Fake Fiancé Next Door_A Small Town Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  Maybe he should shoot me. Put me out of my misery.

  Suddenly, he smiles and it’s like the sun parting heavy gray thunderclouds. “Ma’am,” he says, tipping his hat. “May I help you?”

  At a loss for words, I turn and gesture back to the gate that’s easily several miles down the drive. “I’m May. You’re looking for help?” My voice sounds small and breathless, even to me and I see his eyes narrow a bit before someone behind him calls out something I don’t quite hear.

  “A lady inquiring about the job,” he says over his shoulder and I hear laughter. My face flames red hot and I turn to walk away, an apology quick on my lips.

  “I’m sorry for wasting your time--”

  The words die as a strong hand curls around my arm just above my elbow and stops me dead in my tracks. I turn to face the man and notice there’s not even a hint of amusement in his face.

  “Can you work hard, miss?” he asks, all seriousness that send my heart fluttering like a scrap of paper caught in the wind.

  “I can,” I say, wondering why I can hardly draw a deep breath.

  He looks me up and down, his hand falling away from me like he realized he’d been touching me for much longer than is proper. “You’re not suitable for a ranch hand, but I might have something else for you,” he says slowly, his eyes wandering across my face like he’s committing my features to memory – or like he recognizes me.

  Clint

  May isn’t what I’m looking for as far as help is concerned. I need men. Strong, hardworking, rough men willing to take on backbreaking labor, punishing hours, and fair pay. But May, she’s so pale and fragile looking I’m not sure she could handle the simplest task I’ve got here.

  Still, something in her eyes begs me to let her stay. And she looks so tired I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let her go right now. There’s a strength to her, a quiet power that leads me to believe she’s stronger than I’m giving her credit for.

  Her big blue eyes are as pale as the skies behind her, and there’s a light sprinkle of freckles across her nose. She’s so innocent looking I find myself needing to know how old she is.

  “How old are you?”

  She seems relieved, and I wonder what she expected me to say. “Twenty-four,” she says, her blue eyes solemn on me. Of age. I want to let out a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding. As she brings her hands forward to clasp before the hips of her jeans, I debate. What could I have her do?

  When she draws a deep breath, I notice the gentle thrust of her breasts under the thin material of her black shirt. I’m careful not to actually look, though, and keep my eyes locked on hers. Still, she’s a beautiful girl, and it’s hard to keep my attention off her charms.

  “Come in,” I say, suddenly remembering my manners. “My name’s Clint. Clint Quentin.” I can find something for her. Even now, a plan, partially formed, nags at the back of my mind. As I step back and allow her in, I hear the guys stand up and begin moving.

  We’ve got some horses we’ve got to get moving from beyond the pasture they’d escaped. It’ll take all night to ride out there and drive them back home, and I realize that May might help alleviate one problem I’ve got.

  “Have you ever taken care of kids?” I ask as she moves through the house to the dining room where men are filing out toward the front door. Shane lowers his shoulder as he comes to pass me and I engage my core, ready and braced for impact. He doesn’t disappoint and the clash of our shoulders would have been enough to knock a smaller man to the ground.

  After what he did, he should be glad it’s not my fist across his jaw again.

  “I haven’t, but I imagine it’s common sense.” May is solemn as I guide her into the emptying dining room. Carson meets my gaze and looks away, an unsure glint in his blue eyes. His harshly tanned Texas skin is rough from a layer of grit and sun.

  He takes his hat in his hands and May studies him as he nods to her with a thick air of politeness. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says to her, and she nods graciously as his eyes skip to me. As always, fixed with his icy stare, I’m a bit unsettled. “Should I saddle your horse, boss?”

  “Yes,” I say, and he dips his head, “Buy me ten.”

  He leaves as the last few guys file out of the room like sand whipped from the corner of a canyon by storm winds.

  “Am I keeping you?” May asks, her wide blue eyes worried.

  “Only a moment, miss,” I say, watching a bit of relief creep into her features. “I must ask you for a favor,” I say, and she nods.

  “Anything.” The way she says it, breathless and unintentionally seductive takes me aback. Clamping down with steely control, I get back on track. I can’t be thinking about how long it’s been since I had a woman in my bed.

  “My daughter, Grace, will be home from school this evening and I’ve got a long job ahead of me.” I hated to ask, but this is easier than calling on the babysitter. If only those damn mustangs hadn’t busted out. But I’d rather be there for the ride than let the guys handle it.

  But I didn’t want to call the sitter. She just eyes me with disapproval every second and tries too hard to make Grace be a proper little lady.

  “How old is Grace?” May asks, and I wonder why that’s the first question.

  “She’s five,” I say, hoping that this isn’t the detail that breaks her. Grace could use a real woman, someone soft-spoken like May to talk to her. Gertie isn’t the best adult woman figure to have on hand. She’s brash, loud mouthed, and insists that Grace be a little lady at all times and quiet. Things I’m not all that happy with. I’ve thought about finding a new sitter for a while, but I hadn’t actively been looking.

  Maybe lady luck is smiling down on me today. Maybe May is the answer to a question I hadn’t known I had.

  “Allergies?” May asks, and I shake my head. She looks up at me as if she doesn’t trust that I’m not holding something back. “Is there anything I need to know?” She asks, those serious blue eyes on mine.

  Her full lips press together a bit and I can’t help but look at them. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and touch her lower lip with my thumb as if brushing away the stressed expression. It works. Her lips relax and she’s beautiful. My thumb travels toward the middle of her lower lip and there’s a sense of wonder in me that she’s softer than she looks somehow.

  And she shivers.

  Her lip is so soft, so kissable. My thumb leaves her chin to trace down her slim, pale throat, no longer even pretending at having a reason or right to be touching her. I look into those big, blue, trusting eyes and see she’s looking at my lips like she wants nothing more than for me to kiss her.

  I snap out of it and my hand drops from her satin skin. Somehow, my voice sounds like nothing happened between us, but my throbbing cock begs to differ.

  “I’ll be out of cell service,” I say without missing a beat. There’s disappointment in her big blue eyes and I suddenly wish I’d kissed her after all. But perhaps that would have left her disappointed for other reasons.

  “But there are other emergency numbers you can call on the fridge.” I gesture past her toward the kitchen and the fridge. I’m sure she’ll explore when she’s ready. Her eyes follow my gesture before snapping back to my face like she’s trying to decode the sudden distance I’d put between us. I’ve been hurt before. It’s not like me to just put myself out there. There’s no way she’d take on someone with baggage like mine.

  But fuck if I didn’t wish otherwise. “Other than that, I’ll set you up in the guest room and you’re free to make yourself at home.” The thought that she’ll be sleeping down the hall hits me like a tractor tire to the gut. I wish I’d thought that through. Hell, if I’d thought first, I’d have paid to have her stay in town… far away from me.

  Her tongue darts out to trace her lower lip and I feel a sudden wash of desire rush over me. The soft sheen of dampness makes my heart start thumping. Damn. This girl is going to ruin me.

  “Thank you,” she says softl
y.

  Wrestling to keep my reactions to her in check, I lead her back toward the guest room. She follows and when I glance back, she’s looking at pictures along the walls, tears sparkling in her eyes.

  Facing forward, I remind myself that it’s none of my business what she’s doing here. But I’d bet my bottom dollar she’s running from something… or someone.

  May

  Of everything I expected, I think that watching my boss’ child was near the end of the list. But then again, I’m not afraid of kids. It’s hard to screw up; make sure they eat and drink. Make sure they’re entertained. Get them to bed at a reasonable hour.

  How hard can it really be?

  I walk to the window of the room I’m going to be staying in. The half circle of guys are slouched in the saddle like the weight of the world is on their shoulders. I scan the group, looking for Clint. He’s shockingly good looking. And the way he looks at me, like he’s able to look past my skin, down deeper than bone to my deepest, darkest buried secret.

  It’s indescribable.

  As I watch, Clint walks over to a saddle horse that’s standing beside the man who’d asked him if he needed his horse saddled while Clint and I talked.

  He takes the reins of the grey animal with the spotted backside and he plants a foot in a stirrup before hauling himself up. He throws a leg over the horse, who sidesteps as if in an attempt to escape. Clint’s hands on the reins steady the animal and I admire the way he leans forward a bit and pats the horse’s neck.

  From here, I can see his lips move and I know he’s talking to the horse. Closing my eyes, I imagine how his voice might lower, that he’s saying something akin to it’s okay. Relax.

  Sudden tears sting behind my eyelids and I blink. My eyes meet the dark gaze of Clint, who’s watching me even as I stand here, watching him. Everything in me screams to hide, but I stand, arrested by his stare as if he’d grabbed my arm again and held me at his mercy.

  Even now the spot above my elbow tingles, as if he’s still holding onto me, refusing to let me go and walk out of his life.

  I stare at him as the guys begin to ride off. He hangs back, flanked by the same man who’d saddled up his horse for him and bought him ten, whatever that means. The man looks in my direction, then at his boss, then at the ground like he’s intruding.

  But all I can see is Clint. His eyes are narrowed a bit, as if he’s trying to figure me out. The whole time we’d talked I’d been terrified he knew or puzzling at the way he made my belly flip flop and my heart dance. Still - past all the thrill of him reacting to me like I’m a woman - with every passing second, I felt more secure that he didn’t remember.

  But now, with the sensation he’s peering into the depths of my soul, I’m not so certain. Lifting my chin, I study him, thinking about how kind he’d been. He was everything I could have hoped for and more.

  Suddenly, he faces the direction the guys had gone and in a fluid motion with his hips, he urged his horse on. As they galloped down the dirt road that I have to guess leads deeper into their land, I’m left picking up the shards of composure I still possess. I need to keep my distance. Clint is trouble with a capital T, I’m certain of it.

  Sinking onto the bed, I stare at my lap. The painful memories of the last few weeks rise up and I feel the tears threatening. They’re always just there, behind my eyes, ready to pounce on every unguarded moment of thought.

  A shower. That’ll help. I can wash away the grime of traveling and steam out the toxic thoughts. I’m on my feet quickly and I head toward my car. In the back, I grab my duffel and bring it into the room I have now. It feels weird, the thought that I might be able to unpack the bag. I might be able to stay more than a night.

  Grabbing some questionably clean clothes, I begin to hope that there’s a washing machine close by. With the change of clothes in hand, I head across the hall and lock myself in the bathroom. The room is white, reasonably clean, and airy. A huge window open to rolling pastures and a few horses are the only peepers in sight.

  I close the curtains anyway and stare at the faucet. It’s pretty standard, thankfully. I’m used to homes where only the person in residence knows how to make theirs work. Hell, the last hotel was stupid; the hot was labeled cold and the cold labeled hot.

  I turn on the water and instantly feel better. I missed this bit of normalcy. It’s such a simple thing we take for granted. I undress with shaking fingers and climb under the hot spray. With the water rinses away the fears and a new hope begins to bubble up in me.

  Maybe it will be different this time.

  When I get out of the shower, I dress and start wandering the house. It’s a beautiful sprawling ranch house. I pass on peeking into bedrooms, but assume that there must be a separate place for most of the help to sleep, since there aren’t enough bedrooms to house them all, unless there are tons of bunks tucked away somewhere.

  The dining room is warm partially due to the sunlight streaming in and partially due to the buttery accent wall that leaves me some hope that there’s a woman around. Then again, if there is, why does Clint need me to watch his daughter?

  The kitchen is standard, though more modern than I expected. Clearly there are a lot of meals made here. The range is a six-burner gas-powered beast that belongs in a high end restaurant. The whole place is well kept, clean, and - as I open a cabinet - well stocked.

  I could get used to this, I think. It’s beautiful, it feels like home, and right now, while it’s quiet, I’m feeling relaxed.

  “Who are you?”

  I spin, my heart slamming at the little voice. A girl stands behind me, her warm brown eyes accusing. Suddenly, I know why the mother isn’t around. I know who Clint created this child with. I know everything.

  Clint

  May’s stare shook me straight to the core. Never has anyone looked at me like that, with a mix of desperation, fear, and tenuous hope. There was something else there, some shrouded secret that’s haunting her.

  But her secrets are her own. And so long as she can handle Grace, I think things will go fine. Grace isn’t a difficult girl. She’s grounded and outspoken, tempestuous, even. She speaks her mind, she’s quick witted, and is often the bane of her teachers. But she’s sweet under it all.

  Perhaps I haven’t raised her right. I don’t force her into dresses. I don’t pigeonhole her into feminine roles. She’s been in the saddle since she could walk. She’s mucked out stalls, she’s able to feed horses, brand mustangs, and tell the men the best move with a new plucky stallion. And she’s still pint sized. But she spends more days with me than without, and I guess I rubbed off on her.

  Which drives Gertie crazy, but I feel that May will have no problem with her.

  “Boss?”

  I glance over at Carson who’s staring ahead. Shane’s riding hell bent for lather where we’d agreed to set camp. As the sun settles toward the edge of the horizon, I feel the tension stirring up around the men.

  No one needs to tell me, but I know that slowing us down was a bad move on my part. Still, this was an unexpected issue and they would have had to wait regardless. Either waiting for me to call Gertie or waiting for me to talk to the new girl.

  Waiting either way.

  Drawing my revolver from the holster, I lift the barrel and pull the trigger. The sound of it reverberates through my skull and under me, Thunder shies a bit. I hold him firm and study the faces that have turned to me.

  I push on, seeing Shane ahead. His horse had startled with the gunshot, and I wait for him to regain control. He does quickly and hauls the animal around to head back to me.

  As the guys form a ring around me, I ignore Shane and his refusal to actually move into line with the rest of the guys. “We’ll ride until twilight,” I say, and the men nod, while some mutter under their breaths.

  I know it’s going to be a long ride, but there’s no reason to kill ourselves or risk a horse stepping into a prairie dog hole. The guys disperse and we all prepare ourselves for this ride. I
shove May out of my mind, but something of her nags in the back of my skull.

  We ride out, the guys whooping and hollering as they race each other in good fun. By my side, Carsen keeps close. He’s kind to the old nag he insists on taking out. There have been plenty of jokes about him riding the ancient mare, but he swears she’s the only horse that he trusts. I don’t give a fuck. So long as they can keep up, I don’t give a damn.

  Dad always said the measure of a good animal is its willingness to follow a man, whether or not it’s into battle, or to the barn for dinner.

  If only the old man wasn’t such a thorn in my side.

  He’s got too many demands. For a man who hadn’t built his empire on his own, he’s sure hell bent on protecting it. Protecting it… from me.

  Not that it needs to be protected from me. I’ve got my own empire. I’ve built my fortune. But it would be nice to finally claim my part of the family fortune. But that’s a pipe dream. Dad’s three requirements for me to take my place at the table are just too much.

  I can see him in mind’s eye, his gray hair short and carefully kept. His rich brown eyes reflecting the honey colored lights in the study of the family’s mansion. The stubble he works so hard to keep close to the skin, everything of him reeks of privilege and cushy living. But make no mistake, he’s a shark and he’ll chum the water with you before you can so much as blink.

  He’s never been particularly warm. Not to me, at least. Kate, my little sister, got much closer to him, perhaps because she’s the baby, or may there’s just something different about daughters. Her place at his right hand will be sealed once she’s back from college. Her list wasn’t nearly as stringent as my own.

  Dad required three things of me: I had to prove I’m an asset. Done. I’ve made myself as a business man. I’ve got land, horses, and a net worth in the billions. I had to prove my manliness. Done. Many times over, done. Rough Texas living makes a man or breaks him. But the third thing… that’s the killer.