The Cowboy’s Mail-Order Bride (The Careys of Cowboy Point Book 1)

Chapter Ten

In the morning, Harlan woke at his usual time and left her in his bed.

Where she belonged and would stay, if he had anything to say on the subject.

And he hoped he did, because he already found it deeply satisfying to go out and do a round of chores before dawn, then come back to find her in his kitchen. He found he spent the whole day looking forward to coming back to her at night.

But there was nothing to compare to the sight of his wife, naked and her hair a mess, curled up in his own bed.

She was still asleep when he got back and that pleased him, too. He took the opportunity to make her some of the coffee she liked better than his, which was more like jet fuel. And while he was at it, he scrambled up some eggs and fried some bacon, then arranged it on a plate with some toast. Then he carried it all into the bedroom.

Kendall sat up with a jolt when he set the plate down on his bedside table. Then she looked around in alarm, as if she hadn’t meant to fall asleep last night. Or early this morning, to be more precise, because they’d reached for each other again and again.

He couldn’t say he liked the fact that she looked like she still didn’t mean to stay.

“Harlan,” she began, in that tone that suggested she was going to tell him things he wasn’t going to like.

He nodded toward the food and the coffee, crossed the room to settle into the big armchair near the window with his own mug.

“You better eat before you set about breaking my heart,” he told her in a drawl.

And he found he liked the flush that moved over her at that, starting in her cheeks and then washing down to her breasts, too. Painting her in pretty colors like his own, personal sunrise.

It was harder than he’d care to admit to stay in his chair when he knew how she tasted. And the weight of her breast against his palm. And the sounds she made when he was deep inside her.

Like she was remembering the same things, Kendall swallowed hard. She pulled the sheets up around her body like that might make either one of them forget, but then she did what he told her. She took a long pull from the mug of coffee. And then, with only a glance his way, she started eating.

He wasn’t surprised that she was hungry. It had been a long night. Harlan wasn’t sure he had slept at all himself, though he was equally sure he’d never felt better.

When she was finished eating, Kendall sat back against the headboard. She let out a long sigh that a lesser man might have taken as a bad sign, but Harlan wasn’t interested in signs. Today he was all about intentions. Reality.

And making the wife he hadn’t expected to fall in love with see a little reason.

Kendall pulled the sheets and the blanket up to her chin, and, for a moment, looked like the little girl she must have been. Once upon a time.

He decided, then and there, that he would be perfectly happy to have a fleet of little girls that looked just like her. Dark hair. Big eyes.

That smile he’d seen too many times to count last night.

But he knew better than to say something like that. Kendall still looked spooked, like she might run at any moment. He didn’t want that.

He wanted her.

All of her.

“I think it’s time that you tell me everything,” he said then.

She seemed to freeze at that. But she nodded. “I will.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, then let it go. “And if after I explain, you want to take back the things you said last night… I’ll understand.”

Harlan laughed, loud enough that she looked startled. “That I love you? Do you think that’s the kind of thing that comes and goes so easily?” He shook his head. “There’s not a single thing you could tell me that would make me stop loving you, Kendall. I promise you that.”

But that only made her look more miserable. “How about this? I’m a bad person.”

“I don’t agree.” Harlan shrugged when she frowned at him. “You can say that if you want. I can’t stop you. But if you want me to agree with you? Baby, you’re going to have to prove it.”

She scowled at that, but she didn’t respond. Not directly. Instead, she spent a moment or two knotting her hair on the back of her head.

And he had to order himself not to get distracted by all that glossy, pretty hair of hers, that he could still almost feel trailing across his skin, driving him wild.

He believed there would be more of that.

Hell, he would make sure there was.

Kendall didn’t seem to realize that Harlan Carey wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.

“I never knew my father,” she said after a moment. “Or I guess I might have, but no one man was ever positively identified as the actual, lucky winner of that prize. Some of the earliest things I remember involve my mother pretending that different men might be responsible for me. And then my sister a few years later. That’s what we did in Nashville. And all over Tennessee. And then throughout the whole South. Mama would go around making this man or that worry about paternity. That was her favorite scam and she played around with it for most of our childhood.”

She kept looking at him for a reaction, so he kept his face impassive. But he doubted that he was responding the way she clearly expected. He wasn’t sure he had a single negative thought about a child who’d been used like that by her own mother. How was it the child’s fault?

Though Harlan found he did have a lot of thoughts, however, about a mother who would play games like that with her own children. Using them as pawns.

Or even weapons.

“As we got older, my sister Breanna really became my mother’s protégé. She’s the pretty one.” Kendall’s mouth curved, but if that was a smile, it was the bleakest one he’d ever seen. “And I don’t say that to get down on myself. I like my own looks just fine. But there’s a certain kind of pretty that can be utilized, you see. A certain kind of pretty that could make us money and that was Breanna, not me.”

“I want to be clear on what you mean by that,” he said, slowly.

Carefully.

She smiled. Another one that got nowhere near her eyes.

“I don’t actually know what boundaries my sister has,” she said after a moment. “I know that she and my mother like to target men. Sometimes together, sometimes alone. If you’re asking me if they sell themselves, it’s not that straightforward. The simple answer is no. What they do is create a scenario, then extract a price.” She held his gaze for a long moment. A breath, maybe. “They prefer married men for that reason.”

He could see the way she tensed at that and it took him a moment to understand why.

“Kendall.” Harlan had to go easy, and he had to caution himself that this wasn’t a reflection on him. This was what she feared, not what he’d shown her. He couldn’t lose his cool now. “Is part of the reason you think you have to leave is because you think they can play their games with me?”

He saw the jolt that went through her, that she tried to hide. Just like he could see the sheer misery in her gaze. “This is the family business. They’re good at it.”

“It sounds to me like what they’re good at is finding weak men and exploiting that weakness.” He kept his gaze on her, steady and true. “But that’s not going to work on me.”

She did not look as comforted by that as he would have liked. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I contributed to Darlington family enterprise?”

“I’m not going to ask you.” He sat forward, still keeping his gaze trained on hers like his life depended on it. Because it did. “You can tell me if you want. But I know who you are, Kendall.”

She made a soft sound. “You really don’t.”

“I’ve watched the way you took on life here. How you made friends when you didn’t have to, and especially not when you thought you were leaving soon. You made my father feel alive again when we don’t know how much time he has left. You’ve involved yourself in the community. The ranch. The family. Like these things matter to you.”

“That could be an act for all you know.”

“I don’t think so. You take care of people. Of me. Of this house. Of the business. I have to assume that’s the same kind of thing you did for your mother and your sister, even if, in my opinion, they don’t deserve it. Or you, if it got you running scared like this.”

She let out a broken sort of sound and put her hands over her face. “I’m the one who fixes things,” she said through her fingers. “I’m the one who keeps situations from getting too… intense. They’re good at what they do, I suppose, but then I go in and clean it up.”

“It’s like what I hear you told my dad,” Harlan said. “You’re good at sales.”

Kendall lifted her head and there were tears streaming down her face. “I don’t understand this. Why are you being so nice to me? I’m sitting here telling you I come from a family of grifters and con-women, and you are…”

“In love with you, Kendall.” Harlan said it very calmly. Very distinctly, so there could be no doubt. “I said it in bed last night and I meant it. But I imagine you’re already dismissing that, because I’d bet you’ve heard a lot of men say those things to your mother or your sister in similar situations. And you knew perfectly well that it couldn’t be love. That it wasn’t in all those scenarios.” He nodded when another sobbing sort of sound escaped her. “But baby, this is you and me. This is the real deal.”

“My family—” she began.

“I’m your family,” Harlan told her, with finality.

And the way she looked at him then, with terror and wonder all over her lovely face, he had no choice but to go over to her.

He crawled on to the bed with her, scooped her up, and twisted them both around until he could hold her on his lap. He smoothed her hair back from her hot face, and then he kissed her.

Once. Again.

“Here’s what I think should happen.” He tucked her against his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head. And he smiled when he felt her hand move, as if to hold his heart in her palm. “Because I can’t have my wife panic like this. I can’t have these people showing up and making you doubt who you are. I think you should invite them to the ranch. We can all sit down and have a talk about reality. And what that looks like.”

Kendall pulled back then and looked at him with horror all over her face.

“Oh no. You can’t do that. I can’t let them anywhere near you.”

Harlan kissed her. “Invite them over, baby,” he told her, a soft order but an order all the same. “They’re not dealing with you anymore. Or not just you.”

But this was Kendall, who doubted who she was. Or didn’t understand. Not yet.

Harlan vowed that she would.

Today.

Because this was going to be the last time she stared at him blankly when he reminded her who, exactly, she was now.

“You’re a Carey, Kendall.” When she blinked at that, then flushed with pleasure—the way he liked best—he smiled wider. “And one thing you should know about us Careys is that we always, always, take care of our own.”