by Delilah Hunt
The rigid planes on his features softened. She noticed for the first time that when Brandon relaxed, the menacing scar took a lengthy backseat to the way his pale eyes stood out like a beacon against his dark Celtic features. He coughed into his fist “I don’t know much about being a husband, but you won’t ever have to be afraid of me from here on out. I’m not going to hurt you. I know my face looks like something carved from the butcher’s board, so I won’t take offense if you need your own space for a while. I won’t rush you into anything you’re not ready for.”
“You ah, noticed that?” Guilt knotted inside her chest. She was no better than some of the people who viewed him as a pariah. Worst of all, Brandon knew it too.
“It was hard not to. I thought if you fell from those wobbly knees inside my living room, you’d probably blackout if I tried to help you up.”
Her mouth opened on an incredulous gasp. Danika grinned. Brandon was actually teasing her. “FYI. I’m no longer afraid of you.”
“No?”
“No,” she repeated. “I never was truly terrified or anything, at least not that you would hurt me.” She pinned him with a bold stare. “Not even that day you caught me watching you outside the feedlot store.”
His eyes flickered and darkened with the memory, which prompted her to add, “Also, it’s not a good look for a wife to be afraid of her own husband, especially when half the town already—” She clamped her mouth shut before finishing the sentence. She had done it again and fired off without thinking.
“Avoid looking at me. Don’t want me here?”
Danika pursed her lips in chagrin. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t think they mean any harm. It’s only because most of the folks here still don’t really know you.”
“You don’t know much about me either. There’s no difference.”
No difference?
The statement left her unsettled. She didn’t want Brandon to see her like everyone else. She was different. She cared about him, unlike everyone else.
“There’s a lot we’ll have to learn about each other, isn’t there?”
His broad shoulder lifted. “I suppose. Not much to tell, though.”
Her lips twitched as she found herself growing more comfortable around him by the second. “I doubt that. What about all those little children you ate for breakfast?”
“That’s the rumor these days?”
“Something to that effect. Or it could have been waffles. I forget.”
A slow grin skated across his face and Danika felt her heartbeat race to a frenzied rhythm. A real smile from Brandon. Dear Lord. She hoped it was only the beginning of many more.
All too soon, the smile vanished. His features contorted in a look of utter determination and she found herself locked in a hungry gaze that centered on her lips.
“You belong on the ranch with me. I don’t want you sleeping at your friend’s house and me worrying each day whether you’re safe or not.”
Danika blinked. Her womb clenched at the husky edge his voice had taken on. Her eyes fluttered open as she slowly allowed his words to sink in. Brandon cared about her. She wasn’t even sure if he realized the impact of what he’d just stated. She sank a tooth into her lip. Suddenly, she wanted it too. She wanted to be on the ranch with him each day and night. She yearned for this new life to begin with Brandon as her husband. They might not be in love, but this moment right here, signified that she might not be another problem for Brandon. She could actually be good for him and Danika knew with every fiber of her being, she wanted to get to the heart of this man and in time, deliciously unfold all the layers that made him Brandon Sharpe.
“I’ll move in with you after we’re married.”
His shoulders relaxed. “The ceremony will have to be in the courthouse, for now. It’s not fancy. If it bothers you, later on we can do something bigger. I know women—”
“The courthouse is fine, Brandon. It’s what we do within the marriage that counts, not where the vows are exchanged.”
“Yeah. You’re right about that.”
Danika moved closer to him, emboldened by the turn of conversation. “When?” The toe-point of her flats brushed the front of his dust-smattered boots. “I need a date from you, Irish.”
His glance lowered to their touching feet. “Tell me where you’re staying and I’ll pick you up on Monday. We can get the license.” Then out of nowhere or maybe one of her dreams, his callused hand lifted to stroke along her cheek. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?”
Yes. More than ever. “I’m sure. I want to be your wife.”
“You want.” She heard him whisper the words to himself, before the back of his forefinger grazed the corner of her lips in a gossamer touch that made her heart ache and left her untried body purring for a decadent taste of the unknown.
Brandon tried hard not to stare at her. It was a lesson in failure, especially when her lush lips widened into those plentiful and tempting smiles. Looking at her only made his dislike for Prescott increase tenfold. After her father had finally ’fessed up that he’d ordered Danika to leave and had no idea where she was, Brandon felt as if he was on the verge of losing his mind. Prescott must have wanted him to suffer a meltdown, because the man’s next statement, insisting the only way he would welcome her back inside his home was if she called off the engagement, did nothing to help soothe the worry eating away at back of his mind. What if Danika was hurt, cold, and alone outside?
And now that he was face to face with her again, Brandon wasn’t convinced by the brightness of her smile and façade of happiness. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes and tell tale splotches of redness around her irises. It was his fault. All of it. Guilt sharper than the blade on his pocketknife stabbed into him. If he were any sort of decent person he would have loaned her the money without the marriage stipulation.
“Are you headed back to the ranch?”
Brandon nodded and fiddled with the brim of his Stetson. “I need to get started on getting the corral ready before the fall auctions begin.”
“Do you need any help?”
His head shot up in surprise.
“What?” she asked. “You don’t think I know anything about ranching?”
He lifted a shoulder. He couldn’t imagine Danika with her hands dirtied from horse and cattle dung or her mass of thick ebony curls, strewed with hay. “I know you grew up around here. I never thought you spent much time on the ranches though. It’s not easy work.”
She placed a hand on her slender hip and squinted her eyes at him. “You think I’m spoiled don’t you? I’m a social worker, Brandon. I don’t do heavy lifting or spend hours working in the sun or out in the snow. My work is as much emotionally tiring as it is rewarding. Definitely not easy.”
He knew spoiled women and Danika did not fit the bill. If she were, she would have hightailed it out of Hart’s Fall, leaving Prescott to handle his own problems.
“Did I ever say you were spoiled?” He advanced forward, closing in on her. Brandon noticed the way her eyes became round as saucers and the subtle parting of her lips. In fear? He hoped not. Common sense warned him to back off. Brandon ignored it. He needed to be certain that she truly wasn’t afraid of him.
“You never said it, but…” Her voice trailed.
“Because the connection with my brain to my mouth is off, it came across like that right?”
She nodded, her lovely face looking softer and more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her. “I know you’re not a spoiled person,” Brandon said in the most comforting tone he could call on. “Of all the ways I’ve thought about you, spoiled never entered my mind.”
“You’ve thought about me before?”
His jaw tautened. Oh yes, he’d thought about her. Even beyond the day Prescott humiliated and taunted him in the center of town with more than a dozen witnesses. Brandon closed his eyes, locking out the spiteful sound of Prescott’s voice.
“Those hands of yours may not be as hide
ous as that mug you call a face Sharpe, but ain’t no way in hell they’re getting anywhere near my girl. Aim lower boy-o, much, much lower.”
Prescott had drawn a riotous bout of laughter from the small crowd that had gathered. When Brandon had found the courage to meet the gazes of those watching they’d quickly looked away, eyes filled with embarrassment for him. If he hadn’t loathed Prescott before, that single encounter had sealed the deal. And yet, it wasn’t enough to prevent him from thinking about the girl, who, in an innocent way, had brought about his humiliation.
Looking away, Brandon searched his mind for the right thing to say. If he chose honesty, he would tell her he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since the day he’d seen her with her back pressed against the wall of the feedlot store. If he told her he’d become entranced by her lithe shape and enchanting dark eyes, riled with defiance, Brandon was afraid her attitude toward him would shift to that of being weirded out by a man who had noticed too much about her.
Danika let out an exaggerated sigh and shook her head with a coy smile. “Okay, Irish. I can tell I’m not going to get anything out of you on that topic. I think I’ll just let my imagination run wild then.”
Brandon was caught halfway between a grimace and the urge to smile. “I’m not gonna give up,” she continued. “One way or another, I will get you talking.” Before he had the chance to anticipate her movement, she lifted a hand to his face. “Will I ever see you without this beard?”
He stiffened at her touch. His jaw tensed, this time sensing her next move. Grasping a hold of her wrist, Brandon grated, “Don’t do it.”
“Would it hurt if I placed my hand on it?”
Not physically. After so many years, the wound was nothing more than a hash of bunched, deadened nerves and rough puckered skin that should never be seen in the light of day. It was a wonder Danika had the stomach to place her gentle hands so close to it.
Her hands fell to her sides, affording Brandon the time to make a quick escape before she had another chance to lure him into letting his guard down. He mumbled an excuse, pulled away from her and powered down the sidewalk, desperate to put some distance between them.
Worth the Price
The next morning, Danika sat inside her friend Zoe’s apartment. Friends since elementary school, their relationship had thrived despite Zoe’s move to New York City and her rise to fame as a top runway model. Danika was thrilled at the statuesque woman’s sudden return to Hart’s Fall, but it made it all the more unbearable to burden yet another person with her problems.
So far, the highest price she had to pay for sharing her friend’s apartment was bringing Zoe the occasional bottle of water from the refrigerator on her way to the living room. Nothing like the steep price Brandon demanded.
Her palms dotted with excitement and fear from knowing they were one step closer to actually going through with the agreement. True to his word, Brandon had rung her cell phone a few minutes earlier, informing her that he was on his way. Danika nibbled her bottom lip, until she was afraid there’d be nothing left of the tender flesh to seal her upcoming vows.
“Dani, what about your father? I know why you feel you have to do it. I swore I wouldn’t repeat it to anyone, but isn’t there any other way? Have you thought about what you’ll do if Brandon doesn’t keep his end of the bargain?” Zoe crinkled her brows and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “Then you know, you’ll be married to him for no reason.”
Danika pretended she hadn’t heard the latter part of Zoe’s question. “My father doesn’t have a say in this and Brandon will keep his word. Believe it or not, I have faith in him.”
“I don’t see how you can. You barely know anything about Brandon. No one knows anything about him except that part of his face is messed up and he owns that huge ranch out in the middle of nowhere. You’re my best friend. I’m worried about you, that’s all.
Zoe’s comment, well intended as it was, ignited a firestorm inside her. She was tired of Brandon’s appearance being brought up each and every time his name was spoken. “You’re a model. You make a living based on how you look. If something were to happen to your face or body and God forbid you weren’t able to continue strutting down the runway, would you want everyone to shun you? Or if they mention Zoe Nelson in a conversation, it’s followed by a disclaimer of your disfigurement. Why should Brandon have to deal with that every day of his life?”
Zoe had the good grace to look contrite. “You’re right of course.” She bestowed on Danika a photogenic smile that didn’t quite extend to her honey-colored eyes. “I’m sorry I said anything, Dani. If he’s got you ready to chomp on my skinny minny legs, there has to be a good reason. Even better, you’re the one marrying him, not me.” Zoe hugged her middle and shivered. “That’s a nightmare-inducing thought right there.”
Danika grabbed up a throw pillow and playfully slung it at Zoe’s back. “It is not. I’ll have you know just because I don’t have men from all over the world panting after me, you’re looking at a responsible adult. I’m not the ten-year-old Danika who let you talk me into taking a short cut across a patch of those ‘pretty green leaves’.”
Zoe raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you mean the other way around? I was itching so bad Grams had to soak my butt in oatmeal for a week.”
“Well, I think I know what I’m getting myself into,” Danika amended as both women dissolved into a fit of laughter.
Sobering, Zoe was the first to speak. “In a way it’s not so farfetched how Brandon would make such a request. He must be lonely on that sprawling ranch away from the rest of the town. I’ve passed by there before but only because I got lost. I can definitely see why he’d want a wife or a woman in general to be out there with him. Poor guy. What I don’t understand is why you. No offense of course, but think about it, he hates your father’s guts and vice versa. If anything, Brandon should have had a field day when you told him about Mr. P’s financial situation, not propose marriage.”
Danika remained silent. Zoe’s train of thought wasn’t new to her. She had wondered the same thing too. Seeing him yesterday had only left her more confused than ever. Her skin, her entire body had blossomed to life under his intense gaze. She had to wonder if he purposely went out of his way to behave unappealing to women.
“It doesn’t matter what his reason is,” Danika said, thinking of her own role in the arrangement. “If I were to tell everyone my reason, those same people who whisper about Brandon would have a field day with words to describe me.”
Zoe sighed, giving another furtive glance out of the window. “I don’t want to see you get your heart into this only to have it broken. Brandon Sharpe doesn’t exactly strike me as the type of man who needs anyone, including a wife.”
That she could agree with. As for not getting her heart involved, that warning was coming a day late. Danika opened her mouth to voice her agreement, stopping short at Zoe’s panicked whisper. “He’s here. It’s not too late to change your mind. My bed is always available if you wanna hide underneath it.” Zoe held up her palm. “I won’t say a word.”
“Oh stop it. I want this, Zoe. I know it doesn’t make sense. I’m not in love with Brandon, but there’s a part of me…” Danika pursed her lips, trying to pinpoint the right words. “Perhaps some place deep down inside my heart, telling me I have to, need to, do this.”
Zoe nodded, although her expression remained blank and uncomprehending.
Danika couldn’t blame Zoe for her reaction when she wasn’t making much sense or didn’t fully understand her own emotions when it came to the surly rancher. Issuing her friend a watery grin, Danika said, “Please just promise you’ll be there for me when we marry.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Now, will you go before he tears down my door searching for you?”
Danika dashed out of the apartment, skidding to a halt as firm, roughened fingers clasped her shoulders in a dominant grip. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. With painstaking sl
owness, she peered upward at the man who, it seemed, she had always been on a path of collision with. His eyes met hers in a smoldering stare and Danika had no choice but to lower her lashes to curtail the wanton shiver that threatened to bring her knees to a quiver.
Brandon’s gaze, enthralling as ever, wasn’t the only thing she noticed about him. She raised her head and blinked then blinked again. Exhilaration coursed through her body. So, she hadn’t dreamed it up, after all. He really had shaved the rough-cut hair that covered much of his face. The contour of his profile appeared leaner…stronger and more angular, shadowed with a sexy hint of dark stubble. Danika approved and so did her body. Every inch of her wanted so badly to learn the texture and planes of the face she hoped to wake up next to for a very long time. Knowing Brandon, however, it was best to pretend she hadn’t noticed the dramatic change.
The pressure of his hands on her shoulders eased, although the muscles in his face became taut as if she had angered him. He probably didn’t like clumsy women, she told herself.
“Are you ready?” She wished she had worn a pantsuit today instead of the coral-toned, hand-knit sundress. She felt naked beneath his clouded stare.
“Yeah. Let’s just hurry up.”
A furrow settled between her eyebrows. Hurry up? She hadn’t expected romance from him, but sheesh. Danika drew back, waiting for him to notice her absence.
“What are you doing?” He jerked open the passenger door.
She folded her arms. “I believe that’s my line. What’s wrong with you? I have the feeling I’ve done something to offend you. What exactly that is, I have no idea.” Another thought slithered its way in her mind. “Or did you and my father get into it again?”
“I haven’t spoken to Prescott since last week. Whether or not I did, my issues with your da have nothing to do with you.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He shook his head and held the door wider, gesturing inside. “It’s nothing to worry yourself about. Get inside the truck.”