Married by Christmas (Sapphire Springs Book 2)

by Angie Campbell

  Brock sighed in frustration as he watched the women file in and find their seats. He had known this wasn’t going to be easy, but he hadn’t realized it was going to be nearly impossible. Right now, he was wanting to strangle his lovely assistant. There was no way, even if he had been intending to in the first place, he would marry one of these crazy women. And he would bet the whole newspaper, the ranch and all the money in his bank accounts along with all his stocks and bonds his beautiful assistant had known that when she picked them. Ladies? Not even close. He was starting to question his decision to make her jealous in this way. Apparently, it had only made her angry. Maybe I’ve stared at her wonderfully rounded behind too long, and it’s addled my brain.

  Ashley Mullins cleared her throat, obviously trying to draw his attention. He turned toward her, trying to hide his obvious irritation. “Yes, Miss Mullins?”

  “Wouldn’t this work better if you saw us one at a time?” she asked far more politely. She was probably afraid if she snarled at him the way she had Mary Ellen, it would hurt her chances of being selected. He could have told her she would stand a better chance of surviving an Alaskan blizzard in a bikini. “You really need to explain things to your assistant. I realize she’s probably never had a date in her life, but this is ridiculous.”

  “If you must know, I asked her to get you all here at once.”

  “But that’s ridiculous,” Miss Mullins huffed. “You don’t take three women on a date at once.”

  “Well, Miss Mullins, this is not a date.”

  “He wanted you all three here at once. Well, not you three specifically. But three individuals willing to consider marriage. So he could decide if he wanted to see one of you on a one on one basis,” Mary Ellen hissed, where she stood at the door. She had returned, out of guilt, to check on Brock. “Are you in such a hurry to get your hands on him, you can’t wait another day?”

  “Someone jealous, much?” Miss Mullins smirked. “Seriously, Mary Ellen, you should know by now, no man that looks like Brock, and has his level of success, is going to settle for the fat chick that works in his office.”

  “That will be more than enough, Miss Mullins,” Brock snarled in irritation. Even if the jealously comment had made his hopes soar, he didn’t want the woman talking to Mary Ellen like that. “Mary Ellen, did you need something?”

  “No. I just left in such a hurry, I didn’t think to ask you if you needed anything else,” she answered, trying to bring her temper back under control.

  “Seriously, Mary Ellen, what could he possibly need from you,” Miss Mullins scoffed.

  “Miss Mullins, one more snide comment, and I’ll have you bodily removed from the building,” he said, eyeing her hard. “No, Mary Ellen. I’m fine.”

  She nodded in response before giving the other woman a dirty look, then stormed out of the door, slamming it behind her.

  “Before we go any farther, please, call me Mr. Silverman,” he stated with a sour look. “And Mary Ellen is not fat. You could stand to gain a few pounds, yourself.”

  He stood and strolled toward the door, so he could stick his head back out, quickly changing his mind about needing her in there with him. “Mary Ellen, please, come back in here.” He was nearly pleading with her, and he looked like his big, brown eyes were going to pop out of his head.

  She sighed in frustration. “Fine. Just give me a minute.”

  She watched him retreat and close the door behind him. “Great,” she huffed, standing to her feet. “I really don’t want to go back in there with those three bimbos.” She took a deep breath and straightened her top, deciding to just get it over with.

  She was so flustered by her current situation, that when she walked into his office, she asked, “Yes, Brock, what do you want?”

  “Gee, Mary Ellen, you’ve worked with him for three years, and you don’t know he wants you to call him Mr. Silverman?” Miss Mullins snapped, starting to lose her patience.

  “She’s free to call me Brock if she chooses,” he said, grinning at an obviously shocked Mary Ellen as it occurred to her, she had called him by his first name. “As a matter-of-fact, I’ve asked her to call me Brock several times.”

  “Then why do I have to call you Mr. Silverman?” she huffed.

  “You and I aren’t on a first name basis, Miss Mullins. And we never will be. Ladies, you all may leave. Have a nice day.”

  “Aren’t you going to pick one of us as your bride?” she snapped.

  “No.”

  “But Mary Ellen, the little idiot, said you wanted to get married.” If this had been a cartoon, there would have been steam whistling out of her ears.

  “Mary Ellen is not an idiot,” he stated with force, his brow pinched together. “I do want to get married. Just not to any of you. The misunderstanding was my fault. I didn’t explain very well what I wanted in a wife.”

  “Well, I never,” she huffed. “I think I’ve just been insulted.”

  “I can see how you might feel that way, and personally, you’re way too skinny for my taste,” he said with a smirk, barely holding back a chuckle when she gasped. “Mary Ellen, will you, please, see these ladies out?”

  A few minutes later, Brock stood at the window, watching the three women leave, much the same way he had watched them arrive. He was still trying to figure out what Mary Ellen was thinking. Had she reacted out of jealousy, or just plain anger at him for asking her to do something she didn’t feel was her job.

  He shook his head on a sigh and made the short trek across his office to the door. He rested his hand on the knob a few seconds before taking a deep breath and opening the door a few inches. He stuck his head through the small opening he had made and looked around before leaving the relative safety of his office.

  He hadn’t been sure what he was going to find when he walked into her office but flying office supplies had been a possibility. It had happened once before when he had made her angry. This time, however, when he spotted her across the room working, most likely to sort out his horrible filing mistakes, she was smiling. Rather smugly. Considering his bad filing usually had her ranting for several hours, she had to believe she had won this battle. She didn’t realize the game wasn’t over yet.

  He stepped up to her desk and cleared his throat. She turned, giving him a guilty look, which only confirmed his suspicions. “Yes, Mr. Silverman?”

  “Brock, Mary Ellen. Come on, you can do it,” he grinned. “I think after the debacle you just caused, you should definitely call me by my given name.”

  “What, you didn’t like the choices I picked for you?” she asked, giving him a sweetly, innocent look.

  “You know I didn’t.”

  “Well then, maybe you should look for a wife yourself,” she suggested, batting her eyelashes at him.

  “Yeah, you’re not off the hook,” he smirked. “We’re going to talk about this later.”

  “What’s there to talk about?” she snarled. “I obviously don’t know what you want in a wife.”

  “That’s okay. You can learn,” he said with a broad grin, realizing she had no idea how he really meant it. “Right now, however, I’m taking the rest of the day off. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “But what about the paper?”

  “You can put it to bed,” he said, strolling to her outer office door. “You’ve done it before. Besides, you’ll have Fred and George here with you.” Not waiting to see if she had anything else to say, he hurried out, closing the door with a snap.

  9:09am

  Brock walked into the Sapphire Café with an absentminded frown on his handsome face, his thoughts still back at the office with Mary Ellen. His intentions had been to make her jealous, and he had obviously been successful in making her feel something. He just wasn’t sure what that something was. He had even been willing to go so far as to pretend to marry one of the others. He didn’t think he’d be very convincing, however, if every time he looked at his bride-to-be, he looked like he was in physical pain, or was
going to be sick. Or both. Probably both.

  She’d certainly managed to mess up his plans, but why had she bothered? Was it jealousy, or just irritation over the request? Okay, if he was honest with himself, he had pretty much forced her to do it. She could have refused, but she probably figured he would just keep nagging at her. And he would have. Right then, he was really wishing he could just read the woman’s mind. He didn’t want to read every woman’s mind. Just hers.

  “Hello, Brock,” someone said from behind him. When he turned, it was to find Jenny Harris at a table near the door, eating chocolate pie and peach cobbler. “Where were you just then? You looked like you were a million miles away.”

  “Thinking,” he grinned. “I was wondering if the rumors were true. I see they are.”

  “What rumors?” Jenny glared.

  “You’re already pregnant again.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Mark told me about the chocolate pie and peach cobbler when you were pregnant with Gavin,” he smirked.

  “Alright, you’ve got me,” she huffed.

  “I need to talk to you about something,” he said, pulling a chair out to take a seat.

  “I bet you do,” she smirked just as Stephenie walked up with a menu.

  “Hey, Brock. You been in trouble already today?” she smirked, trying to hand him the menu. He just waved it away.

  “Nothing new. I’m always in trouble,” he sighed. “Just give me two orders of bacon and sausage each, four scrambled eggs, a large pile of hash browns with peppers, onions and cheese, two slices of toast, a small stack of pancakes, a large orange juice, a chocolate milk and coffee.”

  “Is that all?” Stephenie asked in a dry tone. “Are you sure you don’t need a biscuit and gravy with that? Maybe a bowl of oatmeal with fruit?”

  “Look,” he said, pointing at Stephenie. “A side of sarcasm with breakfast,” he grinned at Jenny. “They really do offer everything at this café.”

  “One half of the zany twins, and he thinks I’m sarcastic?” Stephenie said, raising her eyebrow at Jenny.

  Jenny just laughed, eyeing Brock. “You do have to admit, that’s a lot of food for one person.”

  “Yeah-yeah-yeah. I’m hungry.”

  “You don’t say,” Jenny snorted.

  “I didn’t eat supper last night or breakfast this morning. I was too nervous,” he grumbled as Stephenie walked off. “I’m used to eating a big breakfast.”

  “Speaking of your being too nervous, how did your bid for a wife go this morning?” Jenny smirked.

  “So, that was what she was ranting about when Zane saw you two last week,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand across his face.

  “Of course. Mary Ellen tells me everything.”

  “Yeah, I guess I should have realized that. You guys have been in each other’s back pockets since you were five.”

  “She told me all about your request last Monday. She wasn’t happy.” Jenny gave him a mysterious look, as if she was waiting for him to figure something out.

  After a few seconds of staring at her in confusion, he shook his head to clear it. “Yeah, I figured that out. Did she tell you who she picked as my choices?”

  “Of course. It was the three most self-centered, gold digging ladies of our fair town.”

  “Like I was going to choose one of them.”

  “She really didn’t expect you to marry one of them. Of course, you never intended to marry one of them anyway, did you.”

  He sat up straight, giving her a wide-eyed stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She just chuckled. “Sure, you don’t?”

  “I fully intend to get married,” he assured her.

  “I don’t doubt that one bit. It’s your intended bride that I question.”

  “What are you trying to get at?” he asked, sounding nervous.

  “Oh, please. Stop playing dumb,” she snorted. “It doesn’t become you. You may pull crazy stunts when you’re dealing with Mary Ellen, but you’re not stupid.”

  “Fine,” he sighed. “You’ve figured me out. Now, what do I do?”

  “You mean you haven’t figured it out yet?” Jenny asked, wanting to slap him right between the eyes. “You’re as bad as she is.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, glaring at her. “What am I supposed to have figured out.”

  “She’s in love with you,” she answered, giving him a dirty look. “And don’t tell her I told you, or my being pregnant again won’t save me from her strangling me.”

  He shook his head vigorously, giving her a disgruntled look. “No, she’s not.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “If she is, why hasn’t she said something before now?”

  “Same reason you haven’t told her. She doubts herself.”

  “I do not doubt myself,” he fired off quickly, then immediately blushed and dropped his eyes to the table.

  Jenny raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

  He gave her a long sigh, dropping his head, nearly bouncing his forehead off the table. “No, not really. I suffer from self-doubt all the time. Especially where Mary Ellen is concerned. She’s making me crazy.”

  “Well, stop. She’s in love with you. Do something about it, before she takes a baseball bat to your favorite car. I’m pretty sure if she does, Phillip is going to blame you, not Mary Ellen.”

  “She wouldn’t!” he exclaimed. Then asked, “Would she?” sounding far less certain.

  “I doubt it, but I’ve never seen her this frustrated before,” Jenny contemplated. “You’re making her pretty crazy, too. And she has threatened it a time or two. There is definitely a chance your GTO is in danger.”

  5:37pm

  “Well, Charlie, do you think I’ve lost my mind?” Brock asked the paint horse as he brushed his coat down before heading into the house for his own shower and rub down. “Everyone else seems to think I have.”

  “Well, now I see you’re talking to the horses. Of course, that’s probably better than talking to yourself. Old Charlie here could probably find a better solution. How old is Charlie anyway?”

  “Hello, Zane,” Brock stated without turning around. “Charlie just turned fifteen. And what do I owe the pleasure of your company,” he asked as he walked away, going to put all the equipment up he’d just been using to groom Charlie. “I’m certain you’d rather be with Amanda right now, instead of here with me, freezing your hide.”

  “You’re right,” Zane agreed. “I’d much rather be with Amanda, but I needed to make sure you were still breathing and in an upright position.”

  “Why is that?” Brock asked, sounding surprised.

  “I overheard Ashley Mullins talking to one of her many cronies in the coffee shop earlier.”

  He raised a questioning eyebrow at the other man and snorted, “Many cronies?”

  He just shrugged nonchalantly. “I was being nice.”

  “Okay, just continue,” he said, waving his hand in the air, indicating just how little he really cared.

  “She was ranting about you having her dragged to the paper with two others to pick someone to marry, then sending them packing,” Zane chuckled. “And something about you insulting her.”

  “I didn’t have anyone dragged anywhere,” he said with a slightly sheepish look. “I did, however, state that she was way too skinny for my taste. She didn’t take it well.”

  “Hey, dragged was her word. Not mine. I understand the too skinny bit, completely,” he added with a shiver. “She’s nothing but skin and bones.”

  “You’re the one that dated her,” Brock stated with a confused look.

  “Then I should know,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Besides, I wasn’t dating her. I was just passing time.”

  “If that’s what you want to call it.”

  “And the dragging her to the paper wasn’t the part I was worried about.”

  “Well, what were you worried about?”

&n
bsp; “That she might have tried to kill you.”

  “Not so far.”

  “So, I’m almost afraid to ask, but if Ashley Mullins was one of the women Mary Ellen picked, who were the other two?”

  “Melanie Sharp and Teresa Chance.”

  “Ouch!” Zane hissed. “Wow, she was angry. That’s some pretty rough choices. Melanie Sharp is almost as skinny as Ashley Mullins, even if she isn’t as mean, and I think Teresa Chance could freeze off the more delicate parts of a man’s body just by staring at him.”

  “Tell me about it,” he agreed, nodding. “I think she hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  “How can you be sure of that?”

  “Well, how would you react if she asked you to find her a husband? I’m sure you wouldn’t come up with the best possible candidates.”

  “No, I’d lock her up until she agreed to marry me,” he snarled. “There’s no way I’d help some other man marry my woman.”

  “Well, now that we’ve got the possessive, caveman grunting out of the way, did you hear anything you just said?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled with another sheepish look. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

  “You could say that,” Zane nodded. “Due to lack of size and strength, she probably couldn’t lock you up and doesn’t realize you’d go willingly as long as she was locked in the room with you. Giving you horrible choices was her version.”

  “Now what do I do?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll come up with a new idea, equally as crazy as this one.”

  “That’s not helping.”

  He chuckled, giving him a big cheesy grin. “Oh, you wanted help.”

  “Zane,” he growled, giving the man a dirty look.

  “I don’t think intentionally doing something like what happened with Mark and Jenny would be as bad as this,” Zane thought out loud, not realizing the insanity he was getting ready to set off, quite by accident.