“I’m in Texas.”
“Seriously? Me too.” Delight shaded his tone. “Texas is a big state. I’m in the north region, not far from the Red River, little town called Refuge.”
AnnaLeigh was stunned silent. She dropped her feet to the wood floor and sat up. A sizzle of electricity zipped along her arms, raised the hairs, made her forget the nausea.
No way. Absolutely no way could this guy live anywhere near the small, remote town of Refuge, Texas. It was the other side of nowhere.
“This is weird.” Much too weird. In fact, living in the same town as this guy was such a coincidence she started to wonder if this entire situation was a joke after all. A set up. A prank. “I live in Refuge. I work at Rachel’s Cards and Gifts on Main Street.”
The line went silent. Not even a breath. He’d either passed out, or he was too stunned to speak. So was she.
For a full sixty seconds neither said a word.
Finally, he blew a long breath through the line. “This is surreal. What are the chances? My daughter loves Cards by Kids. If you work there, we’ve met. I pick her up every Tuesday at five. I’m Holt McNeil.”
The tumblers fell into place. A single cowboy. Click. With a little girl. Click. A six-year-old that AnnaLeigh saw every single week. Click. A child who wrote a letter asking Santa for a mother.
This was unbelievable. Crazy. An out-of-body experience. Things like this did not happen. It was as unlikely as winning the lottery.
The man on the other end of the phone was the awkward cowboy with the spunky, messy daughter. The handsome cowboy with the broad shoulders and the tan Sherpa jacket.
“Jacey,” she whispered. “You’re Jacey’s dad.”
The woman’s words rocked Holt’s world. He stumbled backward until his knees hit the recliner and he sank into the sweat-scented cushions. His mind whirled with the improbability that the one woman to respond to his online profile was a woman he’d actually met.
The only explanation he could come up with was divine intervention. Jacey had prayed. Now, here he was, talking to an interested, single woman right here in Refuge who already knew his daughter. A woman Jacey spent time with and liked. Now, if that wasn’t God-ordained, he was a monkey’s brother.
He rubbed two fingers over the spot between his eyebrows, the spot furrowed into a half dozen corn rows.
Wow. Just wow.
A child’s prayer was a powerful thing. And God was showing off big time. A wave of relief and maybe a jolt of joy washed over him. The Lord was not only agreeable to Holt’s mail order bride idea, He was making it happen! With a woman Holt could easily vet.
“I don’t even know your name,” he managed when he could strangle out the words.
“AnnaLeigh Phillips.”
“AnnaLeigh.” That’s right! He remembered now. “You’re the one who found her lunch bag.”
“Yes. That was me.”
Yes. Exactly. Now he really remembered.
AnnaLeigh was the pale, too-thin woman with dark circles under her eyes who looked as if a hearty south wind would sail her to Kansas. She wasn’t that pretty. Which was great. Terrific. A blessing. Another answer to prayer, though not Jacey’s. His. No worries about getting emotionally entangled or having her run off with a better looking, richer man. He hoped.
“Jacey’s a sweet little girl.”
“I think so. She’s a trooper about dealing with a single cowboy daddy except she says I don’t know diddly squat about fixing hair.”
AnnaLeigh’s soft laugh made him smile. “I might have noticed that.”
“Oh, man.” He emitted an exaggerated groan, hoping to hear that laugh again. “Major fail in the hair department.”
She chuckled. Holt couldn’t help thinking the laughter meant another answer to prayer. Anyone who laughed easily surely smiled a lot, and smiling was one of Jacey’s rules.
“I can remedy that problem,” she said. “In high school, all my friends came to me for hairstyles. I’m pretty good with hair.”
Somehow he couldn’t see that, given the way her own hair hung limp as a wet rope, but he’d take her word for it. Most importantly, she’d agreed to his rules, every last one of them. Plus, she had a steady job she could keep if she wanted to. Not that he didn’t intend to provide for her, and provide well, but it was good to confirm that she had her own money and wasn’t after his.
As far as he was concerned, theirs was a match made in heaven, literally. And, therefore, a done deal.
“This is great,” he said. “Perfect, actually. So when do you want to tie the knot?”
There was a pause. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
He had. Christmas was coming. Jacey was expecting a mom. Time to get a move on. “But you’re still agreeable, right? You aren’t scared off by knowing who I am?”
Another pause, which kind of hurt his ego. Did she think he was ugly? Stupid? Inept? What?
Finally, a soft, “Yes, I’m agreeable,” stopped the flood of worries.
“Good. Then there’s no need to waste time. I have a ranch to run and stock to haul. Not much time to squeeze in extras. This weekend I’m heading to Vegas to do a little business and watch old pals perform. So, what do you say? Want to get hitched in Vegas?”
“Vegas?” AnnaLeigh squeaked out the word. She sat bolt upright. Was he serious? Marry him in three days?
Suddenly, the whole crazy thing scared her silly.
Nausea rolled in her belly.
She glanced at the uneaten cracker in her hand, her mouth too dry to even consider a nibble.
Wouldn’t it be better to get to know each other first?
But he said he didn’t have the time, and, frankly, neither did she. Jacey wanted a mama for Christmas, which wasn’t that far away. For AnnaLeigh, the sooner they married, the less chance of Alan finding her and claiming her child as his. She needed a husband fast.
She took two cleansing breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth.
“Vegas weddings are quick and easy,” Holt was saying. “No fuss, no bother. We can squeeze in a ceremony some afternoon before the rodeo starts.”
Squeeze in a ceremony? Like a trip to the car wash before work? Is that what he’d done for his first marriage?
Nothing about that sounded right. The whole idea was so business-like and cold.
Her stomach finally had enough. It revolted.
With one hand over the speaker, she grabbed for the trash can and heaved.
She could hear Holt talking but didn’t comprehend a word. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to hear her. Finally, she fell back against the couch cushions, exhausted.
The sick stomach was a reminder of why she was doing this. Marrying the cowboy was business, whether she liked the way it felt or not. The business of protecting herself and her baby, of giving them both a home, family, and security.
A marriage that came with a contract. She couldn’t get any more business-like than that.
A new, encouraging thought struck her. If she married the cowboy now during these early weeks of pregnancy, everyone would believe the baby was his. Everyone but Holt. Legally the baby would be his. And once she’d proven herself to be a loving mother to Jacey and a good, hardworking wife who followed all the rules, Holt would be so happy, he wouldn’t mind the addition of a sweet little baby. Right?
And, that was a deal AnnaLeigh couldn’t pass up. Even if it meant getting married by Elvis in some tacky drive-in chapel.
Encouraged, she sat up, exhaled slowly and emitted a shaky, “Okay. Vegas, it is.”
That evening, Holt paced the ranch house floor, one eye on the clock over the fireplace mantel. He liked the oversized timepiece constructed of galvanized tin, rusted exactly the right amount to look like vintage windmill blades. He hoped his new wife liked it too, because that puppy was staying.
New wife. He got the jitters every time the words crept up on him.
He stopped dead still in the middle of a major pace and looked up at
the ceiling. “Lord, remind me why I’m doing this?”
But he knew. He simply needed the Lord to reassure him that the times he’d been dunked in the dirt by a bull or a bronc hadn’t dislodged his good sense.
Jacey was his reason for everything these days. His little cowgirl and the prayer she repeated every single night before bed. She, with her precious, childlike faith, was the only reason he didn’t turn tail and gallop into the sunset.
Maybe he should have talked this over with Pastor Brett or one of the guys in his Bible study. Or maybe not. Some things a man and God had to decide for themselves, and he didn’t want anyone thinking his marriage was anything out of the ordinary. Word could drift back to Jacey and break her heart.
Holt ran a hand over his shower damp hair and resumed his trek from the fireplace to the window looking out over the front yard.
Night hadn’t quite arrived, but the red-gold rays of sunset slashed through the limbs of a leafless maple tree and splintered on the dry grass. He liked sunsets. Sunrises too. Tonight he was too anxious to pay much attention.
He wished AnnaLeigh would hurry up and get here so they could hash out details and get this show on the road. She might as well see what she was in for.
He wanted to know, too, and he was kind of excited to tell Jacey that God had answered her prayers. Tonight, she was spending the night with her best pal, a sleepover he’d orchestrated with Ava’s dad, the local undersheriff he’d known most of his life. Good man. Good friend. A single dad like him.
A small white Ford pulled into the driveway. His belly lurched. AnnaLeigh was here.
Watching her exit the car in the falling light, he took a minute to study her unobserved, noticing again how thin she was when her coat flapped open. She wasn’t short, but she wasn’t tall either. Maybe shoulder high. A good fit. Not that her size mattered.
She wore a straight, loose dress over dark leggings and low-top Chucks. Every time he’d seen her, she’d been wearing that style. Casual, youthful.
The chilly wind blew dark blond hair back from her narrow face. She paused to gaze at the house and seemed to hesitate, uncertain. Holt stepped out on the porch to let her know she was in the right place.
“You found it. Any trouble with the directions?” The ranch was a distance from town and a good mile from the nearest neighbor.
“No.”
Her eyes flicked to his and then away. She was nervous. So was he. More nervous than when he was about to climb on a fifteen hundred pound bull. Animals he understood. Women, not so much.
He did not want to mess this up for Jacey.
Feeling a little short on air, he held the door open and waited for AnnaLeigh to enter. A hint of perfume teased his nose as she eased past and barely brushed his outstretched arm. Holt flinched and squeezed his arm closer to his body.
He’d tried to forget how nice a woman smelled. He most certainly didn’t want to remember how nice a woman could feel.
Another of Jacey’s rules ticked in his head. A new mommy had to smell nice. AnnaLeigh definitely fit the bill.
The breathless feeling increased as if his chest had been stepped on by a bucking bronc.
He rotated his bum shoulder, trying to relax.
This was a business deal, not a date. So, why was he jittery? Why was his heart pounding and his neck sweating? He rubbed a hand over the hairline at his nape, still watching this woman he planned to marry in three days.
Another jolt hit him. Three days!
His guest stood on the boot-scraping rug inside the door, staring around the living room. Like a lot of older ranch-style homes, his living and dining space was divided from the kitchen by a short bar so he could look straight through from one end to the other, shotgun style. He and Jacey ate their meals at that bar, astraddle a pair of tall round wooden stools. He’d never bothered to buy a table. He wondered if that would matter to AnnaLeigh.
Fact of the business, he’d not bothered to buy much furniture. Only the basic necessities. A couch and recliner were all he needed in here. The upturned tree stump made a pretty good coffee table. He’d hauled it in from the pasture and cleaned it up himself.
For the first time ever, he saw his house from a stranger’s viewpoint and felt a pinch of regret that he’d paid so little attention to his home. Women liked nice things, pretty things. Would the house scare AnnaLeigh away?
He’d buy a table if necessary or a whole house of furniture, if she wanted. Anything to make sure Jacey’s prayers were answered.
AnnaLeigh’s gaze landed on the saddle, and Holt braced, jaw tense. She could complain about the lack of furniture, but the saddle stayed. Non-negotiable.
“Pretty saddle,” she said. “Is it custom made?”
Holt blinked, a little taken aback by the question. She knew saddles well enough to recognize custom work?
“One of the last made by Hall of Famer Chester Hape.” Holt figured it would be immodest to admit he’d won the saddle as the All-Round champion at the National Finals a few years back.
She smoothed her hand over the fancy leather scroll work. “No wonder you keep it in the house. It’s beautiful.”
Holt’s eyes dropped closed as a smile lit him inside. All righty, God. You must have sent this woman. I’m definitely marrying her.
“Jacey started learning to ride on that saddle when she was three.” The first time he’d brought her here after Pamela’s funeral, she’d been inconsolable until he’d put her on that saddle and played giddy-up. He’d made a fool of himself, galloping around the house, neighing like a horse with the saddle in his arms and Jacey in the saddle, but he’d never forget his baby’s gurgling laughter.
Her lips curved. “I can imagine her doing that.”
“How do you know saddles?”
“Oh.” She shrugged, and he noticed again how thin her shoulders were. She was all angles and bones. Even her cheekbones stood out below dark under-eye circles. “When I was in middle school, one of my foster families had horses. I fell in love with one of them and spent so much time in the barn, I picked up a lot about tack and saddles.”
She’d told him she was a foster kid, but hearing her talk about it squeezed his heart a little. “What kind of horse?”
“Sweet old Palomino. Jax.” She looked nostalgic for a moment, and Holt fought an urge to touch her.
“Horses are easy to love. They love you back.”
“Yes, they do.” Something—a shadow of sadness maybe—moved through her. Holt heard the words she didn’t speak. Horses loved you back. People didn’t.
Had social services moved her away from the foster family and the horse she loved? Or had she been rejected? Holt wondered but didn’t ask. Not yet anyway. They had plenty of time to learn those things, a lifetime.
“Glad you can ride. It’s kind of a necessary skill on a ranch.”
“I haven’t ridden since middle school. And then, only for a little while before… I’m not proficient by any means.”
Proficient. Fancy word. He was getting a smart wife. Good to know. For Jacey’s sake. Jacey was as smart as the business end of a bullwhip.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I don’t expect you to help on the ranch.” When she looked at him with what he thought might be disappointment, he hurried to add, “Unless you want to. I have several good, broke horses to pick from, and you can ride anytime you want. Jacey loves to ride, and she’ll be your main concern.”
“I understand. Let’s talk about Jacey and about your expectations.”
Suddenly, they moved out of his comfort-zone topics of horses and saddles and back to the wife and mother thing. The room grew hot. He tugged at the button-down collar of the heavy maroon corduroy shirt he’d put on after his shower. Should have gone for something lighter.
He realized then that AnnaLeigh still wore her coat. She must be roasting.
“Want me to take your coat? We’ve got a lot of talking to do. Might as was well get comfortable.” As if he could.
&nb
sp; She swallowed, the action drawing his eyes to her collarbone. Her pulse fluttered there. She was nervous too, and for some reason that calmed him.
With an easy grace, she slid the coat from her shoulders, and Holt stepped around to take it. The back of his fingers grazed the hair at the nape of her neck. A tingling sensation danced up his arms. He jerked away to fold the long gray coat over the back of the recliner.
Meanwhile, AnnaLeigh settled at the far end of the leather couch. He took the other end. An entire sofa cushion separated them, like an ocean or a mountain. Yet, she reached for the only throw pillow in the place, Jacey’s TV-watching pillow, and held it against her like a shield.
“Do you still wonder if I’m Jack the Ripper?” Holt angled his body to face her, and trying for casual and relaxed, he propped a boot on one knee.
“No.” But her pale hands clung to the pillow, distorting the printed unicorn. “I’ve seen you with Jacey.”
He patted his chest. “She’s my heart. She’s also the reason I need a wife by Christmas.”
AnnaLeigh glanced toward the Charley Brown Christmas tree he and Jacey had erected in one corner.
“I’m to be her Christmas present? Is that right? And you want her to believe ours is a real marriage.”
“You got it. I want her to know beyond a doubt that God answers prayers, and I want her to grow up secure in a happy family with a dad and a mom who love her. All of which means we have to play the part of loving husband and wife.” Heat crept up his neck. He rubbed a hand over the hot spot. If he hadn’t been sweating before, he was now. “To a point.”
She blushed, but her dark eyes grew steely hard. “So, let’s be clear on this. I don’t mind cooking or keeping up with the house, and I’ll enjoy being a mother to Jacey, but I’m not your slave. And I’m certainly not your mistress. If we do this, we’re on equal footing. I come and go as I please. I keep my job if I choose. And you keep your hands to yourself. One slap, one punch, one wrong advance, and I’m gone.”
Anger shot through Holt’s veins, surprising him with its intensity. Fist clenched, he narrowed his eyes. “Someone hit you? Some guy?”
Ten Rules for Marrying a Cowboy Page 7