by Chanta Rand
“How so?”
Instead of answering, he crossed his arms over his wide-barreled chest. “I don’t think I need to remind you of the importance of what you’re doing. This day has been planned practically since these kids were born.”
“Yes, Mason shared that with me.”
Reed’s jaw tightened. “So you see, there’s a lot riding on this merger. It’s about more than just Portia and Mason.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Merger? I’ve heard marriage referred to by many names, but merger was never among them.”
“What I’m saying is nothing can mess this up for them. Nothing. No diversions. No mistakes. You need to understand what you’re stepping into, Ms. Davenport. Trust me, you don’t want to create a mess you can’t clean up.”
Jewell got the distinct impression that he viewed her in the same manner as a raccoon going through the trash – she was a pest who would go away in time. She remained polite, but her radar was on full alert. She never thought she’d hear herself defend Mason, but it seemed everyone expected him to help further their agenda. It was damn irritating.
“You don’t have to worry, sir. Mason is very focused. He knows his duty. As for me, I’m doing what’s best for Mason too. It’s my job to help him realize his potential.”
“Good. Just so we’re on the same page. Good day.”
Jewell watched him hobble away on his cane. She could see where Mason got his arrogance. Ten minutes later, she gathered Andy and drove away from the ranch with mixed emotions. She didn’t like being bullied. Reed had tried to intimidate her and she didn’t know why. She sighed loudly as she steered her car back onto the Beltway. She would be glad when this assignment was over. It was taking its toll on her in more ways than one.
“Are you okay?” Andy asked from the passenger seat.
“Yes. It’s just been a long day, kiddo. I’m beat.”
“Yeah, I understand. Some days you’re the windshield and some days you’re the bug. In other words, you either squash or you get squashed!”
In spite of her sour mood, she had to laugh. “Great advice. Where did you hear that?”
Andy grinned. “From Mason. He’s real smart. And he said you were real smart too. He said, and I quote, ‘I reckon a fella could learn a lot from yore Aunt.’”
Jewell laughed again. “Stop it! You know he did not say that.”
Andy giggled. “Okay, he didn’t say it quite like that. But he did say you were a tough cookie with a headful of knowledge.”
Jewell smiled. That sounded more like the Mason she knew. Now, if she could just use her headful of knowledge to keep her distance emotionally, she might be able to keep herself from falling for Mason Kincaid. Only time would tell.
SIX
Mason donned a pair of heavy-duty, leather gloves and proceeded to run a length of barbed wire through the holes of a freshly-set wooden, fence post. Yesterday, Skeeter and some of the other crew members had set the posts with concrete. Today, he was tacking the barbed wire with a large nail staple and a hammer. Even if he hadn’t grown up on a ranch, he would have found a way to work outdoors. He loved the smell of damp earth teasing his nostrils. The whisper-soft wind dancing on his skin. The changing of the seasons, from the fluttering of crisp autumn leaves to the pollen-swollen trees of spring. He couldn’t see how a man could be cooped up in an office all day.
The muffled sounds of horse hooves broke his concentration. He looked up to see his father and his brother, each riding a mare from the stables. His dad was from the old school – he preferred horseflesh over horsepower. He stopped working as they approached.
Both men reined their horses. Austin dismounted, but his father remained seated atop his spotted, brown and white appaloosa.
“Need some help?” Austin asked.
“Nope,” Mason smiled. “You’re too late as usual, boy. I’ve done all the work.”
Austin laughed. “I got your boy.” He playfully punched Mason in the shoulder.
“Be careful, little man. I wouldn’t want you to break your knuckles on all this muscle.”
The two brothers laughed. They’d been fighting since they were young, but everyone who knew them, knew their antics were harmless.
Mason’s father spoke, breaking up their comedic rivalry. “I met that the miracle-worker yesterday.”
Mason looked up at his father riding astride the massive horse. “Who?”
“Jewell Davenport.”
Mason chuckled. “Jewell would get a kick outta that. I’m sure she would love to add that title to her resume.”
“She’s a smart lady. And she’s real easy on the eyes.”
“Yep.”
His father shifted in his saddle. “Don’t go getting’ no ideas son.”
“About what, daddy?”
“You know you have a responsibility to this family. You have to marry Portia.” He gave him a conspiratorial glance. “But if you want to do your thing with Jewell on the side, you need to be discreet.”
Mason’s jaw clenched. “Jewell ain’t that type of woman.”
His father scoffed. “They’re all that type for the right price.”
“I take insult at that. You have no call to judge her like that. Jewell is the classiest woman I’ve had the pleasure to meet. And she doesn’t need the Kincaid money. She has her own business; she does her own thing.”
His father quietly appraised him, his eyes uncomfortably probing Mason’s. “That’s a fine defense you just gave her, son.”
“The truth is always the best defense.”
He nodded. “Just remember to keep everything in perspective.”
His father prepared to ride away, but Mason stopped him dead in his tracks with his question. “Did you love Ma?”
He turned sharply and fixed Mason with a glare. “That’s a damn foolish question. You know I did.”
“Then why don’t you want the same type of love for your sons?”
“I didn’t love her when we first married,” he admitted. “Love came later. Just like it will with you and Portia.”
“There’s no guarantee of that.”
“There’s no guarantee if anything in life, Mason. At least with this arrangement, you know what you’re getting up front.”
Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.
Mason watched as his father quietly rode away on his horse. What the hell was the old man thinking? He must have seen some qualities in Jewell that made him feel threatened. If only the man knew, contrary to the women who often threw themselves at him, Jewell thought he was a brute. She thought his family was archaic. And she didn’t try to hide it. She spoke her mind. She wasn’t an overindulged heiress like Portia.
His father met Portia’s father decades ago when he stayed at one of the Rothchild hotels in Buenos Aires. The two became good business associates. Shortly after, the merger was made and Mason and Portia were pledged to each other. Mason didn’t question it. The first time he met Portia, he thought she acted like a spoiled brat. And at all of their subsequent meetings, nothing she did changed his mind. Now, she was a grownup socialite, and she acted even worse. He didn’t even think she really liked him. But the thought of merging her money with his was too sweet for her to pass up. Some people were addicted drugs. Portia was addicted to financial security. And Mason had that in spades.
He couldn’t say he blamed her. She was used to a life of luxury. She didn’t know anything else. She didn’t work. Physically, she was a pretty woman, but she wasn’t the type of woman he would have picked for himself. He wanted his woman to be strong. Like Jewell. Jewell was independent. She wasn’t afraid of being denied social status. She wasn’t manipulative. Every time he talked to Portia, he felt as if she had an ulterior motive. It was refreshing to talk to Jewell. She did what she wanted. She dressed how she wanted. And she didn’t give a damn whether he liked it or not.
The first day she yanked that cigar from his hand, he knew there was something different about her. She was intriguing.
She had what his daddy referred to as moxie.
“You really like Jewell,” Austin stated. It was not a question.
“She’s a strong lady. I admire her determination and her independence.”
“And her pretty legs. I know you’re a leg man.”
Mason snorted. “Yep. They’re beautiful, but for me, it’s look, don’t touch. Touching only gets a man in trouble.” He’d learned that the hard way.
“Aw, don’t gimme that shit,” Austin pressed. “You know you’re attracted to her.”
Mason hammered the heavy-duty staple for the last inch of barbed wire. Then, he turned to Austin and pierced him with a level stare. “I’m scheduled to be married in a few weeks. Or did you forget?”
“So, you’re fine with marrying Portia and letting her take over your life?”
Sometimes Austin was like a bothersome horsefly ruining a summer picnic. “She’s not taking over my life,” Mason gritted through his teeth. “Nothing will change in my life. In fact, I’ll still live in Texas and Portia can stay in Illinois.”
“What about the kids?”
Mason’s legacy would end with him and Portia. No children. He didn’t want to subject his kids to the same thing he’d gone through. “Portia probably don’t want kids anyway. I heard her mention something about not risking her size two for a size four. So, you can carry on the family name.”
Austin studied the ground. “I don’t think so, bro.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve met someone.”
Mason stared at him, eyes narrowed. “And…”
“And, she’s the one.”
Austin practically had to beat him over the head with the truth, but the realization finally sunk in. “But what about Julia?” Julia was the woman chosen as Austin’s fiancée.
Austin eyeballed him. “Julia feels the same way as me,” Austin assured him. “She’s not interested in a loveless marriage of convenience.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“Haven’t decided yet. I might just elope.” He grinned to take the weight out of his words. “Seriously, I’ll have to break the news to the old man soon.”
Mason let out a deep breath. “I don’t envy you that discussion.”
“At least it will be over and done with. Your punishment will last ‘till death do you part. You should envy me.” Austin got back on his horse and looked down at Mason.
“You know what you’re doing?” Mason asked. “You’d give up your legacy? Your wealth?”
“My happiness is my wealth, bro. Without it, I’m broke.”
Mason watched his little brother ride away. He never imagined he would be on Austin’s side when it came to anything. The two were so used to fighting all the time, they simply agreed to disagree over everything. But he found himself rooting for Austin now. He wanted his brother to find true love and happiness. Mason hopped in his truck and started the engine. He would talk to Austin later. In the meantime, he was due to meet Jewell in a few hours, and she’d have his hide if showed up smelling like sweat and horseflesh!
********
Hours later, Mason adjusted the waistband of the navy pin-stripe suit pants. “I don’t understand why I have to wear this get-up. What’s wrong with my jeans?”
Jewell’s mouth formed an O. “Oh, that’s what you call those things? I thought they were a walking dust magnet.”
He stood in the lobby of the Roof Garden debating with Jewell. It was the exact type of place Mason wouldn’t have expected a wedding reception to be held. It was small and unpretentious. Quietly tucked away on The Strand in Galveston, the Roof Garden had the modern amenities of the twenty-first century, and the charm of an old hotel in the Wild West. “My jeans serve my purpose.”
“Ever hear the expression, ‘Clothes make the man’? You look so debonair.”
The compliment felt good coming from Jewell, but he still wished he could shove his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. Denim was his comfort zone. “You want me to wear these fancy britches, but you’re not wearing a suit.”
“I’m a woman!” Jewell argued back. “I’m not expected to wear a suit.” She was dressed in a 1960s style stunning, red dress like the type that Jackie O. might have worn.
“I thought women weren’t supposed to wear red to a wedding. It might show up the bride.”
She smirked. “Where did you hear that?”
“I read it on Google.”
“Well, this isn’t a wedding. It’s a wedding reception. So, your point is mute. Don’t you like getting dressed up sometimes?”
“I get dressed up for church every other Sunday.”
“Starched Wranglers and a buttoned-down denim shirt with some rusty, old work boots is not what I consider dressed up.”
“Maybe ten years ago that outdated thinking would have applied. But today, it’s acceptable for men to roll with the business-casual look.” He smiled when he saw her mouth drop open. “I read that in GQ.”
She looked him over from head to toe. Ruby red lipstick lined her lush mouth, and sparkling gold eye shadow glittered on her eye lids. She was beautiful.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “You mind your manners tonight and I won’t ever make you dress up again.”
“Fine. But I still don’t see why we need to go to a reception. I got my own wedding to think about.”
“Number one, Gail invited me. She’s one of my oldest clients and her sister is getting married – for the third time. Number two, we need to do a dry run. You only have a week before your reception. You need to know what to expect.”
“I already know what to expect,” he predicted. “Lots of boring ass people I’ve never met telling me how happy they are for me. At least that’s what the women and the old men will do. The real men will be sucking down hard liquor at the bar. I assume there’ll be a bar?”
Jewell wagged her forefinger. “In my business, I never assume anything. And neither should you. Truth be told, the reception is the best part of the wedding. It’s where you have all the fun. Obviously, you haven’t been to enough of them to know.” She held up the matching navy pin-stripe suit jacket, and in a deep voice that he strongly suspected was an imitation of him, she said, “Now, put this on and don’t gimme no trouble.”
Jewell’s client was a classy older lady who treated him with the ultimate kindness. To his relief, folks were dancing the Harlem Shuffle, not the Waltz. Everyone was so down-to-earth, he was comfortable mingling with them. Dinner was great (Salisbury steak served on plain white plates – not precious china from the Ming Dynasty). And to top it off, he only had to use one fork! He and Jewell spent a lot of time on the garden balcony upstairs, looking at the fantastic view of Galveston’s historic district. They left an hour later, and headed back to his house. It was a perfect end to an otherwise hectic day.
He parked his truck then went around to the passenger side to open Jewell’s door. “Was it just my imagination or did you tell Gail that I was your date?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, accepting his hand to exit the truck. “Gail made that assumption, and it was easier to let her think that. There would have been too many questions – questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. In fact, the fewer number of people who know about our arrangement, the better.”
“I noticed you didn’t bat an eye when you lied.”
“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell the complete truth.”
“Hmm. Sounds like something a man would say.”
Jewell gave him a smile warm enough to melt ice. “You’ve been in rare form today. You’ve got smiles. Jokes. Goodness, what else should I expect?”
He shrugged. “All that coffee has got me wired.”
“Well, I couldn’t let you drink any alcohol for fear of a repeat performance like the one you had at Sam Kovack’s office.”
“Since I was a good student today, why don’t you indulge me? Let’s take a walk by the pond.”
Jewell squinted. “In these shoes?�
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He looked at her four-inch high gold pumps. He wasn’t sure what came over him – maybe it was the full moon that hung low, providing a natural spotlight to illuminate her flawless features – but he picked her up and swept her into his arms. Her smooth, bare legs dangled over his muscled forearms. “You’re light as a feather.”
She gave what he was sure was her best glare, but it came out more like a cross between shock and amusement. “Okay, now you’re reverting back to the old Mason. Under no circumstances do you pick up a woman unless you’re saving her life or carrying her over the threshold. I don’t see either of those occurring right now.”
Mason chuckled as he set her down on the soft grass. “Point taken.” He liked Jewell. There was no denying it. Her witty sense of humor always put him in check. “May I suggest taking your shoes off? That will save your Christian Labooties from getting damaged.”
Jewell cracked up laughing. “That’s Christian Louboutian, which by the way, these are not. But I’ll give you bonus points for the attempt.”
“Hell, I’ll take what I can get.”
He watched as she removed her high heels. His eyes slid from her pretty toes, which were painted red to match her dress, toward her slender ankles, and finally to the enticing curve of her bare calves. Jewell was definitely a mystery to him. Just when he thought he knew what made her tick, she pulled a one-eighty on him and flipped the script. The crazy thing was he liked it!
They walked in silence down a sloping hill, finally stopping in front of the vast pond. Doing what came naturally, he picked up a few stones and began skipping them off the water’s mirror-smooth surface. Jewell picked up a stone and copied his motions. But hers promptly sunk to the bottom, plunking beneath the water.
“No, not like that,” Mason instructed. “You have to find a stone that’s more flat like a pancake.” He picked up two stones and gave a quick flick of his wrist, causing one of the rocks to skip across the pond, the ripples shimmering in the moonlight. “Now you try.”
