Chapter One #2
"Here's the situation," he finally said, his jacket dotted with glistening beads of water. "I've got potential investors coming tomorrow – well, today now. The Vickerys. They're looking to put a quarter million into my breeding program."
I didn't see what this had to do with me, but I nodded encouragingly.
"They're traditional types," Heath continued, shifting his weight. "Old-school ranchers who put a lot of stock in family values. They've been asking why a man my age isn't settled down yet."
"Not seeing how this relates to me committing grand theft fowl on your property," I grumbled, hugging myself against the biting cold.
Heath's jaw tightened, a muscle working in his cheek. "I need a girlfriend."
I wiped my face with my sleeve. "Um, good luck with that? There are apps for that sort of thing, you know."
"I need a girlfriend for the week," he clarified, each word dragged out like a confession. "While the Vickerys are here. Someone to play hostess, make it look like I've got a stable personal life to go with my business proposal."
The reality clicked into place in my exhausted brain. "Wait. Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"You pretend to be my girlfriend for the week, help me land this deal, and I don't call Sheriff Dillard about the Bourbon Red in your car." Heath laid it out bluntly, his features hardening in the darkness. "That's the offer."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. It burst out of me in a slightly hysterical bubble that echoed through the night. "You want me – the animal rights activist who just tried to liberate your heritage flock – to pretend to be your girlfriend? The girlfriend of a poultry conservationist?"
"Heritage breeder," he corrected, his shoulders tensing beneath his jacket. "And yes."
"That's insane," I said, still half-laughing. "We barely know each other. We've met exactly twice, and both times you stared at me like I was something unpleasant you'd stepped in."
"Three times now," he pointed out, adjusting his hat. "And for the record, I never thought you were unpleasant. Just wrong for my brother."
That sobered me up like a slap to the face. "Wow. Thanks for that assessment."
Heath's face remained maddeningly unreadable. "Look, it's simple. You stay at the ranch for the week, play the part, then go back to your life in Austin. Your career stays intact, I secure my funding, everybody benefits."
"Except the turkeys," I muttered, pressing my arms tighter against my ribs.
"My breeding stock lives better than most people," he retorted with surprising heat, leaning forward. "They're part of a conservation program to preserve genetic diversity that factory farms like Jessup's are wiping out."
Well, that was an angle I hadn't considered. Still... "This is crazy. I can't just drop everything for a week to play house with my ex's brother."
His eyes fixed on me, unwavering. "You're on administrative leave, remember? And correct me if I'm wrong, but animal welfare hours would count toward your community service, wouldn't they? I could sign off on it."
Damn him for being right. I did need those hours, and my schedule was wide open since I wasn't allowed near a courtroom for the next month.
I stood there contemplating my options, shivering in the cold. On one hand, a week of awkward pretending with a man who was essentially a stranger (an unfairly attractive stranger, but still). On the other hand, a felony charge, disbarment, and the end of my career.
When he put it that way...
"Fine," I conceded through gritted teeth. "One week. I'll be your girlfriend. But I have conditions."
"Name them," Heath lowered his weapon completely.
"I'll need some things from my apartment in Austin."
He shook his head. "No time. The Vickerys arrive tomorrow, and we've got a lot to do before then. We'll have to make do with what we can find around here."
I must have looked panicked because he added, "Laverne at the beauty shop can help. She'll know how to make you look the part."
Great. I was going to get a country girl makeover. Just what I wanted. This just kept getting better.
"And I want it crystal clear that this is strictly professional," I added, gesturing vaguely between us. "Nothing... physical."
In the dim light, I could've sworn a flush crept up his neck, but his face remained impassive.
"Obviously," he muttered gruffly. "Just make it believable when they're around."
"I was a theater kid in high school," I informed him, lifting my chin defiantly. "I can be very convincing."
Heath snorted. "Good, because we've got less than 24 hours to prepare before they arrive." He gestured toward my car. "Now let's get that bird back where he belongs before he ruins your upholstery."
"Too late," I sighed, glancing down at my jeans.
The trek back to my Prius felt surreal – me trudging beside a cowboy with a rifle, heading to retrieve a stolen prize turkey. The feathered captive had settled in, making soft cooing sounds as it nestled into my back seat, seemingly untroubled by its brief kidnapping adventure.
"So," I ventured as we approached, "should I call you 'babe' or ‘pumpkin’ or what?"
Heath winced like he'd bitten into a lemon. "Let's start with getting through introductions without giving away that this is a sham, shall we?"
"Fine, but just so we're clear, this is extortion," I pointed out as he opened the car door, releasing the faint aroma of barnyard into the night.
"And what you were doing is agricultural theft," he countered, expertly scooping up the Bourbon Red before it could escape. "So I guess we're even."
He cradled the plump bird with unexpected gentleness, his large hands careful and sure.
Something shifted inside me as I watched the tenderness in his movements while he murmured to his prized breeding tom.
For all his gruff exterior, there was an undeniable softness in how he protected his animals.
What had I gotten myself into?
The night had grown still as Heath returned the turkey to its flock.
My car now sat in his driveway, looking comically small and out of place next to his massive pickup truck.
I hugged myself tightly as we climbed the steps to a charming white farmhouse that resembled a Country Living magazine cover.
The porch light cast a warm glow that contrasted with my inner turmoil.
"You can take the guest room tonight," Heath said, fumbling with his keys. The lock clicked open, and the scent of cedar and coffee wafted out from the warm interior. "We'll move your things to my room tomorrow before they arrive."
"Your room?" My voice cracked embarrassingly.
Heath removed his hat, running a hand through his flattened hair. "Relax, I can take the floor," he added with a sigh. "But they need to think we're sharing."
Right. Because we were supposed to be a couple. A couple who'd apparently been dating long enough for me to be staying at his ranch during a holiday week with potential backers.
This was insane. I was insane for agreeing to it.
But as I followed Heath into the warm house, tired to my bones, I couldn't think of a better alternative. One week of pretending versus the end of my career? No contest.
Besides, how hard could it be to fake being Heath McGraw's girlfriend? We'd barely have to interact. Just smile, hold hands occasionally, and convince the Vickerys we were a happy couple.
Easy peasy.
I sneezed loudly, startling us both.
Heath turned, his features softening as he took in my bedraggled state. "You should change into something comfortable," he suggested, his voice rougher than before. "Bathroom's down the hall. I'll find you something to sleep in."
"Thanks," I managed, feeling like something the cat dragged in. Heath's gaze lingered on my face for a beat too long before he looked away, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
Strictly business, I reminded myself firmly. This was strictly business.
But as Heath disappeared down the hallway, his broad shoulders and quiet confidence unmistakable even in the shadows, a treacherous little voice in my head whispered that this was going to be the longest week of my life.
And not necessarily in a bad way.