Montana Bachelor: Montana Cowboys

Home > Romance > Montana Bachelor: Montana Cowboys > Page 4
Montana Bachelor: Montana Cowboys Page 4

by Hildie McQueen


  "Sorry." His hand remained on her shoulder and from the touch she slipped a bit further down the seat. "Are you all right?"

  "Yep."

  He settled back and began to eat with gusto. "This is the best barbecue I've had in a long time." Trent craned his neck to look at the sign over the counter where Dickey’s was spray painted on the wall in a not so straight line.

  "So what's next?" Amy Leigh broke her own rule to not discuss their situation over the wonderful food. "I mean when do I meet the folks?"

  His soft eyes met hers. "Thank you for doing this. My mother's birthday is the week after next. That's why I don't want to break up with you and make her upset. She's so excited about you and me being married."

  "You're married!" Coy stood with her mouth open, staring from one to the other. "Oh. My. God." She looked around the room, no doubt looking for her first target to spread the news. Unfortunately for her, only the construction workers remained and they wouldn't be interested.

  "No, Coy, we are not. You misheard. Can you please give us a moment? This is a private conversation." Amy Leigh snapped at the waitress who directed her creepy crooked smile at Trent who remained oblivious, digging into his pile of hash and rice like a man fresh out of a yoga camp.

  Brows furrowed, Amy Leigh shooed Coy away with both hands. Finally the skinny thing shuffled away, with enough fodder for the beginnings of a great gossip story. Amy Leigh turned to Trent. "It was a bad idea for you to come here. The entire town will know I'm married in a matter of minutes now. We should have met somewhere else."

  He studied his plate as if deciding if he wanted to stop eating to talk to her before lifting his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sure it won't be that bad."

  "You have no idea."

  "I think we should spend a few days getting to know each other," Trent said placing his fork next to his half finished plate. "How about you come to Laurel and spend a couple of days with me before we go home? It's best if we seem comfortable around each other when facing the people of Billings."

  The people? "We're facing the entire city of Billings?" Amy Leigh's heart began to pound. "What is your family planning for your mother's birthday, a parade?"

  He shrugged as if bored. "No, just a birthday party."

  "We're not talking cake and ice cream are we? How big of a party?”

  "I'd say about a hundred or so."

  "Oh." Amy Leigh stared at her sweet tea wishing it to be something stronger like Jack Daniels. "Shit."

  "Yep. That pretty much covers it."

  Maroon Five’s Payphone played, she grabbed her cell phone in her pocket and without thinking answered it. Her mother's high-pitched voice tickled her ear. "Is it true? You married a tall, handsome man in a blue plaid shirt?"

  Amy Leigh studied Trent's shirt. "Ummm."

  "Bring him over and I'll mix up some cocktails. I've got this new one I just made up with Jack Daniels and cranberry juice. I'm going to name it Juicy Daniels...or maybe Jack Berry. What do you think?"

  "Mom. I'll call you later."

  Trent resumed eating his eyes on her.

  "Is he there? Are you really married?"

  "It's well...it's complicated."

  "How complicated can it be? Come over and tell me and bring my new son-in-law with you."

  So. Not. Happening.

  They finished eating after agreeing that Amy Leigh would go to Trent's apartment in Laurel the following Wednesday. They'd head to Billings that Friday. Thankfully Coy kept her distance, lingering only when she brought the check, clearly unhappy they stopped talking when she approached.

  Once outside Dickey’s, Amy Leigh walked to the side of the restaurant where her Jeep was parked, Trent following. The bright sunlight made her squint so she dug out her favorite pair of sunglasses and plopped them on her nose.

  "Suppose I’d better head to Billings, I'm visiting my parents. It’s a four hour drive from here." Trent closed the distance between them with his hand out as if to shake hers. When she eyed it and didn't take it, he settled for placing it on her upper arm. "It's nice to see you again, Amy Leigh."

  "I'll see you in a few days." Before he could react, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around him in a firm hug. "Now that was better. I'm a hugger."

  A twinkle in his eye brought a shiver of awareness. "You are much more than a hugger from what I remember."

  Her face burned and she wanted to kick him for making her blush. "Do you remember everything?"

  "Not everything. I'm still trying to piece it together," he admitted and looked around to ensure no one overheard. "I've got flashes of the wedding chapel and some of the ceremony."

  "Oh really!" Amy Leigh shrieked and then clamped her hands over her mouth. "I don't remember that part at all."

  "How about back at your room? Do you remember that?" The corner of his mouth lifted and an eyebrow shot up.

  Her cheeks felt hot. "Uh-huh. Most of it, I think. You?"

  "Same here." Trent took a breath. "To be honest, it's been hard keeping it out of my mind most days." He held up his phone. "We took pictures."

  "What?" Amy Leigh grabbed for the phone, only for him to lift it out of her reach. "You can't erase them. Don't touch my phone. I want to keep them. Hands behind your back."

  Was she naked? Did her makeup smear when she was drunk out of her mind? Dutifully, she placed her hands behind her back and nodded. "All right, I'm ready. Let me see them, please."

  Trent leaned close and she caught a whiff of his expensive cologne. It was clean and intoxicating and brought visions to her mind that she'd rather not have at the moment. The first picture popped up and she squinted at the screen. It was both of them with crooked grins and their faces smashed together. The second and next few were of them at a wedding chapel. It seemed someone took the pictures of them as they stood holding hands facing each other. They had the same odd grins in place. The wedding official looked like a sleep-deprived mortician. His pasty white face wedged between them in one shot. The next several photos were taken after they were pronounced husband and wife. They were kissing, while the mortician-looking guy yawned in the background and Trent's hand was on her butt. She raised her brow at him and he shrugged flipping to the next one.

  The next ones made her eyes bulge. There she was wearing only a "Vegas grin," lying back in bed with a pair of men's boxers hanging from her mouth. The next few were no better. There were pictures of what looked to be large spans of skin and close ups of flushed faces. Then there was one picture of Trent lying on his back with his hands behind his head. She must have taken it while straddling him. His defined chest filled the screen. It was flattering.

  "Not many of those make me look good. So I don't have to worry about you selling them to Playboy or nothing, do I?" Amy Leigh said.

  He blinked at the phone. "You haven't seen my favorite." He flipped and turned the phone to her. It was a picture of her from her breasts up. She looked at the camera with a sleepy satisfied smile while her hair was a tumbled mess. She knew why the girl in the picture wore that smile.

  Amy Leigh cleared her throat. "Can I have that other one?"

  "Which one?" Trent asked flipping through them.

  "The one I took of you. There that one," she said pointing. "If I'm your wife, it's only natural I have a picture of you. Oh, and send me one of us getting married too."

  She watched his finger move over his phone's screen. "While you're at it, can you erase the one of me naked? You don't need that one. I look fat."

  "Nope."

  Chapter Six

  The clinking of the silverware against plates accompanied the occasional sound of ice against the sides of glasses during dinner at his parents the next day.

  His mother's eyes moved from Trent's face to his father's, then to the ceiling. "Trent, honey, aren't you going to tell us about your...er… wife? When do we meet her?"

  It was comical to watch his father open his mouth to speak and his mother shoot him a warning glare. He reached for his glass of win
e instead and both parents looked to him.

  "Well, she's very different from the women I've dated in my past." A picture of Amy Leigh the day before in her low-slung jeans and sparkling toe polish came to mind. "She's down to earth. I can talk to her for a long time and still feel as if I could say so much more."

  "That's sweet," his mother said leaning forward. "Of course you explained the wedding was impulsive, which doesn't sound a bit like you. What does her family think of all this?"

  He'd not considered asking Amy Leigh about her family's reactions. Her mother had called during their meeting and from Amy Leigh's side of the conversation, her mom seemed as perplexed as his parents. "They seem to be adjusting to the idea. I haven't met them yet."

  "Why would you?" His father finally spoke, ensuring every word dripped with sarcasm. "I'm sure they'll not have a problem with their daughter from...Pine Oak, was it, marrying you. After all she married the heir of Baxter Industries."

  "Honey." His mother reached for her husband's hand and covered it with hers. "Let's give Amy Lynn a chance before we rush to conclusions."

  "Amy Leigh," Trent corrected and reached for his glass of wine, downing every bit. "Mother, I think you'll like her, she reminds me a lot of you in some ways."

  "I'm sure I will, sweetheart."

  His father snorted. "I'm sure she'll be on her best behavior. Of course she'll be prepared. I'm not sure it's a good idea to bring her around just yet."

  "Trevor enough."

  Trent pushed from the table and stood. "No, it’s fine. Father, just tell us how you really feel. After all, why would anyone want to marry me based solely on who I am? The only substantial thing I have to offer is money. Right?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "Yes, Dad. That's all you've ever said, no matter who I date. The only person you have ever approved of is Miranda, and that is only because her father is richer than you."

  "Trent, enough." His father rose as well, leaving his mother to crane her neck to look from one to the other. "Your grandfather worked his entire life to build the ranch supply company. Baxter Industries will be yours one day. It’s what you've been raised to do. Do you understand that we could lose a large amount of it because you were stupid enough to marry without a prenuptial agreement?"

  "I'll get the damn thing signed.” The urge to turn and leave the room made Trent take a step back from his father.

  "An annulment would be a better option. Cleaner."

  "Please, both of you stop." His mother refilled her wine glass and shook her head. "Trent, please get the prenup signed, and Trevor give your son the benefit of the doubt. We both know he's an astute businessman and if he loves this girl, then I'm sure she's perfect. It makes me sad that what should be a happy occasion is tearing you two apart." She sniffed into her wine glass.

  "I'm sorry dear, don't fret." Trevor Baxter's change of demeanor was quick at the sight of his wife's distress. He placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. "I know Trent will take care of this. I am just concerned. It is a happy occasion." His father did not sound one bit convincing at the last words.

  Both his mother and father looked to him with a mixture of hope and expectancy. Trent exhaled and nodded. "There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Amy Leigh is a great person. As far as the prenup, she won't have a problem signing it."

  He hoped so at least.

  Chapter Seven

  "He what?" Amy Leigh’s mother, Jane Paisley, teetered in her four-inch heels, her caftan blowing behind her in the breeze. "You're married to someone that wants you to sign a prenuption agreement?"

  "Prenuptial, Mom," Amy Leigh corrected. She was tanning on a lounger on her mother's back deck. "Yes, I suppose that's only natural since we got married so suddenly and all." She'd already regretted telling her mother about Trent. Unfortunately, any choice was taken since that damn Coy spread the news all over town. She should have followed her first instinct and lied. Why hadn't she told everyone it was a misunderstanding and Coy heard wrong? "Anyway, he just emailed it to me. I'm going to print it out when I get home."

  "Something's fishy here," her mother said, narrowed eyes boring into Amy Leigh. "Why haven't I heard of this man you married? Where did he pop out of all of a sudden?"

  Amy Leigh's cell phone buzzed for what seemed to be the millionth time saving her from having to answer the question. This time it was a text from one of her friends. "Don't forget Margarita Thursday. Come prepared to give us the full scoop." Amy Leigh rolled her eyes. The happy trio who'd abandoned her in Vegas and were to blame for all of this had all contacted her. So if she did meet them, they would pay for her meal and drinks.

  The roar of the blender rattled until the ice was crushed, then quieted to a hum. Her mom kept her eyes on the green concoction. "Must be a rich man if he's worried about you taking his money."

  Amy Leigh shrugged. "I don't know if he's rich, we never discussed money. It's tacky, Mom. I was watching Divorce Court the other day. Everyone gets prenups nowadays. The man on the show got one to keep his wife from taking his collection of false teeth."

  "Ewww," Jane said shivering. "That's gross."

  "They were worth a lot of money. Some of them were wood and stuff."

  They quieted when Jane poured the margaritas, and then handed one to her. "We need to have a party. We can have it here and get Pablo's to cater it. He told me a cousin of his used to be in a Marichacha band and all." She spread her arms motioning to her manicured back yard. "I can see it now, a colorful theme with bright lanterns and cactus centerpieces. It would be nice to have Mexican food and margaritas don't you think? Marichacha music in the background."

  "Mariachi," Amy Leigh corrected absently. "I don't want a wedding party, Mom. That's why Trent and I got married in Vegas to avoid the hoopla."

  Her mother's mouth fell open and she stared at her like she'd grown a horn between her eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're a Paisley. Every single Paisley loves parties. Hell you're a party planner, for land's sakes. You can plan a party with your eyes closed and now you decide you don't like them?"

  Her mother was right. There was little she loved more than music, dancing, and the loud voices of a party. It was going be difficult to keep her mother from meddling in this affair. A thought struck her. "Mom, why don't we wait and plan a party this summer. Trent's mother wants to plan an intimate wedding party for their friends and family. You can help with that. It's going to be in Billings. Then after our honeymoon, we can have a second wedding party here and invite folks from Pine Oak."

  "Well..." She held her breath while her mother took a sip from her margarita and tapped her chin with her index finger. "I suppose that will give Pablo time to get the Marichacha together."

  "Of course, and you can make your famous margaritas by the bucketful!" Amy Leigh exclaimed with overdone enthusiasm.

  "I don't make my margaritas just for anybody, you know that. The ingredients are expensive if they are to be done right. I gotta go to the frozen section at the store to get the secret ingredient. Should start stockpiling for the wedding party."

  "Mom, frozen limeade is not a secret ingredient." Amy Leigh laughed. She attempted to take a sip from her truly delicious drink but her mother grabbed her arm with surprising strength and pulled it down.

  "Who'd you tell?"

  "What?"

  "Who did you tell what my secret ingredient is?"

  "Ouch, Mom." Amy Leigh pulled her arm free. "I haven't told anyone, I figure everyone makes margaritas with frozen limeade."

  She fought the urge to laugh when her mother hunched her shoulders and lowered her voice, her eyes flitting around the yard as if she expected someone to pounce out of the bushes. "They don't, Amy Leigh. They use the premix or the frozen margarita mix. Nobody knows about my secret ingredient."

  "Oooookaaay," Amy replied. "I won't tell a soul."

  "See that you don't," Jane told her and sat on the lounger next to hers. "Not even that new husband of y
ours or his rich mother."

  "I'm taking time away from the shop and going to Billings on Wednesday. Can you cover for me?"

  Her mother eyed her for a moment. "I suppose you're planning to move away to Billings sooner or later, so I may as well get used to you spending time there."

  "Let's play that by ear, Mom. I don't plan on moving anytime soon."

  "Why in heavens not? You're married. Doesn't your husband expect consumption of the marriage vows?"

  "Consummation...oh, never mind. We already did that." Her mother's eyebrows rose as she took a large swallow. "He must be terrible in bed if you're not in a hurry to move. That sucks for you, baby."

  "Mom!" Amy Leigh screeched but couldn't help laughing. She continued laughing until tears ran down her cheeks.

  "There is something strange about all this," Jane Paisley mumbled.

  Amy Leigh burst out with a new round of guffaws. "Ain't that the truth."

  "Enough. Amy Leigh, for goodness sakes, you're not acting natural." Her mother's lips quivered as she tried to stop from smiling. "Don't do it."

  The words made her sober and Amy Leigh frowned at her mother. "Don't do what?"

  "Sign that prenatural agreement. I don't think you should sign it."

  "Pre what? Oh that, of course I'll sign it, Mom. I don't want any of Trent's money."

  The wind picked up and Amy Leigh watched her mother's pool float glide across the above ground pool until hitting the side while her mother swirled her straw around her glass. "You're not a gold digger or nothing, but if he's got a lot of money then you need to get some sort of legal help to read the paper before you sign it. Just to cover your own asserts."

  "Assets? Which I have none of, Mom." Amy Leigh leaned back in the chair. "Let's talk about something else. Where's Pixie?" She looked around for her mother's little brown mutt.

  "It's his day at the doggie spa. Pixie rolled in something really stinky, so he's going to be there for a couple extra hours. Your Aunt Ruby said she'd pick him up on the way from her hair appointment today."

 

‹ Prev