The Hog-Tied Groom (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #3)

by Charlotte Maclay

  “Why not?”

  He hopped. She steadied him. He hopped again.

  “You know, under different circumstances, this would be pretty funny,” she said.

  He hopped. “I’m not amused.” The chain dragged across the worn hardwood floor.

  “Neither am I. But it is a little like a kids’ three-legged race. I used to start laughing so hard in those, I’d always fall down and couldn’t finish the race.”

  “Ha-ha.” Hell, he’d lost his career only months ago and now he’d lost the woman he was going to marry. If his sense of humor was a little off, he’d damn well earned the right. He’d told Hailey he loved her. Hadn’t that been enough?

  They’d reached the kitchen, and Charity opened a drawer near the sink, pulling out a knife.

  “I hope you’re not contemplating any kind of revenge,” he muttered.

  Tilting her head, she gave him an unreadable look. “The thought of revenge has never crossed my mind,” she said with complete seriousness.

  She reached behind him, and a moment later his hands came free. Tossing aside the remnants of rope, Garrett rubbed his wrists until the burning sensation of returning circulation eased.

  “Geez, that’s better. Give me the knife.” She stood quietly beside him while he cut through the rope at his ankles. “Okay, now we need a hacksaw so we can get these ankle bracelets off.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “Okay. A sledgehammer and chisel will do. Or bolt cutters.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What? You live on a farm and you don’t have a hacksaw? Or bolt cutters? What gives?”

  “Bud wanted me to keep you here for three days.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  She shook her head. “I wish I were.”

  “I’m going to get rid of this chain-gang routine and then I’m going after Hailey. If I have to go into town to find somebody to unlock these damn cuffs or cut ’em off, I’ll do it.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Damn, she was stubborn. “I’ll carry you. It’s not all that far.”

  “Five miles.”

  “Watch me.” He snared her around the waist and hefted her.

  She gasped. “Put me down, Garrett Keeley!”

  With only two feet of chain between them, he couldn’t lift her high enough to drape her over his shoulder. It was going to be damn awkward to carry her like this all the way into town. Squirming and beating his back with her fists, she wasn’t exactly cooperating, either.

  “Think a minute, Garrett. What earthly good will it do you to go after Hailey?”

  “I’ll be able to beat the hell out of Bud, for one thing.”

  “Wonderful. And how will that make Hailey feel, to have you beat up the man she loves? She’ll hate you, Garrett. You don’t want that. Not if you care about her.”

  He lowered her back to the floor. He hated smart women. Particularly those who were smarter than he was.

  Odd how he’d temporarily forgotten that—along with the feel of Charity’s firm body and soft breasts rubbing against him.

  “Do you expect me to just let this slide? Your brother stole the woman I was going to marry right out from under my nose. You want me to turn the other cheek?”

  “You’re upset. I can understand that. But there are some things you simply can’t change. You can’t go back and undo what has happened.” Pursing her lips, she glanced away, out the window toward the barns and the shelter where the pigs were kept. “Evidently Hailey and Bud love each other. I think they have for years, but her parents wouldn’t let her see Bud.”

  “Apparently they got together long enough to plan my kidnapping.”

  “That’s my point.” She looked up at him with those soft brown eyes, sincerity shining from them. “She’s made her commitment to Bud. I know it hurts to realize that. It’s got to. But I don’t think going after them is going to fix anything except maybe your ego. And that would only be temporary .”

  Was she right? he wondered. His ego had been battered pretty badly of late. Getting married to the hometown girl he’d dated off and on over the years had seemed like a reasonable thing to do while he was waiting to get his knee rehabilitated and find a new NFL team that would appreciate his quarterbacking talents. The 49ers certainly hadn’t, not after he’d blown out his knee for the second time.

  He snapped his thoughts away from his career and back to the question at hand. Had he only been marking time with Hailey? If that was the case, he was a worse louse than he’d thought. He cared about her, dammit! But love? Given the emotionally sterile family in which he’d grown up, maybe he wouldn’t even know love if it came up and slapped him in the face.

  He looked down at Charity, her body still touching his, her scent teasing his nostrils because he hadn’t let her go, hadn’t set her far enough away from him. Something twisted in his chest. Envy, he suspected. She’d been raised in a family, however poor, that knew how to love. He’d seen it in the way she’d looked at her brother—even in anger—remembered it from how loving the grandparents had been who had raised her.

  “Okay,” he said cautiously. Somewhere on this farm there had to be a hacksaw or a sledgehammer and chisel. To find them—and get himself out of this mess—he’d bide his time, lulling Charity into believing he’d bought her idea. Meanwhile he’d be patient and wait for his chance to escape. “What if I decide not to go after them? Then what?”

  Lifting her shoulders, Charity exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “We’ll think of something.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re all that thrilled to have us shackled together for three days.”

  “I won’t.” For reasons Garrett would never understand, and she’d never tell him, Charity didn’t want to be linked to him. Besides, he was too masculine, too much of a macho playboy, too darn attractive for his own good. Or hers. And he was in love with another woman, one who was far more attractive and sophisticated than she. “We’ll think of something,” she repeated.

  “So do we just sit here and stare at each other, for three days—”

  “No. I have to—” Good Lord, how would she survive such intimate contact with Garrett for three whole days? Bud hadn’t known what he was asking of her. “I’ve got to feed the pigs,” she blurted out.

  “You what?”

  “This is a pig farm. Pigs eat. A lot.” She took a step toward the back door but was hauled up short by the ankle bracelet. She whipped around. “Are you coming or what? This is my livelihood, you know. And Hailey just blew a really nice gig for me by canceling her wedding.”

  He lifted his hands in surrender. “I understand now. The pigs have a lot higher priority than I do.”

  “You’ve got that straight.” She tossed the comment over her shoulder as she marched to the door. Thank goodness he kept up with her. Otherwise she would have fallen flat on her face. Again.

  If the only distance she could put between herself and Garrett was two feet of chain, she’d take every inch. She owed her brother a chance at happiness. Best friends—especially when they were siblings—had to help each other out.

  On the back porch, Charity reached for her heavy black rubber boots and handed another pair to Garrett. “You can wear Bud’s. They ought to fit you.”

  “Just how do you expect us to get boots on over this chain?”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t considered that little problem. “Well, we can each wear one, anyway.”

  “Nothing like making a fashion statement,” he muttered, pulling a boot over his left shoe. His hip bumped against hers. “It’ll probably be the rage in no time.”

  Her hip bumped against his. “I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

  “Forgive me if I’m not all that cheerful. It hasn’t been one of my better days.”

  With an odd, out-of-sync rhythm of boots and rattling chain, they clopped down the steps to the backyard.

  From the front of the house, she heard a
car enter the driveway.

  “Hey, somebody’s here,” Garrett said. He grabbed her arm, half hauling her around to the side of the house. “Maybe Hailey changed her mind. Or Bud’s come to his senses. I’m still going to beat the living hell out of—”

  By the time they rounded the corner of the house, the car had already backed out and was turning onto the county road that fronted the property.

  Standing in the middle of the driveway, his soccer uniform stained with grass and mud, was Charity’s seven-year-old son, Donnie.

  Charity’s heart slammed against her ribs; her breath lodged in her lungs.

  The boy grinned and waved. “Hi, Mom. We won! I made two goals, and Charlie Pitzer got a bloody nose.” He dropped the ball he’d been holding and dribbled down the driveway toward her, expertly weaving his way past imaginary opponents.

  Charity curled her fingers into her palms to keep her hands from trembling. Bud’s kidnapping escapade had created more problems for her than he ever could have guessed.

  Her son was the biggest one of all.

  Chapter Two

  “I didn’t know you had a kid.” Though if Garrett had seen the boy on the street, he might have recognized those soft brown eyes and hair with so much natural curl it tended to frizz. The resemblance between the youngster and his mother was uncanny. As near as Garrett could tell, the boy’s father hadn’t contributed a single gene.

  “Come here, Donnie. I want you to meet Mr. Keeley.” In a self-conscious gesture, she shifted her braid to the front of her shoulder.

  Neatly stopping the ball with his toe right beside his mother, the boy eyed Garrett warily. “Hi.”

  Charity hooked her arm around her son’s shoulders and gave him a hug. “Mr. Keeley’s going to be, ah, staying with us for a few days.”

  “Hello, Donnie.” Garrett extended his hand, and the boy took it, the child’s small hand vanishing into his larger one. The youngster’s blue-and-white shirt was a mess, there were scabs on his knees and his socks drooped around his ankles. Par for the course for a kid that age. Garrett had probably looked worse. “Sounds like you’re a pretty good soccer player.”

  “I’m a striker. Scored more than anybody else on my team last year.”

  “He’s very athletic,” Charity said, a proud smile teasing the comers of her lips. “And smart, too, aren’t you, sport?” She ruffled his sweat-dampened hair.

  Donnie squirmed out of reach and looked Garrett up and down.

  “I play a little football myself,” Garrett said. Given the fiasco of losing his bride on their wedding day, he wouldn’t give himself very high marks at the moment in the intelligence department.

  “Soccer’s better,” Donnie said with the uncompromising confidence of youth. “Not so much standin’ around and lookin’ dumb.”

  “I see.” Guess that put Garrett in his place, he thought with wry amusement. The kid had a smart mouth just like his mother.

  Cocking his head, Donnie eyed the links that tied his mother to Garrett. “Hey, Mom, how come you and Mr. Keeley are chained together?”

  Out of the mouths of babes. A question that went right to the heart of the matter. Anxious to hear the answer himself, Garrett decided to let Charity respond.

  “Your uncle Bud is playing a little trick on us: You know how he likes his practical jokes.” Her forced laugh rang as phony as hell, and her smile was strained.

  The boy didn’t seem to notice. He shrugged. “Can I have something to eat, Mom? I’m hungry.”

  “Of course, honey. There’s a burrito in the freezer. You can zap it in the microwave.”

  “Way cool!” Grinning, Donnie scooped up his ball and made a dash for the back door.

  “Wash your hands before you eat,” Charity called after the boy. But the kid had already vanished inside.

  Garrett waited for the sound of the slamming door before he said, “At least when your husband comes home, he can take us into town and we can get these shackles taken off.”

  “I don’t have a husband.”

  No husband? Currently? Or never? he wondered. “Just like you don’t have a hacksaw?”

  Her head snapped up. “My brother deserves a chance at happiness, Garrett. You’re staying here for three days. Get used to it.”

  Taking her by the shoulders, he brought his face very close to hers and glared into her soft brown eyes. “Look, this was supposed to be my wedding day. Even if I don’t go after Hailey, I am not going to hang around—”

  Waaaaaaagggh! The awful, bloodcurdling cry came from behind him.

  He turned just in time to see the biggest hog he’d ever seen in his life hurtling toward him. A thousand pounds of bacon on the hoof coming at him like a linebacker determined to chalk up a quarterback sack.

  “No, Rambo!” Charity shouted.

  Rambo?

  Trying to elude the rush, Garrett spun around and got caught up by the chain. The hog clipped him right behind the knees. Garrett went down with a jarring crash. “Dammit!”

  “Rambo, leave him alone!”

  Snorting and fussing, breathing hot and heavy, the hog stuck his nose in Garrett’s face. He rolled into a ball to protect himself and covered his head with his hands.

  Charity whacked Rambo on the snout. “He’s not hurting me, Rambo. Get off of him.” Tangled in the chain, she was straddling Garrett. She lost her balance and sat down hard on his midsection.

  “Auf,” Garrett grunted.

  The pig barked a distinctly doglike sound. But he backed off.

  “Is that animal crazy? Why did he attack—?”

  “He’s not crazy. He’s protecting me.”

  “What? He thinks he’s a guard dog or something?”

  “Yes. And this is his territory. You were attacking me.”

  “I wasn’t doing any such thing.” But he had been, or at least Garrett could understand how a stupid pig would think that. He was also decidedly aware of Charity on top of him, her position downright suggestive. Intimate. And arousing. So much so, Garrett was glad her son was inside the house and out of view.

  How many years ago had it been, that picnic at the lake? Everybody sort of pairing off after dark. He and Charity had drifted away from the others....

  Charity’s eyes widened and she gasped. She felt the thickening press of Garrett’s arousal against the apex of her thighs. Reacted to it. Heat flooding her body. Memories. Wanting.

  Ohmigod...ohmigod...ohmigod.

  She scrambled to get untangled, to get away from Garrett. She made matters worse by dragging her leg across his groin. And still she couldn’t get loose. Couldn’t get away.

  Tears of frustration burned at the backs of her eyes.

  “Easy, doll.” He clamped his big strong hands around her waist. “Let’s take things a bit slower so you don’t severely damage an important part of my anatomy.”

  Her face flushed hot.

  Snorting, Rambo rooted at Garrett’s shoulder.

  “I didn’t mean... It’s your wedding day.” To another woman. Aghast at what she was feeling, how she was reacting—and what he must be thinking—she wanted to find the nearest hole and crawl in. “I’m sorry.”

  Very gently he lifted her away so she was kneeling next to him. There was an odd look in his eyes, as though he might be remembering, too. She didn’t want him to remember. Not now. Not ever. She couldn’t afford him to recall what had happened so many years ago.

  “See if you can call off your guard dog,” he urged quietly.

  She nodded. “Rambo, honey. Sweet Pea’s calling you. You’d better see what’s the matter.” There were indeed anxious calls coming from the pig parlor. It didn’t take much to get the sows excited. In their eyes, Rambo was definitely a ladies’ man.

  So was Garrett, Charity reminded herself. He’d had groupies following him around since he’d quarterbacked the high-school football team to a league championship. College successes had meant the same female entourage falling at his feet. Turning professional hadn’t lesse
ned his ability to attract any woman within a hundred-mile radius.

  But that wasn’t why, a long time ago, Charity had succumbed to his charm. Not that it mattered now.

  And she wasn’t planning to make the same mistake twice.

  Apparently considering his work successfully completed in protecting Charity, Rambo ambled off toward the pig parlor to investigate the ruckus there.

  Sitting up, Garrett rested his elbow on one bent knee and plowed his fingers through his hair. Streaks of dirt covered the front of his pleated tuxedo shirt; one diamond stud had popped out and was nowhere to be seen. With the top button missing, she could see the smooth column of his throat, a few strands of blond chest hair peeking out.

  With an effort, she dragged her gaze away and searched the ground. “You’ve, ah, lost one of your studs.”

  “Don’t worry about it. On top of everything else that’s happened today, one stud more or less isn’t going to make much difference.”

  He was amazingly casual about a lost diamond, she mused, but then he’d never had to pinch pennies to make ends meet.

  “You were right earlier.” He gave the front of his shirt a futile brush with the back of his hand. “If this situation wasn’t so awful, it’d be downright funny. All in one day, I’m kidnapped, my bride runs off with some other guy and I’m attacked by the pig from hell.”

  “Hog. Or boar. Rambo wouldn’t like to be called a pig. He’d think it was demeaning.”

  “He thinks?” Incredulously he cocked one beautifully sculpted golden brown brow.

  Her lips twitched. “Haven’t you heard? Pigs are very intelligent.”

  “Hogs.”

  “You’re right.” A nervous giggle erupted. She clamped her mouth shut.

  A glint of humor appeared in his eyes. “You still want to feed those damn pigs?”

  “I should at least check the feeder bins. I’m not sure Bud got them filled this morning.”

  “He was probably distracted.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He studied her a minute, then cupped the back of her head. “Not your fault.”

  With surprising tenderness, he pulled her toward him. She hadn’t expected him to kiss her, hadn’t been prepared for his mouth to claim hers with hot, sensual pressure. Stunned, she couldn’t have moved if her life had depended upon it. His lips were insistent, determined. So sweet she ached with the memories.