledgments
Writing is solitary only if you let it be that way. If I tried to list everyone who had a hand in pulling this story together, the acknowledgments would be twenty pages long.
There are a few, however, who need a public shout out.
First, to my awesome agent Rebecca Strauss, for loving Riley and Ainsley as much as I did. And to Grand Central and Lauren Plude, thank you for mixing your vision with mine and making this book a reality.
To my family for understanding why they were eating leftovers while Mom was writing about the people who talk to her in her head.
To the VAX Plus crowd, for still talking to me even if all I ever did was babble about writing. This is a continuation of Toadal Global Frogination.
To my Unsinkable and Lalala sisters and brothers. Your support and encouragement has been invaluable, from celebrating milestones to talking through plot points and offering advice. I’m so lucky to be a part of each group. And to the members of First Coast Romance Writers of Jacksonville, Florida, for sharing your vast wealth of knowledge with a green n00b and helping me learn from your experiences.
Chapter 1
You want me to do what?” Ainsley Fairfax asked, nearly choking on her tea. She had known her parents’ invitation to visit was not for a pleasant chat, but she had no idea they would stoop to this.
“It’s simple, Ainsley,” her mother said, tapping her Montblanc pen against her leather planner. “Time alone with Edward will help you realize that the two of you are perfect for each other. On the cruise you won’t have distractions to take your attention away from him. There’ll be dancing, romantic dinners, beautiful scenery. You’ll love it.”
Sophia tossed Ainsley a small white envelope addressed with a swirling script. Ainsley narrowed her eyes at her mother’s pointed stare, catching the envelope before she thumbed it open. She removed tickets and colorful brochures and held back a groan. Pictures of burning sunsets reflecting on water and happy people in bathing suits mocked her predicament.
She fought the familiar paired emotions of fury and resignation as she clutched the pamphlets. “How can you send me on a honeymoon cruise when you know I have no intention of ever marrying him?”
Sophia ignored her and flipped forward a couple of pages in her planner. “You have a meeting scheduled with the wedding coordinator the day after you come home.”
“Because if it’s written in your calendar, it must be true,” Ainsley muttered. Light reflected the delicate patterns of her cup and she entertained the idea of hurling it at the wall. Meetings like this occurred at least every three months. Marry Edward or some other rich, eligible bachelor of good breeding. Promote your social standing by attending this event or that. Keep the Fairfax name in affluent society and stop working like a common laborer. Blah blah blah blah blah. She tightened her grip on the arm of the maroon Victorian chair, her knuckles turning white while she tried to control the adrenaline that threatened to take over. “I’m not dating Edward. I’m not engaged to Edward, and I’m certainly not in love with Edward. Let me live my own life and stop using me to make up for the mistakes you made with Cece.” Ainsley knew her spirited older sister was a source of embarrassment to their appearances-are-everything mother.
Her mother’s cheeks reddened slightly, the only emotion she’d show when discussing her other daughter.
“This isn’t about Cecelia,” Sophia said. “Your sister is going to ruin her life when she goes to Wyoming to flirt with cowboys.”
That couldn’t be true. Cecelia had finals this week. And surely she’d mention to Ainsley that she was planning a vacation. But even flirting with cowboys sounded better than being trapped in whatever luxury accommodations Sophia had set up this time.
“Daddy…” Ainsley’s gaze swept to her father, hoping for his support but knowing it was futile. He shifted uncomfortably in the high-backed chair.
“I’m with your mother on this one.” He avoided his daughter’s glare by fixing the cuff on his white pants. Ainsley bet he was going to be late for his tee time because of this meeting.
She started planning her escape—a quick dash out the sitting room and down the stairs, zigzag through the dining room and bolt outside. She could do it. The sitting room door was only a few feet away.
“What is that on your arm?” Sophia asked, her tone sharper than it had been even two seconds ago.
Damn. Some dirt from her earlier shipment must have gotten on her. She scanned her skin and found a smudge peeking out from beneath the sleeve of her green Blooms polo shirt. Too late now to rub it away.
“You can’t even keep yourself clean.”
“So I got a little dirty, Mother. It’s not like I was playing in mud puddles.”
“And you care so little about family that you didn’t even bother to groom yourself before coming over.”
A sudden pain flared behind Ainsley’s eye and she took a deep, calming breath. Of course Sophie would turn the reasoning against her.
“Ainsley, you need someone to take care of you. Give Edward another chance,” Sophia insisted.
“Edward thinks my flower shop is a hobby to keep me busy until we get married. He calls it my ‘little store’ and smiles at me like I’m a pet doing tricks. I’m sure he’s great husband material, Mother. Just not for me.”
“You liked him when you were growing up.”
Until he came back from college and turned into a carbon copy of everyone in their parents’ social circles, losing his dry wit and quirky and irreverent sense of humor. She blew out a quick breath and told the quivering in her stomach to calm down. Usually she went along with her mother’s ideas and decrees and unreasonable assumptions. Ainsley had been the peacekeeper of the family for so long, acting as the go-between with her mother and sister, that she often let her own feelings and desires be overlooked or taken for granted. Now she allowed her mother to talk Ainsley into anything she wanted her daughter to do.
But not when it came to Charleston Blooms. She’d fight any attempt to take away the one thing that made her feel alive. Flowers were exciting and individual and full of hidden secrets. Bougainvillea were beautiful, but held thorns for those who would be careless with their beauty. Oregano could spice a dish, and the blossoms could play a dual role in adding a splash of purple to a bouquet. Even common carnations could evolve into vibrant colors and sparkles, and that could be done by anyone with a cup and food coloring. Each one had its own story to tell and she could spend her days unraveling their secrets. They were probably much more exciting than hers. If she had any.
“Plus, he has the family heritage, connections, and the social status necessary to keep our name in the best circles,” her mother continued. “Our money won’t last forever. Your father is going to retir
e soon. And remember my family had nothing until Father invested in the right stocks.”
“Then perhaps you should get a job. I’m not having this conversation with you again.” Edward was a smart man, but relied on his family connections instead of hard work, and thought her world should revolve around him. His idea of romance was giving her roses—never mind that every day, she had to watch men come into her shop and order bouquets as manipulations instead of expressions of love. Her dream man would know that her happiness would more likely be found in a hardware store. At least Edward bought the flowers from her shop. The shop she bought by getting a bank loan instead of touching the small inheritance left to her by her grandparents. “I’m only twenty-five, and if I marry, I will find my own husband in my own way, in my own time, and without any sort of medieval arranged marriage.” Her mouth tightened in a straight line and she rose from her chair. “Thank you for the lovely tea, but I have to get back to Blooms.”
The orchids, daisies, and alstroemeria lilies were always happy to welcome her back to her sanctuary. It had taken months to find the perfect location for her shop, and even then, she had renovated and fixed things herself with only the flowers looking on, offering her their encouragement and approval. Each one was like a child, nurtured and cared for until ready to brighten another home or office or smile. Flowers were the only things that let her be a part of their lives without qualifications or judgment.
“We’re not quite finished, Ainsley. Please sit down.”
Ainsley remained standing. “What more could you possibly have to say to me?”
A long silence followed as she regarded her parents. Her mother’s prim gray sweater and white slacks had nary a wrinkle and her hair was pulled back into her customary tight blond bun, which hid the fact that it dared curl as much as her daughter’s. Ainsley tucked a wave behind her ear and sat down with a sigh.
“Your shop’s building has a new owner.” Sophia smoothed the sleeve of her sweater.
Ainsley’s mind worked to find the relevance of her mother’s sudden change of subject and her muscles tensed in response. “Yes.”
“You will go on this cruise and spend time with Edward. If you don’t, your landlady will sue you for breach of contract and will not renew your lease.”
Ainsley fought to control the ominous tingly feeling that started in her hands and crept through the rest of her body. She picked up her teacup and took a sip to camouflage her trembling and to moisten her dry mouth. “And why would my new landlady do that?”
Her mother placed a thick stack of papers on the table next to her. “Because of this. The deed for your building.”
This time Ainsley did choke, then tried to catch the tea as it dribbled out of her mouth and onto her shirt. Still coughing, she examined the papers. “You can’t do this.”
“I can. I will,” Sophia said icily.
Frozen panic swirled up Ainsley’s body. “Y-you’re not… I’m not… No.” It had never gone this far before. Words she wanted to say to her mother raced through her mind. Stop interfering with my life. Love me for who I am, not what you want me to be. She took a steadying breath to calm herself and form a coherent sentence. “It’s my shop!”
“But it’s not your building. Do this, Ainsley, and I will put the deed away and you can continue your rebellious hobby unhindered. I’m convinced that this is what you need.”
It wasn’t. She could find another location for Charleston Blooms, but it wouldn’t be the sweet spot and cozy atmosphere she had now. Ainsley did some quick time calculations. Her store manager Tess could handle the wedding orders for the next two weeks and then she’d be home free. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work. It had to work, if Sophia had the deed to her building.
But Ainsley had seen cabins on ships. There wasn’t a lot of privacy there. “What are you hoping is going to happen in this one-room cabin, Mother?”
“Don’t be crude, Ainsley. You’ll be in a suite. And Edward is a gentleman.” Sophia rose to indicate the end of tea.
Ainsley cast a look of desperation at her father. One more shot. “Daddy, please.”
He shook his head. “This will be good for you.”
She blew out a breath and closed her eyes, angry at herself for considering succumbing to her mother’s manipulations. Again. “I have to get back to work.”
* * *
Ainsley sped to Charleston Blooms like an insect escaping a Venus flytrap and barely managed to keep herself from slamming the door to her shop when she finally made it inside. Tess Mitchell stood behind the Formica counter and jerked her head up at the noise. Ainsley took a deep breath, but even the normally comforting floral scents did nothing to calm her.
“Tea went as expected, then?” Tess asked wryly. Ainsley glared at the store manager, watching her short, brown hair catching rays of sunshine and turning it auburn. It had grown back steadily since her chemotherapy ended, and Ainsley was glad her friend was on her way to becoming healthy again.
“My mother. She is the most…” Ainsley tightened her fists as she strode past the glass display cases to the work station. She handed Tess the envelope with the invitation to Hell. “Here.”
“And here for you. The refrigeration pump came today.” Tess nudged a cardboard delivery box with her elbow while she opened the envelope. The brochures spilled onto the counter and she picked one up. “Cruise information?”
“Oh, not just a cruise. A romantic getaway, perfect for you and that special someone to discover the wonderfulness that blossoms while you spend your days and nights in ostentatious splendor,” Ainsley muttered, delving into a drawer for a shipping knife to open the box.
Tess snorted her amusement. “Yeah, right. Who’re you bringing? Your sister?”
“You’re a funny, funny woman.”
“‘Trust your romantic dreams with us, the honeymoon specialists’?” Tess’s voice rose with incredulity. “Luxury cabins, jacuzzi tubs and everything you ever wanted for the romance of a lifetime.” She put the brochure down. “What did she threaten you with this time?”
The bell hanging above the door to Charleston Blooms chimed before Ainsley could answer and she closed her eyes and inhaled a quick breath before pasting a smile on her face to greet her customer. She relaxed as soon as she saw who it was. Ainsley’s sister bounced into the store, carrying her textbooks in one arm and balancing a cardboard tray of cappuccinos in the other. “Caffeine!” Cecelia announced.
Trust her sister to always know what Ainsley needed. Even her ever-present exuberance gave Ainsley a sense of calm. And jealousy over her sister’s carefree life. She should take lessons. Cecelia learned early on how not to listen to their parents, and they’d all but given up on getting her to behave with proper decorum. Which, of course, made them focus all their attention on Daughter #2. “When are you going to tell Mother and Daddy you’re back in school?”
Cecelia laughed and straightened her short black skirt. “When are you going to stop letting them push you around? You are a passive participant in your own life, Ainsley. Be a rebel instead of putting up with the shit they put you through.”
“She has a point there.” Tess picked up one of the drinks and grinned at her boss.
Cecelia picked up one of the brochures and scanned it, then slammed it on the counter. “Ainsley, you have to stop letting her do this to you.”
Ainsley tightened her grip on the blade’s handle and used it to stab a brochure. Hard. “You know I can’t. Confrontations make me so… I don’t know. I never learned how to deal with it and agreeing with them is always so much easier.”
“Maybe you should put the knife down,” Tess joked.
“Is it something with Edward again?” her sister asked.
“Of course.” Ainsley shifted her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “Our mother is sending me on a vacation with the man of her dreams and no way of escape.”
Cecelia shook her head, her blond wisps swaying with the movement. “So say no.”
Ainsley plunged the tool into the taped box to avoid eye contact. “I can’t. She bought my building.”
“She did what?” Cecelia put her hand on Ainsley’s wrist to stop her movement. “You can’t let her do this. Ainsley, you can’t.”
“It’s already done.” She wrenched her arm away and moved to another counter, tears burning behind her eyes. Cecelia was so strong, she didn’t know what it was like. “I’m going.”
Her sister leaned against the counter and chewed a lock of her long hair, her eyebrows drawing down. “Maybe I could go instead. You know. I wouldn’t mind. Even with Edward. It is a cruise, after all,” she said.
Ainsley bit her lip while she fished around in the drawer for her screwdrivers. Why was Cecelia blushing? That could only mean one thing. Ainsley dropped the tool and whirled around to face her sister. “You’re kidding me.”
“What?” Her sister directed her gaze back to Ainsley, but she held the eye contact with too much intensity for it to be normal.
“You don’t…” She covered her mouth. “You do. You have a crush on straightlaced, uptight Edward?”
Cecelia’s cheeks stained crimson and she played with the corner of a book, keeping her green eyes down. “That’s not fair. He only acts that way when he’s trying to impress someone. I enjoy spending time with him when he’s just being himself.”
What did that mean? Was Cecelia saying Edward wasn’t the pretentious and perfectly polished accountant Ainsley knew and didn’t love? She tapped the screwdriver against her palm. If Edward had remained the way he was when they were young, she might have entertained thoughts of dating him, but there had never been any chemistry between them. And at least that explained why Cecelia went on many dates but never had a long-term boyfriend. “You’re serious about this.”
“Do you know what it’s like to see the man you’ve loved since you were ten chatting up other women?” She smoothed the cover of her book with wide, sweeping gestures. “Everyone thinks I’m so self-confident and fearless but I’ve been scared to tell him how I feel.”
Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy? Page 1
