The Rancher's Bride

by Pamela Britton

  And it was as if she underwent a change. In front of Jorie, Laurel suddenly seemed exuberant. She flicked her long hair back over her shoulder as she swung back to face him. “Come on, Ryan. Let’s go have some fun.”

  Fun? Had she suddenly taken a happy pill when he wasn’t looking?

  He hung back, waited for Jorie to acknowledge him. She didn’t. All she did was walk past him, and Ryan was left with a good view of her upswept hairstyle and the way the skirt hugged her bottom. She smiled down at Laurel, but completely ignored him, leaving Ryan to wonder if the sweet scent of cinnamon that he caught came from her or the store.

  “Goodness.” Laurel paused near the door, still holding on to his arm. “It’s beautiful in here.”

  When Ryan glanced down at her, he caught a glimpse of the engagement ring he’d given her and his mood worsened even more.

  “Okay,” Jorie said. “I’ve taken the liberty of printing out a list of items that you’ll need. One for each of you.”

  She passed two sheets of paper to Laurel who then handed one to him, Jorie reserving one for herself. Ryan glanced at the list, his stomach tightening.

  Linens. Fine china. Appliances.

  “Does this store carry all that here?” he asked.

  “Of course,” said Laurel. “Your mother tells me this is the best place in town to register for a wedding.”

  The only place in town.

  He peered around them, at the china cabinet along the left wall, appliances and home hardware to his right, all sorts of girlie-looking fabric stuff in the middle. Home decor spotted throughout the store.

  He glanced at the list again. “We don’t need half of this stuff.”

  The words escaped him before he could think better of it. Jorie finally met his gaze.

  “Oh, but you do,” she said.

  “Maybe if I didn’t already own a home.” Ryan tried to hand the list back to Jorie. She wouldn’t take it. “But I do and I already have all this.”

  “Yes, but that’s your stuff,” Jorie said, clearly impatient. “This is your chance to pick out items together.”

  Laurel was glancing between the two of them, eyes wide. He waited for her to say something. She didn’t.

  “Whatever,” he said.

  You’re being an ass.

  Maybe he was, he told himself, but Laurel was suddenly acting as though this was a real marriage. As if they had every intention of sharing a bathroom and a bed. All because of Jorie’s presence. Did she sense Jorie posed a threat to her? Was that what was going on?

  “Let’s start with the china first,” Jorie said.

  China? Were they going to entertain? He supposed they were. Was that before or after Laurel told everyone she was pregnant…with Ryan’s baby?

  “Do you have any idea what kind of color you’d like?”

  Laurel’s arm tightened around his. “I don’t know, Ryan. What do you think?”

  He was thinking he needed to get out of here. That what had started as an offer of help had turned into a monster of a commitment that had begun to make him feel trapped.

  “Jorie,” he said, “can you give us a moment alone?”

  Jorie glanced between them, her stunning blue eyes nearly the same color as one of the dishes behind her. “Sure.”

  The moment she was a safe distance away, he turned toward Laurel. “Laurel, what’s gotten into you? You’re acting like a love-struck bride.”

  Laurel glanced behind him, toward Jorie. “What? You think if we both act like we’re about to swallow a vial of plague that it won’t get back to your mother? Why do you think she wanted Jorie to go along?”

  She had a point.

  “I don’t want people buying us gifts.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, lowered his voice. “Not when all this is temporary.”

  Laurel’s eyes were wide and unblinking, and much to his surprise, suddenly filled with hurt. She looked away for a moment, toward the china.

  “Ryan,” she said softly. “I know you don’t really want to marry me, but can we at least pretend…for my father’s sake.” She blinked. “And your mother’s. At least when people like Jorie are around?”

  Her words hit him hard as they were meant to do. Any other woman and he’d think he was being manipulated, but not Laurel. She didn’t have a manipulative bone in her body. She was just being Laurel. Trying to please everyone.

  “How long?” He didn’t even know he was going to ask the question until the words were out of his mouth. “I need to know, Laurel. How long are we going to pretend?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, Ryan,” she whispered back. “Thinking about what you said by the creek. I agree. Trying to make this work, to see if this might become a real marriage, I can tell that’s not a good idea. So just until the baby’s born. I promise, Ryan. Once that happens we’ll tell my father—”

  “Tell me what?”

  They both jumped. Laurel turned toward the voice before crying out, “Daddy!”

  Lyle Harrington, all six-foot-four-inches of him, stared down at Ryan. He might be dressed like a cowboy in his light blue shirt and pressed jeans, but he looked like a drill sergeant with his stern, angular face and no-nonsense eyes. His gray hair was covered by a black cowboy hat.

  “Mr. Harrington.” He swallowed back a curse, having to work hard to conceal his dismay. “What brings you down here?”

  Lyle Harrington had had Laurel late in life. She was his only child which might explain why he doted upon her. The Harringtons had been neighbors of the Claybornes since before Ryan was born. He’d always looked up to the man, literally. When his father died, Lyle had been there, stepping in as a surrogate father. As such, Ryan had been on the receiving end of a stern word or two more than once in his life. He still felt the aftereffects of that strict upbringing, which might explain why Ryan glanced toward Jorie—guilt causing his cheeks to heat up—as if Lyle had caught him with a girlie magazine under his bed.

  “Daddy,” Laurel said. “I told you I’d handle this.”

  “I know, I know,” Lyle said. “But I want to make sure it’s done right.”

  “That’s why Odelia sent along Jorie,” Laurel said. “Jorie,” she called out. “Come tell my father how much we need you here today.”

  Lyle turned toward Jorie, and Ryan knew the man was not blind. Jorie looked stunning today. Ryan saw Lyle’s gaze scan Jorie. He glanced back to Ryan, then back at Jorie again, and his look seemed to say it all.

  Fox in the henhouse.

  “Nice to see you again, Mr. Harrington.”

  “Hmm, yes,” Lyle said, still studying her. No doubt doing the same thing Ryan did when he’d first spotted her outside the store. Observing the pale blue eyes, the narrow waist, the unique thickness of her naturally blond hair. Lyle turned back to him, brows lifted, his look seeming to say, “Better watch yourself, young man.”

  “Daddy,” Laurel said. “Ryan and I were just talking about china. Do you think we should get something formal, or more country? I really like the plates with the little chickens.”

  And there she went going back to the happy bride again.

  “I like those, too,” he heard Jorie say. “They’d be perfect for a farmhouse.”

  Ryan hung back. He watched as Jorie guided Laurel through the process of choosing wedding gifts. She did so with kindness and firmness, giving her opinions no matter if they contradicted Laurel or Lyle. Occasionally he’d give some input, but he couldn’t get over feeling like a hypocrite. They were deceiving Lyle and he hated it as much as he hated deceiving his own mom.

  “What do you think?”

  They were in the back section of the store, and Ryan was abashed to realize he had no idea what Laurel was questioning him about. But then he saw the bath towels she held, one with a horseshoe embroider
ed in the middle and one that was plain.

  “Plain,” he said quickly.

  She frowned. Lyle glanced over at him as if disappointed that he’d let down his little girl. Jorie pretended not to notice him standing there.

  “I think that about does it,” said Jorie, consulting her list and checking something off.

  “Terrific,” Laurel said. “Who’s up for a bite to eat?”

  “Not me,” Ryan said instantly. “I have work to do back at the ranch.”

  “Too busy to spend time with your bride?”

  Here it went. He’d been giving Lyle a wide berth for exactly this reason. He was so close to his daughter, Ryan had known he’d pick up on the strain between the two of them. Throw in a sprinkle of Jorie, and Ryan knew he was in trouble.

  “Not at all,” he said, squaring off against him. He would not let the man push him around, no matter how much he respected him. “I promised Mr. Milton I’d deliver some steers to him this afternoon.”

  Lyle didn’t look convinced.

  “I have to get back to the office, too,” Jorie said, smiling at the three of them. “But thanks for the offer, Laurel.” To his surprise, she came forward and gave Laurel a hug. “I hope you get everything you wish for.”

  Ryan stiffened, wondering just what, exactly, that was supposed to mean.

  “Nice to see you again, Mr. Harrington,” she said. Ryan watched as she wiped her face of expression before turning in his direction. “I’ll see you back at the ranch.”

  Would he? Somehow he doubted it. She’d done well at avoiding him in the past week. So had he for that matter.

  “Ryan, before you leave, I’d like to have a word with you,” Lyle quickly interjected.

  He almost groaned.

  “Come,” the big man said. “Walk with me.”

  Ryan felt about six years old. He caught a glimpse of Jorie on his way out of the store, her skirt swishing around her legs as she headed to her car. He hadn’t meant to look at her. His eyes were naturally drawn to her. Unfortunately, Lyle noticed his glance.

  “That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,” the man said, following his gaze.

  “Mr. Harrington—”

  “Don’t try to brush me off,” he said with a wave of his hands. “Look, son. I’ve known you a long time. I know you have an eye for a pretty girl. And I’m not going to lie, so did I years and years ago. But it’s something you grow out of, especially when you get engaged.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  Lyle held up a hand. “Laurel told me you’ve been a little standoffish lately.”

  She’d told him what?

  “You wouldn’t be the first man to have his head turned by a pretty woman a few weeks before his wedding.”

  “Lyle, it’s not like that.”

  Lyle’s lids lowered a bit, as if he studied him thoughtfully. “I sure hope not, but I’m here to tell you that if it is, you need to stop it. I don’t want to see my Laurel’s heart broken.”

  It already was broken, Ryan wanted to cry out.

  “Thank God she had the sense to drop that no good Thad before it was too late. And thank God you had the good sense to step up to the plate right after. Now all you need to do is see this thing through to the end.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ryan choked out.

  “Attaboy,” Lyle said, clapping him on the back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “How’d it go?”

  The words were called out to Jorie from within the arena, and she paused by her car door. Inside she could make out the shape of a figure on a brown horse. Odelia. She trotted up to the rail, her pink outfit matching her fancy pink hat and matching boots.

  “It went well,” Jorie said. “Laurel picked out some beautiful items.”

  She heard Odelia tell the horse to walk, then pointed the animal toward the rail, tipping her pink cowboy hat back as she approached Jorie. Her expression was one of concern.

  “And Laurel and Ryan?” she asked. “How did they seem to be getting along?”

  Fantastic, unless one knew what to look for, Jorie thought. Ryan had tried to appear interested in Laurel’s choices, but she could clearly see the sharp edge to his smile. And the way he could barely look into Laurel’s eyes…it broke Jorie’s heart. The way he’d hung back, too, only showing interest when he was forced to do so. Clearly, Ryan was a man who felt obligated to honor his word, even more so with Laurel’s father around.

  Lyle.

  Now, there was a man who would intimidate a four-star general.

  “That well, huh?” Odelia pulled on the reins of her horse, the animal snorting in protest, as she stopped nearby.

  “No, no.” Jorie closed the distance between them, the shadow of the arena swallowing her up. “It went fine.”

  “Jorie.” Odelia rested her hand on the saddle horn. “You’ve been working in my office for over two weeks and I can already tell when you’re giving me a load of hooey.”

  Oh, great.

  “Lyle called me while you were on your way back to the office. Told me he was concerned about the kids. Frankly, I am, too.”

  “I’m sure they’re just nervous about the wedding.”

  The horse she rode shifted beneath Odelia, the woman handling the animal with a grace Jorie could only admire.

  “Maybe.” She frowned, shifted her hat again. “Then again, maybe not, but I’ve decided to test the waters a bit. I’m throwing them a party this weekend. An engagement party.”

  Jorie didn’t know why her heart sank, but it did.

  “I was thinking we could use it as an opportunity to introduce you to everybody, too. So while I could use your help getting stuff together in time for the weekend, you’ll be a guest on Saturday night.”

  She felt as though she’d swallowed a rock. “How many people?”

  “No more than thirty. We need to invite everyone in the wedding party. The Harringtons, of course. The ranch staff. Maybe even some of our neighbors.”

  “I see.”

  “Formal dress,” Odelia added, eyeing the outfit Jorie wore. “Although don’t get me wrong. I like that you’re wearing jeans more often.”

  She had worn them. Twice in the past week. She hated it. They’d had three visitors to the ranch and Jorie had felt underdressed the entire time. Maybe Ryan was right. Maybe her clothes really were her armor.

  “I’d still like to ride for another half hour, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d love for you to get started calling some caterers. See if anyone’s available on such short notice.”

  “No problem.”

  “Don’t mention the party to Ryan, though. I’ll break the news to him.”

  News he wouldn’t like. Jorie was certain of it.

  She didn’t have much time to dwell on the matter, however. There were six messages on her voice mail when she returned to the office—three potential brides, Sophia, the bride who’d booked the meadow for the spring, and two contractors.

  She spent the rest of the day returning phone calls and tracking down the caterers Odelia wanted, most of whom were booked. When Odelia returned to the office, she went over menu choices, then had to call everyone back. The following day was no better, but Jorie was grateful for the work. Odelia put her in charge of personally calling people on her guest list. Though it was short notice, the majority of people could attend, and so from there it was just a matter of getting everything else settled.

  And so, one day blended into the next and before she knew it, Saturday had rolled around, her day off, but she found herself working just as hard. For the first time since going to work at Spring Hill Ranch she went up to the great house, as she’d taken to calling Odelia’s home. If the place had looked stunning from the outside, it was breathtaking on the inside wi
th its vaulted ceilings, hardwood floors and wall-to-wall windows.

  “You go, dear,” Odelia told her, coming into a kitchen the size of the mobile home where Jorie had grown up. She’d just met the caterers there. “You need to get dressed.”

  “Actually, I was thinking I could wear this.” She motioned to her capri pants and button-down shirt.

  Odelia eyed her up and down. “Excuse me? The queen of fashion wants to wear that to an engagement party?”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “You look like you’re ready to go wine tasting. I said formal dress, dear, and in Texas, we mean formal.”

  “Okay. Got it.”

  Jorie took it as her cue to leave when Odelia assumed her tasks. She walked back to her house, but as always happened, she tensed when she crested the knoll overlooking the old homestead. Ryan’s black truck was absent. She breathed a sigh of relief. All week long she’d dreaded running into him. Tonight she would have no choice.

  Maybe it was the thought of seeing Ryan again, or maybe it was Odelia’s orders to dress formally, but for whatever reason Jorie took extra care with her appearance. She wore a black V-neck shirt, one made to hang off a shoulder and that required a chemise beneath. Both the shirt and the chemise hung past her waist. She belted it with a tiny gold chain. Beneath that, she wore black slacks, but they were fitted with crystal appliqué on the back pockets and around the cuffs and had cost her a fortune. For the first time since arriving, she left her hair down, something she hated to do because it always seemed to get into her face. She applied more makeup than usual, too, stepping back from the mirror when she was finished and wondering if she’d overdone it.

  To hell with it. She didn’t have time to wash it all off.

  She decided to drive up to the house, mostly because she didn’t want to destroy her heels, but before she set off she glanced at Ryan’s house. He was home. She hadn’t even heard him arrive, but she wasn’t waiting around to see if he wanted to share a ride.

  The sun was just going down, the sky the color of an Easter egg that’d been dipped in orange and blue and pink. Odelia couldn’t have picked a better day for a party and it looked as if most everyone they’d invited had decided to attend. Jorie was forced to park down Odelia’s driveway a bit. Crickets had begun to chirp, the soft strains of music filling the air.