Ten Rules for Marrying a Cowboy

by Linda Goodnight

  He’d missed this. Not Vegas specifically, but the rodeo. His people.

  “Is Las Vegas always this crowded?” AnnaLeigh asked.

  Holt glanced at the woman beside him. She’d had a bout of carsickness this morning on the drive into Vegas, but it had passed quicker than yesterday’s. That had been awful, although he’d chalked it up to nerves. He had plenty of those himself.

  Today, she had a more color in her cheeks.

  “I’d say it’s a little wilder in December when the cowboys come to town.” Not that he participated in the wild side. There were plenty of Christian cowboys on the circuit, and he knew how to have a good time with friends without compromising his faith.

  They hadn’t taken ten steps into the massive lobby before someone shouted, “Holt McNeil!”

  A sea of faces turned toward him. He lifted a hand. He’d been out of the game too long to believe these were fans who remembered him.

  He was wrong. He paused to chat and sign a hat or a program or two before he spotted the person who’d called his name.

  A cowboy sat at a table signing autographs. He stood for a photo with a fan and then stepped away from the long line to greet Holt.

  “How have you been? Or better yet, where have you been?” Grinning, the other man pumped Holt’s hand and slapped him on the back. Antonio Morales, a good pal and a strong competitor. They’d battled for the all-round a time or two.

  “Off the circuit for good,” Holt admitted, “but God’s been faithful and kind. Got a ranch, raising some rough stock, hoping to make some rodeos next season with a couple of bulls and broncs.”

  A white smile creased Antonio’s dark face. “That is good news.” He spun a finger in the air between AnnaLeigh and Jacey. “Who are these beautiful ladies?”

  Holt put a hand on Jacey’s head. “This is my little girl, Jacey.”

  Antonio grinned down at her, and then up at Holt. “A heart stealer, for certain.”

  “Exactly. She’s the reason I started a ranch and settled down.”

  Antonio’s coffee dark eyes danced toward AnnaLeigh. “You must be the other reason. Yes?” He offered his hand. “I am Antonio. Your husband is not so good with introductions.”

  “Oh, he’s not my—“ Her gaze flew up to Holt’s, questioning how to handle the awkward situation.

  Again, he hadn’t considered what to tell people about AnnaLeigh. He sure didn’t want to tell them the truth, but he wasn’t one to lie either.

  His daughter saved the moment. “She’s AnnaLeigh. She’s going to be my new mommy. They’re having a wedding, and I’ll be the flower maid and everything. You can come if you want to.”

  Holt managed what he hoped was a happy grin and reached for AnnaLeigh’s hand. Got to make this look good for Jacey’s sake. For his sake, as well. He’d be laughed out of town if the other guys knew he had an email-ordered fiancée.

  But as AnnaLeigh curled her cool, soft fingers around his, Holt had another jolt.

  They would have to play lovey-dovey a lot this week, and getting snuggly with AnnaLeigh might prove more appealing than he wanted it to be.

  He must have been a big deal in the rodeo world.

  Still was, AnnaLeigh realized later that night when she, Holt, and Jacey entered the Thomas Mack Center for the evening’s rodeo events.

  A frisson of pride zipped through her every time Holt introduced her as his fiancée. The feeling was totally out of place considering the circumstances and especially since Holt looked as though the words tasted nasty.

  His opinion of marriage was clear. He didn’t like it. But a marriage of convenience had been his idea in the first place.

  Was he having second thoughts?

  She hoped not, but what could she do other than keep quiet and not make waves. And, of course, follow his ten rules. She’d already broken rule three more than once, or thought she had. Holt didn’t seem to notice how much money he’d spent on her already. Medicine, food, hotels, and, this afternoon, a wad of cash to shop “for a swim suit or whatever.”

  She’d found the swim suit, glad that her belly was flat as ever, and tried to give back the remaining cash. He’d shrugged her off. “You’ll need it.”

  Was this his idea of providing well for a wife? If it was, she hadn’t expected such generosity. She’d expected to provide her own income and to use his for household needs and Jacey. She had to admit, this was a pleasant surprise. Would it continue? Or was this only a show for the present to convince Jacey and his friends that theirs was a real relationship?

  As they started down the steps into the arena, he took hold of her elbow. Holding hands, touching, pretending to be a couple was necessary. She got that. But Holt’s nearness caused AnnaLeigh a whirlwind of troubling emotions.

  “Daddy,” Jacey said after they’d found their seats and Holt had talked to more people than AnnaLeigh had ever known in her life. He’d signed autographs, handed out business cards, chatted up his livestock, and made small talk.

  The cowboy could certainly turn on the charm when he wanted to.

  Was that what he was doing with her? Charming her, the way Alan had, until he had her under his control?

  “What is it, Jacey?” Holt had taken the end seat with Jacey on the other side of AnnaLeigh and had to lean across her to answer his daughter.

  He smelled good, like a fresh shower and shave, and she noticed a cute little whorl at the crown of his dark hair. She had the odd desire to trace it with her finger.

  She didn’t, of course. She wasn’t that crazy.

  “Will you teach me how to ride bulls?” Jacey asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not? Because I’m a girl?”

  He tapped her nose, his arm movement brushing AnnaLeigh so that she was intensely aware of him, aware of how close he was, of how his muscles flexed when he moved. “No. Because I love you too much to let a bull pound you into the dirt.”

  He sat back, opening the printed program of events.

  AnnaLeigh let out the breath she was holding.

  Jacey wasn’t finished. She stretched across AnnaLeigh toward her father. “If I can’t ride bulls, will you teach me to ride broncs?”

  Holt looked up from the program, lips curled in amusement. He had a really nice mouth. Mobile. Smiley. Probably a great kisser.

  Where had that come from?

  “Maybe,” he said. “First, you have to learn to train and break, then we’ll discuss bronc riding.”

  He went back to the program.

  Jacey, still sprawled across AnnaLeigh’s lap, tapped her dad’s arm. “Daddy?”

  Holt closed the program with a sigh. “What?

  ”You’re supposed to hold hands.” She looked pointedly at AnnaLeigh and then at him, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You’ll make her sad, and she’ll break up with you like in the movies if you don’t. It’s a rule.”

  Holt’s eyebrows shot up under the brim of his hat. “It is?”

  “Yep.”

  What could the poor man do? The charade, for Jacey’s sake, was his reason for bringing AnnaLeigh in the first place.

  He tugged her hand onto his knee and placed his on top, offering AnnaLeigh a sheepish grin. “She’s small but bossy. You have your work cut out for you.”

  He lifted her hand, then put it down again, clasping her fingers lightly with his.

  Jacey giggled, shoulders hunched. She was a sweetheart, like her daddy.

  Like her daddy? When had AnnaLeigh decided Holt McNeil, the awkward cowboy with a saddle in his living room, was a sweetheart?

  He settled back in the stadium chair. His shoulder, too broad for the space, grazed hers.

  AnnaLeigh stiffened and tried to ignore the pleasant pressure. She failed big time.

  Shoulders touching, hand holding. The fantasy fairies flitted around giving her crazy ideas that could never, ever come true.

  As a much needed distraction, the rodeo kicked off in a patriotic display such as she had never witnessed. Horseba
ck riders in glittery sequins circled the arena with America’s colors proudly, almost reverently, held aloft. Even the horses were decked out in red, white, and blue, the silver on their saddles glinting beneath the overhead lights. AnnaLeigh got a lump in her throat as the strains of the national anthem floated through the silent arena. Then someone prayed, and the lump grew larger.

  She wasn’t religious. What was the big deal?

  But Holt thought she was, and the pesky lie of omission tugged at her conscience.

  After the riders exited and the dust cleared, the rodeo began in earnest. AnnaLeigh watched in fascination. The tension, the roar of the crowd, the athletes, the animals, the huge overhead television screens—a rodeo was far more entertaining than she’d imagined. Everything moved so fast!

  At the end of the bareback competition while a cowboy waved his hat in victory, AnnaLeigh asked, “Why did he win?”

  Holt shifted in his seat, angling more in her direction. At some point, he’d let go of her hand. Jacey must not have noticed, but AnnaLeigh had.

  “He didn’t fall off.” His mouth tilted.

  “That’s it? He only had to hang on?”

  “There’s more to it than that.” He launched into a mini lesson about keeping the free hand clear of the horse, the rider’s feet position, and more she barely caught. As he spoke, he leaned in close, eyes alight with passion for his sport.

  When he finished, their eyes met.

  “You miss it,” she said.

  He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Sometimes.” He nudged his chin toward the child stuffing her face with popcorn. “But I have more important things in life now.”

  Which told her a great deal about his character.

  The rodeo had been his life. He loved it, was good at it. Yet, he’d walked away out of love for his daughter.

  Only the best kind of man would do that.

  And he wanted to marry her.

  Swallowing a lump of awareness, AnnaLeigh turned back to the scene in the arena, but thoughts of Holt, of the man he was proving to be, were never far away.

  During a break in the action, a pair of beautiful, dark-haired trick riders galloped into the stadium, standing upright in their saddles like Roman chariot drivers.

  Holt leaned toward her. “The Flying Sisters, Arizona and Lark Brazos. They have a ranch in Refuge. Great gals.”

  “Seriously? They live in Refuge?” Now, she was even more fascinated. “I’ve never seen trick riders before. They’re gorgeous.”

  “And talented. Watch.”

  Edging forward on her seat, AnnaLeigh couldn’t take her eyes off the sisters. In florescent pink and purple body suits, their long black hair flowing, the two women were breathtaking.

  Gasps rose in the stadium as they performed a variety of daring stunts from handstands and backbends to hanging by one foot from the side of the galloping horses.

  After a show that seemed too short to AnnaLeigh, the sisters finished with a flourish. Standing upright again, each woman planted a foot on her horse and the other foot on her sister’s horse. Side by side, in perfect sync, their arms extended and black hair flowing, they rode out of the stadium in a gallop.

  “That’s amazing.” She clasped her hands in front of her like a child. “They’re wonderful.”

  “Yeah. Pretty special. They have another sister who used to perform with them—Mesa-but she married and moved away. I’ll introduce you sometime.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Jacey leaned across AnnaLeigh, her voice small in the noise of the cheering crowd. “Daddy, can I be a trick rider, too? I bet the Flying Sisters would teach me.”

  Holt hiked an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to ride broncs.”

  “Yeah, but the girl costumes are prettier.”

  AnnaLeigh caught Holt’s eye, and they laughed together.

  It tickled inside, this sharing of humor.

  She was afraid she liked it.

  Before the crowd could settle again, the rodeo continued through steer wrestling, team roping, and saddle bronc, the latter of which, she learned, Holt had also participated in. From the reaction of people they’d met and those who continued to stop by his seat for a chat or a photo, she figured he must have won a lot.

  But now his daughter was his priority. So much so that he was willing to find a wife just so Jacey could have a mother.

  How could she not admire such devotion?

  During the next events, AnnaLeigh asked questions and Holt leaned close to explain. He seemed to appreciate her interest, and if she had tingly feelings, she blamed the excitement of the rodeo.

  More than once, they laughed or groaned together over something that occurred in the arena.

  The anxiety of the last few days eased as she found herself enjoying the rodeo and the man and child who’d brought her.

  When the bull riding commenced, Holt really came alive. This was his favorite event, the ultimate challenge, he claimed.

  “It scares me to death,” she admitted.

  Holt smirked a little, and she wondered if he was brave or crazy. The danger couldn’t be denied.

  The second rider out of the chute rode two hops before being flung like a ragdoll to the dirt. He lay on the arena floor, limp and still. The bull charged.

  AnnaLeigh plunged to the edge of her seat. She flung one arm against Holt. “Oh, no, Holt! Is he dead?”

  Holt took her hand and squeezed. The fantasy fairies fluttered again.

  He gave her arm a gentle shake. “He’s all right. See? The bullfighters will get him out of there.”

  In seconds that seemed to last forever, the bull was diverted by one incredibly brave man while two others helped the dazed competitor limp to safety.

  AnnaLeigh’s pounding heart would have settled except Holt still held her hand.

  Would he let go again, as soon as the moment passed, as he’d done before?

  He didn’t.

  Tugging her hand against his thigh, he held on.

  What did it hurt to pretend this was real, that this handsome cowboy loved her, that he was the father of the baby growing inside her?

  After all, he was to be her husband, the man who’d unwittingly rescued her from Alan. She might as well enjoy the moments like this one. She and Holt needed to like each other. Only as friends, of course. Liking wasn’t the same as falling in love. Friendship was a good thing. Friendship would make their home and marriage less awkward.

  Jacey, mouth filled with popcorn, leaned across AnnaLeigh for what must have been the hundredth time. A few kernels of corn spilled into AnnaLeigh’s lap.

  “Daddy, when is the wedding? AnnaLeigh said she doesn’t know.”

  Holt shot AnnaLeigh a glance that said he hoped no one nearby had overheard. “Pretty soon. Right, AnnaLeigh?”

  Still acutely aware of her skin touching his, she murmured, “Whenever you have time.”

  He loosened his grip, lifted his hat, and scrubbed at his short hair. “That’s the tough part, squeezing in anything extra. My schedule is tight.”

  Any fantasy AnnaLeigh might have had about the hunky cowboy tumbled to the arena floor, smashed in the dirt.

  Squeeze in a wedding? Right. She got it. Other than pleasing Jacey, their marriage was totally unimportant to Holt.

  She’s known that all along, so why, all of a sudden, did the truth hurt?

  8

  A thousand things on his mind this particular morning, Holt opened the taxi cab door and waited while Jacey scrambled inside, a bundle of excitement, followed by the rope-thin AnnaLeigh. His bride to be. The woman he’d marry this afternoon if he finished up his business in time.

  The ceremony would have to be fast. He didn’t want to miss any of tonight’s rodeo.

  Something about that sounded off, but he ignored the nudge as he leaned down for one last glimpse of his fiancée. “You look pale. Are you sure you’re up for another of Jacey’s shopping extravaganzas?”

  In Vegas there was always plenty to
do, even with a kid, especially during NFR week and at Christmastime. Every Las Vegas hotel was Christmas on steroids, from fake snowfall on the promenade to larger-than-life horse statues and snow bears, to seas of dazzling red poinsettias. Even cacti wore the lights and colors of the season.

  No wonder AnnaLeigh looked tired. She’d cheerfully escorted his daughter up and down the strip, to Bellagio’s fantastical botanical gardens, family friendly music venues, and glittery age-appropriate shows—anything Jacey wanted to do.

  And they’d shopped. What females found so fascinating about the activity bewildered him, but this morning they were off to buy flowers and other gee-gaws his child insisted were necessary for this afternoon’s fancy wedding.

  The thought gave him colic. Getting married should be simple. Having a wedding was downright nerve-wracking.

  “Holt, I’m okay. Don’t worry.” AnnaLeigh touched his arm. Her warmth spread through his shirt, made him aware of her.

  He studied her serious face, the dark circles, the pale, thin cheeks. Some days she seemed as fine as frog hair and others she was wobbly all day. She never admitted she was sick, never complained. When he asked, she’d insist she was okay.

  Once she’d even asked if he was trying to back out of their deal.

  He wasn’t. No way. No how. He’d never seen Jacey as happy as she’d been since learning that AnnaLeigh would be her mother. The little tumbleweed even insisted on staying in AnnaLeigh’s room instead of his so her new mom could fix her hair each morning.

  Holt had to admit, AnnaLeigh fixed hair better than he did. Jacey was right. He didn’t know diddly about girl hair.

  So far, his bride-to-be had kept up her end of the bargain. She asked for nothing, and she entertained Jacey while he networked. She genuinely seemed to enjoy his daughter. Because of AnnaLeigh, he’d had time to make some important contacts and generate high interest in his livestock.

  “Bye, Daddy.” Jacey snapped her seatbelt in place and wiggled her fingers at him. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back in time for the wedding.”