Heartsong (Singing to the Heart Book 2)

by Sara Walter Ellwood

  “You made lasagna?”

  The sudden sense of déjà that came over him wasn’t comfortable. He pulled a bottle of Dom Perignon from a chiller on the counter and turned to her across the butcher block of the island in the big country kitchen. “Yeah.”

  Neither of them had to be reminded of the last time Gabe cooked lasagna for them. He saw her replaying the same memory in her mind in the way she bit her bottom lip. He’d made it for her the night he’d proposed to her almost ten years ago.

  “I should have told you sooner, but the timing never seemed right, or you’d rip into me like a pitbull.” He softened his words with a grin. Before she could react to his comment, he said, “That day after my Cheyenne date I’d come here to tell you I’d bought the ranch and that you didn’t have to move, but then you...”

  She narrowed her eyes on him. “I was upset. You told me you were going to adopt Jesse. What was I supposed to think?”

  He swallowed and tossed his hat on the counter by the refrigerator. “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to think you’d never be part of his life. In fact, I wanted quite the opposite. But I screwed up and I was mad, at myself because of my antics in Cheyenne and because...” There was no way he was going to tell her his desire for her was driving him crazy. “Because I was afraid I’d never see Jesse again.”

  Her expression melted, and she hugged herself. “I’m afraid, too.”

  He positioned his thumbs on the cork, but then stopped short of opening the bottle, suddenly unsure. “I’ve been thinking. Judge Anderson said he would’ve given both of us, or at least one of us, custody of Jesse if we were married.” She sucked in a breath and her eyes widened. He rushed on before she could shoot him down. “Just hear me out before you say anything. Okay?” She nodded; then he popped the cork and poured two fluted glasses full of the champagne. He handed her one, but neither of them took a drink. Her hand shook as she set her sparkling drink on the granite top of the island.

  He set his glass beside hers and plowed on. “I know the judge liked you, and if your living and financial situations were different, you would’ve gotten custody. Reese mentioned that Anderson is a fan of mine. He also said the judge thought I was good with Jesse.”

  He paused to take a deep breath. “I don’t blame him for not giving me custody. Hell, I even said the same thing. The road isn’t a place for a kid. You’re fantastic with Jesse, and we both love him. So, I was thinking that maybe if we were--uh--married, the judge might give us Jesse.” He picked up the champagne, suddenly needing a drink.

  “You want to get married?” Her voice shook, and he barely heard the quiet words.

  He met her gaze and drained the glass. “It would be a business deal. After we adopt Jesse, we’ll get divorced and have joint custody. I already have the pre-nup drafted. You’d get to stay here at the ranch with Jesse, but the place will go to him when he turns twenty-one. I’ll pay child support and provide for him--and for you and your momma too, if you’ll let me, at least until Jesse’s older. He needs a full time momma now.” Her lips flattened. She was about to argue. He had to get all of this out, or he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to. “Anyway, I’ll visit as much as possible. You and Loretta would live here at the main house, and I could stay in the cottage when I’m here. Basically, we’d have the custody deal we wanted.” He shrugged, watching her for a reaction other than total disbelief and anger, amazed when only quiet resignation settled over her beautiful face.

  “Okay.” She breathed the word.

  “You’ll marry me?” He didn’t bother hiding his surprise.

  She drained her glass with a wince. “Damn, I’ve never liked champagne.” Michaela headed for the fridge. “Do you have any beer in here?”

  He was more uncertain now than he’d been before he started thinking about this crazy idea. “Yeah. Lone Star. Get me one, too.” When she turned with the longneck bottles in hand, he chuckled. “A two hundred dollar bottle of fine French bubbly, but we’d rather drink Texas beer.”

  “I’m a country girl, Gabe. You’ve always known that.” She handed him one of the bottles. “I’ve actually been thinking the same thing--that if I were married the judge would’ve given me Jesse. But the only man I can think of is Cash Nelson.” She twisted the top off the beer and took a long draw. “But he would read too much into the agreement. I never considered you. Hell, the whole town knows I can’t even stand you. How is this gonna work?”

  Gabe didn’t like the way his heart pinched at her words. He tossed the cap from his beer beside hers on the island top and took a drink. “We’ll have to convince them otherwise. We have a history and we’ve been working together”--he grinned as he remembered the custody hearing--“or against each other for weeks now. Everyone knows there’s a fine line between love and hate.”

  Chapter 8

  Micki moved to the French doors that opened to the patio and pool at the back of the house. The sun had set, and darkness shrouded the yard. Was she seriously considering this madness? “How soon for the wedding?”

  “The adoption hearing is set for January sixth,” he said. “We’ll have to be married long enough before then for the judge to see our marriage as legitimate and not a stunt.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Which of course it is.”

  He shrugged and rubbed a hand over his chin. “Anyway, I don’t want to wait more than a couple of weeks.”

  She faced him. “That doesn’t seem very long to convince people I’ve totally lost my mind.”

  The corners of his lips twitched upward. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Mary Nelson asked me today at the grocery store if we were together again. I think the folks around here are kinda expecting us to tie the knot, and my buying the ranch and you working for me will only reinforce that belief.”

  “So, as soon as we adopt Jesse, we get divorced?”He moved to the stove and turned it off. “Yes.”

  “What if I find someone else and want to get remarried?”

  He pulled the lasagna from the oven to sit it on the stovetop. “No matter what you do, the ranch goes to Jesse when he’s old enough.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  She watched him pull two salads out of the refrigerator and set them on the table. Her heart pounded at his smooth and almost graceful movements. Being married to him would be pure torture, which had nothing to do with them getting along for appearances sake.

  He looked at her and pulled out one of the carved oak chairs. “I think we should eat.”

  As if in a dream, Micki sat and let him move her chair in. She pushed the fresh salad greens around on her plate, her appetite replaced with a lump. Gabe wasn’t eating his salad either. With a sigh, she looked around the kitchen. “I think living here in the house would be nice. I’ve always loved it. Remember how your momma would bake us all cookies when we were kids?”

  Gabe picked up his beer and took a long swig. “Yeah.”

  She didn’t miss the pain that flashed over his amber eyes. One thing she’d always admired about Gabe was his love for his mother. Her breast cancer and death had destroyed him. Gabe and his father weren’t ever close. When news of Sam’s affair with Frankie came to light while Annie was dying from cancer, Gabe swore he’d never have anything to do with him again. He’d moved out of the house and into the bunkhouse and couldn’t wait to get off the ranch.

  “I’m sorry, Gabe. Frankie had always been a little wild and she and your dad had been close long before they got together romantically. He was her best friend. As weird as that sounds, considering he was old enough to be her father.”

  He picked at his salad. “I know Frankie had a crush on Dad since she was about eighteen. And Dad never really loved my mother.” Laying down his fork, he looked at her. “Though it would have hurt me, I could’ve accepted Dad and Frankie being together if they’d had the decency to wait until my mother was dead.”

  They ate in silence for a few moments, th
en she said, “I still think Sam and Frankie will walk through that door and tell us it’s all been a mistake.”

  He picked up his beer, then downed the last of it. “I know.”

  Her fork clattered on her plate. “Gabe, I’ll do anything to make sure Jesse is raised the way they would’ve wanted.”

  His eyes darkened, and he nodded. “I know you would. I feel the same way. That’s why I’m asking you to do this.”

  “Will we have to petition the court to adopt him together?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked down at the greens on her plate. “I suppose we’ll have to pretend to be in love, too.”

  He cleared his throat. “This will be tricky since the picture of me with that groupie hit the tabloids, but we can come up with some kind of story.”

  She played with her salad, unsure if she liked the nonchalant way he spoke about the incident with the striper. He had no qualms regarding casual sex with women he didn’t know. He’d cheated on her with a woman he had just met. Would he do the same thing to her again? The marriage won’t be real, she reminded herself.

  Micki picked up her beer. “I’m supposed to be stupidly in love with you, right? Maybe pining for you since you left me?”

  His jaw twitched. “I guess.”

  She took a big swig of the Lone Star and grinned. “So, the story could be that you groveled at my feet, and like some lovesick idiot, I believed you.”

  Gabe snorted. “Hell, that actually sounds believable. However, you’d never let anyone grovel. You’d kick him in the balls and toss him out on his ass.”

  She leaned her head back and laughed. “When you cheat on me again, I’ll do just that. Then I’ll file for divorce--conveniently after the adoption.”

  Gabe narrowed his eyes on her. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

  “You know, you hate your father for cheating on your momma, but you did the same things. To me, and then to Andrea.” She lost the smile and pushed the uneaten salad away. “Did you love her?”

  He shook his head. “No. I was her latest conquest.” Setting his own plate away, he laughed, but there wasn’t any humor in it. He left the table and came back with two more beers. “I never cheated on her.”

  “But the tabloids were filled with stories of you with other women.” She took the bottle he handed her as he sat in his seat at the end of the table.

  “Stories Andrea leaked herself.” He twisted off the top and took a long draw on the bottle. “I was nothing but clay to her, Michaela. She took a singing cowboy and turned him into a sex symbol. Everything she did was calculated. Even our marriage. I didn’t want to marry her--she proposed to me. She conned me into it, saying that a wholesome boy like me wouldn’t ever live with an older woman unless we were married. Then she turned that wholesome boy into a party-happy rock star in a cowboy hat.”

  She couldn’t believe him. Doing so would mean giving something of herself away. Hiding her conflicted thoughts, she shrugged and took a bite of salad. “How soon do we make the announcement?”

  “Sunday at church. The wedding has to be something elaborate, so the sooner we let the world know, the better. We probably should start planning it tomorrow, in fact.”

  “Yuck.” She wrinkled her nose.

  He grinned and sipped his beer, guessing correctly her reaction had nothing to do with the bite of the spicy salad dressing. “I figured we’d make our official public appearance at the CMAs in November. I’ll want to show off my new wife, of course. Are you planning to go to the NFR?”

  She may be retired from the rodeo circuit, but the National Finals Rodeo was the place where anyone connected to the sport would meet and cheer their friends on. Going to the rodeo every year had become something she and Frankie did together. She picked at the salad with her fork as memories flooded her. “I have tickets. But I’m thinking of not going this year.” She sighed and laid the fork on the plate. “Frankie and I planned to go, but without her it wouldn’t be the same. Why do you ask?”

  “Don’t sell those tickets just yet. I have a concert date on December fourth at the MGM. We can spend the week together.” He stood and took their uneaten salads to the sink. “We’ll be in the public eye the whole time.”

  She groaned, bringing a full-blown smile to his handsome face.

  As he dished out the lasagna, he said, “It’s a lot to ask, I know. But if we can pull off acting like the loving couple at those two events, Anderson will have no doubt our marriage is real.”

  Closing her eyes, she groaned again. She hadn’t even considered the very public aspect of being Gabe’s wife, but neither of them had mentioned a more personal problem. “What are we going to tell Jesse? You know he’ll be ecstatic that we’re together. Same goes for Momma.”

  “We can’t tell him the truth. He might tell Lemont what we’re up to. As for Loretta, I think we can let her in on the game.” He set a plate of lasagna before her, then took his seat again. “I’ve thought about hiring a housekeeper with nursing experience to help out with her care.”

  “I can’t let you do that.” She picked up her fork but had no appetite for the delicious-smelling pasta. “I’ll take care of Momma.”

  “Michaela, if we want to convince the world--and more importantly, the judge--that we are committed to each other and to Jesse, we have to use all of our available resources.” Gabe flashed that lethal grin of his. “I can afford a housekeeper and enough ranch hands to take care of things around the ranch. Besides, what better way to prove to Judge Anderson that you have plenty of time to devote to Jesse? I’m not saying you can’t still help out. She’ll be living here in the house. Hell, if you still want to manage the ranch, go for it, but you don’t have to punch cattle and round up horses. When are you going to admit you’re not Superwoman?”

  “I never claimed to be Superwoman.” It would be nice if she didn’t have to worry so much about her mother. She considered his words and the reasons the judge hadn’t given her Jesse to begin with. Depending on a man to take care of her wasn’t what she wanted to do. Her father left her mother when she needed him, and Gabe walked away from her when she thought he’d loved her. What would stop him from doing it again?

  She forked up a bite of the lasagna, but as the thoughts cascaded through her head, she couldn’t eat it. Accepting his offer was dangerous to her heart, but for the short term, she had to do it for Jesse’s sake. “I see your point. But I don’t have to like it. I don’t want to have to owe you anything.”

  “You don’t owe me a thing. All I ask of you is to be a good aunt to Jesse. Which I already know you are, or I wouldn’t be asking you to do this. I don’t care about the money.”

  “You might not care, but I do.” She met Gabe’s eyes over the table. He held the biggest damn diamond ring she’d ever seen toward her. The forkful of lasagna hit the plate with a clang.

  He raised a brow, and his lips twitched into a lopsided smile. “I bought this when I was in Nashville. Hopefully, I remembered your ring size. The love of my life has to have some serious bling to show off.”

  The diamond ring was at least seven carats and shimmered in the bright light of the kitchen. “Gabe...” The ring didn’t mean anything. The proposal was a sham. His words of love weren’t real. Micki didn’t love the man holding the ring, but she had at one time, and for a moment, her heart remembered the first time he’d proposed to her. The first time he’d promised to take care of her. “I can’t take--”

  He took her shaking left hand from beside her plate and slid the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit. “Yes, you can. It’s part of the act. Just as the wedding will be. As soon as we figure out when it is, I’ll make sure the tabloids know that we’re getting married.”

  Gabe’s grin and the twinkling of his dark eyes snagged on something deep inside Micki and set her insides on fire.

  “I have to make sure everyone knows I’m completely off the market.” He hadn’t let go of her hand and began to rub his t
humb over the area behind the ring he’d put on her finger. The heat from his touch branded her as completely as the rock he’d put on her hand did. “Which brings up a slightly more delicate problem.”

  Her heart raced at the sensual timbre of his voice. Breathless, she asked, “What’s that?”

  “Our attraction to each other.”

  “You’re delusional.” She tried to free her hand, but he held on. “I’m not attracted to you. You’re freaking crazy if you think I’ll consider having sex with you.”

  “Who said anything about sex? But as I remember, we were pretty damned good together.” Gabe pinned her with his hot gaze. “And you will be my lawful wife. Married couples have sex.”

  “I get it. I don’t owe you anything, right? Except for my body.” Her voice betrayed her desire by coming out breathy and low and not at all sounding as pissed off as she’d wanted. She yanked her hand from his and stood away from him.

  Gabe stood and stepped toward her. “Come on, Michaela, you can’t deny you’re attracted to me. We’re both consenting adults. I want you, and you want me. I see it in your eyes. Hell, you were sizing me up after you answered the door tonight.”

  She turned away, headed for the door, but he caught her arm and turned her into his chest. With a thud, she landed against a solid mass of man. The fire he’d started with a look pooled deep and throbbed in her center. She tried to tell herself she was so attracted to Gabe because she hadn’t had sex for a long time. And she almost believed it--until he kissed her.

  Gabe’s lips brushed hers as if he was asking permission. The kiss was gentle but heated at the same time. Against her better judgment, she brought her hands up over the soft cotton of his shirt covering a rock hard chest. He moaned as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. She opened under him, and he deepened the kiss. His hands burned a trail down her back to her butt. She hissed when he squeezed and pulled her against him. His erection pressed into her low belly.

  Dear God help her, she wanted him.