“You’re not listening to me?” Morgan had her head lowered, and her brows shadowed her eyes.
“Sorry.” Definitely kissing Morgan. He’d think about that some more in a bit. “Go ahead. I’m paying attention.”
“We could find her a husband.”
“That’d have to be one crazy son of a biscuit.”
Morgan huffed. “Elaine is nice, and she’s pretty too. She’s slim.”
“She might be little, but I have a feeling she’d pack a powerful punch.”
“She’s not punching anyone.”
“Morgan.” He looked across the console at her, suddenly wishing he had a nickname for her. One tripped off his tongue before he could catch it. “Dumpling.”
She blinked. Her brows shot up. “Dumpling?”
“It just came out.” Oh, wow. He couldn’t ever tell her he’d remembered her as a dumpling with legs and glasses.
“I don’t believe that for one second.”
So much for a sweet, sexy nickname. Total fail. Time for a subject change. “I was trying to say that Elaine was fine. She’s probably really nice, and some guy who likes short girls will think she’s a catch.”
“Short girls?”
“Gah!” He picked his hat up in frustration and shoved it back down on his head. “It’s not Elaine! It’s the million kids, the hyper dog that looks like a draft horse, the dilapidated buildings, the copious amounts of work, and the guaranteed insanity that would come along with spending more than half a day at that place. There’s no way you’d find a decent guy who would want to take all that on, plus marry a complete stranger in order to do it. I wouldn’t do it for a hundred billion dollars.” Even as he finished saying it, he thought of someone who was crazy enough to possibly consider it. Ford wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it to him. No. Way.
“Where did ‘dumpling’ come from?”
“It’s like we’re having two separate conversations,” he said, hoping she’d not press the point.
“You wouldn’t marry Elaine?”
“She wouldn’t have me,” he said confidently.
“I think she would.”
“No.”
“She said you were about the only man she’d consider. Not because she loves you or anything, but because she knows you’re a true gentleman and wouldn’t be after the money.”
Something that felt an awful lot like an F-5 tornado churned in his stomach. He wanted to help Elaine, but he didn’t want to marry her. Not ever, but especially not now. Not after he’d kissed Morgan.
Then he looked again at her face. Something that looked an awful lot like a pouty lip protruded from her mouth. A little spark of hope flashed in his chest. Could Morgan be jealous? Surely not.
“I’ll do pretty much anything to help Elaine.” He’d just spent three hours playing with her kids. That had to count for something, right? “But not marriage. That’s a definite no. That’s the red line. I’m not getting married. Not even considering it. It’s not an option. Absolutely, positively not.”
“Okay.” Morgan looked out the window. The landscape really hadn’t changed all that much in the last fifty miles, and it wasn’t nearly as interesting as she was pretending it was right now. “I get it. You’re not getting married.”
The tornado ripping in his body eased, although his heart felt bruised. Morgan must not think him marriageable material for her, if she was trying to push him into marrying Elaine. He’d consider marriage to Morgan. No. That wasn’t right. He’d jump on the chance to marry Morgan. If only she’d have him.
But the idea of marrying Elaine was unthinkable. He’d rather...
“How about if I try to find someone who would marry her?” He didn’t really want to become a matchmaker, even though he knew just the guy who was crazy enough to take on the challenge of Elaine and her children. Especially if he got a ranch and a billion dollars in the bargain.
“A good man,” he added. “One who would treat Elaine and her children well.”
Morgan’s head snapped around. “You know someone?”
“Won’t know until I ask him, and it’s not something that would typically come up in casual conversation, so I’ll need a little time.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “Thanks. I’ve been trying to come up with someone who might work, and I just don’t know anyone.”
“Might not pan out, but I’ll try.”
“I appreciate it.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “What was up with the ‘dumpling’ thing?”
He took the exit off the interstate and slowed to a stop before pulling back out on the road that went north toward home.
Oh, he was going to be in so much trouble. But at least this was something he could tell her. “When Georgia said she was going to leave, I didn’t want a young, beautiful woman in my home.” He looked over to see if she could figure out why.
She nodded. He figured she’d understand. She knew how he felt about the way he looked.
“Then, Georgia said that she’d hired you. All I knew about you was that you’d grown up near Sweet Water. I remembered seeing you at some basketball and hockey games. You were chunky and had glasses.”
“I wear contacts now.”
He nodded. “I thought it wouldn’t be bad having you here. ‘A dumpling with legs and glasses’ wasn’t too threatening.”
He waited for the explosion. His thoughts had not been kind. Especially considering his issues over his own appearance.
Her laughter was unexpected. “That’s probably an accurate assessment of me back then. After I lost weight, that’s probably part of the reason I worked so hard at being a successful model—to show everyone who thought I was fat and ugly that I had been a swan all along.”
“Very swanlike.” He eyed her neck with a grin.
“But...I learned that beauty, especially the physical beauty of magazines and TV, is all a mirage. Almost completely fake.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t complimentary. Thinking of you as being not pretty made me feel better about the way I looked.”
“Dumpling? Really?”
“I wanted a nickname for you.” Something for just him to use. It made their relationship feel more intimate. “That’s what came out. I meant it in a sweet, cute way. Nothing mean. I promise.”
“I get it.”
“If there were any truth to it, I wouldn’t have said anything.”
“That’s fine.” She shrugged. “You call me Dumpling, I’ll call you Patch.”
“Patchless.” He pointed to his face. “Not wearing a patch.”
“Okay, Patch.”
“Patch and his sidekick, the Dumpling.”
She shook her head. “Dumpling, and her sidekick, the Patch.”
Chapter 12
Monday, a few minutes before dinner, there was a knock on Morgan’s office door.
“Yes?” she said, holding her phone to her ear, having been on hold for forty-five minutes. “Come in.”
Ford’s head appeared. He wore his patch but no cape. A solid blue button-down that made his eye look brilliant, jeans, and boots. Her heart did a handspring.
“Lunch?” he asked softly.
She put her phone on speaker then muted it, setting it on her desk. A heavy sigh escaped her. “I’m not having a very successful day.”
“Hang up. Let’s go see the puppies. That’ll make us smile.”
She clicked off and let her phone lie on her desk. “Your day isn’t going any better?”
“Nope,” he said. He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press.
After a few minutes of looking at the puppies and talking about crazy names for them—Ford wanted to name them after the planets, but there were more planets than puppies so he suggested hyphenated names for the females, but she vetoed that idea immediately—they were both more relaxed. Even though the discussion degenerated into an argument about Pluto and whether or not it should be considered a planet.
It helped that Mrs. T
was back and dinner smelled excellent.
They didn’t talk much while they ate, but both of them lingered at the table even after Mrs. T cleared the plates.
“It’s so much nicer eating with you than eating by myself. Thanks.” Morgan moved her water, watching the ice dance through the glass.
“I think you gained a little bit of weight back.”
Her eyes lifted to his, surprised he’d notice. “I did.”
“So maybe you just needed companionship. Quality companionship.”
“Oh?” She loved his smile that had begun appearing quicker and easier. She especially loved the lopsided grin he did that showed the dimple on the side of his mouth in stark relief. It made him look boyish and charming. Ornery.
“I’m at your service.”
They grinned together before his face sobered. “So, tell me what’s up? What made your day so hard?”
She sighed again. “You probably already know. Several of the people that I talked to said that they’d talked to you. Basically, all but two people on your list have joined Spencer and are boycotting your presentation unless you attend their charity event and auction off a picture.”
Her aunt would flip, but Morgan put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “I can’t help but feel like this is my fault. You’ve never had anything like this happen when Georgia set things up.”
“It’s not your fault. Honest. This has been brewing for a while. And I’ve made it worse by completely refusing to leave the property. No pictures, not even a chance for a picture. The more successful I am, the more a picture of me is worth.”
“I wish they could respect your desire and your privacy.”
“They have.”
“Up until now, maybe.”
“It’s for charity. You can do a lot of things in the name of charity.”
“It’s almost like you’re defending them.”
“I guess I am, in a way. Since you’ve come,” he gave her a look that made her lips tingle, “I’ve been thinking that maybe I need to rethink some of the things I’ve been doing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of funny, if you think about it. We’ve had opposite problems. People judge you in a certain way because of your beauty. People judge me in a certain way because of my lack. Neither of us wants to be judged according to our looks. Sometimes the best way to fight it is to face it.”
“Wow. I had no idea you were thinking like this. You’re saying you’re actually considering doing it? Going to the charity gala and letting them take your picture?”
He’d been slouched in his chair, relaxed, one hand hooked over the back and dangling down. But now he straightened, his movement graceful and sure, his natural athleticism giving him a confidence that couldn’t be learned or faked. He studied a point on the far wall for a moment before he turned to her. “Yes. I think I am.” His jaw tightened. “I’d be honored if you would consider going with me.”
If surprise could make a person’s eyes pop out of their head and roll across the table, she’d be chasing her eyeballs right then.
She could see Ford clearly, and she thought he seemed serious. Lucid.
Then she realized he was using her. She twisted her head until her cheek rested in her hand. People had done it all the time. Her last boyfriend was only with her because of what she could provide him in the way of arm candy and star power.
“I’m not on the modeling A-list anymore,” she said, not allowing the hurt that pinched in her chest to come out in her voice. But she couldn’t look at him. Having a beautiful woman on his arm would make him look better to the investors. Mysterious. Like what charm and charisma did he have to attract such a gorgeous date?
She sounded arrogant, even to herself, but it was the way of the world. She just hadn’t thought Ford would use her like everyone else.
“I know.”
“Like it’s part of my job?” She just wanted to be clear. Maybe she’d been wrong, and he wanted her to go because he enjoyed her company.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Part of your job. You’ve spoken to all the secretaries. You know what’s going on and what I need. To be frank, I need every weapon at my disposal. I’ve sunk a lot of time and money into this. If I don’t get a buyer, I’m not going to lose everything, because I still have a diversified investment portfolio, but my business is riding on this.”
He’d lose his business if he didn’t get a buyer for his prototype.
She put her chin on her hand again and faced him. “How much do you hope to get out of it?”
His lip pulled back. “It’s worth a lot more. But if I got a cool billion out of it, I’d let it go in a heartbeat.”
“I see.” She sighed.
“You don’t look thrilled about it. I know your presence would be an asset, but you don’t have to go.”
“I’ve done this kind of thing all the time. It’s what I’m good at.” She pushed away from the table. “I have a headache, and I’m going to lie down for a few minutes. I’ll be back at my desk by one.”
She walked with as much dignity as she possessed out of the dining room. No wonder he didn’t want to kiss her and muddle their relationship.
He’d been very clear on the way home from Elaine’s that he absolutely didn’t want to get married. And he’d been clear before that that he didn’t want to have a relationship with her. She was arm candy. A pretty face to make him look good.
Fine. She could do that. She had never been good at doing a job half-heartedly, so she’d throw her whole heart and soul into this one as well. Ford would get a “cool” billion. No. She’d see to it that he got more.
As soon as she got back to her desk, she’d send him a text. The charity was this Saturday. She’d need to go shopping. Soon.
A little voice in her head told her she was being unreasonable. That she was selling Ford short, but she had herself so worked up that she refused to believe it.
~~~
I need clothes for the charity event, plus dinner, I assume. I’ll be going to the Cities Wednesday and coming back Thursday.
Ford stared at his phone. His fingers were white as he squeezed it. With everything in him, he wanted to text back that he’d go too. They could shop together, even though shopping without Morgan wasn’t something he’d ever do. They could sightsee. Spend a day together just having fun.
But he was only slowly getting used to her seeing him on a regular basis. This Saturday, he’d have to go and show his face to several thousand people. He wasn’t ready to walk around a store, having people stare and point.
For the first time since his accident, he thought he might get to that place, though. It hadn’t been the end of the world when the woman he loved had seen him...
The woman he loved?
His breath caught. His heart climbed up his backbone, thumping frantically.
Did he love Morgan?
That would probably explain why she was constantly in his thoughts. His pressing need to touch her. His constant wish to press his lips to hers. How he felt lonely and incomplete when she wasn’t around. Maybe infatuation could cover those things, but not his desire to put her wants and needs above his own. How he’d do anything to protect her and keep her safe. How he’d face anything that was uncomfortable or downright painful, if she needed him to.
He flipped his phone, over and over, in his left hand. Finally, he pressed the button and sent a reply.
The clothes are for your job. I’ll pay.
Then, with his throat clogged and his heart using his esophagus for a bungee cord, he typed another short message.
I’ll go with you.
~~~
They flew, of course.
Morgan hadn’t considered that they’d do anything but drive. She’d been around people with money, lots of it, but she’d never lived with a millionaire before.
The helicopter arrived at the landing pad she hadn’t even realized lay to the west of the house. Ford grabbe
d her hand, and they jogged out, carrying their overnight bags.
She supposed with a “normal” millionaire someone else would carry their stuff, but Ford was too unpretentious and down-to-earth for her to consistently remember that he was rich. Really rich.
She enjoyed the helicopter ride. Ford seemed relaxed. Mostly. He didn’t smile at all, and from the set of his shoulders, she assumed he was nervous.
Hard to blame him, since he’d said he’d not been out in society since he’d come home from the hospital.
She watched the square, brown fields sail by under them. Ford had mentioned shopping today, then dinner tonight, and then a surprise. Maybe over dinner tonight she could get him to tell her what, exactly, happened with his girlfriend in the hospital. She knew, of course, the girlfriend had broken up with him, but from the deep, painful wounds that Ford had, something had been said or done.
Not that it should matter to her. Ford had said he’d buy her clothes, because it was for her job. He wasn’t even pretending that he was taking her as a date.
Although he was here now.
She looked across the narrow aisle. Why? Didn’t he trust her to pick out her outfit? She was kind of an expert in clothes.
He was facing all these things he didn’t want to face, just to be with her. It would be dense of her to think there wasn’t something there, right?
Her heart hoped so. Her brain told her that from past experience, she knew it couldn’t be true.
Maybe this was his practice for the real thing.
An SUV with tinted windows waited for them when they disembarked from the helicopter. Again, Ford took her hand as they hurried toward it.
“No limo?” she joked.
He wore his eye patch but no cowboy hat. Dress pants and a white business shirt. Stylish dress shoes. He could sure clean up, but she missed the cowboy look.
He seemed to consider her question seriously. “I didn’t think either of us were the pretentious type. You want a limo?”
She rolled her eyes. “No.” Her brow lifted. “A helicopter isn’t pretentious?”
Cowboys Don't Marry the Beauty Page 15