Cavanaugh

by Jody Kaye

“With no prenup, everything.”

  “Christ, Rose! You’re putting Cavanaugh Construction and my reputation up to take a fall, and for a hell of a lot of money I may not even need! It’s going to make me look worse than all those men that you say get under your skin.”

  She hardly took the time to get to know the first names of men like Midgett, let alone recall their last names. The sons of Kingsbrier’s business associates didn’t get under her skin. Someone else did. She’d much rather banter against Ross’s self-restraint on a daily basis than ignore another’s excess and impertinence.

  “Gimme a piece of paper,” she instructed. Not waiting for him to comply, Rose snatched a pen from the toolbox and removed a square slip from the word a day calendar to scribble words on the backside.

  “What are you doing?”

  “It’s a contract,” she said holding up the slip. Starting with the date, she legibly—and with the adept use of several legal sounding terms, put everything down in writing. At the bottom, she’d signed her name with a flourish and presented the BIC pen for Ross to do the same.

  “You drew up an agreement?” He was incredulous and about to backtrack to refocus on her previous statement about not wanting a prenup when Rose cut him off.

  “You sign it and it’s binding. We can dig up a witness if that’ll make you feel better. But no one knows except us.”

  If Rose did divorce Ross, she’d have her lawyer draw out proceedings for as long as she needed. In the end, all she had to do was produce this paper and both she and Ross would’ve had their way. If Ross did want some of her money? She’d give it to him. It was only right. He’d earn it over the course of their fake marriage.

  “Sign it and your reputation stays intact. You didn’t marry me for my money. Or at least no one will ever believe that you did because this says that if it gets out that I was going to loan you any cash, you have the right to tell everyone that I did it to piss off my father. It’s right there in black and white. Um, black and yellow, since it’s neon colored paper.”

  “How appropriate, since I’m the one bound to get bruised by this deal.”

  “My God, stop being so sophrosenic!”

  If Rose is single a chapter in my life, I wish the end will come to a swift conclusion, Ross thought, letting his novel fall to the floor.

  Who was he kidding, though? His disinterest in reading had more to do with the fact that he was finding every analogy in the story somehow described her.

  Rose’s outrage at his refusal to marry her caused the most unorthodox fight he’d ever taken part in with any woman. She’d stormed out, cussing him with a lot worse words than he’d used when the wood sliced into his hand. Several of them he was certain weren’t even English. And, to be honest, she’d plucked quite a few of those phrases from obscurity, reinforcing Rose’s assertion that she was quick to pick up on things.

  Seared in her brain, she’d commented.

  Ross wondered if Eric Kingsbrier had ever seared his handprint on Rose’s ass. She’d taken feisty to a new level becoming verbally combative.

  Ross had gathered up his tools and finished fixing the wiring. Then, determined to get the stable completed, he slammed his feet on the tall ladder’s rungs, stomping across the roof and taking his frustrations out on nail heads he used to secure the remaining shingles. The wattage that his lamp provided allowed Ross to work doggedly into the morning until he left for the job site overseeing his crew.

  His eyelids drooped closed throughout the day. Opening with a flash as Ross tried to ignore images of her that entered his daydreaming. Rose’s brow had furrowed and her features grew more incensed during their argument when, under no uncertain terms, he’d responded ‘no’ to her proposal. It was so unlike Rose to not conceal her emotions.

  Ross fell asleep in the cab of his truck after the Cavanaugh employees had gone home for the day. It was pitch black when he woke up shivering. He’d stored the checkered sleeping roll under the bed at the apartment. If he went back to retrieve it, he’d have to set foot on Kingsbrier land and take the chance of seeing Rose. It was stupid to think she’d apologize for storming off and they’d talk it through. If Rose considered their friendship worth saving, he’d put his best foot forward. Ross didn’t want to lose her before… Before what? The spring? When she finished with toying with him? When a better man came along that piqued her interest?

  He drove back to the stable apartments with a pounding head and empty stomach from not drinking or eating enough. Light-headed, he could almost taste the dinners that she’d surprised him with and began hoping that there was something leftover in the refrigerator.

  By the time the truck curled into the gravel farmyard, his emotions morphed into hostility. He wanted to see Rose standing with a shotgun on the apartment porch, issuing orders to get his things and get out. He’d push past her and take a big bite out of one of those blueberry muffins she’d baked yesterday. Doing it in Rose’s face to be spiteful.

  Driving away would be like cutting off his arm, but his departure was the clean break they needed.

  It would be their last meeting. He’d have a foreman fill in for him until final inspection and when she made the last payment for the stable. He didn’t need to help Rose load Lavender into the trailer the way they’d planned to bring the horse to her new home.

  When he’d opened the front door, there was no sign of Rose having been back in his apartment. A cold sliver wedged in his breastbone. Ross sat down on the brass framed bed, staring into the dark water closet. With no one to run him off, he’d shower. He’d eat those damn muffins that he hadn’t been able to palate when they’d said so much in anger. Or he could let his head fall onto the pillows and pull the bedspread that smelled like Rose over him and sleep, which is what he did night after night for the past two weeks as her scent faded from his bed.

  It was pathetic that he’d held out hope that she’d come back.

  The idea of leaving for good returned in earnest last night. The stable was complete. Ross made himself scarce the day Rose did the final walk-through. He wanted to see the same look of awe on her face that she’d had when Kingsbrier’s kitchen unfolded. Yet, he couldn’t help but think she’d act apathetic or arrogant to rile him up and leave him disappointed. He’d built the stable for her until Ross remembered that Kingsbrier money was paying for it. Her inheritance. The trust that Rose tried to use to lure him into marrying her in order to upset her father.

  What kind of person married for money?

  Ross wasn’t the type to do that. He’d given thought to every aspect of their last conversation. From trying to figure out why she was so angry with him—obviously because Ross wouldn’t let a spoiled Rose have her way—to what she’d said about taking calculated chances and the necessary risk for continued growth with his construction business.

  So far Ross had played it safe so that he’d have the collateral when it was time to dig deep. The loan officer he met with this week had been impressed. Ross had to admit it gave him the same puffed out chest as when his Grandy complimented him because he knew that his grandmother was proud too. This set him on an unexpected journey of metanoia when it came to loosening the reigns on Cavanaugh’s finances.

  Faint music played in the apartment next door. Rose had told him that she was going to rent it out. Actually, she’d ribbed him about it non-stop. Her goal was to find the worst neighbor to force Ross to find a better place to live through the winter than her neglected outbuilding. Ross surmised that she’d gone and done that; giving quarter to whomever she hired to watch over the horse when it arrived. The plan made sense. And it made him mad that she didn’t have the courtesy to tell him in person.

  The same way he’d pushed off the building permits as a reason to see Rose, Ross hadn’t left Kingsbrier for good hoping catch a glimpse of her gold and white-blonde locks. He’d gone as far as to stop by the farm to ask after Lavender to keep tabs on Rose. His former employer told him that the animal had already been transported acro
ss the county to its new home.

  He left the errant paperback on the floor and strolled out the barn. Lavender had indeed taken up residence in her stall. She was quite comfortable with a fresh bed of hay piled under her feet and a bucket of oats placed out of her reach. She let out a graceful chuff as Ross pat her. There was a luxurious new leather saddle slung over the wall to the next stall. Rose was able to afford the best for her horse. Lavender was lucky to be here, even if the visits from her mistress became less frequent as her newness wore off and more responsibility fell on the handler. They’d already gotten feeding instructions as an airtight canister of carrots sat out of reach. Rose had been against the sugar. Funny how she made herself an exception to that rule. Ridiculous how Ross fostered Rose’s dependence on him by providing her drug of choice.

  Grateful that one of his two new neighbors was fairing well and proved easy to live with, Ross conceded it was time for a meet-and-greet with the new guy. Perhaps they’d share an occasional beer. If not, and the man was difficult to get along with, it wasn’t as if Ross was losing out on anything moving back into his truck. Though the thought of enduring a cold morning sent a chill up his spine.

  He rubbed the scruff on his face. He hadn’t shaved in… Well, it was a blur. Definitely longer than three days. Had he picked up a razor this week? His work boots stepped from the gravel to the porch floorboards. Had he been a true cowboy, Ross’s spurs would clink with each footfall. The circuit wasn’t close by. He’d love the thrill of riding to take the edge off the way he’d been feeling lately.

  Ross knocked on the apartment door closest to the stable. He heard that scratch of the music stopping and soft patter of slow steps coming toward the door.

  It opened enough for a brown eye to peer out the slice of the doorjamb. “What do you want Mr. Cavanaugh?”

  “Rose?” he asked as she scowled.

  On the phone Lily Anne talked non-stop about wedding plans. It was more than Rose could stand. She picked nonexistent lint off of the daybed’s comforter, glad her friend couldn’t see the droplets trailing down her face.

  Rose spent most of the past week sulking in the sitting room. At first, she’d tried to tell herself that it would make her feel closer to Lil. In reality, it wasn’t working. No matter what her stupid intentions were offering herself up to Ross, it wasn’t because Rose wanted Lily Anne’s life. Well, maybe the part of it where her father asked her to work at the family company, but that wasn’t in the cards.

  She’d stopped dwelling and tried to find useful things to occupy her time, like helping out Ross and cooking. Rose didn’t want to cook anymore. She had no interest in eating. A slice of pumpkin roll with cream cheese frosting sat untouched next to her on the nightstand. Benita was right. No amount of sugar was ever going to make Rose sweet enough.

  “The reception’s booked. Mrs. Newhouse took the deposit to the county club for me yesterday. Rodger’s mother has been so helpful, Rose. I’d have loved having the wedding here in Georgia. This was a better venue choice with Rodger only having so much time off from school at the holidays.” They were planning a Christmas wedding. “I want to spend every minute with him that I can.”

  Lily Anne had flown back to Texas twice to see her fiancé. Rose received a quick afternoon visit from her best friend while the bride chatted about dress colors and ordering invitations on short notice.

  Lily Anne asked Rose to be her maid-of-honor as if there’d be a moment’s hesitation for Rose to accept. That day Rose was thrilled.

  Now?

  Rose wanted that excitement for them back.

  She also wanted to take a searing hot poker and shove it in her ear. Being deaf would make it easier to keep smiling when she was dying inside. It had been days since she’d seen Ross.

  Although a tad melodramatic, Rose was sure the rest of her mundane existence would be like this. The subject would change from the wedding to hearing about Rodger and Lil’s beautiful life filling the house with bouncing babies. Bearing witness to that happiness made Rose evermore sure she wouldn’t love her future husband. Did it matter anymore if she did? The man whom she’d been the most whole with didn’t want her by his side. Not even as a pretend wife. She was an imbecile to suggest Ross consider her offer. He was the absolute antithesis of every other man and he showed it every way. That made her not want to be Rose Kingsbrier anymore. It was frightening to want to shed some of your spots for someone else, especially when they weren’t sticking around to witness the transformation.

  Before, Rose gave Ross an eyeful at every opportunity. She’d dressed for him until it seemed that he wasn’t interested in women who wore skimpy clothes and then she covered herself—appropriately, yet not so far as to be untrue to whom she was—because that seemed to be what he preferred. She’d stopped looking for reasons to flirt and put their friendship first. It was so much easier to do the exact opposite. The thoughts that ran through her mind were easy to act upon. Although, equal to the tough time Rose was having recovering from Ross’s refusal to marry her, she would’ve felt jilted had he refused her advances.

  “Do you think you’ll bring Ross as your date?” As usual, Lily Anne pressed for details.

  It was an affront to their friendship to withhold any vital information from her, but Rose wasn’t willing to tell Lily about their fight. Recalling the story caused embarrassment enough. Lil was getting married. For love. Rose didn’t want to belittle that or make Lily Anne feel like she’d suggested the idea to Ross to be competitive. Ross didn’t like Rose. She was more sure of that than ever.

  “No. It’s not worth the argument it’ll cause with Eric,” she lied. Ross was more than worthy of that fight. However, Ross’s upstanding convictions about love weren’t something Rose wanted to discuss with Lily Anne and his opinion of her made Rose feel like gum on the bottom of a shoe. It stung worse than her father’s treatment of her over the years.

  “Is there another plus one you haven’t mentioned? Rodger wants to invite Ross. I can talk him out of it if it’s awkward for the two of you. I mean, both of you bringing dates.”

  “There’s no one else.” Rose paused. There wasn’t anyone she’d rather go with. “You can invite him. If that’s what Rodger wants.”

  Rose wanted to call her cousin a sell-out, turncoat, traitor, and accuse him of family abandonment. But it wasn’t like she was going to broadcast why she and Ross weren’t on speaking terms anymore… And Rodger would see Ross’s point of view as much as her own.

  Rose hung up the phone, uncertain that she’d paid enough attention while listening for Lily Anne to still consider her a good friend. That heavy concern weighed all around her. Next time they talked, Rose’s teeth would show like the Bowl Queen’s did. Rose loved Lily Anne like a sister and wanted to show Lil how important her nuptials were. After all, her two life-long friends were getting hitched. It was cause for celebration and Rose was moping about like she’d lost her best friend.

  Rose put her head down taking several deep breaths to compose herself. There was no use crying over spilt milk.

  A firm knock sounded from her bedroom.

  “I’m in here,” she called to Benita.

  The door in the next room opened too slow for it to be the housekeeper. Eric Kingsbrier looked around, then through the Jack and Jill bathroom. He saw her as she straightened and sat up, and approached via the connected loo, dodging the towels littering the tile floor and glancing at the makeup and hair brushes scattered on the sink. His unimpressed face soured more.

  Not that it surprised Rose in the least.

  “Benita asked me to relay a message that the stable is ready for your final inspection. I take it Cavanaugh’s truck will disappear from Kingsbrier soon?”

  “Yes. I don’t expect to see him here again. We have nothing more to fix.” Rose understood that her father’s intentions were to relay more than a simple communiqué. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Eric grinned, glad she’d cut out the small talk.
“I’d like to inquire as to your plans the evening after next?”

  “I take it my presence is required.” That was the turn of phrase her father used months back. It was a necessity that Rose acquiesced. Now that Ross was out of the picture, the ultimatum that Eric put on her had grown less demanding. Rose asked a man to marry her, exacting no less dignity of him and the situation than her father expected. She deserved the position she found herself in.

  “Six sharp.” Eric clasped his hands in front of his double-breasted suit, pleased that she hadn’t put up yet another indignant fight.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Lovely to hear,” Eric replied before turning to leave. He stopped in her disheveled bedroom and looked back. “I found your attachment to Cavanaugh foolish and foresaw its demise.” Eric acted as if his daughter flitted about on whims, incapable of creating a long-lasting attachment. “I’m glad that the man’s appeal shriveled up as quickly as each of the last and hope that this is a turning point, Rose. Contrary to whatever you may believe, I want what’s best for you.”

  Rose wore the same dress she had on the last time she’d eaten at the country club. It was still new and she doubted that anyone cared. Besides, gossip mongers already had a score sheet of gripes against her. Donning the same dress twice on dates months apart was low on the list of fodder that they’d use against her.

  “You look lovely,” the young man said, not caring about her already worn frock either when their fathers introduced them.

  Lathan Edward was as tall as Rodger with rich brown eyes. His brown hair matched them with perfection making Rose wondered if Lathan dyed it. He was handsome, wearing an identical colored suit. If it were anyone else, Rose would scoff saying they looked like a chocolate bar, but Lathan pulled off the ensemble with little effort.

  Rose returned the platitude, hoping the two younger men might get along. It was smart to date someone that her friends liked so that everyone was comfortable with one another. If this was the direction her life was going in, Rose didn’t want to continue driving along the road being a third wheel. She wanted the four of them to be able to do things as couples. The same effortless way Ross accompanied them to Houston. Rose didn’t remember the last time she’d heard Rodger talk so much. She smiled and blushed a bit, remembering how she’d added a slight shake to her behind after she’d noticed Ross eyeing her legs that night.