The Cowboy's Make Believe Bride (Wyoming Matchmaker Book 2) Read online

  Truth was, whatever this was couldn't happen again. The waters with Cori were too muddy to swim in. When the time came to settle down, it wouldn't be with someone like Cori.

  She pushed away, sliding off his lap and to the ground with a thump. “You're right. I could have come out here with Deke, and this might have happened. I think, for us, it’s because we've been stuck together for the past twenty-four hours.” She rose, picked up her flashlight and the shotgun, and then went to the truck. Fort was still sitting on the ground when her door slammed.

  16

  Fort woke the next morning disoriented and frustrated. He'd had indecent dreams most of the night. Many of them had Cori underneath him writhing in pleasure. The others were with him under her. She hadn't talked to him since leaving the tracks last night. He wondered how today would go.

  He rubbed a hand over his face and tried to get his shit together. There were jobs to be done around the ranch that required his lazy ass to be out of bed. Just like him, the animals were hungry. The sun was just beginning to break, bringing with it a dusty yellow light that painted a swath of color across his bed. Rolling softly onto his back, he glanced toward Cori, wondering if she was awake. He expected to find her dead to the world, but she was blinking back at him.

  He dropped his head back onto the pillow. “You don't have to get up,” he said to her foot, extending an olive branch.

  She said nothing, so he searched for the right thing to say. He knew he'd hurt her feelings yesterday, but it had needed to be done. She was hired for a job, but last night they'd forgotten that. Let things get carried away.

  “Cori—”

  “I think you're right about the rules. We were smart to make them. We should stick by them.”

  “So no more of what happened yesterday,” he said. They needed to stay focused.

  “Right. We call everything a wash and start over.”

  He nodded and stared at her tiny feet. She carried so much on her shoulders. It was nice to see her laugh, and here he was an ass for trying to make it out like something it wasn't.

  “Cori, calling it a wash is not the same as calling it a mistake. You see that, don't you? I don't think anything that happened last night should be a regret.”

  She sighed so heavily the bed moved. “But I'm so good at regret.”

  “Did you really have to sell everything when your dad went to prison?” he asked her, or more like her foot since that was closest. “What did you do when you all lost the ranch?”

  “It would seem that good old Pops made sure to provide for Babs but not for the kid, so I worked at the supercenter and picked up odd jobs when I could. The thing for me was to get the most money possible. His lawyer told me if I let the government do it, they'd sell it for pennies. Since the money was going back to the city, I thought it only fair to do my best.”

  When everything had gone to shit with his dad, Fort was free and clear to walk away and never look back. Something he'd done without hesitation. So had his dad, and Fort had no idea where he was. Leaving had been easy. A clean slate ahead of him had been refreshing. In the Navy, he hadn't been known as Gambler Karl's kid. Even in Wolf Creek where people knew about his dad somewhat, it was all-superficial, and he liked it that way. Liked that part being in the past.

  Cori had experienced the exact opposite. “So you took this deal with Sabrina because...?”

  “The money. I'm going to get a fresh start. A do-over. Also, I came to get pictures.” She said it so wistfully he wanted her dream, too.

  “Are you going to open up your own studio or something?”

  Cori sat up on her elbows, and he did the same.

  “One day. But for now, I'd like to enter a national competition and maybe win some money. I'd like validation that I'm good enough. Might even finish my degree.”

  He looked at her legs, stretched out beside him and thought about what it must be like to be here. To go through what she did. Now he knew why she was so skinny, because she gave to everyone first. Probably even her money for food. Damn that Charlie Walters. He'd loathed the man something fierce when his dad had lost the ranch, but now, now he was disgusted by him, too.

  “I'm sorry, Cori. Your parents suck.” It was a pathetic attempt to say the right thing, but did such words exist in this situation? Doubtful.

  She laughed and fell back onto the bed. “Boy, do they ever.” She looked back at him. “But thanks for noticing. How about we stop talking before we ruin the moment with another fight or something?” Without waiting for him to reply, she rolled off the bed and padded to the bathroom.

  He was working again tonight so having Cori's help would go a long way. If he worked alone, there would be no way he'd get his share of the chores done before leaving for town, which meant he was making more work for Ma and Paul.

  When she stepped out of the bathroom in bare feet, towel drying her wet hair, face fresh from makeup, dressed in jeans and a loose top, he forgot what he wanted to ask her.

  “Take a picture, Be-so lame, it might last longer,” she said.

  He picked up her camera and did just that.

  “Hey,” she called, lunging for the camera. “No one touches the camera!” She laughed as he held it over his head, far out of her reach.

  “I have a favor to ask,” he said.

  “If I say no, will you harm my baby?”

  He quirked a brow and grinned. “Try and see.”

  She punched him in the stomach.

  "Oomph,” he said, but stayed upright. “I was wondering if you would help me with the chores. I'm running behind and don't want to leave Ma and Paul in a lurch.”

  Cori rolled her eyes. “Of course, I'll help. I have nothing to do today and would love to spend my time on the ranch. Now, give me my camera.”

  He handed the heavy piece of equipment to her. She cradled it lovingly. “Never threaten my camera,” she teased.

  “Wait for me, and I'll find you a jacket.” He escaped into the bathroom. He dressed quickly, brushed his teeth even faster, and skipped shaving. When he stepped out into his place, Cori was gone. Outside he found her feeding the goats.

  “I'm almost done here. Stalls are next,” she called when she saw him coming. She was swarmed by goats and laughing as she hand-fed a few. His Carhart jacket hung off her.

  “You should borrow a jacket from Mathias. He's more your size,” he said, coming up behind her and then leaning on the fence.

  “I saw your mom. She said you need to ride out with Paul. Go grab some food before you go. I got this.”

  Fort was instantly alert. “Did she say something was wrong?”

  “She didn't. Sorry. Do you think it’s the aliens?” She chuckled and worked her way out of the goats.

  “I'll let you know. Are you sure you're good if I do this?” She looked good, fresh with bright energy pulsing off her. She climbed up on the fence he was leaning against and sat on the top rail, looping her legs threw the one below to give her stability.

  “I miss being on a ranch. So I'm better than good with doing all this.” Her camera hung from a post and she lifted it, aimed the lens across the yard, and began capturing pictures of the horses.

  “There are wild horses up near the foothills. We could ride out sometime and try to catch them. You might get some amazing shots of them fighting. They can be brutal.”

  Cori sucked in air, her eyes large. “That would be awesome.”

  Judas Priest, she was adorable. She could easily distract him from...well, everything. He blew out a deep breath and searched for his bearings. He caught sight of Ma near the house and remembered he was needed by his step-father. “I should eat before I ride out,” he said, restating the obvious.

  “Better hurry on then Be-so-lame.”

  The sound of a truck coming down the lane caught his attention. He frowned. “Looks unlikely,” Fort said and pointed to the truck. “That's Bryce. Either Hannah's had the babies last night or something's up.”

  “You know that simply
because he's coming down the drive?”

  “I know it because he's going faster than normal and is supposed to be going to a livestock auction today in Cody. Considering the time, it's too late for that. Something's stopped him from going.” Fort pushed off the fence and went to meet the truck, Cori behind him.

  Bryce brought the truck to a quick stop, and the passenger door flung open. Hannah leaned out. “Don't make me come to you,” she hollered.

  Fort chuckled and went to her. “Bryce, Hannah. Is something wrong?”

  “Yes,” she said and handed him a stack of papers. “We've been at the library all morning. The big one in Elk’s Pass.”

  Big was subjective. Elk’s Pass was the town to the east and boasted a population of a few thousand more people than Wolf Creek and Bison's Prairie combined, hence the “bigger” library.

  “If some of the smaller papers would archive online, then we wouldn't have had to go. Don't get me started, though.” She crossed her arms.

  “Yes, please don't,” Bryce said, then winked.

  “What do these mean?” Fort asked while flipping through the pages. There were maps, and he figured he needed to spread them out to get the full scope.

  “I did a sheet on those numbers you gave me and something odd popped up.”

  “I'm listening.” The familiar pinging in his gut kicked in.

  “Apparently not only in our county but the next one over, ranchers are reporting weird cases of cows disappearing. Not large numbers either. Some as many as fifteen. Others as low as two. At the library, I found similar stories throughout Wyoming. I even found an article about this happening to a rancher in Montana. “

  “Aliens?” Cori said with a laugh.

  “No explanation,” Hannah said. “No clues either. Like the cows just up and vanished. Here's the thing, though. When you add up the numbers, it's pretty substantial. We're talking a couple thousand cows in the last six months alone. That's statistically significant. It's not even a blip when considering individual ranchers. A cow here, a cow there, but combined… Something is going on.”

  Fort rubbed his chin. “Okay, thanks Hannah. I'm gonna take a look at all this and see if I can find anything from other states.”

  “If you get me numbers, I'll run them through the sheet, look for something to pop.” Hannah rubbed at her belly. “Sooner than later, too. I think these two aren't going to stick to the schedule.”

  Bryce crossed both his fingers. “I'm ready for the next stage.”

  “Anyone else locally been complaining about losing heads?” Fort asked Bryce.

  As the local vet, he heard all kinds of stories. “Not specifically. Usually when I'm involved, we have bigger problems. But I'll ask when I see people.”

  Fort nodded then faced Cori. “Do you think you might have time to go to town?”

  Her grin gave the bright sun a run for its money. “Sure, I need to get some photos of Deke for the election. I was planning that for tomorrow, but I can go today. I also figured while I was in town, I might stop by the diner to tell everyone about your awful prank last night and casually drop that y'all are missing some cattle and see if anyone pipes up.”

  “That's my girl,” Fort said and slung an arm across her shoulder.

  “What prank?” Hannah asked.

  Cori wagged her finger. “No spoilers. You'll have to come to the diner to hear it firsthand or wait for the rumor mill.

  17

  Cori found Deke at his insurance office. She'd dressed the part of innocent newcomer by wearing a flowy floral skirt made of different patchwork fabrics, a solid T-shirt, a jean jacket, her cowboy boots, and paired everything with a confused expression. She'd gotten to be a master of controlling her features while living in Brewster.

  She was undeniably nervous. Insurance and those that sold it were a trigger for her. Her father had sold insurance before getting elected mayor. Good old Charlie Walters had used the guise of “he's got your back” to woo the hard working, gullible people of Brewster to spend their money with him. It was after he'd been elected mayor that he continued to sell insurance and use their trust against them. He passed laws with buried restrictions that would require ranchers to buy insurance they didn't need, or didn't exist, or else they paid a fat tax. Sometimes the tax was confiscating portions of their herd.

  Prior to entering the building, she pushed back her shoulders. Once inside, she was instantly confused by the setup of his office. Instead of a large secluded space in the back of the building, Deke's desk, a worn, ratty piece of furniture from the sixties, was in the main room. Even more confusing was that his secretary sat across from him. She hadn’t expected him to share space with the help. Her father's office had been grand, his secretary far away with walls between them. She supposed if her father had Deke's setup, he might not have gotten away with what he did for as long as he did.

  “Hey,” Cori said as she set her camera bag on the corner of his desk.

  “Well, if it isn't the future Mrs. Besingame. Sure you wanna do that? It’s an awful last name.” His smile was smooth, like melted butter on a pancake.

  Cori's stomach growled. “Excuse me,” she said and made a mock grimace. “It's not so bad, Fort's last name.” It felt disloyal to tell Deke she called him Fort Be-so-lame.

  “What can I do for you? I don't have much for food, but I do have some of these great snickerdoodles Mrs. Williams makes for me.” He produced a tin of cookies from his desk and offered her one.

  As hungry as she was, she did not do snickerdoodles. They reminded her of dear old dad. They were his favorite. “I'm on my way over to the diner for some lunch. I popped in because I'm the current photographer for The Critten County Rambler, and we'd like to get a picture for the paper to use for election articles. If you have a head shot you prefer to use, we can do that instead.”

  Deke stood. “Nope, I want you to take the picture. I'll go to the diner with you. Gives us a chance to get to know each other.” He turned to his secretary, an older woman Cori had seen before. “Mrs. Williams, I trust you to hold down the fort.”

  Cori went through her mental Rolodex, trying to place how she knew the name aside from the cookies. Mrs. Williams had made Fort's banana bread. She'd eaten half of the loaf last night. Unbidden images of their make-out session flashed through her mind. Her body heat rose as she recalled all the places he had touched.

  Her nipples puckered.

  Crap.

  She blew out a slow breath. Time for a distraction. “This is a cozy office,” she said. “I expected a big office in the back.”

  Deke was shaking his head. “I like to be where people can reach me. They have to know their insurance man is there for them. Just like I'll be when I'm their sheriff.” He stepped around his desk and gestured for Cori to precede him.

  Bile rose in her throat. Deke was just like her dad, and it was going to give her great pleasure to bring him down. Oh, yeah! Any fallout would be worth it.

  He reached for her camera bag, but she shifted it to the other shoulder. “I got it. But thanks. So, where's Conway? Maybe I could get a picture of the two of you. The ones I took at the airport were out of focus and, I'm embarrassed to say, poorly done.”

  “Conway likes to stay in the background. He's always saying this election is about me. Not him.” The walk to the diner was a slow, easy stroll.

  “How did Conway come about being your campaign manager?” She hoped her questions sounded innocent enough, simple curiosity. At worst, she could say she was passing the info along for the article.

  “I was in Cody, spent the day at the livestock auctions, and was out with a bunch of other ranchers from various areas. Subject came up and Conway, who was with someone, I'm not sure who to be honest, offered me some free campaign advice. Told me if I had any questions I could call him. I figured your beau would be entering the election and would give me a run for my money so I reached out to Conway and asked if he might be able to help.”

  “What does your wife th
ink of him?” She was curious about the woman who would marry a man like Deke. Her vapid, wanna-be-famous mother was the perfect match for Charlie. Who was the perfect match for Deke?

  He stopped walking.

  When Cori turned to face him, she was confused by the sadness on his face.

  “Why do you ask about my wife?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, the corners of his mouth downturned.

  “You mentioned your proposal at the airport. I was just curious how she felt about Conway.”

  Deke looked across the square, and Cori followed, trying to see what he was looking at. Trying to get into his head. All she saw was the church and attached graveyard, the library, and a quickie-mart.

  “My wife, Laura, died five years ago. I think if she was still here, I might not need the help of Conway. She would be all the counsel I'd seek.”

  Aw, poop-cicles. Her distrust of him wavered. “I'm so sorry, Deke. I didn't know.”

  “How could you? I'm sure my love life isn't something you and Fort talk about. Not the most romantic of pillow talk.” He smiled slightly and nudged her with his shoulder. “What are you gonna do?” he said, appearing to accept there was no changing the hand fate dealt him.

  “I'd hug you, but I'm sure that would get back to Fort pretty quick, and that wouldn't go over well. So how about I buy you some pie? Not that I'm saying pie will fix this, but it might make you feel better. Not that you need to feel better, but it’s better than booze, which you can't take back the aftermath of a bender. Not that I know about—”

  Deke tossed his head back and laughed. “Cori,” he said. “Stop. I'm not offended in case you thought I might be, but I'll let you buy me that pie so your conscience feels better.” He nodded forward with his head for her to start moving. “Let's go before the crowd gets there.”

  Relief washed over her. Last thing she wanted to do was offend someone, especially a guy who was a widower. Two steps later, she reminded herself that Deke was the enemy. He could potentially be the one who was organizing the theft of his neighbor's cows and was planning to use a public office for other nefarious activity. She was here to thwart him, after all.