Cowboys Don't Buy Their Bride at Auction

by Jessie Gussman

  By the time she got to the stairs, she was running, the water spilling out of the glass and her tears dripping off her chin. Her headache put a red haze over everything and bit into her skull with every step she took.

  If he was gone when she woke up, it was nothing more than she deserved.

  WHAT AN ARROGANT IDIOT he’d been.

  Sure, for the last eight or so years, he’d spent six to eight months of the year bunking in a travel trailer with five or six other men. He could count the number of fights he’d been in on one finger, and before that, he’d grown up in a small house with seven siblings and his mother. He would have said his people skills were pretty darn good. He’d have said he was pretty easygoing, easy to get along with, and not easily provoked. He’d have said he could get along with pretty much anyone.

  He’d have been wrong.

  He’d never experienced hate quite like that before.

  He walked into church, alone and late. It wasn’t that he’d needed to be late, because he’d had plenty of time to go out, check the stock and feed it, and still shower and drive to town. But he’d not wanted to answer any questions. Not about his marriage. Not about his bride. Not about his wedding night. He’d wanted to avoid the smirks and knowing or questioning looks.

  It would have been easier to stay home.

  He wasn’t big on “easier.”

  So he was in church. Heads swiveled when he came in, but he ignored them. He slid into the first available seat, not wanting to walk up the aisle and sit with his mother, Mav, and Charlie.

  Clay sat with Gee Gee on one side of him and Reina tucked in close on the other. They did a little whispering and a little laughing, and he ran his hand up and down her arm.

  Boone would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous. He hardly thought he’d have that with Roxane. Man, he couldn’t even get the woman to talk to him. And he was pretty sure she was so upset she was crying when she finally ran out of the kitchen, and he’d be dipped if he even knew what he’d done.

  Once, a few years ago, Mack had thrown a pretty big fit about someone buying, on accident, decaffeinated coffee. He’d tossed his cup in the sink and walked out of the travel trailer, but he’d walked back in five minutes later and apologized. It was the middle of harvest, and they all felt like they needed caffeine in the morning. No one was super happy, but they’d dealt with it and were laughing about it five minutes later.

  She was pretty upset about the ice water.

  He’d not seen Roxane again after she ran out of the kitchen. He’d kind of thought his marriage was going to be a little different than that. But whatever it ended up being, he’d have to be satisfied. Still, it’d be nice if she could figure out a way to at least be able to stand in his presence and talk about the weather or something.

  The pastor kept speaking, and Boone hadn’t even opened his Bible. He had no clue what book they were even in. Because the truth of the matter was his heart hurt. He didn’t really think he was in love with Roxane. Surely not, but he liked her pretty good. It was hard to face how little she thought of him. Or maybe how miserable being forced to be married to him made her feel.

  “Love is not selfish. If we claim to love someone, we show that by being willing to give up our desires for theirs.” Pastor Houpe continued on, but Boone had caught just exactly the statement the Lord had wanted him to, apparently.

  It’s what he needed.

  He wanted a marriage like Clay’s. Like his parents had had. One where his wife looked at him with love and devotion in her eyes and he served her happily because she loved and admired him so fiercely. Where they laughed and worked together and their days were busy and full of chores and ranch life and their nights...their nights could be just like Clay’s wedding, only he’d be less of an incompetent, awkward idiot and somehow better for her.

  But...if that wasn’t what she wanted, and it obviously wasn’t, then wasn’t he showing love, if that’s what he felt, by giving up his dream—what he wanted—and doing what would make her happy?

  He just wasn’t sure what that was.

  It wasn’t him standing in her kitchen in the morning. Maybe she’d rather not see him at all.

  Well, if that’s what she wanted, she was going to have to stand him long enough to tell him about it.

  He looked over, suddenly remembering the night they sat in the church and talked. Everything looked different in the daylight and especially on Sunday morning.

  She hadn’t seemed to hate him then. Of course, he hadn’t interrupted her auction and forced her to marry him yet.

  He sighed and looked back at the pulpit. He probably should ask someone for advice, but he supposed the Y chromosome kept that from being an option he would seriously consider. He’d rather figure it out on his own.

  But, if he loved her, he’d give up what he wanted for her, right? So...if things didn’t get better in a week, he’d ask his mom for advice when she came back to work.

  Church let out not long after, and Boone chatted with his family and a few friends, most of whom asked if his wife was sick. He’d answered in the negative several times before he realized he really didn’t know.

  After leaving the church, he stopped at the diner and got a couple of sandwiches and a container of soup to go. He should have checked if they needed groceries, and he could have picked those up while he was out.

  He couldn’t use any of the ranch’s money, but he had his own—what he’d earned for wages and what Abner had given him.

  It was more than enough to get them through until whatever “test” they had.

  His stomach tightened a little as he carried the food into the house, his Bible shoved under his arm. He managed to balance it in one hand while he opened the back door and walked through the office to the kitchen.

  He stopped in the kitchen doorway and forgot to breathe.

  Roxie sat at the bar, a mug of something—not coffee—in front of her. She looked up, her eyes uncertain. She’d been determined, confident, and bold. She didn’t look any of those things right now. Boone wanted to find them and bring them back for her, but he didn’t know how.

  “Hi,” he said, hoping and praying she didn’t jump up and run out of the room. Again.

  “Hey.”

  He stood there, feeling a little like a high schooler, although even then, he’d never had too much trouble talking to anyone. But he’d never liked anyone the way he liked Roxane. And wanted her to like him.

  “It’s nice out.” Smooth. He couldn’t even think of anything intelligent to say about the weather.

  “Sunny.” Either she was having the same problem, or she just wanted to be rid of him.

  He stood there a little longer. Staring at her. Awkward.

  Her eyes finally dropped. They seemed to run over his chest and shoulders before she studied her cup like it contained a message from...a boyfriend? Was that what Cheston was to her?

  He wouldn’t find out without asking.

  Finally, he remembered the bag in his hand. He held it up. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I brought a couple of burgers and some chicken noodle soup home from the diner.”

  Her eyes closed, and she took a breath like she could barely stand to look at him.

  He was going to wait. Give her time. Let her talk to him. But he couldn’t wait. His heart couldn’t stand watching her force herself to be civil to him.

  Striding to the bar, he set the bag of food on the edge and laid his Bible down along with it. He moved forward and put one hand on the bar beside her mug and one hand on the back of her barstool.

  “What? Tell me what the issue is? Please?” He hated that he sounded like he was begging, but it tore him up to see her so upset she could hardly stand to look at him.

  He’d made a decision. He believed it was the right one. Now, he forced the words out of his mouth. “If you don’t want me here, just say so. I don’t have to be in the house if you hate me that much. I can live in the barn.” He grunted. “Trust me, I’ve slept
in worse places.”

  Now her shoulders were shaking, and she had a hand on her forehead, one wrapped around her stomach. Man, she looked so miserable.

  “Please...Roxie.” He used the nickname that everyone else used, but it felt more tender and sweet on his tongue. Maybe it was another reason for her to be annoyed at him. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you wanted to marry Cheston that bad. You can’t believe how badly I wish I’d never stepped in. I just thought...I just thought you’d rather have me.”

  He closed his eyes and dropped his head down. That wasn’t entirely true, and he needed to tell her that.

  “Okay. That’s not true. It’s not even close to being true. Last night, I wasn’t giving a thought as to who you’d rather have. I just knew I wanted you for myself.”

  “You mean you wanted the ranch for yourself.”

  “No. I mean I wanted you.”

  “You don’t want the ranch?’

  “I do. Of course I do. But I’d walk away from it right now if you’ll come with me.”

  “You’ll walk away from Sweet Water?” For the first time, her face lifted from her mug. It was blotchy and red, and it looked like she’d been crying.

  “If you come with me,” he said, hardly realizing he spoke. Her eyes were a beautiful amber, clear but so full of hurt and pain that he couldn’t stop his hand from moving from the chair and sliding down her hair to cup her cheek. Maybe she’d bat it away. Maybe she’d slap him, but he couldn’t not touch her.

  She seemed to believe that he’d bid because of the ranch. She’d said it several times now, and it finally dawned on him that it wasn’t just something she was saying but that she actually believed it. He had to admit he’d dismissed the accusations because they were so crazy. To him.

  Her eyes moved back to her cup, and he knew she wasn’t going to answer.

  He had to plead his case. “Would you look at me for a minute, please?” His voice was soft. There was anger in his chest. Anger that she could think that of him, but anger wasn’t going to help him right now, and he shoved it aside. He wasn’t typically the kind of man who got angry anyway.

  Her head tilted up, and those eyes met his again. Memories of those eyes filled with emotions other than hurt ran through his head, and he had to shove that aside, too. He couldn’t focus on his words if he started thinking about that.

  “Do you think, even for a second, if that had been any other woman standing on the platform last night, up for bid, do you think, even for a second, that I would have bid on her? After what happened in the C store? Anyone but you?” His words were slow, and there was true, unadulterated wonder in his voice.

  Her throat worked. She didn’t look down, but her eyes dropped to his shoulder. Good. At least she was still listening.

  “I thought you were getting married. Like a real wedding. I didn’t know if you loved the guy or not, but I assumed that you were getting married because you wanted to. It didn’t occur to me that you were the woman that went with the ranch. I guess I should have known it, and maybe I would have if I’d been working here all summer. But I wasn’t, and I didn’t.”

  He breathed out. He hadn’t really said what he wanted to. Hadn’t convinced her that he wouldn’t have bid on anyone but her.

  It would be easy to bring their baby into it. But even though he would have married her just to be a father and a family, that wasn’t the real reason why he bid, either. Even if it had been the excuse he used.

  His fingers slid off her cheek. Her eyes popped back to his. His hand that was on the bar moved over and touched her hand that lay by her mug.

  He wasn’t going to let things go where they’d gone before, but he wanted to touch her. She allowed his hand to cover hers.

  “I wanted you. But I thought you were getting married. Where I come from, that would have put you off limits to me. So, maybe I still would have gone to the auction. Maybe I would have bid. But I would have only done it if I believed, because you’d told me, that there was no chance for me to be with you because you were married.”

  “Then let’s walk away from Sweet Water.” Her head lifted, and her serious gaze met his.

  “You pick the place, and I’ll work until I drop to provide for you and our children.”

  Her eyes flickered, and he was pretty sure he’d surprised her with the comment about their children. Spencer was part of their family too.

  “Anywhere?”

  “I love North Dakota, but it’s more important to me that you’re happy.”

  “New York?”

  His heart dropped. Surely she was joking. Maybe she meant the state. There were farms in New York, surely.

  He nodded slowly. “You want me to live in the city?” His hand tightened over hers. “Might end up in jail, ’cause I’m feeling constricted just talking about it, but if that’s what you want.”

  “You’ll leave Sweet Water and move to New York City.”

  “Can I hold my nose while I do it?”

  “That wasn’t a yes, cowboy.”

  His lip curved up. “Already said I’d do whatever you want, Boston.”

  “Boston?”

  “You kinda look like a Boston. It has a nice ring to it, and—” He gave her a wink and a grin. “You’re starting to act a little more like yourself, so when that full personality comes back from wherever it went, I can shorten it and call you Bossy.”

  She’d flinched a little when he referenced her missing sass and spunk, but it came back with a little gasp and a toss of her head.

  “Well then, fine. I can tell you what to do. Slide the food over here and get me a spoon because I’m hungry.”

  He laughed, but he slid the food over and stood. “If we’re not staying here, I’m not going to bother trying to figure out where everything is.” He assumed the silverware was in a drawer. He opened four before he found it.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe it was just all those other guys coming and looking at the ranch and not one of them tried to talk to me or acted like they cared at all. It was all about the money and owning Sweet Water.”

  His heart tugged toward her, hurting just a little.

  He pulled out a spoon and shut the drawer. “Even Cheston?”

  “No.”

  He set the spoon in front of her then took the lid off the soup and set that beside it, sliding it carefully into place while trying to form his question in just the right way. She seemed to be better than she had been, but he didn’t want to do anything to set her off again until they got whatever it was worked out. “So...I got the impression last night and this morning that you were upset you ended up with me instead of Cheston.” He spoke slowly, looking at her spoon until the very last word when he glanced at her to see her reaction.

  She seemed shocked then appalled.

  That made him feel better, but it also confused him.

  “What made you think that?” she asked, her brows pulled tight together, the fire back in her eyes.

  He smiled, just because that spirit was one of the things he admired in her. But he also raised a brow. “Maybe because you didn’t seem happy that you got stuck with me. Last night, you didn’t seem to like me at all, and this morning...this morning, I was pretty sure you hated me.” He tilted his head. “I don’t want you feeling stuck or feeling hate.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I think you’re serious.”

  “Dead straight.”

  “Cheston was a friend of my ex. He was, is, a philanderer too.” Her eyes met his, straight on, like somehow she’d issued him a challenge.

  “Guess that makes him my opposite,” he said easily.

  Her lips twitched, and she looked away.

  That wasn’t really a subject he enjoyed joking about, and he really didn’t like her laughing about it, but it was what it was. He couldn’t change it, might as well embrace it.

  “Guess it’s up to you now if I’m ever going to get better.”

  She looked at him from under her lashes. He
couldn’t read that look. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t getting the cart out of line again. He needed to get the horse to like him first.

  “So, am I supposed to assume that you think you’re better with me than Cheston?” he asked, just because he wanted to be clear. He’d been so sure she hated him.

  She held her spoon suspended above her soup and stared at him. “I know I’m better with you. I just... I... It’s stupid, but I’m sick of feeling like the ranch was the only thing that mattered.”

  “You still feel like that?”

  “I think if we leave, it will solve that problem.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  She gave a half laugh. “I’m not sure I want to leave.”

  “Well, if we stay, I’m not going to pretend that I’m not going to work on this ranch, as hard as I can, to make it the best that I can. But I’ll do that wherever we go. I don’t do things halfway.”

  A small smile tilted her lips. “I’ve figured that out.”

  “I kinda felt like you didn’t, either.”

  “No. Usually I know exactly what I want, and I don’t have a problem going after it.”

  So, yeah. Maybe his grin was a little wolfish. “Think I figured that out a few weeks ago.”

  Her smile faded, and she stirred her soup absently.

  “Hey.” He touched her hand. Eventually they’d have to talk about that. If she regretted it, she might be happy to hear that it wasn’t his finest hour, either.

  “I’ve never done anything like that before. I’ve always been a Type A and, yes, bossy. Organized. But I’ve never slept around.”

  “And you regret the action? Or you regret the consequence?” he asked, referring to their baby.

  “The action, of course. I don’t regret the baby other than the way she’s complicated things.” She pushed her half-eaten soup away. “One of the many complications is that I didn’t hate you this morning. I was dealing with morning sickness, and I was embarrassed.” She sighed. “And unsure, I guess, too.”