His Shotgun Proposal

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  After a gentle probing of who exactly attended these shows—this one in particular—and figuring out Mac wasn’t on the list, Abbie agreed that she would. She did, in fact, want to go. It sounded fun and exciting, a chance to see the stars of the Desert Rose show their stuff, and an opportunity to see what Mac’s vocation was really about. True, she hadn’t known what she was letting herself in for, didn’t know from that point on in the week, Jessie would insist she spend more time in the barn than in the office, learning the basic tenets of horse care, if nothing else. Abbie had learned a great deal, as it happened, almost all of it from Mac, who was so consistently present she felt she couldn’t open her eyes without running into his disapproving gaze.

  Abbie had been slower on the uptake than perhaps Sherlock Holmes would have been, but it didn’t take her long to deduce that Jessica’s agenda included more than a report to the Coleman-Grayson corporate offices in Dallas. The first time Olivia was called away unexpectedly during the rookie training sessions and replaced by an overtly disgruntled Mac could have been accidental, but the second time it happened, Abbie suspected there was some sort of matchmaking afoot. Jessie, thinking with her generous heart, had decided to see if she couldn’t spark a romance between her cousin and her friend. It was about five months too late for romance, but Abbie found the misguided gesture endearing all the same. If the notion of matchmaking had occurred to Mac, he was clearly against the idea.

  “What do you think you’re trying to prove?” he’d asked curtly when she refused to slink quietly away the second time he walked in to summon Livy to the phone and caught Abbie measuring out grains for feeding. “I thought you agreed to stay out of my barn.”

  Abbie didn’t think he deserved an explanation, even if she’d been inclined to offer one. “Jess sent me to learn the basics. She seems to think the barn and the activities in it are an important part of the business, which I believe, belongs to the Coleman-Grayson Corporation, of which you are merely one of the shareholders.”

  “Major shareholders,” he corrected.

  “Yes, well, thanks very much for your kind offer to instruct me, but I’ll just wait for Livy to come back.”

  “Livy has to get ready for this week’s horse show. She doesn’t have time to baby-sit a greenhorn, like you.” His sigh was a masterpiece of frustration. “What is it you want to know?”

  “Everything,” Abbie had replied with a tight, crisp smile, mentally tallying up a point for her side.

  And so, the week had begun. Beneath a glower befitting royalty, Mac had taught her a little about a lot. Not by so much as a glance did he say anything personal. He maintained a significant distance between them at all times and kept the conversation on a need-to-know basis. If she asked a question, he answered. If he was offering information, he did it in as few words as would suffice and all with an exaggerated show of indifference. Abbie tried to follow his instructions to the letter in the interest of learning and—although she hated to admit it—in the hope of winning at least one glimmer of approval.

  The approval never came, but she took some small satisfaction in the fact that whenever Livy offered to take over the lessons, he growled that she had more important things to do and curtly sent her off to do them. He said nothing else about the upcoming horse show to Abbie and, since she was pretty certain he would try to prevent her from going if he knew, she didn’t mention it, either. It wasn’t, she decided, any of his business.

  But suddenly, now that she was sitting beside him on the bench seat in the cab of his wicked black truck, and they were already en route to Dallas and the Arabian Horse Show, she wished she’d told him straight out that she was going. He was simmering over there behind the steering wheel, his dark eyes as steely cold with anger as she’d ever seen them. And she’d seen them angry plenty of times in the week she’d been at the Desert Rose. It was probably pointless to tell him that Jessie was behind this enforced togetherness, that it was his cousin who’d engineered the whole scheme, right down to the small delay that resulted in Abbie barely making it out of the office before the convoy left. She didn’t know how Jess had managed it, but, somehow, by the time the trucks pulled away from the Desert Rose ranch, every seat was taken, save one. The one beside Mac.

  “I want you to know,” she said, because she couldn’t let the blistering accusation in his silence stand, “this was not my idea.”

  “It sure as hell wasn’t mine.” He checked the trailer in the rearview mirror and increased his speed by a very few miles an hour. Slow and steady seemed to be the watchword as the four trucks and trailers formed a convoy on Highway 73 and headed toward the junction with Interstate 35 just east of Austin. “And don’t bother trying to convince me it was Jess’s idea, either.”

  “She asked me to take her place.” Abbie adjusted the seat belt strap to a more comfortable and safer position beneath the baby’s weight. “You must know I wouldn’t have agreed to go if I’d known you were going.”

  “You knew I’d be going.”

  She tensed at the accusation. “Jessie said you weren’t. She told me if you attended at all, you’d drive down late and leave early. She said most of the time, you don’t bother going to shows because you feel your job is done once the horse is trained and ready to show.”

  “Hogwash,” he said succinctly. “I haven’t missed the Dallas show since I turned nine and won my first championship ribbon. As for the rest, I probably wind up attending about twenty shows a year, sometimes more. Most often, I go early and stay late. The Desert Rose is famous all over the world for our stock, but it’s these shows that keep our name out there, give our horses and our people the recognition they deserve and work so hard to earn. Training and showing Arabians is my business and I’m damn good at it. I wouldn’t willingly miss an important show and Jessie knows it.” He cast a cynical and gloomy gaze at her. “My cousin may have a lot to answer for this week, but I don’t believe this particular miscalculation is on the list.”

  Abbie’s face flushed with annoyance. “So in addition to being a pathological liar, I’m guilty of…what? Scheming to go to the horse show? Stealing trade secrets to pass on to your competition?”

  The corner of his mouth pulled into a wry smile. “If you think I shared any secrets with you this week, you didn’t learn much about horses, or me. I barely introduced you to the most basic, beginner kind of stuff, nothing even close to insider information.”

  “Then I must be plotting some other nefarious way to ruin your life.” She flounced as best she could, considering the restraint of the seat belt and her pregnancy. “Because, of course, I wouldn’t want to waste my time learning about a subject simply because it interests me.”

  “I’ll confess I was surprised you stuck with it.” His gaze settled on her, sending a prickling, titillating awareness skittering across her nape. “I’m even a little flattered you went to so much trouble to get my undivided attention.”

  Ha! As if she’d go to any trouble to get his attention, undivided or not. “If that was what I wanted, Mac, I’d have skipped out during the how-we-clean-the-horse’s-teeth lessons and just invited you to go skinny-dipping with me at midnight.”

  That seemed to give him a moment’s pause. “As I recall the last moonlight swim, I invited you.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said irritably. “And as your memory of how things happened is so vastly superior to mine, that must be the way it was.” Abbie lifted her chin, ready for a fight. “You couldn’t be wrong.”

  His gaze cut to her, cut back to the road. “You want me to stop and let you out? It’s a long walk back to the ranch, but I’ll tell you right now I won’t put up with this kind of antagonistic attitude at the show, and it’s a hell of a lot farther to walk from there.”

  He accused her of malice aforethought and then warned her not to have a bad attitude. How had she ever found him evenly remotely attractive? But one glance reminded her of the way his whole visage warmed with a smile, of how his eyes smoldered when lit by passio
n and, God help her, she wished he would look at her that way again. Unbidden, she remembered the trust she’d placed in him the moment they met. Without question or hesitation. It had been a once-in-a-lifetime, struck-by-lightning experience, an inner knowing she’d never expected to happen to her, but she’d recognized in an instant that he was special in ways it would take her a lifetime to discover. Only she hadn’t had a lifetime to give. She’d wanted independence, her first real job, a couple of years to get some living under her belt. Maybe it would have turned out differently if she’d stayed a few more hours that fateful morning-after, but probably not. He was born a prince and he saw her only as a wannabe princess, not as the woman she’d been that night in his arms. “I’m not walking back to the ranch,” she assured him coolly. “And I’m not going to miss my very first horse show because you’re an egotistical jerk with a persecution complex.”

  “Switching from defense to offense,” he said with an aggravating know-it-all nod of his head. “Good thinking.”

  “Yes, and the weekend has barely even begun.”

  His smile was slightly more centered this time. “In that case, I suggest we call a truce until the show is behind us.”

  “A truce?” she repeated, certain she couldn’t have heard that correctly.

  “Pass the olive branch. Smoke the peace pipe. Bury the hatchet. Agree to disagree for the next forty-eight hours. Get along for the good of the team. Rise above the situation. Roll with the punches. Grin and bear it.” His focus shifted momentarily from the highway to her, changed perceptibly from annoyance to conciliation. “You know, a truce.”

  She stared at his profile, figuring there was a loophole in there somewhere. “You left out ‘kiss and make up.’”

  His gaze returned to her, full strength and potent. “Is that what you want?”

  Yes. Yes, she did. “Of course not,” she said. “I just want a clear understanding of what I’m expected to concede in this truce.”

  “Animosity, mainly. A horse show means tight schedules and tighter quarters. There’s no time for arguments or hurt feelings. Everyone has to focus on the goal, and that means not adding more stress to a stressful event. My feelings about you, or yours for me, have no place at this show. So I’m asking if you can put your agenda aside for the next two days and let me concentrate on doing what I do best.”

  “Bullying people into doing what you tell them?”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Look, it’s going to be a long weekend and I don’t want to spend it fighting with you. This is the last time I’ll ask—will you agree to call a truce until we get back to the ranch?”

  “Wait a minute, let me get this straight. You’re asking me to make peace with you?”

  “Well, I’d ask the horses in the back, but I’ve already cut my deal with them. So, that just leaves you.”

  She was curious. “What sort of deal do you make with a horse?”

  “I give a horse my full attention, put my confidence in his ability, and do my best not to get in the way when he’s working. In return, he’ll do his damnedest to give me whatever I ask of him.”

  “Oh, I see, so you expect me to do whatever you ask, too.”

  For a second, there was humor in the dark gaze that flickered to her and away. “It’d make my life easier, that’s for sure. I tend to be a bit uptight at shows, not my usual easygoing self. I don’t want to spend what little time I get for reflection worrying about you.”

  She arched a skeptical eyebrow. “And how would that be different from the time you don’t spend worrying about me now?”

  “Look. Sometimes I might snap at people during a show and I don’t want you to take it personally if I should snap at you, once or twice.”

  Abbie liked the sudden hesitancy in his voice. The idea that maybe at least on some level, he did care what she thought of him. “Okay, so you expect me to do whatever you ask and not take it personally when you’re rude. What would I get in return for my generosity of spirit in granting you this truce?”

  “Don’t get cocky. I’ve already given you more hands-on instruction than I should have.”

  “You can say that again.” Abbie said, and laid her arms lightly across the bulge of belly that was their baby.

  His expression darkened. “That isn’t what I meant and you know it.”

  “You meant that I should be so appreciative of all the time you expended on me this week, I agree to anything just to make you happy.” She lifted her shoulder in a careless shrug. “Sorry. Your happiness isn’t high on my priority list.”

  “Fine,” he snapped. “We’ll forget about negotiating peace and I’ll simply tell you how this weekend is going to go down. I’ll show you where to sit to watch the show. You’ll sit there and enjoy yourself, or not, as you choose. But you will stay away from the horses, and you will stay away from me. And that, Abbie, is not open for argument.”

  “Why didn’t you just order me out of the truck before we left the ranch? You didn’t have to bring me along if you were only going to treat me like a kid and make me sit in the stands the whole time.”

  “I figured as determined as you are, you’d just borrow a car and drive yourself. This way, at least, I can keep an eye on you.”

  “Which is what you’ve just said you don’t want to have to spend a moment doing.” She turned toward him, desperate to be allowed a small part in the weekend’s activities. “I can be a help, Mac. I know I can. Even Livy said I caught on fast and the horses seemed to like me.”

  His sharp look cut through her persistence. “You’re pregnant, Abbie. You have no business being anywhere near a horse.”

  “I’m not going to get on one and gallop around while doing side-to-side flips off the horse’s back. I’ll just hold the reins or help with the grooming or the costumes. I’ll even clean their teeth, if that’s what needs to be done.”

  “No,” he said forcefully. “You don’t know what can happen. The horses get nervous and excited at these shows, too. They get spooked more easily, take exception to strangers holding their halters, act out. You could get pulled off balance and take a fall. The horse could kick you. You, or your baby, could get hurt.”

  “And you expect me to believe you care?”

  “Of course, I care. Just because I don’t believe it’s my baby doesn’t mean I wouldn’t care if something happened to you, or to it.”

  Suddenly furious, she doused him in chilly thought waves. “Why did you bother teaching me anything, then? Why didn’t you say you weren’t willing to take the responsibility?”

  “You said you wanted to learn. If I’d known you were plotting an all-out invasion, I’d have ordered you back to the office and out of my arena.” His voice was agitated again. “I don’t know how you talked Jessica into helping you pull this one off, but I intend to set her straight about you the minute we get back.”

  “Maybe I’ll set her straight about you,” Abbie said, stung into anger. “Maybe I’ll set the whole family straight.”

  His gaze burned a path to hers. “Don’t threaten me, Abbie.”

  She closed her eyes, suddenly weary of fighting a battle she didn’t even want to win. “All right,” she said. “I’ll agree to your stupid truce.”

  “A little late for that now. Not that you’d care. You probably get a perverse thrill just thinking you can keep me off-focus and out of the winner’s circle.”

  Her eyes flashed fire as they flew open. “That isn’t fair.”

  “No, and it isn’t fair that you connived and lied to Jessie and probably every other member of my family, just so you could be here to irritate me in person, instead of from a distance.”

  “You know what?” She glared out the window because her eyes were brimming with hot tears. “I’m going to sit right here the rest of the trip and irritate you by refusing to speak to you, again. How’s that for a truce?”

  “Couldn’t ask for more,” he said coolly, taking his cue and glaring out the windshield on his side of the truck cab.r />
  OKAY, SO HE’D TRIED to take the high road and be nice to her, but she would have none of it. It had to be her way or no way. But what had she said, how many lies had she concocted, to draw Jess into her corner? Had Abbie come right out and voiced her claim that he was the father of her baby? Or had she merely implied and let his cousin’s vivid imagination propel her into matchmaker mode? Mac didn’t doubt that something—no, make that someone—had prompted Jessie into taking action. He knew that, even with her finely honed skill at manipulating others, Abbie couldn’t have talked her way out of the office without Jess’s cooperation and encouragement. But what did Jessie think would happen if she shoved Abbie into his path at every other turn? Spontaneous combustion? Reconciliation? And how could she know there was anything to reconcile unless Abbie had told her?

  Which was what had to have happened. Abbie had skillfully let the information slip out that she and Mac had a one-night history. From there, Jessie would have leaped to the conclusion Abbie had wanted her to reach all along. Either that Mac was the father of the baby, as Abbie claimed. Or that he would rescue her and her illegitimate child from a desperate and dismal future. And either way, Jess was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He’d fallen in love with a manipulator once before. He knew their methods. He’d be crazy to overlook the obvious this time around just because he’d believed…hoped…she was different. She’d already proved she wasn’t. He recognized trouble when he saw it coming at him, and Abbie was trouble. Why, she could have slept with a dozen men the night before the graduation party. Or all the nights leading up to it, for that matter.

  His gut twisted with the irony. He’d fallen hard for her that night, had spent many nights since wondering if she could possibly be as beautiful, as smart, as genuine as she’d seemed in the few hours they’d shared. She was still beautiful. Even a glance in her general direction made him aware of the bounce in her sandy-brown hair, the classic lines of her profile, the full kiss-me invitation of her lips. She was obviously smart. Not only could she decipher some of the frustrating fractions involved in the business part of ranching, but she always seemed about two steps ahead of him in any conversation. Genuine? No, but if his perceptions weren’t as sharp, he would most likely have taken her at her word and they’d be married by now.