“We will figure this out my darling,” said Mrs. Patel. “We can call your sister.”
“No,” said Honey, a bit more vehemently than she’d intended. “She’s on the road for her campaign.”
“All right then. In the meantime, you'll stay with my family.”
“I couldn’t,” said Honey. “It's nearing the holidays, and you'll have your entire family over. There won’t be any space for me.”
Truthfully, the Patels were her only option. She couldn’t go running to Ginger, not when the two sisters had made such different decisions for their lives after their parents' divorce. Honey knew no one else in high society would offer her shelter.
"You could stay with me."
Both women turned to look at Mark.
"I have a spare bedroom at my cabin on the ranch," he continued. "This is all my fault. The least I can do is give you shelter until your father sees reason."
Chapter Nine
Mark’s pick-up truck crunched and sputtered over the paved gravel of the drive on his way up to the Dumasse estate. He hadn’t seen Chase on his way out. The superior officer had already ducked out of the brunch by the time Mark had handed Honey into the loaner vehicle he sometimes used on the ranch.
He didn’t have a car of his own. He’d never had his own vehicle. His entire family had shared the same clunker since he was in elementary school. The pickup truck was a step up as it had two working doors. But the seats were still a bit crummy.
Mark had done his best to wipe them down before he’d lifted Honey inside. They’d saved her shoe, though the heel had a few scuff marks from its cobblestone captivity. He’d laid down some napkins he’d scavenged from the glove box. The richest girl he’d ever known was now sitting on a McDonald’s cushioned passenger seat.
The drive to her home was long and silent. Mark had turned on the radio. But when Tim McGraw's My Little Girl came across the wires, he turned the radio off. They sat in a comfortable silence for miles.
And then more miles after he entered the curlicue gates of the Dumasse estate. It felt like they were on the driveway for an hour. In reality, it was probably more like five minutes. But who had a driveway that took five minutes to maneuver?
Mark had known Honey was rich before he'd known her name. She'd reeked of wealth. Literally. She smelled like a fine, delicate fragrance that was not present in nature; floral and sugar-coated with notes of sunshine.
He marveled at the lush, yet empty land they took to get to where she’d rested her head every night. Surely, she was a treasure that needed to be guarded. Maybe those guards were hiding in the rows of manicured shrubbery. But no one jumped out and halted Mark or his clunking vehicle.
And then the house loomed down on them. The mansion, or was it a castle, rose up into the skyline, making Mark feel even smaller and less than worthy. No one came out of the house as he pressed his foot, and the brakes squealed at the end of the driveway.
"You live here?" Mark asked.
"Not anymore,” she said.
"But you did. How big is your family?"
"It was just me and my dad."
"Just the two of you in that big house?"
"Well, there are servants."
“I’m sure they outnumber you. It would seem it was their house."
Honey shrugged. Her gaze was on the steps that lead to the massive door. Her hand was on the door handle of the truck. But she made no move to get out.
Mark had only known this woman for an hour or so, but he knew she wasn't doing well. It was all a shock. He couldn't imagine his family disowning him, and for something so trivial. At least she wasn't crying any longer.
"It's probably best if you stay here," she said when he came around to hand her out of the truck.
"Afraid I'll break something else?"
"You couldn't make it any worse,” she said as she stepped down. When she looked up into his face, her eyes went wide with sorrow. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean it that way."
"You don't have to explain. I’m clearly not from this world. I don’t get all the rules.” Her words had stung a bit. What soothed him was the fact that she hadn’t let go of his hand. “I don't care what you say, no man could disown his child for something like this. Let's just give him the night to blow off steam. He’ll call you in the morning.”
The lift of her perfectly plucked eyebrow told him that she didn’t believe his words. Mark still couldn’t imagine it to be true. She was the man’s little girl. All girls deserved protection.
Mark walked her up the steps, but he didn't accompany her into the house. Truth be told, he was scared to march inside that heavy door. He’d been out of his depth at the brunch. The majesty of this place was alien to him. Though he felt guilty for letting her go in there alone.
Forty minutes later, she emerged in a sundress and carrying a shoulder bag. But behind her were three servants carting luggage. Expensive-looking brown luggage with the gold crowns of a particular French designer. It was the large kind that would rack up charges on a commercial flight.
"I packed light," she said as she climbed back into the passenger seat.
Mark only nodded.
The servants gave him cool gazes as he closed the bed of the truck with the pricey luggage laying on hay. Mark climbed back into the driver’s seat. It took three tries to restart the engine. When they were on their way, the truck moved slower under the weight of the luggage now in the back.
"You doing okay?" he ventured.
"I'm still numb. It hasn't sunk in. I guess I kinda figured this day would always come. I was walking on eggshells all my life around him, knowing anything could set him off."
"That's no way to live."
"That's why I wanted to find an escort at the Bachelor's Brunch. Escorts have been known to turn into husbands."
"So, you want to get married to get out from under your father's thumb?”
"It's the only way for a girl like me.”
"The only way for a girl like you?” he parroted.
"I was raised in high society. I know, in some places, girls have many accomplishments and go to Ivy League schools. But in my family, if women aimed to achieve a career, it reflected badly on the male providers. It meant the men were lacking in some way.”
That made no sense to Mark. His mother had worked every day of her life, rarely taking any day except Sundays off to go to church. And then, sometimes, she snuck in a shift after service.
“While other girls went to college, I was expected to attend dinner parties and organize charity events and talk with my father's guests. It was my on-the-job training, I suppose. And I’m good at it. I’ve been preparing for marriage my whole life."
Mark had learned about women’s rights and women’s liberation in the textbooks of school. But he’d lived the need for it in his everyday life. Every cent his mother and sister brought into the household counted, and it needed to count as much as each man’s. In the Army, his life often depended on the training of the woman at his side. Equality wasn’t a notion in his world, it was a necessity.
"Was there a particular bachelor you had your sights set on?” In the second after he asked the question, his stomach turned. The idea of Honey with some other man made his teeth clench. He gripped the wheel, squeezing the leather covering until a thread came loose.
“Yes,” she said, her gaze fixed out the window. “He was there. He was standing next to my father when …”
The toy soldier? Mark hadn’t had any interaction with the man, but he knew the type. He was all training and no experience. A man like that wasn’t equipped to take care of a woman like Honey.
But he was? Mark was the one who had ruined everything she’d worked for with a careless tug of his wrist.
“Now, he'll never have me."
"Good,” Mark growled.
Honey turned to him. She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth. Her hands smoothed down the soft fabric of her intact dress.
“What I mean is, he's not goo
d enough for you,” said Mark.
"You don't even know him. You don't even know me."
"Oh, I know enough. Guys like him are not husband material."
"And guys like you are?"
“Yes. Eventually.”
Honey tilted her head to the side and regarded him. Mark squirmed under her assessment, certain he wouldn’t pass muster for a woman like her.
"Guys like me are good family men. We take care of our own, even if we struggle to do it our whole lives. Guys like me work hard for what we get. Guys like him are given it."
"That's the kind of girl I am. I was given everything. I've never had to work a day in my life. And like I said, I don't know how to.”
Her hand went to her stomach. Her shoulder caved forward. She fidgeted in the worn seat as though she couldn’t find a comfortable position.
“And here I am depending on another man,” she continued. “A stranger at that. If you weren't around to take me in, I don't know what I'd do."
"You don't have anyone else? What about your mother?"
Her features darkened. “My mother passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
She offered him a bland smile. He saw through it. He saw the pain she was trying to hide from him.
“Mrs. Patel mentioned your sister. Do you want to call her?
"I ..." Honey didn't finish the sentence.
What kind of family was this? A father who could turn his back on his daughter. A sister who she hesitated to call when in need.
“This world you come from,” he said, “it seems backward and not high at all. I would never turn my back on someone in need. And I'm as low class as they come."
"You're not low class.” She sat forward, her gaze as fierce as her words. “You're an honorable man."
"Honor doesn't pay the bills. Your father isn't going to give us the land to open a recruitment center. That will ruin my career and my ability to earn money for myself and send home to my family."
Honey was quiet again. He left her to it, obviously having said and done enough for one day. But a few miles later, she turned to him. There was a spark of brightness in her blue eyes.
“I have a crazy idea,” she said. “Maybe we can help each other."
Chapter Ten
“So, let me get this straight,” Mark said as he cut the wheel for a hard right turn.
Honey gripped the seatbelt strap as Mark maneuvered through the winding roads of the Montana countryside. She’d never been in a car that had gone above the speed limit. None of her drivers would’ve dreamed of pressing the gas pedal so hard.
She had her driver’s license because her father had bought her a Rolls Royce for her sweet sixteen. But she’d only driven it the once; on her sixteenth birthday for pictures and for the crowd of high-class society gathered celebrating with her.
That crowd had been mostly her father’s associates and colleagues. It was all for show. Just as much of her life had been while left in her father’s care. She’d played her part since her mother had left. She’d been the shiny trophy that he’d adorned and dressed to display his wealth. She’d gotten behind the wheel that day. All the while, she’d been so anxious that she might crash into something or, worse, someone.
She’d driven at the exact speed limit that day. It was what was expected. She’d smiled and waved for the photo ops. Mark drove like no one was watching, especially not police officers, intent on pulling over speeding drivers.
“You think you can find another location for the recruitment center,” Mark continued, “and convince the owner to lease it to us?”
“Yes.” Her response was strangled as he took another hairpin turn twenty miles over the posted limit.
“But the only way to do that is for us to pretend to be dating?”
“Yes.”
The green of the trees blurred. Her life wasn’t flashing before her eyes. She hadn’t done enough with it for that. It was just a blur.
A blur of images of her smiling blandly while doing her father’s bidding. Trying to be perfect and shiny and bright to please him. She knew he wouldn’t be pleased with her new plan.
Honey couldn’t believe she’d suggested that she and Mark take on the farce; to pretend they were a couple to restore her good standing and gain interest in his cause. But desperate times and all. If there was one thing she’d learned from her father, it was that she had to keep up appearances at all costs. Since she had no money, she had nothing to lose.
“By now everyone thinks that something happened between us,” she said.
“I helped you out of a jam.” Mark threw up his hands.
Honey gripped the edges of her seat. Another turn was on the horizon. With just the thumb of one hand, he took the turn with ease. She’d have been impressed if it wasn’t her life in his hands. Or rather, his thumb.
“They won’t see it that way,” she said after filling her lungs with much-needed air. The windows of the pickup truck were cracked open since the AC wasn’t in working order. “Even though it’s true. It’s more entertaining to think we did … something else.”
“And now you think we should do something else to make it real?” Mark’s brows rose so high they reached his hairline. The truck slowed to normal speed.
“No!” Honey’s cheeks heated. She let go of the seat and folded her hands primly in her lap. “I mean, we should pretend.”
She took a deep breath and began again.
“We need to make them think we’re together, that we’re in love. That’s a better story than you debauching me.”
“Debauching? What is this, the eighteenth century? Honestly, if anyone did the debauching, it was you to me.”
The breeze from the cracked window slapped her in the face. She had to blink a few times before she could turn around and face him. When she did, his dimples were deep with glee.
“Can you please be serious?” She turned to face forward, head held high. The breeze now slid past the smoothness of her forehead. “You said your livelihood was on the line. If this works, you get that back.”
“And you?”
“I get welcomed back into the society I was born into.”
“But you’ll have to do with a low-class guy on your arm in the meantime.”
The crease returned to her forehead. She turned to him again. He had an aristocratic nose, a chiseled chin. There was nothing low class about this man. She wanted to tell him that but she had no idea what was in his wallet or where his family line began.
“Why don’t you approach the toy soldier?” said Mark. “It’s him you want.”
Honey thought about Quinn going after Beau, the man Honey had set her sights on. Honey didn’t want Beau. She needed him to survive. By all accounts, he was a good man. By his account ledgers, he was well off. They would be perfect for each other. She could’ve been the sparkle on his arm, the shining centerpiece at his dinner parties. It was what she was meant to do in life.
“Beau and I hadn’t been formally introduced yet. And then, when he saw me, my skirts were up. It wasn’t my best look.”
Mark scrubbed a hand over his face. Honey didn’t like the remorse in his coffee dark gaze. His eyes were meant to be vibrant with life. She didn’t want Mark to regret coming to her rescue. It was the most selfless thing anyone had ever done for her.
She knew her request was the height of selfishness. But it was all she could think of to get some semblance of her life back. She couldn’t rely on Mark forever.
Despite what he’d said about taking care of her. They were from two different worlds. She had to get back to hers before it was too late and Quinn sank her claws into Beau.
“So, will you do it?” she said.
Mark slowed down as they approached the gates to a ranch. The Bellflower Ranch said the sign on the gate. But she knew it had been rechristened the Purple Heart Ranch by its inhabitants.
Honey had heard about this place for injured soldiers, but she’d never visited. They weren’t on the cha
ritable donations radar. It seemed the owner, one of the soldiers, was wealthy.
Sgt. Dylan Banks had never mixed in her high society circles. He would’ve been a sought after prize at last year’s ball, but he’d married a local girl with no family. Honey had heard Sgt. Banks’s wife had come from the foster care system.
“I just have to take you to this ball?” Mark asked as he pulled the truck up to a row of quaint cabins that looked like tiny, rustic pool houses.
The sun was setting, but people were about. An eclectic bunch walked toward a barn. Most were in paired couples. Men had their arms wrapped around women that they looked down upon as though the women were stars on Earth. Honey had never seen real men outside of a movie screen with such expressions on their faces. Were these a bunch of actors?
“And you’ll have to pretend you adore me,” Honey said as she gazed at the loving couples.
Mark turned to her. His gaze held her in place. Inside, her heart warmed as though a small flame had been given life.
“Yeah. I think I can do that.” His gaze raked over her one last time, and then he turned away.
Honey felt bereft without him beside her. But he appeared in another second at her door.
Opening the door, Mark offered her his hand. She didn’t know why she hesitated. Perhaps because she knew that once they began this farce, her life would take a new turn? Honey slipped her palm in his. Tingles ran down her spine as his strong hand clasped hers.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said.
Honey looked over at the quaint little cabin. Up close, it was even smaller than a pool house. “It’s … nice.”
Mark chuckled. “You don’t have to lie. It’s probably smaller than your closet.”
“I don’t have a closet anymore.”
His thumb rubbed circles below her knuckles. “I don’t have much. But what’s mine I’ll happily share with you. I’d never turn family out.”
“I’m not your family.”
“No.” He waggled his head, not committing to her denial or claiming the affirmative. “But you are my responsibility now. First thing’s first. Let’s get you fed. All I’ve had today were those finger foods, and I’m starved for a real meal.”
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