The Bachelor Cowboy

by Jessica Clare

  “She’s still my mother.”

  He tossed the paperwork down on the bed. “I’m getting a lawyer involved. I’m going to demand my money back. Once they find out the contract’s not legit, she can’t hold me to it.”

  “Jack, you can’t get a lawyer involved! My mom will go to prison for forging documents.” She looked utterly distressed. Layla carefully set Oscar down on the bed and got to her feet. “Is my mom being incredibly dumb about this? Yes. But someone probably filled her ears with all kinds of money-making schemes and she’s just listening to them. It’s not her—”

  “It is her,” he said firmly. “You may not see her as a problem, but all I know is she’s the one who bid against her own daughter at an auction, announced to the world that she was a virgin just to humiliate her in front of everyone, and is now a woman who makes up bogus documents to sell land she knows isn’t worth a dime. And now I’m on the hook for thousands of dollars, Layla. What do you want me to do here?”

  “I don’t know,” Layla whispered. She hugged her chest, arms crossed. “My name is on those documents. My seal is. I could lose my notary and that’ll screw my business, Jack. If this gets out, it could ruin me, too. It’s a small town. People talk. They’ll think I’m as crooked as her.”

  Jack raked a hand through his hair. “So you’re just going to let her get away with this?”

  “I don’t know.” Tears spilled from her eyes. “I honestly don’t know what to do. I’ve always done my best to fix her problems in the past, but I don’t know how to fix this one.”

  “You shouldn’t have to fix her problems. She’s an adult. Let her realize the consequences of being an adult. Let her realize she can’t walk all over everyone.”

  “She’s my mother,” Layla said brokenly. “She’s the only family I have.”

  You have me, he wanted to say.

  She ducked her head and began to pace, stress radiating out of her. “I’ve tried and tried to think of a way to pull this all apart, but my mother won’t give your money back even if you back out.”

  “Then I’ll sue her.”

  “You think she has any money for you to take?” Layla shook her head.

  He snapped his fingers. “Better yet, I’ll let everyone know what she did. That she stole your stamp and forged your name. I know she’s your mother, but she broke the law. Maybe she should go to jail.”

  “And if I asked you not to do it?” Layla whispered, looking up at him with sad eyes.

  Jack shook his head. He had no answer for that. He wanted to help Layla, he really did, but if it meant letting her crooked mother get away with his money . . . just the thought made him both furious and disgusted. “I don’t know how I feel about that, baby.”

  “I could pay you back the money,” Layla began. “It’d take a while, but . . .”

  He shook his head. “Once again, you’re bailing out your mother. I don’t want you to suffer over her choices. When are you going to let her learn from her own mistakes?”

  Layla’s lip trembled. “Give me twenty-four hours to figure out a solution.”

  “So you’re picking her side?” Jack narrowed his eyes at her. “Really? You’ll let her fuck me over just because she’s your mother?”

  “That’s not it. That’s not it at all.” Layla sniffed hard, swiped at her cheeks, and headed for the door to his cabin. “Just . . . twenty-four hours, all right?” She raced out before he could stop her, and Jack was torn. Part of him wanted to go after her . . . if only to shake some sense into her.

  How was it someone as awful as Janet had such control over sweet, enthusiastic, eager-to-please Layla? He looked down at the documents scattered on his bed next to Oscar. One of the pages was for barn plans, another for a building layout for a home. His future home.

  Jack crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash.

  * * *

  * * *

  Even though she hadn’t been to therapy in a few months, Layla texted her therapist and asked if she could come by for a session. She needed to clear her head, and her therapist always had good, unbiased advice. If nothing else, Layla could use her as a springboard for ideas.

  She’d wanted to reach out to Becca and Amy, her closest friends, but they were both involved with Jack’s brothers. They’d take Jack’s side.

  And . . . Jack’s side was the right side. Layla knew that, but even so, how could she turn her back on her mother like that? It was one thing to refuse to help her. It was another to assist with a lawsuit against her and contact the police. She knew her mother was selfish and crappy, but getting law enforcement involved felt like a step she wouldn’t be able to walk back from.

  If she lost her mother, who did she have left for family? No one at all. Her father had been out of the picture for so long that sometimes Layla forgot he existed at all.

  Either way, Layla was going to lose someone.

  So . . . therapy.

  Her psychologist was able to squeeze her in that afternoon, and Layla showed up, a nervous, twitchy wreck, and gushed it all out. She told her therapist everything and waited expectantly for advice.

  But her therapist only clasped her hands and gazed at Layla. “You know what I’m going to say.”

  Layla cringed. In a way, she did. She knew what the right answer was . . . but it was so hard. “I just . . . I guess I wanted to hear it from another person.”

  The therapist gestured at Layla. “Look at it this way. This is a pivotal moment in your relationships. It’s not about who’s right or who’s wrong. Both are asking you to take a strong stand on their behalf. The question is, who do you want to stand with?”

  “I want Jack,” Layla whispered, toying with the hem of her sweater. She hadn’t thought to bring her crochet and her hands were fidgety. “I think I’m in love with Jack, but I don’t think he’ll want me after this.”

  “Ask yourself about the future, then,” her therapist said calmly. “Play this out a year or two from now. Five years from now. Imagine your life going forward. I’m not here to judge. You have to do what’s best for you. What will make you happy and satisfied? Where do you see yourself in five years based on today’s decision? The answer might not be obvious, so I want you to go home and think about this.”

  Layla didn’t need to go home to decide, though. She knew what her answer needed to be. Five years from now . . . she saw herself with Jack. Smiling with Jack. Laughing with Jack. Curled up on the couch with Jack. Enjoying life with Jack. If she sided with her mother despite everything . . . all she would have would be exactly what she had right now.

  A relationship with someone who only used Layla for what she could do for her.

  It was obvious. In a way, it had been obvious the entire time.

  “It’s just . . . it’s hard,” Layla said, twisting her hands. “It’s really hard.”

  “Choosing to put yourself first is, sometimes.” Her therapist smiled gently. “But you’re not the one that set up these ultimatums. It’s not up to you to fix the situation. It’s not your situation. It’s up to you to support, nothing more.”

  In that, her therapist was wrong. Layla could do more. She could do a lot more, and when she left the therapist’s office, clearheaded and determined, she got to work.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It wasn’t hard to flush her mother out of hiding.

  Layla suspected that Janet would ignore her phone calls if Layla continued to act angry, so she opted to text her mother instead, and used a lure.

  LAYLA: Hey, Mom, a friend of mine gave me a few of these purses. I think they’re expensive? If you want one, come pick it up.

  She texted a photo of her Birkin bag (that she’d bought secondhand off of Amy for a ridiculously low amount of money last spring). Janet didn’t know Layla had a thing for nice shoes and purses, but Layla absolutely knew her mother did. It was obvious bait, but she
suspected Janet would be lured in anyhow.

  Sure enough, she got a text back within an hour, a record for her mother.

  JANET: When can I come by?

  LAYLA: I’ll be free tonight after seven.

  JANET: You know that doesn’t work for me. Tonight’s my book club. You know that! I’ll be there before five.

  Normally, Layla would scramble to accommodate her mother, feeling like she was the problem. She hadn’t forgotten about her mother’s book club. It was just passive-aggressiveness on Layla’s part to pick that particular time.

  LAYLA: Sorry, I won’t be here.

  LAYLA: I’m visiting clients until seven.

  It was a lie. Such a lie. And yet . . . Layla felt gleeful saying it. What kind of awful person was she that lying to her mother was such a thrill? It was just . . . she finally felt like she was the one holding all the cards, and it was a heady sensation. Riding high, Layla went ahead and texted Jack, too.

  LAYLA: Can I come over tonight?

  LAYLA: It’ll probably be late . . .

  LAYLA: And you’re probably angry at me.

  JACK: I’m not and it’s not. Come over whenever. We need to talk.

  She swallowed hard and sent back his wording.

  LAYLA: That sounds like breakup-speak.

  JACK: It’s not. Just come over already.

  LAYLA: I will. See you tonight.

  She sent a half-dozen kiss emojis and felt like crying all at the same time. Whatever happened today, Jack was on her side. And because of that, she felt stronger, more resolute. She could do this.

  Layla laid the paperwork she’d spent all night working on out on the kitchen table, poured herself a cup of coffee, and began to work on a new cross-stitch project to pass the time. Something with hearts and smiley faces and a few four-letter words suited her mood.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The doorbell rang at six thirty.

  Of course it did; Layla had been expecting Janet to show up early. It was just another way Janet wanted control of the situation. No one else’s schedule was important but her own. Layla considered pretending not to be home, and she stitched a few more times in her project, deliberately taking her time. Eventually, she got up and went to the front door. Before she opened it, she took a deep breath.

  She could do this. Jack was on her side. He didn’t even know what she was up to, and he supported her and still cared about her. That was enough for Layla.

  With a steely look on her face, she opened the door.

  Janet was dressed in a pair of tight designer jeans and a flowing silk blouse, a half dozen gold necklaces around her throat. Her hair was freshly highlighted with red streaks, her nails long and manicured, and Layla noticed new eyelash extensions, too. She gave Layla a knowing look. “I see you’re home early.”

  “Something like that.”

  Her mother went inside Layla’s place without asking, looking around. “I can’t stay long. I just came to see those purses and to borrow some sugar, if you have some.”

  “I have sugar. But the purses were a lie.” Layla marched over to the kitchen table and picked up the first stack of papers, holding them out to her mother. “This is for you.”

  Janet narrowed her eyes at Layla. “What’s this?”

  “This stack is a police report I’m filing against you.”

  “What?” Janet stared at her in horror.

  “I’m going to file charges against you for breaking and entering my office, theft, and forgery.” Layla’s stomach clenched miserably, but she ignored it. She had to get this out, or she’d never be able to do it. “I wanted to let you know in advance before I did it. It’s a misdemeanor to forge my signature, of course, but if you’re found guilty it means fines and up to a year in prison.”

  Janet narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “This isn’t funny, Layla-belle. You made me drive all the way over here for this? I don’t appreciate it at all.”

  “I’m not being funny, Mom. I’m dead serious.” Layla gestured at the paperwork. “I spent all afternoon filling that out. I haven’t filed it officially yet, but I’m going to the moment you leave. I’ve also had the locks changed at my office and I’ve left instructions with the receptionist that if she sees you, she’s to call the cops.”

  Janet said nothing. She gave Layla a withering look, her mouth tight, and flipped through the paperwork. After a long, tense moment, she threw it back down on the table. “Why would you do this to me, Layla? Your own mother?”

  “Because I’m tired of trying to fix your messes for you. I’m not going to let you forge my signature on documentation I know is faked. I’ve also contacted the documentation department at FEMA to let them know that your elevation ‘correction’ request was fraudulent. I’m sure they’ll be looking into it as well.”

  Big, fat tears glimmered in Janet’s eyes. “You’re really trying to get me sent to jail, Layla? Why? Haven’t I been a good mother to you? Sure, I’ve messed up now and then, but don’t you feel like this is an extreme step . . . ?”

  “You mean extreme like how you stole my notary seal and forged my signature?” Layla threw back. “Don’t act like the victim here, Mom. We all know it’s not you.”

  Janet crossed her arms and tilted her head, gazing at Layla. “You haven’t filed this yet. You’re not going to. You wouldn’t do that to me. You’re just trying to scare me.”

  “I absolutely would and I absolutely am,” Layla agreed. “I won’t file it on one condition, though.” She paused for a moment. “Actually, it’s a few conditions, but they’re all tied together.”

  “Is this about that boyfriend of yours? Is he filling your head with ideas? He’s trying to get my land for free—”

  “This is absolutely about him, and he doesn’t want your land, Mom. No one does.” Layla calmly reached over and picked up the next stack of paperwork on the table that she’d prepared. “This is a document where you’ll back out of the sale of the property and agree to give Jack his deposit back. Your Realtor will need to sign this, too, but I’m sure you can work it out with him.” She picked up another piece of paper. “And these documents will dissolve your JS Properties corporation, since we all know it’s a joke. I’ve already filled them out for you as your accountant. All you need to do is sign on the noted spots.” Layla picked up the next stack. “And this paperwork states that you’re going to donate that land to the local fire department, since it’s of no use to anyone.”

  Janet’s mouth hung open. She took the paperwork as Layla handed it to her, saying nothing. When the last piece was presented, she lifted her gaze to Layla. “You’re trying to ruin me.”

  “I’m not. I’m doing the right thing. I’m not going to let you screw Jack out of his money, or anyone else. I’m sorry you spent so much on that land, but that doesn’t mean you get to pass the buck to someone else. It’s your problem. These are solutions for you. Legal solutions.”

  Her mother set the paperwork down on the table. Janet shook her head. “I’m not doing this. That money is already spent. My new boyfriend—”

  Layla raised a hand into the air. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know anything about him, because the less I know about him and his unscrupulous suggestions, the better. I’d hate to have to leave an anonymous tip with the authorities.”

  This time, her mother made an outraged sound in her throat. “You wouldn’t!”

  “Try me.”

  Janet recoiled at Layla’s deadly tone. “This isn’t like you, Layla-belle. What kind of notions has that boyfriend been filling your head with?” She shook her head and pushed the paperwork away from her. “I’m not doing any of this.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because it’s either that or I file my police report against you and ask them to come and dust for fingerprin
ts at my office. I think we both know what they’ll find.” Layla pulled out the next document, the one that hurt her to fill out but was also absolutely necessary. “And I’m also going to file a restraining order against you if you don’t go along with this.”

  Janet made a wounded sound. Her eyes filled with tears again, and Layla felt like the most awful daughter in the world. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would. I’m sorry, Mom, but you’ve left me no choice.” Layla nudged the documents toward her. “If I can’t trust you not to destroy my career or those that I love, I’m going to have to protect myself from you. It hurts me, but I have to do it.”

  “I don’t think it hurts you at all,” Janet cried out, snatching up the stacks of paper. “I think you’re heartless and you’re forcing your mother into a corner. You want me to be broke forever, don’t you?”

  “No, Mom. You know I don’t.” Layla’s eyes got misty, but she dug her fingernails into her palms until the urge to cry passed. “You know I love you. I’ve tried to help you so many times, but all you’ve shown me is that I can’t trust you. I’m sorry, but it has to be like this. Give Jack his money back. Get rid of the land. I’ll help you do both—legally. If not, you and I are done.”

  Janet clutched the paperwork to her chest. “You ungrateful, awful child. When I think of all the things I’ve done for you, it breaks my heart.” She shook her head. “I may never speak to you again after this.”

  “I know. I’ve thought about that a lot,” Layla said calmly. “But this is the decision I’ve made, and it’s one I’m going to have to live with. I’m sorry if it has consequences on our relationship, but I’m not budging. If you don’t cancel the contract and give Jack his money back, I’m pressing charges.”

  “You’d really try to get me thrown in jail?” Janet sounded heartbroken, and even though Layla knew it was an act, it still hurt.