It was harder to hear with the bar filling up. The music kicked up louder and the pool games were in full swing.
“He’s not selling.” Beck wanted the words to be real.
“Not if we can persuade him to stay put.” Bodhi grinned. “I say we call his bluff.”
“How?”
“What’s Granddad all about?”
Beck would have said the ranch.
“What? I’m the only one who listened up in college? Took a psych class?” Bodhi taunted them. “Family. Granddad is all about family.”
Bowen and Beck nodded.
Bodhi slapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “Who’s in?”
“Me.”
“Me.”
Beck and Bowen spoke in unison.
Bodhi’s eyes glinted with a wicked light.
“What’s the game?” Beck and Bowen both demanded.
“Marriage,” Bodhi said flatly.
“Marriage isn’t a game,” Beck objected.
“It can be.” Bodhi jangled with unleashed tension. “We can all play. We’ll call it the Rodeo Brides Game.”
“You were just hand to God-ing it that you would never, ever get married,” Beck reminded him, although that pronouncement alone should doom Bodhi to getting hitched by the end of the Copper Mountain Rodeo.
“I won’t. But I can bring a fiancée home to the Ballantyne Bash.”
“You’re not even dating,” Beck scoffed.
“What’s dating got to do with it? The winner of the game is the first one to bring home a future bride to Granddad.”
“And then what?” Bowen asked skeptically.
“Granddad can stop worrying that the Ballantyne legacy is in peril. He’ll know the next generation of Ballantynes is on the way. The moms won’t be able to sway him to sell.”
“What are the rules?” Beck crossed his arms. This was going to be good. Not.
“First one to get engaged wins, but Granddad has to believe it.”
“What’s the prize?” Bowen asked.
Beck glared at Bowen. He wasn’t actually considering this stupidity? But he was. Bodhi looked lit from within, radiating an ‘I dare you’ that had gotten them in trouble more than a few times over the years.
Bowen’s eyes were flinty and narrowed. A muscle in his jaw ticked.
A recklessness swarmed over Beck as his competitive nature, the one that had always driven him to keep up and then try to surpass his cousins, kicked in.
“Plum Hill,” Beck said feeling reckless and wanting to stop the madness.
*
“I can’t believe this week is finally here.” Ashni plopped her suitcase, computer bag and large tote with her art supplies near the saddle-colored leather sofa. “I have been so excited, done so much research and keep changing my lesson plans.”
Sky Wilder laughed. “So you keep saying. Careful, I might try to persuade you to stay.” She hefted two remaining bags of groceries onto the counter. “After that Punjabi cooking class you effortlessly staged at Three Trees for me, Walker, Talon and Tucker, I don’t think any of my sisters-in-law are going to let you leave town.”
“I’m on board with Sky’s plan,” Walker, who owned the two carriage-style apartments with her husband, said. “This apartment is available beyond the week if you want. My husband just uses it for his team when they come to edit footage for their Ghost Quest Specials or his documentaries about the raptor rescue. Since the baby’s due any day now, we don’t have anything scheduled for a while so I too will try to convince you to stay.”
“I might let you,” Ashni said, feeling both bold and nervous.
Was she really going to upend her entire life on a whim?
The dread that had been vying with anticipation since she’d sent in her resignation notched higher, making her tummy lurch and her heart pound.
Walker gave her a quick tour of the spacious studio apartment above a massive four-car garage and showed her how to work the Murphy bed and pull down the table built into the front facing when the bed was in the wall. The bathroom was nice with a soaking tub that was as unexpected as it was welcome. Traveling with Beck hadn’t yielded many times to relax in a bath with candles and bath bombs—just quick, tepid showers in the shower-stall-sized bathroom in his rig.
“This is nice,” Ashni said her eyes taking in the spacious room.
“The other apartment is rented out to my replacement at the Graff Hotel for the year,” Walker finished. “Langston Carr. She grew up in Marietta but left for college and then worked in event planning for a huge firm in Missoula and Helena. I’m taking a whole year off with this monkey.” Her hands rested on her large, rounded belly. “Calum is going to work on a documentary in the spring, and we’ll be able to travel with him.”
Her face glowed, and Ashni felt a stab of envy that she tried to shove aside. She’d vowed to give herself this week to start making plans for the future she wanted, Beck or no Beck. And to do that, she had to stop thinking about him all the time.
She definitely didn’t feel ready to talk to him, and that alone was making her feel strange and unmoored. Beck had been her best friend and confidant since high school. She shared everything with him. And now she hadn’t even called him back after his flurry of voicemails and texts. At least he knew she was okay since she’d visited his granddad and cooked him his favorite meal.
Ben hadn’t asked about Beck, he’d just watched her cook, his kind gaze so like Bodhi’s it was eerie. The Indian cooking lesson had been a balm she hadn’t expected. She’d fretted about not fixing Ben his favorite meal when she and Sky had been at Monroe’s grocery store, and Sky had suggested going out to the ranch and cooking, and then she’d texted her family, and there had been a lot of enthusiastic yesses. Only one of Sky’s sisters-in-law hadn’t been able to attend.
Marietta would be a wonderful town to settle in.
And Beck would be in Marietta eventually. Maybe then they could start again. Or he’d find…
Stop thinking about Beck.
It was supposed to be a Beck-free week. Another vow she’d made on the plane. But she would have to tell him that—that she wanted a break. And she didn’t feel ready for that at all.
Coward.
Definitely.
“You two should go out and have some fun,” Walker urged. “There’s a band at FlintWorks. The bar at the Graff will probably be pretty full. Shane plays a couple of sets on her upright and sings. Dang, she’s good. Calum and I often go on Sundays to hear her, but I feel too big to move and just want to soak in the bath. Thanks for the cooking class today, Ash. You have my cell if you need anything.”
Walker left. Sky had finished putting away the groceries.
“Let’s go out,” Sky said. “Kane’s with the kids so I’m going to relish my freedom. I am not going to ask you about Beck, but if you want to talk about him, I’m here,” Sky said, her beautiful blue eyes warm with sympathy.
“Thanks. I have some things to figure out about him and the future,” Ashni said. “But I don’t have anything sorted.”
And she was a little freaked out that she’d impulsively applied for a job without even discussing it with Beck. Or Reeva. Or her parents. Nothing might come of it. She’d been out of school for a while although she’d kept current with online seminars and journals, and she’d participated in a few research projects and had volunteered with children’s programs at hospitals in the cities where the rodeo visited.
I probably won’t get it.
What if I get an interview?
The questions wrestled one another in her brain.
“So is that a yes to going out?” Sky bounced on her feet.
Ash was exhausted. Bone-tired. But she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts.
“I’m up for it.” She forced energy into her voice hoping it soaked into her body and brain. She checked her Apple watch. If they stopped by Harry’s House first, Beck would most likely be gone from Grey’s, so she wouldn’t run
into him there or on Main Street. Ben never stayed out late. Rancher hours were long, and Beck and his cousins were all hard workers. When they were on the ranch, they did their best to help their granddad out with chores and projects to take some of the load off of him.
“I need to get out of my head.”
“And maybe out of something else.” Sky shimmied playfully. “Sometimes a little flirting can do wonders to wake dumb cowboys out of their idiotic stupor.”
“We aren’t talking about Beck.”
“Who said anything about Beck?” Sky asked innocently.
A little devil—one she didn’t know she had—tapped Ash’s shoulder.
“Let’s go to Grey’s.”
He’d probably be gone. But what if he wasn’t?
*
“Plum Hill? No. Way,” Bowen said.
“Why not? It’s my favorite part of the ranch,” Beck countered. The thrill of competing against his cousins crawled through his blood instinctively.
“Plum Hill is the favorite spot for all of us,” Bowen said.
“Then what better to have on the line?” Beck demanded. “Bottoms up,” he drained his second beer, unusual for him. Beck felt untethered, and he watched Bodhi as if that would somehow help him divine where his cousin was going with this game idea. Bodhi had launched and misfired many schemes before but nothing this radical.
“No,” Bodhi said firmly. “Not Plum Hill. Not a physical prize for any of us.” He shook his head. “The win is Granddad choosing to stay in his home, on the ranch.”
“Or telling us why he’s really thinking of selling so we can help out if he needs it,” Bowen’s baritone cut through the noise of the bar. “Not financial gain for anyone. Not Plum Hill.”
That settled Beck somewhat. He and his cousins were inherently competitive with each other, but the ranch was sacred. Family. Still, he wasn’t sure if Bodhi had thought this ‘game’ through. Was alcohol talking as much as Bodhi? “So, you’re just going to wow some girl this week. Bring her home. Wow Granddad by dropping to one knee and break both their hearts when you ride off on tour again?”
Beck couldn’t believe this. Sure, Bodhi was a player, but he didn’t have a mean bone in his body.
“Seriously, how long does your little charade last—to the end of the rodeo or the bash? You’re not really going to go through with the engagement, are you?”
“I was hoping you’d go through with it.” Bodhi clapped Beck’s shoulder hard enough to hurt. “You at least have a girl, and before you give me any more grief about my plan or my lifestyle, look in the mirror.”
Beck looked at the large, tarnished mirror behind the bar. It had been there longer than he’d been alive. Probably longer than Granddad had walked Three Tree pastures.
“Not literally,” Bodhi said. “You think I’d break some girl’s heart? Never. That’s your specialty.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve been stringing Ash along for years. Years, Beck. Cut her loose. Let her find some happiness.”
“She is happy,” Beck grit out.
“Then why is she not here?” Bodhi demanded, then he turned to Bowen. “So it’s you and me.”
Bowen didn’t answer, but Beck could tell he was thinking about it. This was a disaster.
“You can’t cut me out.”
“You think you can play?” Bodhi challenged.
Beck’s chest felt tight. He couldn’t play some game with Ashni.
Bodhi didn’t look at him. His calculated gaze swept the room. “Granddad’s happiness is on the line.”
“You’re going to find a bride in a week?” Beck demanded incredulously.
“I can find one tonight.” Bodhi looked straight ahead at the two booths of tipsy women.
“You can’t.”
“Can.”
“You won’t,” Bowen said firmly. “You’re a player, but you’d never take advantage of some drunk woman. That would be cruel.”
“What is cruel about promising a lovely lady some of me?” Bodhi grinned.
“You’re bluffing.” Beck was certain.
A muscle ticked in Bodhi’s perfect jawline that many women and too many photographers had rhapsodized about.
“Bet you’d both jump into the game if I make the first play,” he challenged.
“One play is all you got,” Beck said. “You’d never stick around long enough to get her number so how are you going to get engaged?”
“I stick what I need to stick,” Bodhi said. “You two in for some wooing this week or what?”
Beck felt the words like a physical blow—his lost lead today. “You’re going to hook up with some random woman and ask her to marry you in a week?” Beck angrily raised his voice above the music and swelling crowd. It was packed for a Sunday for sure, and two checks of his phone and he still hadn’t heard from Ash. Where was she even staying?
Bodhi looked over at Bowen. “I know you’re in.”
Again Bowen didn’t respond, but Beck could tell his cousin was interested. He was too still, his bluish-gray eyes narrowed, and his jaw cranked tight.
“This is crazy!”
“It’s fun,” Bodhi countered. “Besides, we’re not going to marry the poor girls. We just need to squire them around this week and during the rodeo so they don’t look like one-night stands. Take her to dinner. Horse ride at the ranch. Dance at the steak dinner. Arrive at the Ballantyne Bash looking stupidly besotted. Voila! We will have bought ourselves some time. Granddad will think the next generation’s knocking on the door, and the moms will sulk off back to Denver and give all of us men some breathing room.”
“What if Granddad wants to sell the ranch?” It was a kick in the gut to say it.
“He doesn’t,” Bodhi said, but his voice lacked its usual easy confidence, and he didn’t look either of them in the eye. “But one of us needs to pin him down. If he needs money, he can have mine.”
“And mine,” Bowen and Beck stated at the same time.
“And if Granddad needs help, one of us peels off the tour. We can flip for it.”
“You are not going to find a woman who will agree to a fake engagement.”
“Watch and learn, little cuz. It will be easy.”
“This whole game is stupid,” Bowen finally said. “Beck’s got us lapped. He’s got Ashni.”
“So you are in.” Bodhi flipped his hat back a little on his head with a forefinger and smirked. “Like I said, Beck can’t play.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Ashni’s off-limits.”
“How can I play if she’s off-limits?” Beck demanded. He couldn’t show up at the ranch with another woman and be believable. Just the idea of it turned his stomach.
“Because it’s a game.” Bodhi got in his face. “Ashni’s real. You don’t get to play with what’s real.”
“So it’s up to you and me to save Granddad and the ranch,” Bowen said, already cutting Beck out.
“Exactly.”
“Like hell,” Beck objected.
“Let’s review all the rules.” Bowen turned toward Bodhi, ignoring Beck. “We both have a week to find a woman who will agree to play along and get fake engaged to us by the Ballantyne Bash?”
“A week,” Bodhi scoffed. “I’m going to find her tonight. I’ll be engaged before you get a date. I’ll be engaged at the steak dinner.”
“I’ll be engaged before it starts.” Bowen took a last swallow of his beer and put it down with a definitive clunk on the bar. “I’m in.”
“This is madness,” Beck objected.
“Makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?” Bodhi was already scanning the room. “Or it would if you were in the game.”
“I’m in.” Beck’s blood surged making him reckless. “New rule. The proposal has to be during the bash in front of the moms and Granddad. And after, we ask them to rate the most romantic or creative.”
“Hell no,” Bowen burst out. “I’m not making a public spectacle of
myself in front of all of Marietta!”
“You’re on.” Bodhi signaled for another beer and then his eyes locked on a tall, slender beauty with flowing red hair who’d just entered Grey’s and stopped short, her back pressed against the double doors. “Public proposal slitting our wrists and throats and bleeding out our hearts publicly.” He smirked at Bowen. “This is going to be fun.”
Bowen turned away, his jaw set.
Bodhi laughed, but his gaze had never deviated from the woman who’d just entered Grey’s.
“Dibs,” Bodhi said softly, in full hunter mode. “Meet my future bride.”
Beck gaped at his cousin and then looked back at the unsuspecting woman. Should he warn her?
“Watch and learn.” Bodhi strode over to the woman whose hair glinted fire from the bar’s lighting. Her lush lips parted, and her eyes widened as Bodhi swept off his hat and did a little bow that should have looked ridiculous but somehow worked. He gently took her hand and spoke to her, indicating his recently vacated barstool.
“One day a woman is going to slap him,” Bowen said amused, his good temper restored.
“Not holding my breath,” Beck muttered. “You’re not really going to take that challenge, are you?”
“Never backed down yet,” Bowen said.
“This is crazy. You’re just going to pick some random woman in a bar and…” He could hardly put the challenge into words.
“No. Not here. Somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know. The opportunity will arise. I’ll just seize it.”
Bodhi had seized his. He helped the woman sit on the barstool then he casually leaned against the bar and introduced his cousins.
She was model-gorgeous and stared into Bodhi’s eyes like he had the answer to questions she hadn’t yet thought of.
“I’m outta here,” Beck said. He and his cousins had done some crazy stuff over the years, but this was bouncing on a whole new level.
Beck pulled his phone from his pocket and walked toward the exit when a tall, curvaceous blonde from the bridal party stopped him. He’d felt her staring a hole in him since he’d arrived.
“Are you a real cowboy?” she asked, her fingertips skimming over the belt buckle he’d won today. “A rodeo cowboy?” Her voice was soft, her hair so blonde it glowed. Her gaze was bold, assessing, and admiring.
The Cowboy Says I Do Page 5
