Cowboys Don't Buy Their Bride at Auction

by Jessie Gussman

  “I think I heard Cheston mutter something about oil. I assume you paid someone to dig up old soil maps that might become relevant now that there is new technology to get it out of the ground.” There was no point in pretending she didn’t know what he’d been up to.

  Now that she was turned around, she could see Boone standing in a group of five or six guys, several of whom had been bidding on the ranch. Beyond them, headlights were moving as people who had bought equipment and tractors loaded things up and moved them out.

  Her eyes sought Boone out again and stayed there. He was tall and slim, with an easy stance and broad shoulders. He oozed confidence and capability, but there was also an innocence about him, a belief in righteousness, that couldn’t be faked.

  She thought of movies that depicted the Amish. There was just a way a woman who’d worn a dress all her life moved that actresses couldn’t emulate. A look of innocence, the opposite of jadedness, that Hollywood couldn’t fake.

  Boone had that look. It made her stomach tighten and her blood feel like honey in her veins. That, combined with the way she already knew he would treat her, made guilt pinch even tighter.

  She only needed to spend fifteen seconds with Bryan to know that, whatever Boone’s motivation tonight, he’d never be like Bryan. She owed him an apology. Unfortunately she didn’t seem to be able to make a solid decision and stick with it. Maybe it was hormones. Normally she was decisive and went after what she wanted. This whole auction and will had stripped that from her.

  “You’ll have to find that out for yourself,” Bryan snapped, “because I’m not telling you. Where’s my kid?”

  “He’s with friends. I didn’t think he needed to see what went on tonight.”

  “I think you sent him away because you knew I was going to be here.”

  “How would I have known that?” She had full custody, but if Spencer wanted to visit his father, she had to allow it. If they couldn’t work the logistics of that out, they had to go back to court. So far, it hadn’t been an issue. Bryan hadn’t spent much time with him, and Spencer didn’t know him well enough to want to visit him.

  He ignored her question, which didn’t surprise her. “I’ll be sending some lawyers around to make sure that everything that happened tonight was legit. If it wasn’t...” Bryan gave a little shrug like how could he help it? “Then I suppose you two could stay married, but the money and the ranch should go to the highest bidder.”

  He didn’t need to be making their lives miserable. That’s all it was, since the attorney had just read from the will. But she kept her mouth closed. Bryan was all swagger and bluster. He didn’t like to be shown up, and he wasn’t afraid to throw money around, but his attention span was about three seconds long, and he’d forget about her before the next sparkly thing caught his eye. As long as she didn’t provoke him.

  Boone stood across the yard in the circle of men with his hands folded across his chest, his feet planted, listening with a thoughtful look on his face. He was in the light, and she was in shadow, so he probably couldn’t see her staring. He looked good, and she was sure she wasn’t the only female who was admiring him.

  Luke—she thought he was from the harvest crew—and Boone’s brother Mav came over, grabbing Boone by the shoulders and spinning him around. They were both talking at once, and Roxie guessed it probably had to do with what she’d talked him into doing.

  Would he tell them he’d been seduced by a daughter of Eve? Somehow, she couldn’t imagine it. She was almost certain Boone would keep his mouth closed and not say anything. But she couldn’t watch, because she knew she was guilty.

  She dragged her eyes away.

  Bryan touched her arm. “I just want to make sure things are fair. And legal.”

  She pulled back, and his hand dropped. Words. That’s all they were. He didn’t give a fig about fair, and he didn’t care about legal, either. Any more than it benefited him.

  She tried to stop her negative thoughts. Maybe Bryan had changed. People did that all the time. She’d done it. She definitely wasn’t the woman she was when she married him.

  Giving him the benefit of the doubt was hard, especially after what he’d done, but she needed to try.

  She didn’t, however, need to stand here and listen to him. “I’m tired. Good night, Bryan.”

  Not giving him a chance to answer, she turned and walked up the steps and into the house.

  BOONE’S MOTHER FOUND him before he’d been married for an hour.

  He felt the firm hand on the small of his back while he talked with Clay and Reina. Clay had rescued him from Mav and Luke, who’d been bent on giving him a hard time, as he deserved. He hadn’t argued back. What was there to say?

  But his mother...

  Clay and Reina melted away, leaving him alone with the woman who’d had seven children and one on the way when her husband died.

  She’d changed his diapers, spanked his butt, driven him to the ER more times than he could count, and somewhere along the way, she had browbeaten a little bit of character and integrity into him.

  To say she was strong and determined was to not give her nearly enough credit.

  But he saw only love and forgiveness in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Her brows furrowed just a little as though she hadn’t even wanted him to say that much.

  “You know I’ll love you no matter what. And you don’t need to apologize. Not to me.” The hand on his back slid around his waist, and he pulled her matronly figure close to his side.

  She smelled like yeasty cinnamon, and her eyes glowed with love. It only made him feel worse.

  He swallowed. “I know you will. And you know I do. You taught me better, and I didn’t live up to the man you raised me to be.”

  She shook her head gently, her wrinkled, work-browned hand waving in the air. “Don’t you know that no one is perfect? Don’t you think I know it too? Surely you don’t think I expect perfection from my children?”

  “I expect myself to walk in this world, representing my God and my family and doing it in a way that none of you are ashamed to point at me and say, that’s my kid.”

  “And you have.” She pointed her finger and poked him in the chest. “That’s my kid. You’re going to be an amazing husband. And dad.” She grinned. “I’m giving you a week, then I’m coming to butter up to my new daughter-in-law. I want her to drop that baby in my arms on her way out of the hospital.”

  Boone laughed. “You do not. But I’m sure you’ll fight for snuggling rights.”

  “I will.”

  A promise to make sure she got them was on his lips, but he couldn’t promise something he wasn’t sure he could deliver.

  “I hope I can make sure you get them.”

  Her brows drew down, and concern filled her eyes. “I guess I don’t know all the details, but being that you’ve been gone all summer, that Roxie has been at Sweet Water every time I’ve worked in the office, and that I’ve never seen you two together, maybe you have a little romancing to do with your new wife?”

  “Yeah.” He wasn’t going to go into the details. His mother had been very sweet and understanding, but he was pretty sure his actions at Clay’s wedding would shock her. They still shocked him, to be honest.

  “She’s fierce, but she’s loyal and honest.” His mother nodded. “Your personalities are almost opposite, but I think you’ll get along well.” She shot him a sideways glance. “She’s been in church all summer.”

  He looked over her head, unable to meet her eyes.

  “I’m sure you’ll see us.” It was weird to think of himself as an “us.”

  “I’d better get going. Charlie wasn’t interested in coming and stayed home to take care of the stock by herself. I can’t believe she hasn’t texted me asking where I was.”

  “You can tell her maybe she shouldn’t have skipped the auction and she wouldn’t have missed her brother’s wedding.”

  His mother laughed. “Well, I hope
it’s your last wedding, but if you do do it again, maybe you could be slightly more traditional. Although the cheapness factor would make your Norwegian ancestors very proud.”

  “I’m all about cheap and making the ancestors proud.”

  He kissed his mother’s cheek, and she patted his before she strode off. He was smiling, grateful that she’d taken the time to stop and talk to him. He felt a lot better knowing their relationship had not been ruined by his wrong actions.

  It took until the wee hours of the morning to get everyone who wanted to take their purchases home organized and moved out. Boone hadn’t been given any jobs, and the deed to the property wasn’t in his name and wouldn’t be for two months, but he still felt responsible. It was a good feeling, he had to admit.

  There was still equipment and some animals in the barn whose purchasers were coming back to claim Sunday afternoon, but the last person had pulled out of the drive, and he and Roxane were alone in the house, aside from, he thought, the housekeeper.

  The light gray sky promised a sunrise, the first of his marriage, as he walked into the house, hungry and tired. Their house. Roxane’s and his.

  Yesterday morning this time, he’d had no clue that today would start with his name linked to Roxane’s and them sharing a house. He hadn’t even known what her name was.

  Bending down, he took his boots off, leaving them on the stoop. There was probably a place for them, but he’d figure that out later.

  He had his stuff, what there was of it, in a few boxes at his old ranch. Of course, his pickup was still in Rockerton. He’d changed the tire, but it wouldn’t start.

  The truck driver who had brought him here, an owner-operator who lived just north of Sweet Water, had stopped to fuel then offered Boone his tools.

  Boone had bummed a ride instead, figuring he didn’t have time to fix whatever the problem was.

  He walked through the office, familiar because his mother had worked here, part-time, for years, and on into the kitchen.

  Roxane wasn’t up yet, which didn’t really surprise him.

  He was hungry and thirsty, but he kept going.

  He supposed he wanted to see Roxane. She’d be in bed, and he wasn’t going to start opening bedroom doors just so he could find her and look at her, but he couldn’t stop his feet from moving. Through the formal dining room, with its big, shiny wood table, and on into the living room, which looked out into the yard and beyond to the makeshift platform where he’d gotten married last night. It seemed like a dream.

  Although, he supposed, in his dreams he’d never spent his wedding night the way he just had.

  He was tired, but he didn’t want to lie down, or he wouldn’t be getting up for church. He didn’t know if Roxane was planning on going, but he didn’t want her going by herself on her first day as a married woman if she was. If she didn’t, he’d go anyway. It’d sure be nice to have his wife beside him, but he had an idea Roxane wasn’t going to be one of those kinds of wives that stood around trying to make their man look good.

  Maybe she’d grow into it. He grinned. More likely he’d end up being Mr. Roxane. He’d reserve judgment on that idea.

  He turned and moved from the window, thinking to check out the upstairs, where he’d never been, but he stopped when his eye caught on the couch.

  Roxie lay there, sleeping, in the same clothes she’d worn last night, minus the shoes.

  Maybe it was a good sign that she’d waited on him?

  Or maybe she hadn’t felt well.

  He hoped that wasn’t it. If it was, he should have been in here with her rather than out messing with the equipment. Man, married less than a day, and he’d already screwed up.

  She lay on her side, her knees tucked up, her hands folded under her chin. There was a line between her brows like she had a headache or like she was thinking hard, even while sleeping. He hoped that line wasn’t there because of him.

  He didn’t have any idea which room was hers, but he wanted to carry her up and put her to bed, easing that line between her eyes with a comfortable, familiar mattress and soft sheets.

  Normally he wasn’t wishy-washy in his decisions, but he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate him touching her. She hadn’t seemed overly thrilled about his interruption in the auction earlier, and it had to have been hard for her last night, knowing she had to get married but not knowing which man she’d end up with.

  But she had that city-girl hardness, and she hadn’t seemed scared. Not even a little. A man couldn’t help but admire grit like that.

  Still, it made him cautious, too. She might be lying on a shotgun.

  Her eyes drifted open, just a second of hazy confusion before reality snapped them clear.

  She started to push up, the line in her forehead deepening. Headache, for sure.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you. You can stay there. I just thought you might be more comfortable upstairs.” He kept his voice low. Nothing worse than loud noises when a person had a headache.

  “I need a drink.” She kept pushing up.

  “I’ll get it.”

  “No, I have...other things I need to do.”

  He stepped back. Unsure, a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t like. He’d committed his life to this woman, and it was odd to think he was married to someone he didn’t even know. Who he wasn’t sure even liked him.

  She headed toward the hall, slowly at first then moving more quickly, until she was almost running. He assumed she was headed toward a restroom. Of course.

  The housekeeper wasn’t up or about. Maybe she had Sundays off. Maybe she had off because of the auction. The amount of information he didn’t know was frustrating.

  Well, he was about to learn where the glasses were kept.

  By the time she came out, white with a sheen of sweat, he had a glass of ice water and a cut lemon on the counter.

  “Water?” he asked, nodding at it.

  She shook her head. “Not ice. I need...” She swallowed heavily, swung around on her foot, and strode back out of the kitchen.

  He’d been really sure last night when he’d been standing in front of the lawyer that marriage was something he could handle.

  Now? It seemed it might be a little more complicated than he’d suspected.

  Chapter 10

  Roxie knelt in front of the toilet, one hand holding her hair, the other on the cool, porcelain back of the tank. At least she’d managed to get the water in the sink turned on this time. If Boone were standing outside the door, he wouldn’t hear her gagging and retching, anyway. Not that there was much of anything coming up.

  This was not exactly the way she’d pictured the morning after her wedding.

  Probably not part of Boone’s fantasies, either. And this was his first.

  She couldn’t help it, though. This was the worst she’d felt yet. And her head pounded and hurt to the point that she couldn’t keep her forehead from wrinkling. She’d never felt a headache in her legs before, but the pain was so intense it seemed to echo down her thighs.

  She’d seen her image in the mirror, and she looked like a college kid on a three-day drinking binge, while Boone, her...husband, looked like he could pose for the cover of a best-selling novel. She flushed the toilet and pushed off the floor, feeling weak and miserable and hardly able to keep her eyes open without her brain feeling like it was going to leak out. She definitely couldn’t afford to lose any of it.

  She washed her hands once more and wiped her face, carefully avoiding looking at herself. There was nothing she could do about her washed-out, pasty complexion. She hardly could bring herself to even care. She just wanted some pain pills and the ability to keep them down. And maybe a little relief from the nausea and throbbing, and at some point, she probably needed to figure out what in the world was going to happen with her marriage.

  The idea of her...husband waiting in the kitchen made her stomach tighten again but thankfully not to the point of dropping her back on her knees.

  She cleared he
r throat, straightened her spine, and reached for the door handle.

  He was standing at almost the exact same spot, only this time she smelled coffee. The smell turned her stomach and made her throat spasm, but there wasn’t anything in her stomach to come up, and she swallowed against the dry heaves.

  “It’s room temperature.” The cowboy nodded his head at the water glass now on the counter. No ice.

  It made her want to cry. She fought that urge with all the strength she had. Just what she needed on top of the spectacle she’d already made of herself. At this point, he had to be concerned he’d married a crazy woman.

  She wasn’t sure she could swallow water with the smell of coffee in her nose. But the pain medication was directly behind him in the cupboard over the stove. Normally she wasn’t shy about saying what she wanted, but in the ten minutes she’d been up, she’d already thrown up twice and rejected his ice water. The man had to have a limit of what he could or would take.

  Although he’d treated her with gentleness and consideration, the same way he’d treated her at the wedding.

  Again, her eyes started to water.

  “The pills are behind you, and I need them.” Her voice squeaked some; she just couldn’t help it. Her throat was tight, and she wasn’t going to be able to hold the tears she didn’t even know why she was crying for much longer.

  His eyes widened, but he turned, digging through the cupboard and grabbing the bottle. “Two?”

  “Yes,” she said, adding a “please” on and hoping it didn’t sound too much like begging.

  He shook them out and held his hand out to her. His palm was big and rough, and she remembered how gentle it was and how carefully he’d treated her.

  She fumbled, finally grabbing the pills, and swiped the glass of water off the counter. “I’m going back to bed,” she managed to say as she turned, unable to stop the water from gushing out of her eyes, although she did stifle the sob that clogged her throat.

  He had to stop being this nice to her. All it did was confirm that Clay’s wedding hadn’t been a fluke and that he’d truly shown her then the exact kind of man he was. Only she was miserable and mean and sick and ugly, and she didn’t deserve him, and he’d figure that out soon, if he hadn’t already, and he’d hate her and probably leave, then she could be miserable and lonely and pregnant alone.