“Is that another Pop Tart?” he grinned, playing like he was going to take it from her. She pulled the hand clutching the sugary treat back so quickly it almost gave her whiplash and Jonah looked at the hand and then her face quizzically.
“I wasn’t going to take it from you, darlin, no fears. I’ve noticed how attached you’ve gotten to them as of late.”
“I know,” she said sheepishly, “it’s so weird. They’re just, like, literally the only thing I can stomach right about now.”
“I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling so poorly, Virginia, I really am. Is there anything I can do?”
This was it, and she knew it. It would be so easy just to open her mouth and tell him what she needed, which was help. She did not doubt that all she would need to do was say the word and he would drop whatever he was doing to help her. He proved himself enough times by now for her to have complete confidence in that. She wanted to do it, too, but then she thought about how he was finally getting to live out his dream, and she just couldn't bring herself to ask for any more from him. Instead, she looked at the package he was carrying by his side and smiled, hoping he couldn't see how truly awful she was feeling.
“What’s that you’ve got there? Keeping secrets now, are we?”
“No, ma’am, a gentleman never does a thing like that. Matter of fact, this little baby is for you.”
“What do you mean,” she asked hesitantly, “like, a present?”
“Not like a present. It is a present. For you. For your work.”
He handed it over before she could ask any more questions and she looked at what he thrust into her hands with amazement. It might not have been another woman's idea of a dream gift, but for her, it was the absolutely perfect thing. It was so perfect, even, that she could hardly bring herself to look at him again.
“Virginia? You okay? Because if you don’t like it…”
“No!” she said quickly, “No, please. I love it. I just can’t believe you thought of it. This is exactly what I need. I don’t think I even knew I needed it before right now.”
Jonah's gift was a standing desk, which would solve many of the discomforts of her day to day work. He had already given her an office in the house, but as it turned out, that didn't work for her for the majority of the day since she wasn't in the house most of the time. She was in the field, so to speak, and as a result, she spent most of her time squinting over scraps of paper, either in the barn or some other close by spot that had struck an engaged couple's fancy.
“I’ve just noticed that you like to write all of your notes by hand,” he said awkwardly, “that, and that you’re forever squinting at your chicken scratch while you try and take care of business from your lap.”
“You’re totally right,” she agreed, laughing shakily.
“I don’t know. I just thought it might help you to start feeling better. I don’t like seeing you this way.”
“I’m really fine,” she said. The answer was more automatic than accurate, though, and she felt certain that he knew that. Truthfully, she was feeling more emotional than she could ever remember feeling in her life, and keeping herself from making a scene was costing her more energy that she really had to spare.
“I know you are, baby,” he crooned, pulling her in for a hug, “I know. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
As much as she wanted to, she couldn't make herself respond to that one. Her throat was too tight with emotion now. Instead of answering, she allowed Jonah to rest a hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair and whispering senseless nothings into her ear. And, because she knew he could not see her face, she allowed herself to cry silent tears. She cried because she was overwhelmed by her success. She cried because she was ashamed of being overwhelmed and because she was tired of feeling as poorly as she had been these last weeks. More than anything, though, she cried because, for the first time, she was starting to realize that the fake marriage she had created with Jonah might just be more real than she had ever wanted or intended.
12
“Fuck. Fuck!”
Jonah slammed both of his fists on the kitchen countertops, not flinching a bit at the way it rattled all the cooking things he had set out but never used. Katie had tried her damnedest to get him capable in the kitchen, and several of the tools he was risking now were gifts from her, but at the moment, he didn't care. All he cared about, all he could wrap his head around, was the curveball he had just been dealt.
“Um, Jonah?” a tentative, almost frightened voice call from the back of the house, “Is everything okay? Should I find somewhere else to be?”
Shit. He had forgotten that Virginia didn't have any meetings today. For once, instead of killing herself in the barn around the clock, she had decided to try and sleep in. It was exactly what he'd been trying to get her to do since her health took its noticeable downturn and now here he was, getting in the way of that much-needed rest.
“No, Virginia,” he answered through gritted teeth, “not at all. I’m sorry. I forgot you were here resting today.”
"No, please, don't be sorry," she said uncertainly, "I'm serious. I've got plenty of business to tend to in the barn. I could easily mosey down over there."
“Mosey?” he asked, cracking a smile despite wanting to put a fist through the wall, “Did you just say mosey?”
“I might have. It seemed like the right thing to say at the time,” she answered, stepping into view in time for him to see her weary smile.
“Well, I like it. You might consider saying it again some time,” he said, just as weary and about at the end of his reserves of playful banter. Still, he tried to keep the act up. He didn’t want to upset her, Lord knew he didn’t want that, and what he was dealing with wasn’t her problem, even if right now he felt like he was close to his breaking point.
“Jonah?” she said quietly, padding the rest of the way into the kitchen and wrapping his robe more tightly around herself, “Is it okay if I ask what’s the matter?”
He sighed, sitting down at one of the barstools and motioning for her to do the same, “It’s got nothing to do with you, I can promise you that.”
"And I'm glad, but maybe it would help to talk about it. I don't know; maybe there's something I can do to help."
"I don't know about that," he said grimly, "I don't know if there's anything either one of us can do."
"Just tell me," she said simply, her face set and firm. By now, Jonah knew better than to argue with her when she was making that face. He might as well argue with an angry wildcat. The results would probably turn out the same.
And so he told her about the phone call that morning from the guys who were supposed to sell him his coveted studs. While they weren't telling him that they'd changed their minds, they let him know that he had some serious competition. It turned out, another ranch had been busy making expensive, flashy updates to its barns, the kind of updates that made a potential seller do a double take. Compared to that other ranch's upgrades, Jonah's semi-updated barns just couldn't compare. What's more, there hadn't been a damn thing Jonah could think of to say about it. He was no fool when it came to the services he had to offer, and he wasn't willing to lie. The upgrades those other, fancier barns had undergone were things he simply could not provide. Even thinking about it now made him want to throw something across the room, just to watch it break. While he'd been busy playing Romeo, this other ranch had been busy preparing to pull the rug out from under him.
“No,” Virginia said when his sob story was done. Her brows were knit together more tightly than ever, the firm expression on her face so sharp now it could draw blood. For a moment, he only looked at her, utterly spent by the telling of his tale and at a loss for what her “no” could be referring to.
“I’m sorry, what?” he finally asked, “What do you mean, no?”
"I mean exactly that—no. There's no way this is happening. It's complete hogwash, and you know it. You had a deal with these men, and they have no right to back
out of it just because something shinier came along."
"Right, but that doesn't mean a whole hell of a lot right now, does it?" he asked. He was feeling sorry for himself, and he knew it but hell, didn't he have a right to? After everything he'd done to get to this place, didn't he have a right to wallow a little when it looked so much like it was going to be taken away?
“Do you trust me, Jonah?” she asked suddenly, leaning forward and looking at him with an intensity that bordered on uncomfortable.
“I do. You know I do,” he answered slowly, doing his best to ignore that asshole voice in his head that told him trusting anyone outside of the family was a mistake that could come back to bite him in the ass.
“Good. Then let me talk to them.”
“Wait, what?” he asked, startled. He didn’t know where he’d thought she was going with the line of questioning, but it certainly wasn’t here.
“You heard me. Let me talk to the dummy who just called you. Get him on the phone and give me two minutes with him. I promise you, by the time I’m done, if there’s anything that’ll convince this moron to sell you the studs, it’ll be done.”
"Virginia, I don't know about that," he said uncertainly, shifting in his chair and looking around the room as if he was going to find some kind of help there.
“Well, I do. You said you trusted me, right?”
“I did—and I do.”
“Right. So get him on the phone.”
And that was how, a mere five minutes after disrupting Virginia’s sleep, Jonah found himself calling Mr. Crane back again. He found himself holding his breath, hoping against hope that the owner of the studs would simply choose not to pick up the phone. Instead, he answered on the second ring.
“Grant?” he barked, “is that you again?”
“Yes, Mr. Crane, it’s Jonah Grant.”
“Well, son, I have to say, I don’t have anything more to tell you now than I did a couple of hours ago. I haven’t made my decision. I thought I made myself clear.”
“Yes, sir, perfectly,” Jonah nodded, wincing at the exasperation he was detecting in old man Crane’s voice.
“So then why the call, son?”
“Well, I hardly know how to say this to you, but it’s my wife.”
“Your wife?” Crane balked, making it sound to Jonah every bit as ludicrous as it felt.
“Yes, sir. She wants to talk to you. She—”
Before he had a chance to end a sentence he had no real idea of how to finish, Virginia plucked the phone from his hand confidently and held it up to her ear. Jonah's mouth dropped open in shock, but if she saw the gesture, she chose to ignore it completely. She looked completely in her element now, and there was nothing for Jonah to do but sit back, watch, and let the chips fall where they may.
"Mr. Crane, let me begin by saying that I'm well aware of what a busy man you are and as such, I won't be taking up any more of your time than necessary. I think we can finish this up and put a neat little bow on it in no time at all."
Jonah watched, his stomach sick and twisting, as Virginia listened to Crane’s response, nodding her head in agreement to something Jonah couldn’t hear and purposefully not meeting his eyes. There was nothing he could do but wait; wait to see what she would say next, and wait to see if she would screw things up worse than they already were.
"And you know what?" she said lightly, "I completely understand. Who wouldn't have his head turned by that kind of thing? Believe me; you're talking to one of Texas' premier shoppers. There's nobody on God's green earth that loves a shiny bauble more than me. But can I tell you something?"
Jonah and Virginia both waited, Jonah holding his breath, for Crane to give his answer. Whatever it was must have been pleasant enough because Virginia grinned when she heard it and nodded at herself encouragingly.
"Thank you, Mr. Crane," she continued smoothly, then laughed into the receiver, "all right, Henry, then. Here's the thing about shiny, fancy things, Henry. In the end, they don't amount to a hill of beans. They're nothing more than trinkets, and trinkets don't mean anything to your studs. Do you know what does? Dedication. Dedication and personal attention. Jonah's barns are smaller than his competitor, and while they might think that makes them better, I think you and I know differently. Jonah is selective about his horses, and once they belong to him, he lives to give them the best possible care. His barns may not be as shiny and new as those others, but no care matches his. Not anywhere. I think you know that, too." She went on from there, talking about the way Jonah worked with his horses, the individual care they received, how hard he strived to earn their trust and help them realize their potential. She listed so many things he did that he hadn’t even realized she’d noticed, and she described them all with such warm admiration. Was this just a sales pitch, or was that really the way she saw him?
When she was finally finished, she listened again, her face betraying nothing of what Mr. Crane might be saying. It was all Jonah could do not to rip the phone out of her hand to find out what was happening, but he remained still, his hands balled up into fists at his side. When she finally said her goodbyes and hung up the phone, he stood, looking down at her expectantly.
“Well?” he finally said when he realized she wasn’t going to be the one to speak first.
“Well, it’s done,” she said simply.
“Done? What do you mean, done? Done in which direction?”
“I mean,” she said, finally smiling, “that Mr. Crane turned out to be a man of reason, after all. So it’s done. The studs belong to you.”
Jonah sat back down hard, barely able to believe what he was hearing. Virginia laughed and came to him then, slipping her arms around his neck and kissing him softly on the corner of his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, grateful for the call’s outcome and also for her warmth. Underneath his happiness, though, and not too far below the surface, he felt a pang of unease.
Virginia had saved his ass this time; there were no two ways around that fact. But what happened the next time he needed help or found himself in a sticky situation he wasn't sure how to resolve? Was she going to save him then, too? He was starting to worry that he was getting dangerously close to being co-dependent, and that wasn't something he wanted to be, not ever. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Virginia—he did, of course he did. But after that disaster with his previous partner, he’d learned that it was best and simplest to handle things on his own. And that was still true…wasn’t it?
13
Virginia checked the contents of the picnic basket she had prepared earlier in the afternoon for probably the fifth time in the last thirty minutes, then glanced at the clock expectantly. Jonah still wasn’t back from the barns despite the fact that it was full dark outside, not that that was anything new. In the two weeks since her phone conversation with Mr. Crane—her successful call with Mr. Crane, she reminded herself—the horse barn had been just about the only place Jonah wanted to be.
“Because it’s his passion,” she whispered to herself, shifting uncomfortably with the pang of guilt she felt over her resentment.
On the surface, there was nothing wrong with him spending so much of his time with the horses. It was his job, his dream, after all, and she was fully in support of it. The thing about it was, something just felt off. Even though the danger of losing the studs was entirely gone, Jonah had been near killing himself to complete improvements to his barn at breakneck speed. As for her, he’d barely said two words to her, claiming each and every night that he was simply too tired for conversation.
Maybe that was the case, and she was just overreacting, but she didn't think so. What she thought was that the two of them were drifting further and further apart and the mere idea of it made her feel sick. She was way past the point of convincing herself that their relationship was still purely for show. What she wanted was to find some way for the two of them to reconnect.
“That’s why we’re going on the picnic,” she said to herself
, patting the basket protectively and looking at the time again. He was late, but that didn’t matter to her in the slightest, just so long as he showed up.
"Somebody else here, or are you talking to yourself?" his voice called as the back door opened and then shut again. His heavy footsteps headed towards the kitchen, and Virginia's heart leaped with an excitement that felt very close to fear.
“Jonah!” she said giddily, “You’re here! I thought you’d forgotten.”
“What?” he asked, then glanced down at the basket and sighed, “Oh. That. No, I guess I didn’t forget. Are you sure you want to do this, though? It’s deeply dark outside, sugar. Not exactly prime picnic time.”
"No, not for some people maybe, but we've got all of those lovely lights you strung up, and I've been dying to try them out. I think it'll be just perfect. And you've got to be hungry after all of the work you've been doing."
"I guess I could eat," he agreed grudgingly. He pulled up the corner of the cloth covering the basket's top, and she slapped at his hand playfully. He smiled at her in return, but Virginia noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes. Her stomach jumped unpleasantly. This picnic had to work. It just had to.
“Come on, mister, no peeking. You have to go along with the plan to get a look at the goods.”
“All right,” he sighed again, “we better get going, then.”
* * *
An hour later, and Virginia was no more satisfied than she had been at the start. She didn't know what she had thought would happen. Some kind of magic, she supposed. Whatever it was, she hadn't gotten it. Their picnic had been nice. Nothing spectacular happened, there had been no fighting, it was just...nice. Everything was perfectly fine, and yet somehow, it was making Virginia more anxious than if the two of them had gotten into a knock-down, drag-out fight. Because nice and fine were all well and good for passing acquaintances, but that wasn't what the two of them were. At least not in her mind. Up until recently, she had thought the two of them were on something approaching the same page about where this relationship was going. She sincerely hoped she hadn't been mistaken, especially when she was finally starting to feel better. And not just better, either. Downright frisky.
The Cowboy’s Contract Marriage: Grant Brothers Series Book Two Page 8