Cowboys Don't Buy Their Bride at Auction

by Jessie Gussman

  Her chest pumped in and out. The blood drained out of her head, and her neck turned to ice.

  Of course. Of course.

  She knew what happened when a woman did what she’d done. She knew it. But for so long, it hadn’t been something she needed to spend a moment thinking about. Not since long before her divorce. She’d been so consumed with the auction and the ranch and the money and her anxiety over everything that the will demanded of her and doing her best for Spencer that she hadn’t given this a thought. Not one.

  And she knew exactly what the cowboy’s method of birth control was.

  Abstinence was one hundred percent effective. Unless one had a daughter of Eve whispering in one’s ear, begging for just this once. At that point, the point where the cowboy’s no turned into a yes, the abstinence method became one hundred percent ineffective.

  Now she had a problem to deal with.

  She put a hand over her stomach. No. Not a problem. Never a problem. Her child would never consider herself a problem. Because it was a girl. Roxie was sure of it.

  Her stomach wasn’t any more settled than it had been all day, but her heart could almost explode from the fierceness of the love that swelled within her.

  Maybe the stress had made her late. She glanced at the calendar again. One week. She was one week late, when she was never, ever late.

  She had time to run to the C store. Oh, boy, wouldn’t that look good? No one could convince her that wouldn’t make the rounds. It would definitely affect her marketability. She was supposed to be auctioned and married today, and she’d be in town, buying a pregnancy test. She didn’t have time to go to Rockerton.

  Or did she?

  No one said she had to be here for the beginning of the auction. Only for the end. Spencer was spending the weekend with Nell and Vinton. Heck, she could take a nap, a leisurely shower, go to Rockerton, eat a nice meal—that she’d probably only throw up on the way home—and still be back in time for her part.

  She’d worked her butt off because she needed the distraction. But she didn’t need to be here, and she wouldn’t be.

  She kept her hand over her stomach as she walked slowly away from the calendar and toward the back stairs. Did this change things?

  She could stop the auction. That was possible, right up until the auctioneer said sold.

  Her legs felt like they weighed as much as two full water buckets, but she dragged them up the stairs.

  It didn’t really change things because she needed the money now more than ever. And there wasn’t any better place in the world to raise her children. Both of them.

  What about the cowboy?

  He said he was bidding. She supposed, in her head, she had assumed he wouldn’t have enough money to win. She’d seen some of the men who’d come to look at it. Big, fancy trucks with dark tinted windows and big hitches. Several of them had Texas license plates, and she assumed their money was from oil. One man had driven in a Mercedes with New York plates. He’d looked familiar as she studied him through the office window as Bill showed him around. Maybe she knew him. But that life seemed so far away from her now.

  She’d decided last night, sitting in the church, to go through with it. She’d thought it was God’s will. A baby wasn’t going to change her mind. God had known about that last night, even if she hadn’t had a clue.

  The cowboy didn’t seem to think about that either, which wasn’t totally surprising. He’d obviously not lived a life where that thought had to be considered. He certainly hadn’t asked her or hinted in any way.

  He didn’t know, and while part of her knew he’d want to, all of her couldn’t handle that kind of complication and stress on top of all the other things she had going on.

  The cowboy was not going to find out.

  Chapter 6

  Roxie stopped at the first convenience store off the Rockerton exit. By the time she’d showered, tried to nap—unsuccessfully because she was too keyed up to sleep—and had made the two-hour drive in, she’d worked herself into a frenzy.

  Was she, or wasn’t she?

  Normally, with only half of a tank of gas, she’d fill up, even though it was enough to get her home. But she pushed her organized, cautious side away. Which, she reminded herself wryly, was how she got into this mess in the first place. She strode with long, sure strides into the store.

  A quick glance around confirmed she didn’t know any of the four people in the store.

  She went to the spot with the contraceptives. Why did they put these things in the front, right out in the open?

  Probably they were a hot item for teens.

  She was a long way from that. In body, if not in spirit, as her position in front of the display confirmed.

  She’d acted like an irresponsible teenager, so now she got to stand in the hot spot, feeling eight strange eyes boring into her neck and the back of her head.

  She picked a long, rectangular box up. She needed one that would give her an answer right now, right here. Because she was going to pay for it and walk straight to the bathroom, and if everyone in the store knew exactly what she was doing, she didn’t give a flip.

  She’d never see any of them again anyway.

  Feeling a presence behind her, she refused to allow herself to hurry. Whatever kid needed condoms could just wait. She was going to get the fastest, most accurate test in the store, and she didn’t care if she had to sell her car in order to pay for it. She needed the fact. The accurate fact. And she needed it now.

  The presence behind her moved to her side. She tried to ignore it, but her eyes skimmed from the box in her hand to the square-toed, low-heeled, well-worn cowboy boots beside her. Rugged jeans covered the uppers.

  It didn’t take her more than a second to recognize the scent when it hit her nose a short moment later. Like the victim in a horror movie, her eyes moved in slow motion up the long legs. Past the belt buckle and tight t-shirt. Up the square jaw with the day’s worth of stubble on it and the muscle twitching in and out, keeping time with her pounding heart and labored breath.

  Those blue eyes, shaded by the hat on his head, were staring at the box in her hand.

  They moved from the box to her face, questions shifting in them. They went back to the box. This time when they landed on her face, the questions were gone. She wasn’t sure what the emotion on his face was. Maybe, like colors on a palette all mixed together turn to an unrecognizable blob of no color, his emotions had done the same thing.

  He held his hand out. Her brain hadn’t kicked back into gear. That should have told her, if nothing else had, that she was definitely pregnant. A fetus used up at least half the brain cells in a woman’s body for the entire pregnancy and years afterwards, and there was nothing she could do about it. She placed the box in his hand.

  Their fingers touched, and it shocked her that the entire store didn’t explode. It was a relief, though, too, because she didn’t want to make headlines by giving birth in a jail cell.

  He felt it too. She saw it in his face before he looked back down and let his eyes linger on the bare third finger of her left hand. His eyes narrowed slightly before he pulled the box away and walked toward the register.

  The four people who had been in the store were all still there. Still in the exact same spots. None of them were even pretending to still be shopping for anything.

  If Roxie had to guess, they’d probably all forgotten what they’d come in for.

  The store clerk didn’t even smirk as the tall cowboy stood in front of him, buying a pregnancy test. He didn’t manage to ask if the cowboy wanted a bag or tell him to have a nice day. Even the music that usually blasted out of the speakers of C stores everywhere was silent as a grave on Christmas Eve.

  The cowboy turned and walked the few short steps back to her, handing her the box he’d just purchased.

  Their eyes met. Betrayal was now clear in his. Surely he understood that the fact that she was purchasing the box meant she didn’t know, wasn’t sure, hadn’t kno
wn last night when they “talked.”

  But no, of course he didn’t know. Not only could he not read her mind, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would have any experience in what they were now going through. She’d really turned his life upside down.

  Knowing there was no way she could keep knowledge of the baby from him, she took the box and walked to the restroom.

  He followed her. She felt his presence and his eyes as well as heard the soft thunk of his boots. She didn’t acknowledge him at all before she disappeared into the cold, impersonal walls of the C store restroom.

  BOONE STOOD WITH HIS arms folded over his chest, his back against the wall, his boots crossed at the ankle. His heart pounded, and his hands were sweating. He didn’t care how stalkerish it was, he couldn’t move his eyes from the opening of the woman’s restroom.

  He still felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. Still hadn’t quite wrapped his brain around the fact that...he’d had a one-night stand. That he was about to become a father out of wedlock. That he didn’t even know the name of the mother of his baby.

  It’s like God had picked him up by the scruff of the neck and set him down in someone else’s life.

  One good thing...the woman he’d slept with was apparently still unmarried. Was he the reason?

  Man, his entire family would run each other over trying to be the first one to kill him.

  Hard on the heels of that thought was the idea of the disappointment or, maybe worse, hurt on his mother’s face.

  His dad had died when he was young, but he’d always kind of thought his dad would have been proud of him. If not proud, at least not ashamed.

  He knew as sure as he stood on two feet that his dad wouldn’t have wanted him to treat a woman the way he’d treated this one.

  Was she ever coming out?

  He stood there for what felt like forever, no closer to knowing what to do, what the woman would want to do—he didn’t even know her—and really no closer to believing this was actually happening to him.

  He supposed he’d thought he was going to get away with a little secret sin. Sure, he’d felt guilty, but he hadn’t actually considered there might be real-world consequences. Not just for him—it was affecting the woman in the restroom a heck of a lot more—and from there, it spread to his mother and siblings, his niece, his friends.

  Done beating himself up about it, he lifted his chin. He needed to figure out what to do and pay the price, whatever that was.

  She appeared in the doorway. A loose blouse that brought out the amber of her eyes and slim jeans that hugged her legs the whole way to her ankles. She wore flats. Her feet stopped in the opening.

  He dragged his eyes up, forcing them to meet hers.

  She was pregnant. He could tell by the look on her face. She didn’t need to hand him the little white stick she was holding, but she held it out, and he took it.

  He’d read enough of the box to know that the two lines meant a positive result. His fingers tightened on the stick. He was going to be a father.

  His mouth was dry, and he wasn’t able to swallow. His voice would crack or squeak if he tried to talk, and he didn’t know what to say, anyway.

  He couldn’t read her expression. Not happiness or excitement, which is what he’d have felt, no doubt, if they’d exchanged rings.

  He remembered her laughing up at him. Her slightly snobby New York accent and her dress shimmering around her legs as he led her through the dance steps. He remembered later, too, with her breath on his ear and her fingers in his hair and the look on her face so beautiful and pure he felt like Superman.

  She’d claimed it had been an act.

  He didn’t want to believe that.

  He shifted the stick to his left hand and held out his right. “Name’s Boone Stryker. We keep meeting in the oddest places.”

  Her lips curled up, and her eyes lost some of their pinched look. She tilted her head just a little, and some of the East Coast upper crust arrogance reentered her eyes. She lifted a brow at his hand then slipped her own cool fingers into his. He fought not to close his eyes as memories of their fingers threaded together entered his head.

  “Roxane Peterson. Everyone calls me Roxie.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Her eyes fluttered like his question surprised her. “Roxie is fine.”

  “But you prefer Roxane.”

  She lifted a casual shoulder. “I do, but I’m not going to quibble over little details that don’t matter.”

  Roxane suited her. “I’m glad I have a name to go with the face...and the memories.”

  Her eyes widened a little like she was surprised he’d go there.

  He wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t happen, and he wasn’t going to pretend that she had been anything but perfect in every way. Because it was the truth. He refused to make her feel badly, just because he’d been stupid.

  “Yes,” she said, ratcheting up the haughty in her tone. “I’ve always thought it was a good idea to know the name of my baby’s father.”

  It was his turn to kick his lips up in a grin. If they could joke about this, they might be able to make it through. God was disappointed in their sin; Boone wasn’t under any delusions about that. But Boone also highly suspected that beyond the disappointment, He was also laughing. He never doubted that God had a sense of humor. Boone’s life in the last three weeks was living proof.

  “I’d always hoped the mother of my baby would have just that kind of intelligent thoughts.”

  She smiled but ruined it by pulling both lips in and biting down on them. She shook her head, her façade cracking. “What are we going to do?” she whispered.

  He hadn’t thought their options were that awful. He’d run over a small rock the wrong way pulling into the C store, and he had a flat he needed to change. But obviously, he wasn’t going to the auction anymore. He was homeless, but he did have money. He’d have a spread, maybe not exactly what he wanted but something, in less than a month.

  His preference would be to get married, but he knew that wasn’t really the way the rest of the world worked anymore.

  Whatever she wanted. He’d do his best to make it happen.

  “You didn’t get married today.” It was almost nine p.m. “Is this why?”

  She shook her head. “I’m headed there now. I...I just realized a couple of hours ago, and I had to find out.” He still held her hand, and she pulled it away. He let it go. More shocked than he could say. She was still getting married?

  A shaky breath trembled past her lips. “I didn’t know yesterday night in the church. I didn’t even suspect. I was completely shocked today when I realized this might be true.” She nodded at the stick he still held in his left hand.

  “You can’t love him.” He said it flatly. But it was a question. If she loved the man she was marrying, if she truly wanted to get married, he’d walk away, disappear, if that’s what she wanted. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he wasn’t going to ruin her entire life if he could help it.

  “I...” She tried to swallow and couldn’t seem to. “I...”

  “If you loved him, you wouldn’t have been with me.” He didn’t mean to growl, but that’s how it came out.

  Her mouth flattened, and if possible, her back straightened even more. She lifted one of those high society brows at him. “You’re right. Two weeks ago, when I was with you, for the first time in a really long time, I did what I wanted instead of what I should have done. Now, tonight, I’m going to do what I should, instead of what I want.”

  He was trying to puzzle her words out when she brushed by him and strode toward the door. She wasn’t just going to leave, was she? Just walk out of his life after announcing she was pregnant with his baby and heading out to marry another man? She wouldn’t.

  But, oh yes. She was.

  It took about three seconds for his brain to get his feet to kick into gear. She was already in her car, backing out, when he hit the door at a jog, slamming it open an
d rushing through.

  “Wait!” he yelled.

  She didn’t look at him. He thought it might be a tear on her cheek as he sprinted over, but Roxane didn’t seem like the kind of woman who cried.

  He made it to her door, unsure what he was going to do if she didn’t stop or wind down her window.

  Thankfully, she did both. But she didn’t wait for him to speak.

  “Listen,” she said, her arrogancy gone but her east coast attitude still firmly in place. It made him want to smile and throttle her at the same time. “I have a son and now this baby. I need to do what’s best for them. I’ve had a lot of hard decisions and pressure and stress, but I said I would do something, and last night in the church before you got there, I felt like God confirmed what I needed to do.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes but stared at a point past his shoulder. And that was a tear track on her cheek. “I’m driving to Sweet Water. The Sweet Water Ranch. If I do what my uncle’s will stipulates, I’ll be set to inherit the ranch and a billion dollars.”

  She must have seen the confusion on his face. “I’m the one that’s up for auction tonight.”

  With that, she shoved her car into drive and pulled away.

  His clenched fists weren’t nearly enough to vent his frustration. He wanted to pound his head against something.

  He’d decided to bid on the ranch. Funny how the Lord was braiding their stories together, except Boone had pulled a Jonah and run away. Thankfully, there were no man-eating fish in North Dakota.

  Boone grunted a half-laugh and looked around. At least none that had found him yet.

  He burst into action. He wasn’t going to stand around waiting on one. If he was going to get that tire changed and go bid on the woman who was carrying his child, he’d better get moving.

  Chapter 7

  The place was lit up, looking like broad daylight. There hadn’t been a single parking place, and Roxie ended up turning around and parking her car at the end of the driveway.