Chapter 13
13
Brax
Zack:
I’m bored. Come hang out with me.
Brax:
Hey, Adam. Painted Cat tonight?
Adam:
Hell yeah.
James says she’s in, too. She’s calling her friends.
Zack:
Um, hello??
Brax:
8 pm?
Adam:
Sounds good. We’ll eat dinner with Ben first and then he can watch a movie with Grandpa.
Zack:
Wtf, you’re hanging out without me?
Brax:
Thank god Zack is still busted up. He ruins everything.
Zack:
I hate you both.
Adam:
Open the door. We brought beer and pizza.
Two days after his surgery to put a metal rod in his leg, Zack came home from the hospital. Despite Adam’s offer to recuperate at the big house, he insisted on moving into his old cabin on the Lodestar Ranch property. Adam and I had swung by last night to keep him company and make sure he had everything he needed within reach and ended up staying later than we’d planned, laughing and talking like old times.
Better than old times. Adam was still a grumpy son of a bitch, but he was a lot more fun now than he had been in over a decade. James was good for him.
But I was paying for our late night now. I had a bankruptcy to file, my least favorite part of my job, and I could barely keep my eyes open. I needed more coffee. I dragged my hands down my face, shoved my rolling chair back from my desk, and pushed to my feet.
Right as Essie walked through the door.
Suddenly I was wide awake.
It had been a week since I asked her to marry me and she told me she’d rather move to Antarctica. I had figured that was the end of it.
But here she was. And I could think of only one reason for it.
Her gaze circled my office, taking note of everything in that curious way she had, before she did the same to me. “You said you don’t wear a suit.”
That wasn’t what I expected her to start with, but okay. I glanced down at my standard work attire: a decent button-down shirt, a blue tie patterned with silver horse shoes, jeans, and cowboy boots. “I don’t wear a suit. I’m wearing jeans. Pairing that with a tie doesn’t make it a suit.”
“Hm.” Her head tilted. “Jeans and cowboy boots on the bottom. Button down and tie on top.” She air circled the items with her fingertip. “It’s the clothing equivalent of a mullet. Business up top. Party on the bottom. ”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Are you implying there’s a party in my pants, hellion?”
She gave an uppity sniff. “I’m sure I have no idea what’s in your pants, prig. But I’d hazard a guess it’s nothing interesting.”
“I’d be happy to issue you a personal invitation and let you find out for yourself.” I braced my hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Just say when.”
Her gaze dipped and the oddest expression crossed her face. Like she was actually imagining the possibility, and didn’t entirely hate it. Aroused and perplexed all at once.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. But she still looked like she was considering it.
I grinned. “Why are you here, hellion?”
“Oh. Right.” She cleared her throat, then gestured to the chair behind me. “Sit down, please. I don’t want to have this conversation standing up.”
“Sounds serious.” I hooked the chair leg with my ankle and rolled it closer to me, watching her as she took the chair opposite the desk.
“Well, marriage is serious. So people tell me anyway.”
My ass was halfway to the seat and I nearly fell the rest of the way. Even though I had expected that was what she was here for, it still came as a shock. “What?”
“It doesn’t have to be, though, right? I mean, you and me. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. ”
I wasn’t going to lie to her. Not about this. “A marriage is only as serious as the people in the marriage take it to be,” I said carefully.
She nodded eagerly and leaned forward across the desk. “Exactly. This marriage for love thing, that’s a pretty recent development, when you consider, like, the history of the human race. People married for money, power, and kids. There’s nothing wrong with getting married so we can enter Pirate in a competition. Horse doping, now that’s wrong.”
“Very wrong,” I agreed.
“And if we get divorced a month later, who cares?” she continued. “Sometimes marriages don’t work out. People get divorced all the time.”
I’d care . “You could file for divorce any time,” I said, with the faintest stress on you . It sure as hell wouldn’t be me.
“You’re a lawyer. You could write up one of those prenup things.”
“Sure,” I said. “But you’ll need to hire your own lawyer to look over it before you sign. Make sure it protects your interests.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because, Essie, it’s a legally binding contract,” I said, exasperated. “You can’t just trust someone to look out for your interests, especially at the expense of their own. There’s a power imbalance here. I’m a lawyer. I could write a prenup that screws you and you wouldn’t know it until it was too late.”
She leaned back and dismissed my words with a wave of her hand. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” I grumbled. “Get a lawyer anyway.”
“Fine, fine. Whatever.” She crossed her arms and stared blankly out the window, nibbling her plump bottom lip.
Jesus Christ. Was she actually considering it?
For fuck’s sake, why ?
“What about the prize money, if Pirate ribbons? How would that work?” She kept her face averted when she asked that and the twist in my gut told me I had the answer to my question. “Fifty-fifty split?”
I frowned. Not because I disapproved of her mercenary instincts. But if she needed money, I’d help her. I sure as hell wouldn’t force her to marry me. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Well, see, there’s this Russian…” She broke off with a laugh when I growled. “I’m kidding . Geez. No, I’m not in trouble. You were going to split the winnings with Zack, right? It’s a lot of money at stake, and I would like my fair share of it, that’s all. Is that a problem?”
I didn’t buy her bullshit for a second. I stared her down silently, eyebrows raised, and waited for her to give me the truth.
She sighed. “Fine. The owner of Sweetie Pie is moving to Texas to be closer to her family and grandkids. She offered to let Mom buy the place, but Mom doesn’t have that kind of money. I could help—I saved a lot of money living at home, even considering the costs of hauling to shows and keeping the horses—but she won’t let me. It would wipe out half my savings. I told her I don’t care. I can earn more money. But she says it’s too risky.”
Frustration seeped into her voice. I understood the feeling. Cat was a proud woman with a fierce independent streak. Despite Essie’s dad’s family being loaded, she’d stubbornly refused to file for child support until Essie was in high school, when it became clear that if she wanted to take barrel racing to the next level, she would need a horse of her own. Horses were expensive.
Even then, Cat couldn’t afford the attorney fees. Fortunately, my boss, who happened to be the only attorney in Aspen Springs at the time, took her case pro bono. If she suspected I was the reason, she never said. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Essie and Jack.
And there was nothing Essie wouldn’t do for her mom.
“We’ll split the purse fifty-fifty. Hell, I’d be happy to offer up my half as an investor. Cat deserves it.”
“That’s not necessary. I can take care of my mom myself.”
Of course she’d say that. God forbid she let me help. I made a mental note to reach out to Cat directly. She wouldn’t take charity, but I was a businessman. She’d understand it was an investment. “You really think if you win on Pirate, she’ll be okay with taking your winnings?” I asked.
“Well.” Essie rolled her eyes and let out a huff of a laugh. “I might have played hardball on that one. Winning would be great for the career path I’m on now. If I could show clients I know my stuff in more than just barrel racing? Yeah. That would be great. Even winning the non-pro division is a big deal. You know as well as I do that those level four riders are every bit as competitive as professionals. So I told Mom the only way I’ll ride is if she agrees to take the money. And I reminded her that this way, I won’t have to touch my savings.”
“You…you told your mom we’d have to get married?” Shit. I’d better invest in a steel jockstrap. Cat was not going to like that idea at all.
“Oh. No. I…left that part out. I figured it was better to tell her after we nailed down the details.”
I studied her. Essie was close to her mom. I doubted she told her everything—Essie’s short stint as a horse thief, for example—but if she hadn’t told her this, it meant she still had doubts.
“What details are you concerned about?” I asked.
“Like, do we have to live together? Do we tell people why we’re getting married, or do we keep it a secret?” She pushed to her feet and paced to the window, then back again. “How can we keep it a secret if I’m entering a competition for owners only, but everyone knows I’m not the owner?”
“The way I see it, the only way this works is if everyone believes it’s a real marriage. We can tell our families the truth?—”
“They’d never believe us if we said we were marrying for love, anyway,” she cut in.
“But everyone else needs to believe it’s real. That means we’d live together, at least until after the show. You could move in with me.” My insides engaged in a whole lot of unnecessary silliness. My heart picked up speed. My stomach flipped around. She’s not going to agree to this .
“Do you have an extra room?” she asked.
I nodded slowly. My heart got even sillier. “I have a guestroom.”
“Do you know how to clean a bathroom? Like, scrub toilets? Do you rinse your beard hair out of the sink every day?”
I stared at her unblinking. “What do you think?”
“I think I’ve heard horror stories about what it’s like to live with a man, that’s what I think.” She crossed her arms. “I think I remember sharing a bathroom with my brother for most of my life.”
“I keep my bathroom clean.” I enunciated every word slowly and distinctly.
She eyed me doubtfully. “We’ll see.”
I swallowed a laugh .
“You won’t be able to date other women, you know. Not that I care what you do or who you do it with, honestly, but I’m not going to have people pitying me behind my back, whispering about my husband stepping out on me. I’d have to set your truck on fire just for appearance’s sake. No hard feelings.”
“Noted.” I cleared my throat. “We should have a wedding.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Is that really necessary?”
“For appearances.” I shrugged and she started pacing again. “The horse community is small and people talk. We’re not breaking any rules, but if competitors find out, we won’t have any friends left, and you won’t have any clients.”
She stopped pacing and looked at me. “Oh.”
“We don’t have to do this, you know. I can ride. Not at level four, but I could make a decent showing at level two.”
Essie’s stare was withering. “This is Pirate’s future we’re talking about. I didn’t steal him from that asshole’s backyard just so you could make a decent showing at level two.” I couldn’t hide my grin. My hellion was nothing if not competitive. “I want to ride him. I want to win. We can do this. We are doing this.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“Stop making this seem like a big deal. It’s not . People get married and divorced all the time.”
“Alright, then. I guess that means I have a question to ask you.” I stood, came around the desk, and took her hand. She eyed me with deep suspicion. “Essie Louise Price, will you marry me?”
She looked to the ceiling, as though awaiting deliverance in the form of fifty thousand dollars landing at her feet. When that failed to happen, she sighed deeply and gave me her answer.
“I guess so.”