A Cowboy's Fake Fiancée

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A Cowboy's Fake Fiancée Page 10

by Savannah McCarthy


  Frenchie nodded. “You got it. Is that all?”

  Nash nodded back. “See you in a few days.”

  “Have fun in Denver,” Frenchie smirked, before placing his glass down and heading back out of Nash’s office.

  Nash shut his computer screen off and looked out of his office window again. He was going to drive to Denver. He needed the time alone and the scenic route was absolutely breathtaking. He was afraid of all the thoughts he might have when there was nothing else to distract him, but he hoped it might provide a kind of meditative peace that would help calm him down. Lord knows he needed it after Heather had awoken the sleeping beast inside of him.

  Chapter 16

  Heather

  It didn’t take long for Heather to pick out what she’d wear to the Bennett Hill concert; it wasn’t like she had closets full of clothing.

  She usually just kept her casual clothes folded up in her dresser drawer, while she hung up her nicer garments from whatever door space she could spare. Luckily, she still had her old, dusty travel luggage bag. She’d had no use for it, ever since returning from Boulder, and she had to sweep up the cobwebs before she could pack her toiletries and clothing into it.

  She was going to bring her only other nice summer dress besides the one that she had worn for the Fort Lupton meeting, but she’d also pack that dress, in case anything happened to the first one. She also included some sweatpants and a sweatshirt, planning on taking full advantage of her time alone at the hotel. She planned on cuddling up, picking a sappy movie, ordering room service and pigging out all night. A massage had also sounded nice when Nash had first mentioned it, but, in reality, Heather just wanted to be alone.

  It seemed like barely any time had passed at all when her 8pm alarm finally went off and she looked out of her bedroom window to see a sleek black business car idling out front.

  Constance had been happy to see Heather home from work so early. Usually, the only time they got to spend with each other was on her days off, which her few and far between. Heather couldn’t say no to having a nice dinner with her mom, but then she’d had to panic pack. Luckily, everything had been finished in just the nick of time.

  “Will you at least tell me if you’ll be in Colorado?” Constance prodded, as Heather lugged her luggage down the stairs.

  “I will be,” Heather assured her. “Don’t you worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know, I know,” Constance waved her off. “I just would like to know where my daughter’s going to be spending the night. I see that black car outside again and it looks so ominous. Is your new man afraid to come pick you up himself? Tell him I won’t bite, unless he gives me a reason to!”

  Heather laughed and kissed her mother on the cheek. “My new ‘man’,” she shook her head. “The day will come.”

  Heather opened the front door to see Nash’s driver waiting with his hand on the backdoor.

  “I have a bad feeling I know who it is you’re seeing,” Constance just had to say. “But I know you would never stoop so low.”

  Heather’s heart sunk. She was sure that her mother was referring to Nash. There was no way Constance had seen the article on the internet about Fort Lupton, but Heather knew that if her mom went grocery shopping and happened to see that picture on the cover of some gossip magazine, she would surely be able to tell.

  She was going to have to tell her eventually.

  Would it even matter to Constance that Heather was getting a million bucks out of it? Her mother had more personal reasons for hating Nash than most, after all.

  She decided to ignore that confrontation for as long as she could manage.

  “Have a good night’s sleep, mama,” she said, as she dragged her luggage from the stoop.

  “You make sure you do nothing but sleep!” Constance shouted after her.

  Heather laughed and the driver sprinted forward to help her with her bags.

  She slunk down in the backseat of the now familiar car and waved goodbye to her worried-looking mom. The backdoor closed and she took a deep breath. She didn’t particularly like flying, or this whole ranch-saving business she had involved herself in, but the idea of being pampered for a night at a luxurious hotel sounded like just the break she needed.

  Heather let herself sink into the plush leather seats of Nash’s car as she was whisked away to the airport.

  She must have dozed off at one point, because, before she knew it, her door was being opened.

  Heather rubbed her eyes and stepped out of the car.

  “Let me take your luggage, ma’am,” she heard the driver say.

  Heather looked over at the uniformed, middle-age man. He had red-Santa cheeks and a bushy mustache. “What’s your name?” she asked, realizing she never had.

  “David,” grinned the man.

  “It’s nice to meet you, David. I’m Heather.” She shook his hand and then he gestured towards the plane that would be taking her to Denver.

  Heather’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. It had taken until that very moment for her to realize she was on a tarmac. In front of her stood a blue and silver painted private jet with ‘Winthrow’ stamped on the speed lines. She should have guessed she wouldn’t have been flying coach, but to see a personal plane waiting for her still shocked her almost beyond belief.

  “Right this way, Heather,” David said, leading the way with a dolly filled with her meager luggage.

  Heather followed behind him as he dropped off her bags with a crew man and then showed her up the airstairs. A happy stewardess in a smooth purple uniform greeted her. David passed off the luggage and said his goodbyes. “Happy trails!” he offered as he tipped his baker boy hat to her.

  Heather could only daintily wave back at him. She was still in shock, and it wasn’t helping that the interior of the private jet was nicer than her mom’s house. Her sandals sunk into a deep, thick carpet and her arms brushed against a silk curtain as she stepped into the cabin. Plush couches lined the walls and purple drapes covered the windows. A little bar, much like the one Nash had in his office, stood at the far end. Four massive, curved-screen TV’s spotted each sitting area.

  “Would you like anything to drink or eat?” asked the stewardess suddenly.

  Heather had been so lost in awe that she nearly jumped out of her sandals. “How long’s the flight?” she asked.

  “From take-off to landing it will be about 45 minutes.”

  Heather could hardly believe it. All this for 45 minutes? She wasn’t hungry though. Her mom had served up some pasta for dinner, and anyway, Heather was saving what room she had left in her belly for whatever was on the menu at the hotel. She’d never had room-service before.

  “Where do I sit?” she asked, looking around the cabin. There seemed to be a plethora of options, but they all almost seemed too casual.

  “Anywhere you want,” answered the stewardess. “The cabin on this jet is state-of-the-art and very stable. We’re expecting a clean flight into Denver, with almost no turbulence, not that you’d feel it in here anyway. We have seatbelts on all of our chairs, but there only ever really needed in case of emergency. So, feel free to move around at your leisure.”

  And with that, the flight attendant was off to ready the flight for take-off. Heather walked through the cabin until a particularly deep looking sofa caught her eye. She sat down on it and immediately sunk deep into its softness. It was like cuddling up on a cloud.

  “All members prepare for take-off,” came the captain’s voice over the intercom. Heather instinctually looked around for a seatbelt, before remembering what the stewardess had told her. She slipped her sandals off and used her toes to open the curtains on a nearby window.

  She watched from the seat of luxury as her rural life slowly faded away beneath the clouds.

  The bed in her hotel room had been so soft and big that Heather hadn’t even had time to pamper herself before she drifted off into a deep sleep. She almost regretted waking up so well-rested, because it m
eant she hadn’t gotten to take full advantage of her luxurious opportunity last night. Still, she didn’t have to meet Nash anywhere until late in the afternoon, and she didn’t plan on going out until then—so, she still had time to enact her master plan of pure sluggishness.

  With that in mind, Heather ordered a big breakfast of fluffy pancakes and thick sausages and crispy bacon, with eggs over easy on the side. The hotel’s orange juice somehow tasted better than what she had gotten used to drinking back home, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the ingredients or because of the fact that she was drinking it from a big cozy bed.

  She kept an old, cheesy romantic comedy on mute on the giant flat-screen TV and then started texting with Lola, just after she’d finished off the last of her long breakfast.

  What are you doing for your day off? I’m bored, the youngest waitress had texted her first.

  Sorry, girl. I’m out of town, Heather had texted her back

  Lucky... say hi to Nash for me, LOL.

  Heather couldn’t help but giggle. She felt so well-rested. The true extent of her exhaustion had really snuck up on her. Managing The Horseshoe was harder than it looked, and to add her whole thing with Nash and the ranch on top of that was almost crushing. She’d really needed this break; it had been a more welcomed relief than she’d been able to recognize beforehand.

  You’ll be able to afford these kinds of breaks more often once you get that cool million, she told herself. Still, she missed Lola and Stacey. They’d only been apart for a day, and Heather had only been alone and not working for a little less than that, but by mid-afternoon she was restless again and ready to shed off her veil of comfort.

  Heather took the opportunity to get dressed for the night. Her short, swingy, white sundress, with its tiny floral print seemed perfect under the strong lights of the hotel bathroom. Maybe rich people just had better mirrors, or maybe Heather had really needed that good night’s sleep she’d just gotten, but, as she admired her reflection, only one thought crossed her mind: I look good!

  She took a few pictures of herself for keepsake and then shoved her phone into the back pocket of her thigh-cropped denim shorts. She strutted over to her room’s window and tore open the curtains for the first time that day.

  Downtown Denver sparkled brilliantly below. It looked warm out. Heather had no reason to stay in anymore.

  She felt her phone vibrate just as she was closing the door to her hotel room.

  It was a text from Nash. Want to grab something to eat downtown first, or do you want to wait until the concert?

  It was early afternoon and Heather was already getting the lunchtime stomach grumbles. Let’s grab something now.

  Meet you downstairs in 5 minutes, Nash texted back.

  Heather tented her brows. Had Nash been staying at the same hotel as her? Why didn’t he at least come say hello? She was in a good enough mood to deal with him. In fact, she was actually looking forward to seeing the burly cowboy today.

  Careful, girl... she heard a voice warn her from the back of her mind. She brushed it off. This was all for a million bucks. With a million dollars in the bank—or rather, with whatever she had left after she’d paid off all her debt—she’d be able to pamper herself like this every once in a while, just as long as she followed through with her end of the deal.

  It wasn’t hard to spot Nash downstairs. He was waiting for her outside in the same car he’d driven her home from Fort Lupton in. His dusty truck looked so out of place among the chic, well-polished cars out front of the grand, luxurious hotel—it made Heather feel warm inside. It reminded her of home.

  She waved when she saw him and he cautiously waved back. As Heather approached, she noticed just how tired and stressed Nash looked. Maybe he hadn’t been staying at the hotel after all. How could anyone do anything other than sleep like a baby in one of those beds?

  “How was your flight in?” he asked, as he pulled out from the hotel’s roundabout.

  “Honestly, pretty amazing. I’d never flown on a private plane before.”

  Heather caught a small smile come over Nash’s weary face. “I told you,” he said.

  “Yeah, yeah. Mr. Bigshot. How’d you get into town, if I was on your place?” Heather teased.

  “Well, first off, my family has more than one private jet... but I didn’t take one. I drove.”

  That caught Heather’s attention. “You drove from Eden Prairie!? When you could have flown in one of those flying luxury suites? Why!?”

  “I just needed some time alone, to think... or, to not think. I don’t mind driving long distances.”

  Heather shifted in her seat. She almost felt bad that she had been living in such a state of ease for the past 24-hours, while Nash had probably been working himself to the bone trying to figure out how to solve the ranch problem—then she remembered all that she had gone through while Nash had been living the life she had only just gotten a taste of.

  She didn’t feel so bad after that thought.

  Nash pulled into an underground parking lot and parked his hulking truck right next to a quaint pair of dark green elevator doors. “My lady,” he said, not entirely sarcastically, but a little too flatly to be considered charming, as he held the door open for her.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Heather fluttered. She was full of energy. She felt like a hummingbird, flapping its wings at a thousand miles per second around a big sluggish oak tree. Nash lumbered behind her as they were led to their private rooftop patio table.

  Nash wasn’t talking much, but Heather felt a hint of happiness when he ordered an Old Fashioned to drink. She hadn’t been thinking of getting one—she actually recognized some of the names of the drinks on the menu this time around—but in a show of solidarity, she ordered the same thing.

  She looked into the rugged, tired face of her pretend date. She wanted to make him feel better—he had already done as much for her.

  “Tell me something about yourself,” she asked as she leaned forward on their table, ignoring the magnificent city view for him. “Let’s get to really know each other.”

  A small smirk came across Nash’s lips. “You’re going to regret asking that,” he chuckled.

  Chapter 17

  Nash

  “Have you told her yet?” Nash asked with a grin. He was already feeling better. Something about Heather’s lightness today was utterly rejuvenating.

  “Heavens no,” Heather laughed. “She doesn’t just hate you like everyone else...”

  Nash could tell that it hurt her to say something like that. Hate was such a strong word, and she had seen how much pain it could inflict when coming from a total stranger. “Does your mother hate me more than most?”

  Heather nodded. “Oh yeah, big time. I don’t know if you know this, but Hoover is my father’s last name, my mother’s last name is—”

  “List,” Nash finished for her. It felt like they had picked right back up from the good part of their first date.

  Heather raised her eyebrow. “Yeah,” she said suspiciously. “I guess you guys really did your research. But riddle me this: what does that have to do with why she hates you more than most?”

  Nash leaned back in his chair and sipped his Old Fashioned. He usually liked his whiskey straight, but he had ordered it as a little hint to Heather. She had seemed to understand what he’d been getting at and she’d continued to perk up as they started drinking. “What do I get if I guess correctly?” he smirked.

  Heather put a finger up to her lips and made a great show of trying to come up with a prize. “Maybe I’ll let you hold my hand again... for the cameras.”

  Nash hadn’t forgotten about their little moment. “That wasn’t a camera hand hold, I was trying to protect you,” he tried to convince her.

  “Yeah, sure. How’s holding my hand going to protect me from anything?” Heather snorted.

  Nash shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m a pretty big guy. Maybe someone would think twice about messing with you if they knew yo
u were ‘with’ me.”

  “That guy in Fort Lupton only messed with us because I was with you!”

  Nash laughed. “Oh yeah.”

  “Enough of what you’ll win. I want you to guess why my mom hates you so much more than the average shmoe.”

  Nash was almost certain he knew the answer. “Is your uncle Ernie List?” he asked.

  Heather’s jaw dropped to the floor. “No way! Unfair. You guys must have done a bunch of research before you picked me for this whole ‘venture’.”

  Nash gently shook his head. “I’ve never forgotten Ernie List,” he assured her.

  Heather pursed her lips, suddenly becoming a little more serious. “Did you know he was still out of a job because of you?”

  Nash played ignorant. “How is he out of a job because of me?”

  “Do you want me to spell it out for you?” Heather asked.

  “Please.”

  Heather took a deep sip from her whiskey glass. “I guess you probably know the background better than me, so stop me if I get it wrong, but as far as I know, it all goes something like this: my uncle, my mom’s brother, Ernie List, used to be an up-and-coming quarterback coach. He was known for getting the best out of some not so talented players back in his early days. His big dream was to become an offense co-ordinator, and then a head coach, but he knew that he’d never be given the chance until he got in on the ground floor of a truly talented recruit first. He’d mostly been coaching up below average quarterbacks until they were just good enough to be passable, but no one wants to give such an important position to someone who’s just good, they want great. Well, Uncle Ernie finally got his opportunity when he landed in Denver, just after they’d drafted Jax Shepherd. The kid was raw, but talented, and my uncle shaped him into a star! He was finally on his way to getting the recognition he deserved, before you went all crazy during that wildcard game and hit Jax Shephard so hard that he broke his collarbone. The kid was never the same after that, and within the organization, my uncle got the brunt of the blame for it—they said Jax had only ever succeeded in the first place because of Denver’s offensive co-ordinator—who had quickly taken a job elsewhere after the injury—and that my uncle had just been in the right place at the right time. When Jax finally started playing again, he, well, to put it plainly, he sucked. He was scared and weak. My uncle couldn’t fix him, and when Denver finally traded Jax, they also fired Uncle Ernie. No one’s given him a chance since, and it all started because of your hit!”

 

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