by Jane Porter
“Which of your brothers is buying the horse trailer?”
“Sam.”
“And which one is he?”
“He’s the next oldest. It goes me, Sam, Billy, Tommy.”
“He must be doing pretty well.”
“He is, but they all are. All three of them went to the NFRs in Las Vegas last year.” He paused. “And the year before.” He saw her blank expression. “That’s good; it’s the championship, rather like the Super Bowl for professional rodeo cowboys.”
“That is good.”
He looked amused. “You don’t know much about the rodeo?”
She shook her head. “No. There were guys at my high school who roped, and wore their Wranglers and boots and western shirts religiously, but we were in different classes and activities so I didn’t really pay them much attention.”
“You weren’t into FFA or any of the other clubs?”
“I attended a couple meetings my freshman year but it wasn’t for me. My brothers belonged, though. My oldest brother, John, was really active. I think he was president or something like that his senior year. He’s the one that runs our dairy business now and is on the board for the California Dairy Association.”
Sophie stayed out of the way while Joe hitched the huge trailer. He did it almost effortlessly, though, lining up the trailer and coupler on the first try. Next he attached the safety chains and cables and then the wiring harness and finally the safety cables. “Sam’s planning on converting this to a gooseneck trailer,” Joe said, as he finished. “It’s why he got such a good deal on it.”
“That’s nice of you to get it for him.”
“Happy to help. I’m looking forward to seeing him.”
“I take it you’re probably closest to him?”
“We used to be close, but it’s changed since I stopped competing and returned home. The other three travel together a lot and are pretty tight.”
“You were a rodeo cowboy, too?”
He looked almost embarrassed. “For a while there.”
“How long?”
“Five years.”
“Wow. So impressive. Were you good?”
“I’ve won my share of championship buckles.” There was pride in his voice, but also something else.
She glanced at him, curious. “Why did you give it up? Did you get hurt?”
“I was needed at home.” He adjusted his cowboy hat. “Speaking of home, we better get on the road. It’s going to be slower traveling pulling this rig.”
“And I’m sure you have work waiting for you on the ranch.”
“Always,” he agreed, a hint of weariness in his deep voice.
Chapter Three
On the drive back to Marietta, Sophie wrestled with herself, wanting to ask Joe about the future and their plans. Was everything still on? Were they still going to marry in a week’s time, or were they working off a different time frame now?
For some reason, she felt uneasy and she wasn’t sure why. Everything was good between them today, better than their strained lunch yesterday and tense dinner last night. She shouldn’t be nervous. They’d had a nice lunch today, conversation was natural, there was nothing that should make her worried—she stopped herself.
That wasn’t true.
She was worried because she wasn’t on the ranch, and she had been relegated to town, and although at the moment everything with her and Joe was fine, she worried other things might soon change.
Butterflies filled her middle, and Sophie drew a slow breath, trying to settle her nerves. She wished she knew for certain everything would work out. It’d be so much easier to let go, and not feel like she had to seize control. But control was illusory, wasn’t it?
It had never crossed her mind that she couldn’t trust Leo. She’d believed in him—in them—implicitly. They’d worked together for years. They’d practically been living together the last eighteen months of their relationship. Yes, he still had his own place, but he spent every night, every weekend at hers.
Sophie shifted restlessly on the truck seat, glancing out her passenger window at the scenery even as she blinked back stupid tears.
She was done with love. Done with romance. She didn’t trust pretty words and gifts of candy and flowers. Gifts were easy to give. She wanted something more substantial, something lasting. She wanted security, permanence. Forever.
When she agreed to come to Montana to marry Joe, she’d already made a commitment to him. In her mind, she was committed, and she’d arrived expecting things to be settled. She’d expected more stability.
And now Joe was driving her back to Bramble House and she didn’t know when she’d see him again. Would it be tonight for dinner? Would he try to break away from the ranch to see her tomorrow? How often would they see each other? How long would it take for him to realize he didn’t want her after all?
Emotion thickened the lump in her throat and made her chest burn. She’d given up her job and sold her condo to be here. Had she made a mistake? She didn’t know… but then, she didn’t know anything anymore.
*
Joe watched Sophie from the corner of his eye. She looked troubled and it worried him.
He should just ask her what was wrong, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for her answer, or the possibility of tears. He wasn’t good with drama, and his mom had been incredibly difficult this morning. They’d had an argument before he left to pick up Sophie for lunch, and while he loved his mom, he wasn’t a boy, and his mom was in no position to give ultimatums. He understood better than anyone his responsibilities. For heaven’s sake, the whole reason he was looking for a wife was for his mother and his grandfather’s peace of mind. They’d wanted him to marry years ago, needing to know that there would be grandchildren and future generations on the Wyatt ranch. He was marrying so they’d stop pestering him to date and settle down.
At Bramble House, Joe swung out of the truck to come around and open the door for Sophie. She hopped out and glanced down the street. “You’ll be all right getting that big trailer out of here?” she asked him. “It’s a pretty narrow street.”
“No problem at all. I’ve got it.”
“Okay.” She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks for lunch.”
“My pleasure. Talk soon.”
“Sounds good.” And then she was walking up to the bed-and-breakfast as if there was a dragon breathing fire against her back.
Joe kicked himself mentally the whole way home.
He’d handled that badly. He handled her badly. If she were a skittish horse he’d be patient. He could afford to be even more patient with her. Reassuring.
She’d given up everything to come here, and he should know what that was like. He’d given up everything for this ranch—his career, his love—and he still had regrets. But he also understood duty.
Duty was what had prompted him to place the ad on the website.
Duty was what would see him married next week.
Joe didn’t always like himself, but his word was his word, and when he made a promise, he kept it.
*
Joe called Sophie later that afternoon. “I’m not going to be able to make it into town for dinner,” he said, his deep voice hard and flat over the line. “And I won’t be able to do lunch tomorrow, as Granddad and I will be riding up into the backcountry looking for a couple cows that have gone missing. But we’ll be back before dark, and then I’ll hop into the shower and change and head into town and we’ll get dinner. Sound okay to you?”
It was a long speech for him, Sophie thought, a lot of words strung together and there wasn’t really room for her to argue or protest. She wasn’t wanted or needed at the ranch, and he wasn’t going to be available for a day.
She told herself it didn’t hurt.
She told herself it was fine.
But it didn’t feel fine.
She felt terrible as a matter of fact. She practically hummed with regret, but there was no way she’d let him know t
hat. “No worries. Be safe tomorrow.”
“I will, and we’ll have a nice dinner tomorrow.”
For a split second, she almost begged him to drive down tonight. For a split second, she almost told him how scared she was, but Sophie’s pride kept her from revealing how vulnerable she felt and so she faked a cheerful, “Sounds great, Joe.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Another wave of pain washed over her. What was she doing here? How could she have possibly thought Montana would be the answer? How could she have imagined it’d be so easy to start over?
But Sophie had her pride, so much pride, and so she swallowed hard and blinked back foolish tears. “Me, too.”
*
So far, nothing was going the way he’d planned, and Joe felt increasingly frustrated, but he couldn’t let his mother know. His mom hated being dependent on others, and she hated that she couldn’t cook like she used to or deep clean anymore. She missed driving and grocery shopping and she worried about being a burden, and so Joe juggled his responsibilities tonight, just as he did every night.
As he used the pancake turner to break up the browning ground beef as it sizzled with the diced onions in the cast-iron skillet, he kept an eye on the clock, aware he was getting a later start to town than he’d planned, but so far, he wasn’t really late. He could make up some time on the drive, but he wasn’t going to be late, because he wasn’t going to make Sophie wait. It was bad enough he couldn’t see her last night. She’d only just arrived in Montana and yet she was spending all of her time alone.
“You don’t have to make dinner before you go,” his mom said, slowly entering the kitchen, her cane lightly scarping the wooden floor.
“It’s what I do every night, Mom. Just because I’m not eating here, doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you and Granddad hungry.”
“We could fend for ourselves,” she answered, making her way to the breakfast table and carefully sitting down.
“You could, but since I’m here, I might as well get it ready so all you have to do is dish it up when you’re hungry.” He glanced over his shoulder, taking in his mom’s posture. “You’re hurting tonight, aren’t you?”
“No more than usual.”
“I think we should get you back in to see Dr. Johnson.”
“He’ll just give me more medicine and the medicine will make me sleepy or dizzy or depressed—”
“Is the pain better, Mom?”
“At least I know I’m alive.”
“There are other ways to know you’re alive,” he said, taking a potholder from the counter to wrap the skillet handle before carrying the skillet to the sink. “Pain shouldn’t be the measure of one’s existence.”
She didn’t answer him, but he could feel her gaze on him as he drained the fat from the meat. Her gaze felt sharp, pointed, and she dying to say something. Joe wished she’d just come out and say it. It was hard enough communicating with her without the extra silences.
Returning the skillet to the stove, he turned the heat down and dumped in the sour cream and seasonings and gave it a good stir. “The noodles are cooked. This just needs to simmer a few minutes and then you should be good to go.” He covered the stroganoff with an oversized lid and turned around. “Anything you need me to do before I head out?”
His mom just looked at him, expression guarded, fine lines etched at her eyes, and yet he could feel her tension, as well as her resistance. She didn’t want him to go. She hadn’t been happy yesterday evening, either, but tonight she seemed even more upset.
“Just say it, Mom. You know you want to.”
“I don’t want to fight with you tonight. I was so upset after you left last night.”
“Fine. Don’t say anything. I need to get on the road. We have a six thirty reservation at Rocco’s.” He felt his jeans back pocket, wallet, and then his front pocket, keys. Good to go. “See you in the morning,” he said, crossing to her, and kissing her forehead. “Don’t try to stay up. I might be late.” He headed to the back door where the coats were hung up on pegs drilled into the split-log wall.
He was just sliding his coat on when his mother said, “Why her?”
Joe tensed, air bottled in his lungs. This was exactly how it started last night. Right as he tried to walk out. Right as he tried to carve some time for himself. Last night he’d been frustrated. Tonight he was angry.
“Why not her?” he replied evenly, as he adjusted the collar on the sheepskin coat. “I like her. A lot.”
“I just don’t understand why you had to meet someone online. Why not someone from around here? There are plenty of really nice girls in Marietta.”
“Because I didn’t meet her in Marietta. I met her online and we clicked.”
“But why? She’s not from Montana. She’s not even like us—”
“What does that mean?” he interrupted roughly, temper flaring. “Not like us?”
His mother bit her lower lip and said nothing.
“And her name is Sophie,” he added. “Sophie’s wonderful. She’s smart, educated, successful. She has a great career, comes from a three-generation farming family. She understands my values, and how much the ranch means to me.”
“And she’s going to give up her job and her family to come here? She’s going to live here and be happy here?” His mom made a scoffing noise. “I don’t think so.”
Joe didn’t bother to dignify his mother’s response with an answer. Instead, he opened the door and walked out, but for the entire thirty-minute drive to town, her words played over and over in his head.
*
Joe would be arriving any minute but Sophie hastily changed her blouse, and then peeled off her jeans and stepped into a long skirt, and stepped back to examine her reflection in the mirror on the closet door. No. Not good. Quickly she stripped off the skirt and tugged her jeans back on, and then changed back to her original blouse.
This was so stupid.
She scooped her loose hair into a ponytail and tightened the elastic, and turned her head right, left, studied her profile and then with a shake of her head, pulled the elastic out and let her hair spill down her back.
She couldn’t do this. Be whatever it was she thought he wanted. She shouldn’t be trying so hard. She barely knew him. How could she possibly make herself into whatever it was he wanted?
On the plane, she’d had butterflies. On the plane, she’d felt anxiety. But her anxiety tonight was different. Her anxiety was deeper, her pulse faster, her heart thudding with the awareness that Joe was gorgeous, and masculine, and full of hard edges. He wasn’t going to be a man that was easily managed. He wasn’t going to be overtly charming like Leo. He was himself, and she wasn’t going to change him or dress him up or make him into something she wanted. She would have to take him, or leave him, period.
Conversely, he’d just have to take her or leave her as well, and that should reassure her, but it didn’t.
The truth was, she’d never felt so alone in her life. She’d never doubted herself so much, either.
She either needed to go home, or make Montana permanent. She couldn’t do limbo. She wasn’t good with limbo. To be fair, though, she wasn’t in total limbo. Joe had texted her fifteen minutes ago that he was on his way. He should be arriving in fifteen minutes. He was on his way. He obviously wanted to see her. He wanted marriage. A wife. And he’d picked her. They both wanted more, and they were both determined to be practical.
She couldn’t let the prospect of a dinner date throw her, because it wasn’t a date-date. She didn’t need approval. They were past that. They were onto the commitment stage.
Weren’t they?
Sophie glanced in the mirror at her reflection, seeing the mass of long dark hair, the brown eyes, the arched eyebrows, the long mascaraed lashes and pink glossed lips. Had she put too much makeup on? Was she trying too hard?
She felt like she was trying too hard. That bothered her.
Sophie reached for a tissue and blotted the lip
gloss, removing most of it. There, better. Less shiny. Less sexual.
And just thinking sexual, made her think of sex, which made her think of sex with Joe and her stomach rolled and her pulse quickened.
Sex with Joe. She couldn’t quite imagine it yet. He was all man, rugged as heck, and he wanted kids, which meant they would eventually sleep together. Have sex together.
Her stomach did another uncomfortable flip.
What would he look like naked? Would he be lean and sinewy, or muscular and ripped? She wondered if he had chest hair, or no hair. She wondered—she broke off, overwhelmed by all the unknowns.
They weren’t going to bed today—they hadn’t even had a first kiss. They hadn’t even held hands. My goodness, things were moving too fast and too slow. No wonder she was so confused.
*
Sophie was downstairs on Bramble House’s front steps when he arrived, her long hair in a loose side ponytail, her black coat belted at her small waist, highlighting her curvy shape. Joe parked and stepped out of the truck. “You look pretty,” he said, approaching her.
“Thank you.”
“Would you mind walking to dinner? It’s only a couple blocks over.”
“Sounds good.”
They’d walked a half block before Sophie broke the silence. “How was it when you went back home yesterday? Did your mom or your grandfather have anything to say about me being here?”
He hesitated, before shrugging. “A bit.”
She shot him a sideways glance. “I have a feeling it was more than a bit.”
“I don’t think my grandfather has a lot to say about it, but my mom finds it suspicious that I met you online. That we have developed this relationship online. It’s foreign to her. But then she doesn’t do any social media.”
“Are any of your brothers on Tinder then?”
“Oh, they’re all on Tinder. She just doesn’t know about it.”
One of Sophie’s dark winged eyebrows arched higher. “What about you? Are you on it?”