When the Cowboy said “I Do”

by Crystal Green

  There, Bo didn’t sleep a wink, just like most men on their wedding nights.

  Except, for him, it was for a different reason altogether.

  The next morning, after they’d stayed out of each other’s way, getting ready, eating breakfast, ignoring everything about the night before, Holly and Bo had checked out of the resort, going straight to the Rockin’ C.

  There, he had moved Holly’s scant belongings into his own house while she took care of light unpacking. The plan was to keep out of the public eye over the rest of the weekend during their short honeymoon, and they did it well, sticking to their strategy. They even managed to steer clear of one another for the rest of the day, too, grabbing their own meals until it came time for Holly to climb into her new bed in her new home.

  Yes, her home now, even though it was going to take some time to get used to it.

  When Monday morning arrived, Bo left early for the campaign office, and Holly told herself that this was okay, too. It was part of the plan, just like everything else.

  Come noon, after she’d run her own errands, she went to meet him, braving the public eye once again, the campaign going full speed ahead as they strolled arm and arm down a street lined with a row of small shops, some of which were vacant storefronts. Even so, the Old West feel, with the occasional hitching post and weathered wood walkway, still held its charm, just as Thunder Canyon would always hold its own.

  Holly tried not to think about how they were putting on a display for the town, like the Halloween decorations that were beginning to color some of the windows with fake autumn leaves, flying witches, gangly skeletons.

  As they passed townsfolk, nodding at them, thanking them for the wedding congratulations and felicitations, Holly asked, “How was work today?”

  “The usual,” Bo said, tipping his hat to an older couple who gave him a considering look as they walked on.

  He would be trying to win every single vote for the next few weeks, and Holly added her own sparkling smile every time, too.

  But it wasn’t easy, holding hands with him like this, pretending. Every one of the passersby knew that there’d been a mini-honeymoon and, earlier, a couple had even wondered when Holly and Bo were going to find time for a longer trip, if Bo should win the election.

  “Being with Bo now is honeymoon enough,” Holly said, taking it upon herself to answer.

  But little did the townsfolk know that there really had almost been a honeymoon for Holly on her wedding night, when Bo had appeared at her bedside.

  And she’d been ready for him, God help her. After he’d kissed her on the forehead, she’d nearly forgotten that it would be a terrible notion to pull him down to her for a longer, deeper kiss, and then some.

  He’d slept on the sofa the whole night while she’d tangled herself up in her sheets, wondering if—no, hoping that—he would open up her bedroom door and slip into bed with her. She’d ached and ached for it, although she’d been too afraid to go to him.

  It would’ve ruined their plans. Would’ve messed her up good, too, because she couldn’t afford another repeat of Alan, where her heart was torn ragged….

  She almost missed a step on the planked walkway, and Bo scooped his arm around her, holding her up.

  “Whoops,” she said.

  While he kept touching Holly, he watched her with that curious look, as if he didn’t understand what was going on between them any more than she did.

  “Holly…” he said.

  Then a flashbulb interrupted the moment.

  Again.

  Holly was getting used to blinking after pictures, but unlike the last time she and Bo had been unprepared during a candid moment, he went to shake this photographer’s hand.

  No, unlike the night in the park, when they’d been flashbulb-attacked while Bo had touched her belly, her husband actually welcomed a reporter from a lifestyles magazine based outside of Thunder Canyon. The publication had a pretty decent circulation within the state, and they’d become interested in Bo’s maverick campaign.

  The woman, a spritely forty-something, said, “I thought I’d get a head start on our interview. I know it’s a few hours away, but I couldn’t resist that shot of you two. Those are the kind of pictures that won over people to the likes of Princess Di and Prince Charles. Remember when they were in their early stages of courtship? You remind me of them.”

  The comparison withered within Holly. Di and Charles’ romance had turned out to be a manufactured facade, with the princess’s unrequited love for her prince. Charles’s heart had belonged to another woman, and Diana never had a shot, living a sorrowful life.

  Their fairy tale had been a lie.

  As they said good-bye to the reporter, Holly tried not to walk with a tension-filled gait that would only show how these lies were tying her up.

  When she and Bo came to a tiny baby boutique, a newer business that seemed to be floundering based on the constant Sale! sign in its window, Bo opened up the door for her, his hand on her back as he ushered her in.

  He was no doubt aware that their reporter had been trailing them from a near distance. Now, Holly could see her outside the window, discreetly keeping tabs on her subjects.

  Bo leaned down and spoke into Holly’s ear, stirring the curls she’d pinned away from her face.

  “Ready for some shopping?” he asked.

  She nodded, smiling up at him. He’d been hoping that they might snag some press attention today, on this little field trip to the baby shop. Kill two birds with one stone, right? Patronize a small business in town that needed attention and show off his family-man side at the same time.

  The shopkeeper seemed thrilled to have Thunder Canyon’s newest and most visible couple in her store, and she showed them everything from cradles to hand-sewn receiving blankets.

  Holly was on cloud nine, picturing Hopper wearing a cute yellow sleeper with pandas sewn all over it.

  Without even looking at the price tag, Bo said, “We’ll take it. And how about this, too?” he asked Holly, pointing to a rainbow of other displayed sleepers.

  He must’ve seen the adoring sheen in her gaze, because before she could tell him not to spend too much, he asked the owner for those, as well. Plus the rose-festooned white wicker cradle Holly had run her hand over on the way into the store. Plus everything else her baby would need that was within sight.

  As the owner rang everything up and arranged a special delivery to Bo’s ranch, Holly pulled him aside. She kept a smile on her face because she was fully aware that the reporter was still outside the store window, along with a few other citizens who’d gathered.

  “Bo,” she began.

  “Before you say anything, the baby deserves every bit of it. So do you.”

  Then he kissed her on the forehead again, but this time, his lips stayed against her skin for a moment longer than any business arrangement would require.

  Holly’s body flared with yearning as his breath warmed her skin. An old-fashioned sign of affection.

  And the more Bo acted like a gallant, the more she wanted him.

  By the time they left the store, a small crowd was waiting outside.

  A college-age girl said, “Go, Bo!”

  The rest clapped while the reporter took another picture. As Bo protectively put his arm around Holly’s shoulders and led her away, toward their parked vehicles, the flash seemed to haunt them.

  “Let’s get you back for some rest,” he said.

  Holly had driven her pickup to town, separate from Bo since they were both on different timetables, and as they climbed into their own vehicles, she said, “I’m not tired.”

  “You should be, after such an expedition.”

  He smiled, closed his door while making sure she started her pickup and drove off ahead of him before he, too, headed for his ranch.

  It was only after they entered his house that the facade of Public Bo wore off. In fact, as he tossed his coat and hat on the entry rack, he was relatively distant, just as he’
d been yesterday while she’d moved in. But Holly had chalked that up to them doing their own tasks—him bringing in her boxes, her arranging her room and then lying down when her back had started aching a tad.

  He was already walking toward his study in the back of the house when she stopped him.

  “Bo?”

  She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want him to leave in such a hurry.

  He paused in the foyer. “Can I get you something? What do you need?”

  What did she need?

  She refrained. It was hard, but she kept her most private thoughts to herself and said, “You don’t have to get me anything. You got me enough at that shop, and thank you—thank you so much—but…”

  “I already said that you and Hopper deserve that and more.”

  He began to leave again, as if he was in some kind of hurry to get away from her, just as he’d been ever since their wedding night.

  “I went to my practitioner’s appointment today,” she said, wanting to say something to him, even if it wasn’t what her heart wanted her to be speaking.

  Her doctor’s comment really halted him, but he didn’t turn to her, so she couldn’t see the expression on his face.

  “Nothing’s wrong with me or the baby,” she quickly added. “The doctor just told me that she wants me to gain some weight. She’s always on me about that. I…just thought you’d want to know I was there, in case anyone mentions it to you.”

  “Why didn’t you remind me you were going?” he asked in a voice so soft that she didn’t know what to make of it.

  “About the appointment?” Should she have? “I knew you’d be busy. And I’ve been seeing the doctor on my own for a while.”

  He stayed turned away from her for a few more seconds. Holly could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

  Finally, he faced her, his features relaxed and casual. Typical Bo.

  Had she expected anything else?

  “If it’s okay with you,” he said. “I’d like to go with you next time.”

  “Of course. I should’ve thought about it. My husband would be interested in my sonograms and health, and you’d be free to go to the appointments now that we’ve come clean about our relationship to the public.”

  Something—betrayal?—flashed over his gaze, but it was there and gone, so she didn’t know if it’d only been a trick of her mind.

  But why would her words affect him in such a way? Bo wasn’t really the proud father-to-be that the public knew.

  And his next comment proved it.

  “It would look good if I was involved with the day-to-day stuff with you and Hopper,” he said.

  Even though his gaze stayed on her belly—just like the time they’d been in the bridal shop and he’d stopped himself from touching her belly—he turned around, going for the hallway.

  Taking a little part of her with him, too, even though she hadn’t wanted to give it over.

  Chapter Eight

  Another interview down, many more to go, Bo thought when he returned to his house that night, closing the door behind him so that the gurgle from the creek and the cold air stayed outside. The sun had pretty much disappeared since this afternoon, leaving the slight threat of rain behind, so there was also a trace of sulfur and restlessness in the atmosphere that didn’t belong in a house.

  Without meaning to, he listened, hoping to hear Holly somewhere. But everything was quiet, only the ticking of a clock from the living room chopping the atmosphere into bits.

  “Holly?” he asked.

  No answer.

  Was she already in bed?

  He could just about see her: blond curls spread over her pillow, an arm thrown over her head, her lips open while she breathed in and out, the clouded moon coming in from a window to paint her skin smooth and pale.

  Bo’s heart rate got a little tangled up at thinking about how he would love to brush any stray hairs back from her face, then lean down, his mouth against her cheek, then against her lips…

  He tugged off his coat and hat, but when he tossed them and missed the rack by the door altogether, he didn’t bother to pick either of them up.

  Later. He would do it later.

  Right now, he just wanted to walk by Holly’s room, to see if she was in there. To reassure himself that he hadn’t chased her off after how he’d acted earlier.

  When he came to her closed door, he paused, his fingertips against the wood. Inside, he heard the low murmur of the TV.

  So she had stayed around, even after he’d acted so brusque about her going to the doctor alone. He’d seen the bewilderment written all over her face after he’d shown her too much of what he’d been hiding in himself, thoughts that didn’t even have any business being there. Hell, why had he been disappointed that she’d gone to a prenatal appointment by herself? Because it might make people wonder why a husband wouldn’t be there, looking at those pictures they took of a baby inside a woman’s belly?

  A sonogram. That’s what they were called. And damn him if he felt a little stung because Holly hadn’t wanted him there to see the baby.

  Now that he knew she was home, he stepped away from her room, intending to go to his own. But he didn’t even make it that far, because the door to his second guestroom had been left open, and he could see the packages from their baby boutique shopping trip piled inside.

  From a cradle to a bunch of little itty bitty baby clothing, he’d bought just about everything in that store because he thought it would make Holly smile. He thought her child might be happier, too, if Mommy felt that way.

  Scanning the walls, Bo wondered what the baby might like, as far as decorations went. Pandas, like he’d seen on that one sleeper outfit? Teddy bears?

  That might be fun. Old-fashioned bear pictures. And would the baby like pastel colors—blue or pink?—over his or her walls? Bo could get right to painting them, after the election stopped demanding all of his time.

  Then again, he and Holly hadn’t talked about any of this. There just hadn’t been a spare moment, with the wedding, his campaign…

  The urge to go to her, whether she was sleeping or not, pulled at him. And it wasn’t just because they needed more talk.

  No. He just…

  Wanted to see her again before he called it a night.

  Resisting, Bo left the nursery and went straight to his room, not even daring to look back toward Holly’s. This was a fine position to be in—wanting his “wife.” His body needed to wise up, to know the difference between duty and lust.

  And it was his duty to keep Holly safe now, especially from him. Damn it, he’d taken advantage of her situation. She really was young, and he just hoped this pseudo-marriage didn’t mess up the rest of her life…or the baby’s.

  But when he came to his door, he saw something taped to it. A picture.

  A sonogram photo of a tiny being all curled up, his or her fists bunched. Hopper?

  Bo took down the picture, smiling, but then he realized what he was doing.

  He was acting like a proud dad when that wasn’t the case.

  As he tucked the picture into his nightstand, he took one last glance at it. He’d have to detach himself from his not-really family now, because somehow, Holly and the baby had become sewn into the fabric of his days, even though she wasn’t his wife.

  And the baby wasn’t his child.

  Bo shut the drawer, but he still heard the hum of Holly’s TV down the hall, and he tried his best to un-stitch himself from his houseguest.

  Trouble was, with every thread, he wondered if he was going to become a little more undone himself.

  After Rose Friedel had gotten wind of Bo’s baby boutique spree, she’d hit upon an idea for another rally over a week later, with the election only about two weeks away.

  Hence, here they all were, Holly thought, bundled in her coat, scarf and gloves as the dusk-hushed air nipped at her cheeks.

  She and Bo were standing in the flatbed of a truck in front of Cora’s Baby Haven, the shop where she
and her husband had held that now infamous spree. It’d become a symbol of sorts for his campaign—a struggling small business that had the potential to be raised from the ashes of Thunder Canyon’s economy. The reporter from the lifestyles magazine had already featured her pictures on her publication’s blog, and the mention of the shop had increased business.

  Then again, the reporter had also posted that photo of Bo and Holly, just after Holly had almost slipped on the walkway. “A Prince to the Rescue,” it had said underneath.

  Holly had looked at it, remembering how the reporter had mentioned Charles and Di, and she’d felt the lie growing that much more.

  Every day the lies escalated, just like the chants from the crowd right now.

  “Bo! Bo!”

  Holly’s heart copied every pump of their fists.

  Bo!

  Bo!

  Too bad these slams of desire were getting stronger every single night, too, after Holly and Bo retired for the evening, going to their separate rooms. She would stare at the ceiling, holding her breath, wishing she could hear him outside her door, just as she’d heard him that night over a week ago.

  Her TV had been playing an old movie on low volume, but his whispered voice had come to her loud and clear, anyway.

  “Holly?” he’d asked.

  She had wanted to answer, but her tongue had been too tied. If she opened her mouth, it would be to invite him in.

  Then what?

  Even now, as her body responded to every “Bo!”, Holly knew. She wouldn’t have been able to stop what would have surely happened that night.

  As she watched him waiting for the crowd to wear itself out, one thumb hitched into the belt loop of his jeans, his stance so achingly masculine and laconic, that same desire traveled over Holly’s skin.

  And under it.

  He glanced back at her, just like a politician husband sharing a grand moment with his wife. And, for a flicker of time, a snap of connected understanding, it was real.

  She was proud of Bo. So proud that her chest constricted at the sight of his success and the good future he was going to bring this town.