by Cora Seton
The fury in her words made him flinch and she barely understood her own anger. After all, she was lying to him as much as he’d been lying to her, so why did it hurt so bad to find out that her cowboy groom was as big a jerk as her father?
Because her father hadn’t just broken her mother’s heart when he left; he’d broken hers, too. How many nights had she lain awake as a girl wondering what she’d done to drive him away. Was it the way she looked? The way she cried sometimes when she got hurt? The way she got a bad grade in spelling? For nine years he’d been a mainstay in her life – at the breakfast table in the morning, reading the newspaper when he got home at night, tucking her into bed with a tousle of her hair and a kiss on the forehead. Telling her he loved her.
But he didn’t. One day he was there. The next he was gone. And her mother might as well have gone, too. Even Lily changed. Suddenly mad all the time, ordering her around, pinching her when she made mistakes. “The house has to be clean. Hurry up, the dishes need to be done before she gets home. Clean up your toys, you want Mom to leave, too?”
“You have every right to be mad. I didn’t…” He hesitated. Making up more lies? “Listen, Autumn – I had no idea this would work.” He waved a hand to include the two of them. “I thought you’d leave as soon as you got to know me and saw what life out here looks like. You’re a city girl – why would you want to marry me and live like this? Even without the debt, it’s not like we’re ever going to be rich. You could have any guy. Why would you stay here with me?”
His question struck her squarely in the gut. Why would she stay with him? Was it possible this handsome, self-confident cowboy had doubts of his own?
Maybe he did, she conceded, his explanations finally catching up with her. Sounds like his childhood wasn’t all roses and sunshine, either.
Well, she wasn’t going to stay, was she? Except she wanted to with every fiber of her being. She knew that a life with Ethan meant hard work and the ups and downs of being dependent on your own two hands to make a living, but she also knew it would never be boring and that the challenges would most likely bring them together in a way city living never could. And Ethan…over the last few days he’d driven her all over the ranch, showing her the land he loved and the cattle herds he depended on to make his living. He talked about how he was considering raising buffalo, and he told her stories about growing up here and learning to ride. The funniest stories, however, were the ones that included Rob, Cab and Jamie. She couldn’t believe how much trouble they’d found over the years, or the way they tormented each other with practical jokes. It was amazing they’d never landed in jail – and even more amazing that Cab grew up to be a sheriff.
Ethan was so patient around the animals, and so dedicated to running the ranch right. After dinner each night he spent time in the tiny office off his bedroom updating the ranch’s accounts. She had a feeling he kept track of his money down to the penny. Now she knew why.
But it was the evenings she loved the most. After he’d done his books and she’d downloaded her photographs and written her notes, they’d meet again on the back porch to hold hands, talk and swing. They’d decided heavy petting was allowed, which often turned into a romp on top of the covers on Ethan’s bed. As much as they did their best to satisfy each other without actually making love, Autumn didn’t think she could ever be satisfied until she had him again – body and soul. She wanted to stay here with Ethan more than anything else in the world. She wanted to be his wife.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Ethan said gruffly when she hesitated too long. “You don’t. And Claire’s right – I probably have to sell. Might as well get it all over with. I’ll take you to the airport in the morning.”
With that he strode to the back door and let it shut behind him with a bang. Alone in the garden, Autumn looked at the neat rows of plants reaching for the sun. She surveyed the fields that ran to far off mountains.
She didn’t want to go.
The large house across the yard caught her attention and once again she thought it was a shame no one lived in it. It was a beautiful log home, with wide decks and a stunning view of the mountains. If she was on vacation she’d spend a mint to rent one of those rooms.
Autumn’s heart skipped a beat, recalling a bunch of brochures Becka brought home from a travel agent’s office back in New York when she was trying to learn all she could about her prospective cowboy husband. They were advertisements for guest ranches and together she and Becka had laughed about the rustic accommodations and tourists dressed up like cowboys in shiny new boots.
A guest ranch – that was the answer to Ethan’s problems.
And she could help.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ethan leaned on the rails surrounding the north pen and watched Jamie work with a black Appaloosa, trying to figure out where everything had gone to hell. He’d tried to stay indoors, but when Autumn didn’t follow him into the kitchen, he knew he’d been right. She was leaving him. He felt sick to his stomach and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stand if the rough wooden railings weren’t holding him up. Autumn was probably packing her bags by now and he had plenty of chores to do – especially if he was going to blow tomorrow morning hauling her to the airport. So why was he standing here wasting time, feeling like he’d been sucker-punched?
He knew from the day Autumn arrived he’d be sending her back home. This was all a practical joke, after all. Shit, he couldn’t believe how out of control it had all gotten. Rob was to blame for this and he’d sure pay him back good.
Except that’s what started all of this, wasn’t it? Payback?
No – it began earlier than that. With his parents’ death. If it weren’t for the accident they’d be here now and his father would be overseeing the ranch. Maybe he’d have confessed his debts and the trouble they were in and together they could have reined in his mother’s spending and turned things around.
But as he flipped through his memories, he had to admit his family was in trouble long before the car crash. Claire and his mother had been fighting for years. Claire was a difficult teenager. As soon as she got a figure and discovered boys, life in the Cruz family household went to the dogs.
He couldn’t remember how many mornings he’d showed up for breakfast after completing his chores to find his mother and sister screaming in the kitchen, or slamming their respective bedroom doors. Claire was wild, used to getting her own way, with just as big a desire as his mother to be the center of attention.
Ethan stiffened. Was that true? Did his mother want attention?
He thought back to the last few years of her life. He hadn’t paid much attention to the clothing, jewelry and home decorating which seemed the foundation of his mother’s daily rounds. He was too busy working for his Dad, going to school and competing in the local rodeos when he could. He was saving money for a car, and looking forward to the day he graduated and put school behind him for good. No university for him, thank you very much. He’d leave that nightmare to Claire.
Although, in her younger years Claire had no more desire than he did to attend college. She was the best female rider this side of…well…anywhere. A natural on a horse and completely fearless. No one could touch her – not even Jamie when she was really on fire. She’d spent every spare minute with the horses, in the training corrals or out on the range riding for hours, coming home far after dinner time, sometimes far after dark. The fights between Claire and their parents got so bad that Ethan learned to pack himself enough food he could go straight to school from his chores in his morning and straight back to his chores after school without ever setting foot in the war zone of the Cruz kitchen. He spent his afternoons working any job his father set him, but whenever he could get away, he’d make his way to this pen and watch Mack MacKenzie work with the horses.
Mack had lived and worked on the ranch since Ethan was ten and felt like one of the family. He was a cowboy through and through, with a swagger to his step, a joke at the ready, and a laug
h that boomed out over the yard and made everyone in earshot turn to look. He seemed larger than life – a heck of a lot more fun than his quiet father, who only opened his mouth to issue orders, or so it seemed to him at the time.
His mother would come out of the Big House sometimes to bring him a glass of lemonade, and always brought one for Mack, too. He knew she did it for an excuse to step outside and get away from the cooking and cleaning that took up her days whenever she was home. He didn’t blame her – how any woman could stand inside work when the sun was blazing away in the wide Montana sky he never could fathom. He figured her frequent trips abroad were an antidote to the boredom of being a rancher’s wife.
Claire spent plenty of time at this corral, too, of course. Mack actually let her into the pen when he was working with new horses. For someone who spent half her day screaming, she had a way about her when animals were present.
Ethan smiled at the memory, then frowned as he turned to look at the Big House and saw Autumn striding purposefully up the walk to the front door. With her damn camera in her hand.
What the hell?
Jamie turned, too. “Hey Ethan. How’s it going with your new bride? Surprised to see you haven’t sent her packing yet.” He cocked his head as he watched her turn the handle on the front door to the Big House and hesitate, as if surprised to find it unlocked. She stepped inside.
Why hadn’t he sent her packing? Because he thought she was different than all the other women in his life? Because he thought maybe she might have more sense, or less avarice, or the ability to string a couple of sentences together in a row without lying? Had he lost her because of the ranch’s debts, or because he hadn’t told her about them sooner?
“I gotta go,” he said.
“Hey, take it easy on her,” Jamie said, and Ethan looked back at the wiry man who’d taken Mack’s job when the other man left the ranch. “She’s probably just curious, that’s all. She only knows as much of your history as you’ve told her.”
“What the hell do you care?”
Jamie shook his head and snorted at his hostility. “She’s a sight better than Lacey – any fool can see that, even at a distance. She’s not your mother or your sister. She’s a girl who came out here because she wants to live on a ranch with a cowboy for a husband. You need a woman around, so why don’t you give her half a chance before you go driving her away? Maybe she’ll surprise you.”
Ethan followed his gaze to the Big House, where Autumn was just visible in the living room windows. “Too late – I’ve already driven her away.”
“You sure about that? She doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere.”
Ethan shrugged, squashing the tendril of hope Jamie’s words stirred within him. Autumn hadn’t brought much with her to Montana. She was probably already packed and bored and just needed something to fill the rest of the day.
Jamie turned back to the horse and Ethan strode for the Big House, his friend’s words echoing in his ears. Maybe she wasn’t leaving. After all, she might be carrying his child.
He waved off the thought. What were the chances of that?
You made love to her without protection – the chances might be better than you think.
Maybe that’s why she was walking through the Big House – to estimate how much they could earn from the sale of the ranch. Maybe she intended to file for child support and wanted to be able to tell the court exactly how much he was worth. His blood began to boil. That’s all he needed – another creditor to drive him under. If she thought he would sell just to support her and the baby…
Oh, hell. What was he thinking? Of course he’d do whatever it took support his wife and child. And if she refused to marry him now, he’d still do what he had to in order to keep a roof over his baby’s head and food on the table. He might pay for the rest of his life for that one, thoughtless night of passion, but he’d make damn sure his kid didn’t pay for it. That wasn’t fair.
What if Autumn took the baby back to New York? Could he stand that? A city was no place to raise a child – not by his way of thinking anyway. Kids needed room to run, horses to ride, trouble to get into – good, clean, safe trouble. He blew out a breath as his thoughts circled around again. He needed to think of some way to keep this ranch, to force Autumn to stay and marry him, and to raise his child here. Right here.
Because that would be his definition of paradise, wouldn’t it? Not just any ranch – this one. Not just any wife – Autumn. And not just any child – but theirs, the first of many more to come.
Autumn was in the Big House and he’d better get in there, too, and start explaining things to her. Claire was right; the sale would clear all the family’s debts and leave a little for starting over, but not enough to buy another ranch. Barely enough to buy a house in town.
Then what would he do? Put on a suit and tie and go to work for the bank? Not likely they’d have him, with his high school diploma and work-scarred hands.
What a hell of a mess.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Autumn wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she opened the door to the Big House. Cobwebs, maybe. Dust as thick as a carpet over everything.
Though the house had a whiff of the mustiness she expected from a home that hadn’t been lived in for months, it was otherwise immaculate. The electricity was on, she discovered when she flicked a switch in the entryway. She walked into a foyer the size of her New York apartment, that led straight into a great room whose ceiling soared two stories above. A massive staircase to her left led to a balcony from which she assumed one reached the bedrooms. The living room windows overlooked the ranch buildings in the foreground and on to a sweeping view of the Beartooth Mountains that took her breath away.
A counter separated the fully-equipped restaurant quality kitchen from the living room. The cook would never feel cut off from the action, especially not with the sink and oven positioned so she could face the living room and the view while making use of them. Her fingers itched to get to work. What feasts she could prepare here, and how lovely a setting in which to do so. She pictured guests taking their ease in the comfortable chairs and sofas by the floor-to-ceiling windows, resting their tired limbs after a day of trail riding and “helping” the ranch hands with their chores.
She’d circulate with trays of appetizers and cold drinks, making sure everyone felt right at home, while a roast or hearty stew sent tantalizing aromatic hints of the meal to come. A rustic plank table and chairs already sat in one corner of the huge living room. She counted 18 places and wondered how Ethan’s small family had kept from feeling overwhelmed at such a large table. Maybe the ranch hands lived on the property back in those days, and ate with them, or maybe they had frequently had company.
The house was beautiful and her heart ached at the thought of it standing empty for so many months. Ethan’s grief must have consumed him if he couldn’t bear to live here after his parent’s deaths. Who took care of it now? she wondered. Claire? Somehow she didn’t think so. She repressed an urge to shiver. The woman’s anger at finding her on the property had been palpable, but she had the feeling Claire’s anger went a lot deeper than being last to hear about Ethan’s engagement. She’d stumbled into a family with issues, that was for sure.
After examining the kitchen more closely – a six burner range, professional grade pots and pans that gleamed with care, a refrigerator twice the size of the one in her apartment, and every gadget and gizmo a chef could want – she took photographs of the main floor from every angle. She was halfway up the stairs to the balcony when the sound of the front door opening halted her in her tracks.
Ethan stepped into view, cocking his hat back the better to look at her. “One point two million,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?” Her heart was in her throat, but not at being found trespassing. Ethan was so handsome in his jeans, work shirt, and cowboy hat, she couldn’t tear her gaze from his face. How could she ever leave this man?
“The ranch. It’s wo
rth about one million, two hundred thousand dollars.”
Her mouth dropped open. That was a chunk of change.
“Don’t get too excited; my mother had the uncanny ability to spend more money in a year than most municipalities.” He started up the stairs. “Add in an equally uncanny ability to find doomed investments and the money from the sale of the ranch will barely cover the debts she left.” He stopped on the tread beneath hers. She found his proximity made it hard to breathe. Neither could she look away from him. He held her gaze and leaned closer. “Whatever is left, I have to split with Claire. I’ll be lucky to be able to put a roof over my head. Not the best situation to bring a wife, and maybe a child, into.”
“We’ll manage,” she heard herself say. This close to him she couldn’t think straight. She found his eyes mesmerizing, the line of his jaw fascinating, and had to grip the banister to keep from running her own mouth along his collar bone to the hollow at the base of his throat. No one was around, and she couldn’t imagine they’d be interrupted. She’d bet those bedrooms would be furnished with the finest of beds, and if they couldn’t make it that far, the plush carpeting on these stairs would just have to do.
She leaned toward him, her lips parting.
Their kiss was as sweet as anything she’d known. He was hesitant at first, but when she put a hand on his chest, he groaned and swept her into his arms. She dropped the camera and clung to him, her hunger for his touch overriding her moment’s fear they’d overbalance and fall together down the stairs. She snaked her arms around his neck and kissed him with a passion that flared from tinder to full-on flame.
When his hand slid down the curve of her back to cup her bottom, Autumn gasped, then kissed him harder. Suddenly she couldn’t stand the layers of clothing between them. She wriggled in his arms until she could reach the buttons of his shirt. She made short work of them and was just reaching for her own when Ethan’s hand covered hers at the top of her neckline and he pulled apart her dress with a single tug. Buttons scattered and another rough tug took care of her bra – a front clasped one, thank goodness – releasing her breasts to his view. Ethan pulled back for a single moment, looked her over, then pushed her down to a sitting position, leaned her back against the stair treads, and bent to take one nipple into his mouth.
