The Cowboy Takes a Bride Page 3

Jace’s thoughts became a jumbled mess. A wife? Would she bail after the first week? How would Pops react?

  “Did you hear me?” Sabrina’s probe was gentle.

  He grunted.

  “But here’s the caveat. I know when you called me it was more out of desperation to make Pops happy, but it’s time you made yourself happy, too, Jace. You haven’t been the same since What’s-Her-Dummy left you.”

  “She has a name.” Truth was he didn’t like to say it either.

  “Yes, and drives a minivan with those family stickers on the back. She has two kids and a dog. She’s very happy reigning over the Junior League and Daughters of the American Revolution.”

  “So you’ve seen her?” It wasn’t that he ached to know more about his old girlfriend. He no more missed her than he would that grizzly should it leave. But he missed the idea of her. Of the dreams he had when they were together.

  “Unfortunately, I have. Do you think you’re open to a little happiness?”

  He’d have to be a nut to say no. “Sure.”

  “But it won’t be instant. I can’t just drop Meredith off, see you two get hitched, wave my magic love wand, and the two of you will live happily ever after. You’re going to have to work for it.”

  He shrugged. “Sure,” he repeated. He wasn’t by nature a mean or poorly tempered man, and adding another female to the fold should be easy enough. If she knew what she was getting into, then what could go wrong?

  That was a dumb question. Tons could go wrong.

  “Sure,” Sabrina mimicked. “You’re going to have to do all those things you’re afraid of. Things like share a bit of yourself, go on dates, ask her questions about herself, all those things you profess to have no time for. All the things you’ve avoided doing since Dumb-Dumb left.”

  “I’m not a Neanderthal.” His mother would box his ears if he so much as thought of being rude. Yet, go on dates? What would they talk about? His life was nothing but cows and bulls.

  Shit, nothing like realizing you were a boring-ass person. He didn’t even have a hobby.

  “No, you aren’t a Neanderthal. You’re a wonderful, caring man with a good sense of humor. You deserve to be happy, my friend, and I found the person who can give that to you if you’re willing.”

  Jace grunted. This here was the real deal. He’d called her in a moment of weakness, moments after the doctor told them the clinical trial of new meds wasn’t working and had exacerbated the symptoms. What they feared the most, losing time with Pops, had happened.

  “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Can’t she just come out and pretend for a while? Who is this woman? Did you say her name was Meredith? What if she hates it here? What if we don’t connect?” Because if he couldn’t be honest with his friend who was now his matchmaker and who had, ironically, begged him not to date his ex when he’d first floated the idea back in their sophomore year, who could he be honest with?

  “Meredith will need a gentle touch and some time. I’m not trying to liken her to an animal, but she needs the same tenderness you’ve shown those skittish horses of yours.”

  “Rina, this doesn’t sound like the best—”

  “Listen to me, Jace Shepard. You know I’m good at what I do.”

  This was, without question, true. He could list the friends she’d set up that were in happy, fulfilling marriages. It was ironic that the person love had betrayed was so good in the matchmaking and marriage department.

  “If there were two people in the world who needed each other more than you need Meredith and she needs you, I have yet to meet them. Ever. The minute I talked to her, I knew she was for you. She’s a beautiful person, and her mother and I served on several committees. I considered her mother a friend, a mentor. I’m trusting you with her. I have faith you can give her everything that she needs, and therefore will get everything you need in return.”

  Jace didn’t want to think about what that meant. These days, hope seemed to be an expensive commodity. “You used to be a friend of her mother’s?”

  “She passed.”

  Jace understood. He’d supported Sabrina when she grieved with the passing of her father. He was going through his own process now as he watched his father slowly fade away. The sadness that was bound to live in Meredith’s heart would be something he might not be directly familiar with yet, but he’d soon come to understand.

  “How old is she?” Because some girl expecting instant gratification in everything would not do.

  “She’s eight years younger than us.”

  He did the math in his head and whistled through his teeth. “That’s young.” A twenty-four year old would really have a hard time living this remotely. His sister was only a year younger and constantly complained about that lack of “everything” when she was home.

  “She’s not like you’re imagining. This is it, Jace. I know with all that I am she's the one for you. Are you ready for what I’m offering?”

  Maybe they could find a common bond to unite them, more than losing a parent, and find a companionship. He thought of his situation in terms of his father’s health and not the “forever” marriage was defined by.

  He’d sure like to sit on this fence with someone and share life with them. He’d settle for an easy friendship. Would it be hard to make friends with this woman? Shoot, he had lots of female friends. This would be no different. Ok, maybe a little different, but not much.

  “When?” he asked, his gaze reading the line his sister wrote on the paper.

  Find a wife and be happy

  “Friday, ten o’clock. That cute little church in town. Wear something appropriate. I can’t believe I have to tell you that.”

  “What does she look like? Maybe she's not my type. Maybe she could just stay here at the ranch to see if she likes it before—”

  “No. That’s not how this works. I've sent you a picture. Check your email. Regardless, you need a wife. Meredith needs a husband. Let’s get down to business and meet each other’s needs. We aren’t playing here. This is for keeps.”

  For keeps.

  Those two words forced him to sit up straight. He really should confess that for keeps wasn’t something he thought was attainable. Not that he wouldn’t take it, but he wouldn’t expect it.

  Think of Pops.

  What harm was one little white lie? “OK,” he said, his voice drifting away with the wind.

  “I beg your pardon? What was that?”

  He could hear the smile in her voice. “I said I’m in.”

  Sabrina laughed. “I’m actually very excited. Not only will this be the first wedding I’ve ever attended for one of my matches, but I’m past ready to see you happy.”

  “Do I meet you there? Want me to come to the airport or anything?”

  “No, meet us there. Make sure you go down to the county clerk and get the marriage license. I’ve emailed you all the docs you’ll need.”

  “All right. Anything else?” He cataloged it like he did all his business transactions.

  “Didn’t you say you had family or something that worked at the clerk’s office?”

  “Yeah, a second cousin. Why?”

  “Any chance they’d be willing to code the information into the system inaccurately?”

  Jace straightened. This was starting to sound a little sketchy. He didn't need anymore trouble, thank you very much. He had enough with the day-to-day of the ranch.

  “What are you getting me into Sabrina?” He’d walk away if he had to.

  “I’m only trying to give her some time away from her father. Make it a little harder for him to find her.”

  “Am I going to have a problem with this father?”

  “No, you’ll be able to handle him. It’s Meredith that needs to learn to do that, and distance and time will help her. I promise, when the time comes, her father won’t be an issue.”

  She always made good on her promises, and no one could read people better than Sabrina Holloway. He’d seen that firsthand, with t
he exception of Lawton of course. But everyone fails sometime.

  “You’re sure about this, Rina?”

  “Unequivocally.”

  “OK, see you in two days.” He shook his head in disbelief, surprised at how willing he was being led into this nonsense. A matchmaker and a mail order bride. Who said times were changing?

  “You’ll thank me soon enough, my friend,” Sabrina said before disconnecting.

  Jace opened his email and found the one from Sabrina. Attached was a grainy picture of a young woman's profile. Though he couldn't make out her face, the lighting was poor, there were several things he was able to see. The fancy evening gown, the casual elegance with how she held a champagne flute, and opulence surrounding her. She looked...too fancy for a Wyoming ranch.

  Tucking the phone back into his coat pocket, he shook his head, debating on whether to cancel on Sabrina. He stared at the empty space next to him. Would she sit on the fence with him? Like his mom had done with Pops? Or would this place bore her like it had done with others? Only time would tell.

  But for now, it was time for the farmer to take a wife. Or, in his case—the cattleman.

  Chapter 4

  Pulling the cord on her window blinds, Meredith used slow, deliberate movements to block out the midday sun. She was desperate not to make a sound or stir the bubbling nausea in her belly. One sudden move or any loud noise, and it would release. Sighing with relief, albeit minuscule, she closed her heavy lids as she gently rested her head against the wall. She’d take her successes, however small, whenever and however she could get them. If she didn’t get ahead of this headache, it would be a full-blown migraine before she knew it.

  Who was she kidding? She was nearly at migraine status now. Sliding her cheek along the wall, she slowly turned toward her bed. Looking through one eye, she was able to make out the clock on her nightstand.

  She had an hour. Maybe an hour and half before she was expected downstairs. A third evening event in less than five days was likely the culprit for her current state. But as this was an election year, the buzz regarding who would be running was high and, undoubtedly, her father wanted to ensure he was backing the right candidate.

  It was Meredith’s duty to listen, probe, and report back what the women were repeating. To glean out pillow talk. Doing so left Meredith with a desire to shower often and an ever-ready apology on her lips.

  Oh no, it would certainly not do for Markus Hanover to be on the wrong side of this outcome, for he had too much at stake, depended too much on strong-arming others as a business tactic. To back the wrong person would result in a large dip in profit. Or so he liked to rant about these days.

  She shuffled to her bed, as picking up her feet would require too much energy and jostle her stomach more than she’d like. She set the pillows up so she’d be upright when she got into bed. Lying down would be far too uncomfortable. Easing onto the bed, she managed to get herself into a comfortable position without losing her stomach contents.

  Success!

  She’d rest for a bit before forcing herself up to get ready. If her father hadn’t said a million times how essential tonight was, she’d beg off. Plead if she must. But because tonight’s event was hosting the cream of the crop of movers and shakers, Meredith knew her pleas would fall on deaf ears.

  Letting her eyes drift closed, she tried to clear her mind of all the things that polluted it. Who did she want to be?

  Ever since Sabrina had asked the question, Meredith had been trying to find the answer. When she took a close look at her life and her relationship with her father, she was unable to find any happiness, any brightness in the emptiness inside her.

  Would she be able to live under a new identity, telling a story that wasn't her own? For the rest of her life? What if she met someone and wanted to marry him? Would she tell him the truth? If not, could she sustain the lie? Truth was, she wasn’t very good at subterfuge.

  Just thinking about it made her already aching head pound harder.

  Today, in the throes of the flashing, painful lights that intensified when her eyes were closed, waiting until autumn seemed like an eternity.

  Taking deep breaths, Meredith tried to force a calmness over herself. She lightly massaged her temples, letting her mouth go slack, her breathing go shallow. She swallowed passed the nausea and let the ebbing darkness blissfully claim her.

  A sudden banging, the loud sound reverberating through Meredith’s head, pulled her from her sleep and forced her to jerk upright. Bile rose up her throat, its bitter taste only making her queasiness worse. When the bright overhead light went on, she ducked her head, covering her eyes with her hands.

  “What are you doing?” her father bellowed.

  Meredith was torn between continuing to cover her eyes or move to her ears as both his voice and the light were like an assault on her senses.

  “I have a headache, Father.” Her voice sounded rough, dry, but not without a pleading tone. “Could you please turn off the light?”

  “Get up. We’re late as it is, and you aren’t even ready. Have you been sleeping all afternoon?”

  She knew he was moving toward her by the sound of his heavy footsteps and could feel them reverberate around the room as they pounded against the wood floor.

  When he stopped at her bed, she felt him loom over her. “I can’t go. I’m not feeling well.”

  “Did you take any medicine? What about those pills Dr. Goodman gave you?” His tone was not of a concerned parent but was laced with irritation and frustration.

  She’d seen him like this before. Soon he would spiral into anger and there would be no point in reasoning with him. Yet she tried anyway, hoping he was still merely irritated. “Those pills don’t help, and they make me spacey.”

  “Meredith,” he boomed. “I don’t have time for this. Get up and get dressed. This is an important dinner. Lyle Brady is going, and he asked about you.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound her Mother had always said.

  “Lyle Brady is an old man, Father. Didn’t he graduate a year or two behind you in school?”

  “He would still be a powerful ally to have on my side. The political climate is changing and—”

  “No.” She opened her eyes, knowing she needed to see his reaction, but the pain and energy required to do so was exhausting.

  “No?” His voiced echoed through the room, forcing Meredith to wrap her arms around her head to block out the sound.

  “I’m not going, and I will not be sold off to some old man to suit your business needs. What year is this anyway?” Hoping to steady her world, she let out a long exhale. Only, the churning in her stomach increased, the bile rising higher.

  “Why can’t you ever do as I ask?” he roared. “Just do as I say.”

  “Father, puh-p-please.” She hated the begging, but she'd do it if it meant he would go away and let her be. It wasn’t worth the effort to point out she’d done everything he’d asked, or commanded, since momma died. Being the daughter he wanted had never been and wouldn’t ever be enough.

  He grabbed her by the wrist, her hair getting caught up in the grasp as well, and jerked her from the bed. “Enough of this Meredith.”

  But the sudden movement was too much for her, and she recoiled, twisted away, and retched on the floor. Tears stinging her eyes, she fell to her knees and tried to catch her breath, control the heaving. Her wrist stung from his abrasive grasp, and her head ached from where her hair had been pulled from the scalp.

  Never had he touched her like this. Yes, her father was a calloused, single-minded, distant person who’d come to her birthday parties when she was younger, but stood in the background. Even so, he’d taught her how to drive a car the year before her mother died, and for all his flaws, he’d never been aggressive. But the longer her mother was dead, the more bitter, angry, and resentful he grew. Even intolerable.

  But he was her family. He was all she had left. Both her parents had been only children of only children, and
there was no aunt or cousin with which to seek refuge.

  Meredith reached forward and found the edge of her bed. She pulled herself closer and collapsed against it. Through narrow slits, she looked up at her father’s red face.

  “Get a handle on this, Meredith. This is unacceptable.” He turned on his heel and marched out.

  Left to clean up the mess, her throat burning from the acid of her vomit, she rested her head against the soft cotton of her quilt, using the cloth to absorb her tears. She couldn’t do this anymore. Ever since her mother’s death, nothing had been the same, and it looked like it would never improve.

  In this dark moment, Meredith accepted she’d lost both parents. Hoping her father would become the man she wanted him to be, needed him to be, was gone. He was a person she didn’t like, a person she didn’t respect. Yet she was forced to live as he chose.

  Not any longer.

  Making a decision in this state could very well be a mistake of epic proportions, but what options did she have? As she saw it, there were two. The first, she could take what money she had and try to strike out on her own. But spending each day looking over her shoulder wasn't freedom she envisioned. The other, she could take Sabrina up on her offer. The idea frightened her, the unknowns were great, but it was an opportunity that couldn't be ignored. A stop-gap that gave her breathing room to figure out her next move. No reasonable person would force her to stay in a marriage she didn't want. Not all matchmakers had a hundred percent success.

  Easing forward, she reached for her bedside table. She skimmed her fingers across the wood surface until she found the knob for the drawer, then slid it open. Inside was her old-fashioned address book. Though most people kept this info on their phone, Meredith liked having hers in a book. The strikethroughs and address changes of her college friends were vicarious little adventures she dreamt about, having let go of social media since it was too painful to watch people’s lives move forward while hers didn’t.

  She wanted to be a strikethrough in someone’s book.

  Her fingers sought the cool, smooth sensation that was the telltale leather binding. After opening the cover, she felt for and found a small, thick card. She didn’t have to see it to know what the embossed letters said.