Chapter 7
7
T he lines on the highway flew past in a blur of white and yellow as Holt drove in silence, pondering the woman he was about to marry. She seemed to be over the car sickness now and was chatting with Jacey, who couldn’t seem to contain her excitement for longer than five minutes at a stretch. Still, he worried about his bride-to-be. She was so pale and thin that he wondered if she was sick a lot. How could she care for Jacey if she was sick all the time?
But she said she wasn’t, and he chose to believe her. Maybe he was too desperate and too far along in this charade to consider anything else.
He had to admit, he admired her grit, her bravery, her determination to continue the trip. She’d never complained, but she’d apologized plenty.
She was a pleasant woman, sweet to his daughter. He’d focus on the positives.
“Can I be the flower maid?” Jacey was asking. “Ava was a flower maid once in a wedding, and she wore a fancy dress and threw roses at people. She said it was the funnest thing ever.”
Holt tuned in to his daughter and caught AnnaLeigh’s glance. Her eyes were laughing. Her lips twitched.
A sense of humor. He liked that, too.
He grinned. “I think you mean a flower girl.”
“Uh-huh. Can I be one? Will you buy me a pretty dress? And AnnaLeigh too, and we’ll get flowers and throw them and everything.”
He hadn’t thought that far in advance. Truth of the matter, he hadn’t considered an actual wedding-wedding. He stretched his neck, suddenly tense.
“Well, Jace, AnnaLeigh and I were thinking a drive-through ceremony would be fun, sort of like McDonalds. We’d drive up, talk to a person through the window and, as quick as ordering French fries, you’d have your new mommy.” He tried to make it sound better than it would be. “Then, afterwards, we’ll get ice cream sundaes and celebrate. How does that sound?”
His cowpoke wasn’t buying it. After two beats, he knew he was in trouble.
“Terrible.” Her seatbelt popped again, and there she was, head twisted up to stare at him. “Daddy, I want a fancy wedding so I can be the flower maid and wear a pretty dress like Ava did.”
“I don’t know…” The idea of an actual wedding unsettled him. He didn’t want to see AnnaLeigh all dressed up with flowers in her hair.
He glanced at Jacey’s face. The wrinkled brow and turned-down mouth said it all. Daddy was a great big disappointment.
Holt looked back at the traffic, discombobulated.
The little scamp didn’t move. She was breathing in his ear. He could feel her disappointment all the way through his chest. “Sit back, Jacey. Buckle up.”
“Daddy.”
“Yes.”
“Is AnnaLeigh my Christmas present from Jesus?”
Uh-oh. “Yes.”
“Then, I think He’d want me to plan the wedding, don’t you?”
“Well….” He was stuck, as usual, when it came to his daughter. Stuck between a rock and a hard head. Hers.
The trouble was, she didn’t ask for a lot. This was important to her.
He could feel AnnaLeigh’s stare burning the side of his face. Did she also want a wedding with all the trimmings that make men miserable?
Holt wrestled with the dilemma for several long, painful seconds. A wedding made this marriage thing way too real. A wedding could stir up feelings he didn’t want to have. Theirs was supposed to be a business arrangement, not a fru-fru love match.
But Jacey didn’t know that. She could never know that.
An eighteen-wheeler roared past, rocking the pickup.
Holt shot a quick glance toward AnnaLeigh. She gnawed the side of her thumbnail, expression as worried as his. Was she thinking the same things?
“Daddy, please, please, please. You love Miss AnnaLeigh, and she loves you, and you’ll live happily ever after like in Cinderella . You gotta have flowers and music and fancy dresses to make her my mommy forever and ever.”
What could he say that wouldn’t destroy his child’s faith, both in Jesus and in her daddy?
Only one thing.
He choked out the words. “Okay, you can plan the wedding. With Miss AnnaLeigh’s help. But no unicorns. And no purple.”
A man who’d been outwitted by a pint-sized female had to exert some kind of control over the situation.
Jacey giggled. “Daddy, weddings have flowers and cake and fancy girly stuff. Not unicorns. Except for Rosey. She can come, can’t she?”
“Okay, then, one unicorn. Now, sit back and buckle your seat belt.”
“Yahoo!” she shouted like a rover on a cattle roundup and flopped back against the seat.
A wedding. With flowers and cake and everything.
Oh, man, was he in trouble.
As the miles flew past and the sun set, AnnaLeigh thought Jacey’s excitement would wear down. It didn’t.
Holt didn’t say much, but he glanced her way a few times, eyes alternately amused and worried by his daughter’s plans. The child’s thoughts jumped like a flea from one idea to another.
“While Daddy’s talking to all the cowboys about his stock, we can go shopping for our dresses,” Jacey said. “I kinda want a purple one but Daddy said no purple, so I want pink. I like pink. Or maybe white. Ava said her dress was long and white and she looked like an angel. Will I look like an angel?”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Can you fix my hair? I don’t want a ponytail. Ava had curly curls that hung down on her shoulders. She’s so pretty.”
“You’re pretty, too,” AnnaLeigh said, “just in a different way from Ava. Your brown hair will be beautiful in long, shiny curls, if that’s what you want.”
They chatted about curls and hairdos and bows. AnnaLeigh listened, adding thoughts now and then, but the idea of an actual wedding rattled her.
Holt’s kindness on this trip had edged him up several notches on the appeal meter. That, and the fact that he was physically a very attractive male, would make it much easier to behave like a blushing bride.
She could play the part. No big deal. As a foster kid, she’d lived in a fantasy world half the time, dreaming that her parents had been lost at sea, and once they were found they would come for her, dreaming of a Prince Charming who would love her forever. But those were only fantasies that had never held the least bit of reality.
Marrying Holt, mothering Jacey—those were real.
She’d have to be careful. She didn’t want to fall in love. Neither did Holt, as he’d so bluntly stated in his rules list. But, thanks to Jacey’s big plans, the fantasies in AnnaLeigh’s head danced around like a hill full of Irish fairies.
Jacey’s thoughts jumped again. “Daddy, I’m hungry.”
“Me, too. How about you, AnnaLeigh?”
“I could eat.” She hoped.
They were approaching an exit, and Holt hit his blinkers. “Might as well pull off here. There’s a hotel and restaurant. I think you’ll feel better after a decent meal and a good night’s rest.”
“Don’t stop on my account. I’m feeling great now. I can drive and let you rest, if you’d rather drive straight through.” He’d refused her frequent offers to drive, but he must be exhausted.
“Except you haven’t eaten anything except crackers today. We’ll grab a hotel, get some supper and rest, and let Jacey expend some of that energy of hers.”
A hotel. She hadn’t thought this trip out very well. Would he expect her to share his room as part of the charade? Would Jacey?
But they weren’t married yet. Would that matter?
Pondering how to handle the situation, AnnaLeigh followed the handsome cowboy inside to the hotel desk and waited, chatting with the effervescent Jacey while Holt checked them in.
He turned, handing her a key. “Side by side rooms on the third floor. You two go on up. I’ll get the luggage.”
Relief flooded AnnaLeigh. Her own room. Thank goodness. He may have told her he was a Christian man, but she didn’t put much stock in a man’s word.
He turned to leave. She put a hand on his elbow. “We can help with the luggage. You’ve been driving all day.”
Considering the kindness he’d shown her, carrying her own suitcase was the least she could do.
After a moment’s hesitation, he rolled his shoulders. They had to be tight as a trampoline. “Thanks.”
They unloaded the luggage and then ate at the hotel restaurant, Jacey still bouncing like a bunny rabbit.
When they’d finished a meal that, thankfully, had not made AnnaLeigh sick, they made their way to the elevator.
Jacey pushed the button to the third floor and gave a little hop. “Can we go swimming now, Daddy? They gots a pool inside.”
“Sounds like a good way for you to use some of that energy.” Holt lifted an eyebrow toward AnnaLeigh. “Want to check out the pool and hot tub?”
A hot tub sounded amazing, but she shook her head. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Never even thought about swimming this time of year.”
The elevator dinged to a stop, and they got out, striding side by side down the carpeted corridor. A housekeeping cart sat outside a door, and they squeezed together to pass it. Her shoulders rubbed with Holt’s. Their arms brushed. His hand went behind her back, resting there as they maneuvered the hallway.
“They’ll have a pool in our Vegas hotel too,” he said, apparently unaware of the feelings he’d stirred inside her with nothing but a finger touch. “I can promise you, Jacey will want to be down there every day.”
She hadn’t considered what she’d do in Vegas, other than marry Holt. That terrifying fact had been enough to occupy her mind during every waking moment. The trip details had escaped her.
They reached room 307 and paused outside her door. Holt’s touch fell away.
She didn’t know if she was sad or glad. One thing for certain, he’d left a mark. Not on her skin but indelibly on her mind.
Was she always going to feel this…sensation in Holt’s presence? Or was it an anomaly caused by the bizarre situation and pregnancy hormones?
“You two go ahead,” she said. “I’ll call it a night, but I’ll look into buying a swimsuit when we get to Las Vegas.”
With her thoughts tangled like spaghetti, AnnaLeigh avoided Holt’s eyes. She could feel him watching her, feel Jacey’s bright gaze on her. She fumbled with door lock, heard the click and pushed.
“Okay, then,” Holt said. “We’ll see you in the morning. Or, if you feel like it later, come down to the pool. You can at least dangle your feet and relax a little.”
Relax? With Holt walking around in swim trunks? She could easily imagine how good he would look, all muscles, cowboy strength, and naturally tan skin.
Another thing she hadn’t considered. Even if they weren’t romantically involved, living in the same house meant a certain level of intimacy.
Was she really ready for this?
The next afternoon, Holt’s heart kicked into high gear as he, Jacey, and AnnaLeigh stepped off the elevator into the enormous Vegas hotel lobby.
They’d stashed their bags in the room and come exploring. To him, Las Vegas was a home away from home. He hadn’t missed an NFR since he was a teenager, but he was still struck by the sheer energy vibrating through the city.
He sucked in a breath of scented air, took in the Christmas swag dangling from the high ceilings and the cowboys and wannabees strutting around the giant lobby in hats and boots.
He’d missed this. Not Vegas specifically, but the rodeo. His people.
“Is Las Vegas always this crowded?” AnnaLeigh asked.
Holt glanced at the woman beside him. She’d had a bout of carsickness this morning on the drive into Vegas, but it had passed quicker than yesterday’s. That had been awful, although he’d chalked it up to nerves. He had plenty of those himself.
Today, she had a more color in her cheeks.
“I’d say it’s a little wilder in December when the cowboys come to town.” Not that he participated in the wild side. There were plenty of Christian cowboys on the circuit, and he knew how to have a good time with friends without compromising his faith.
They hadn’t taken ten steps into the massive lobby before someone shouted, “Holt McNeil!”
A sea of faces turned toward him. He lifted a hand. He’d been out of the game too long to believe these were fans who remembered him.
He was wrong. He paused to chat and sign a hat or a program or two before he spotted the person who’d called his name.
A cowboy sat at a table signing autographs. He stood for a photo with a fan and then stepped away from the long line to greet Holt.
“How have you been? Or better yet, where have you been?” Grinning, the other man pumped Holt’s hand and slapped him on the back. Antonio Morales, a good pal and a strong competitor. They’d battled for the all-round a time or two.
“Off the circuit for good,” Holt admitted, “but God’s been faithful and kind. Got a ranch, raising some rough stock, hoping to make some rodeos next season with a couple of bulls and broncs.”
A white smile creased Antonio’s dark face. “That is good news.” He spun a finger in the air between AnnaLeigh and Jacey. “Who are these beautiful ladies?”
Holt put a hand on Jacey’s head. “This is my little girl, Jacey.”
Antonio grinned down at her, and then up at Holt. “A heart stealer, for certain.”
“Exactly. She’s the reason I started a ranch and settled down.”
Antonio’s coffee dark eyes danced toward AnnaLeigh. “You must be the other reason. Yes?” He offered his hand. “I am Antonio. Your husband is not so good with introductions.”
“Oh, he’s not my—“ Her gaze flew up to Holt’s, questioning how to handle the awkward situation.
Again, he hadn’t considered what to tell people about AnnaLeigh. He sure didn’t want to tell them the truth, but he wasn’t one to lie either.
His daughter saved the moment. “She’s AnnaLeigh. She’s going to be my new mommy. They’re having a wedding, and I’ll be the flower maid and everything. You can come if you want to.”
Holt managed what he hoped was a happy grin and reached for AnnaLeigh’s hand. Got to make this look good for Jacey’s sake. For his sake, as well. He’d be laughed out of town if the other guys knew he had an email-ordered fiancée.
But as AnnaLeigh curled her cool, soft fingers around his, Holt had another jolt.
They would have to play lovey-dovey a lot this week, and getting snuggly with AnnaLeigh might prove more appealing than he wanted it to be.
He must have been a big deal in the rodeo world.
Still was, AnnaLeigh realized later that night when she, Holt, and Jacey entered the Thomas Mack Center for the evening’s rodeo events.
A frisson of pride zipped through her every time Holt introduced her as his fiancée. The feeling was totally out of place considering the circumstances and especially since Holt looked as though the words tasted nasty.
His opinion of marriage was clear. He didn’t like it. But a marriage of convenience had been his idea in the first place.
Was he having second thoughts?
She hoped not, but what could she do other than keep quiet and not make waves. And, of course, follow his ten rules. She’d already broken rule three more than once, or thought she had. Holt didn’t seem to notice how much money he’d spent on her already. Medicine, food, hotels, and, this afternoon, a wad of cash to shop “for a swim suit or whatever.”
She’d found the swim suit, glad that her belly was flat as ever, and tried to give back the remaining cash. He’d shrugged her off. “You’ll need it.”
Was this his idea of providing well for a wife? If it was, she hadn’t expected such generosity. She’d expected to provide her own income and to use his for household needs and Jacey. She had to admit, this was a pleasant surprise. Would it continue? Or was this only a show for the present to convince Jacey and his friends that theirs was a real relationship?
As they started down the steps into the arena, he took hold of her elbow. Holding hands, touching, pretending to be a couple was necessary. She got that. But Holt’s nearness caused AnnaLeigh a whirlwind of troubling emotions.
“Daddy,” Jacey said after they’d found their seats and Holt had talked to more people than AnnaLeigh had ever known in her life. He’d signed autographs, handed out business cards, chatted up his livestock, and made small talk.
The cowboy could certainly turn on the charm when he wanted to.
Was that what he was doing with her? Charming her, the way Alan had, until he had her under his control?
“What is it, Jacey?” Holt had taken the end seat with Jacey on the other side of AnnaLeigh and had to lean across her to answer his daughter.
He smelled good, like a fresh shower and shave, and she noticed a cute little whorl at the crown of his dark hair. She had the odd desire to trace it with her finger.
She didn’t, of course. She wasn’t that crazy.
“Will you teach me how to ride bulls?” Jacey asked.
“No.”
“Why not? Because I’m a girl?”
He tapped her nose, his arm movement brushing AnnaLeigh so that she was intensely aware of him, aware of how close he was, of how his muscles flexed when he moved. “No. Because I love you too much to let a bull pound you into the dirt.”
He sat back, opening the printed program of events.
AnnaLeigh let out the breath she was holding.
Jacey wasn’t finished. She stretched across AnnaLeigh toward her father. “If I can’t ride bulls, will you teach me to ride broncs?”
Holt looked up from the program, lips curled in amusement. He had a really nice mouth. Mobile. Smiley. Probably a great kisser.
Where had that come from?
“Maybe,” he said. “First, you have to learn to train and break, then we’ll discuss bronc riding.”
He went back to the program.
Jacey, still sprawled across AnnaLeigh’s lap, tapped her dad’s arm. “Daddy?”
Holt closed the program with a sigh. “What?
”You’re supposed to hold hands.” She looked pointedly at AnnaLeigh and then at him, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You’ll make her sad, and she’ll break up with you like in the movies if you don’t. It’s a rule.”
Holt’s eyebrows shot up under the brim of his hat. “It is?”
“Yep.”
What could the poor man do? The charade, for Jacey’s sake, was his reason for bringing AnnaLeigh in the first place.
He tugged her hand onto his knee and placed his on top, offering AnnaLeigh a sheepish grin. “She’s small but bossy. You have your work cut out for you.”
He lifted her hand, then put it down again, clasping her fingers lightly with his.
Jacey giggled, shoulders hunched. She was a sweetheart, like her daddy.
Like her daddy? When had AnnaLeigh decided Holt McNeil, the awkward cowboy with a saddle in his living room, was a sweetheart?
He settled back in the stadium chair. His shoulder, too broad for the space, grazed hers.
AnnaLeigh stiffened and tried to ignore the pleasant pressure. She failed big time.
Shoulders touching, hand holding. The fantasy fairies flitted around giving her crazy ideas that could never, ever come true.
As a much needed distraction, the rodeo kicked off in a patriotic display such as she had never witnessed. Horseback riders in glittery sequins circled the arena with America’s colors proudly, almost reverently, held aloft. Even the horses were decked out in red, white, and blue, the silver on their saddles glinting beneath the overhead lights. AnnaLeigh got a lump in her throat as the strains of the national anthem floated through the silent arena. Then someone prayed, and the lump grew larger.
She wasn’t religious. What was the big deal?
But Holt thought she was, and the pesky lie of omission tugged at her conscience.
After the riders exited and the dust cleared, the rodeo began in earnest. AnnaLeigh watched in fascination. The tension, the roar of the crowd, the athletes, the animals, the huge overhead television screens—a rodeo was far more entertaining than she’d imagined. Everything moved so fast!
At the end of the bareback competition while a cowboy waved his hat in victory, AnnaLeigh asked, “Why did he win?”
Holt shifted in his seat, angling more in her direction. At some point, he’d let go of her hand. Jacey must not have noticed, but AnnaLeigh had.
“He didn’t fall off.” His mouth tilted.
“That’s it? He only had to hang on?”
“There’s more to it than that.” He launched into a mini lesson about keeping the free hand clear of the horse, the rider’s feet position, and more she barely caught. As he spoke, he leaned in close, eyes alight with passion for his sport.
When he finished, their eyes met.
“You miss it,” she said.
He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Sometimes.” He nudged his chin toward the child stuffing her face with popcorn. “But I have more important things in life now.”
Which told her a great deal about his character.
The rodeo had been his life. He loved it, was good at it. Yet, he’d walked away out of love for his daughter.
Only the best kind of man would do that.
And he wanted to marry her.
Swallowing a lump of awareness, AnnaLeigh turned back to the scene in the arena, but thoughts of Holt, of the man he was proving to be, were never far away.
During a break in the action, a pair of beautiful, dark-haired trick riders galloped into the stadium, standing upright in their saddles like Roman chariot drivers.
Holt leaned toward her. “The Flying Sisters, Arizona and Lark Brazos. They have a ranch in Refuge. Great gals.”
“Seriously? They live in Refuge?” Now, she was even more fascinated. “I’ve never seen trick riders before. They’re gorgeous.”
“And talented. Watch.”
Edging forward on her seat, AnnaLeigh couldn’t take her eyes off the sisters. In florescent pink and purple body suits, their long black hair flowing, the two women were breathtaking.
Gasps rose in the stadium as they performed a variety of daring stunts from handstands and backbends to hanging by one foot from the side of the galloping horses.
After a show that seemed too short to AnnaLeigh, the sisters finished with a flourish. Standing upright again, each woman planted a foot on her horse and the other foot on her sister’s horse. Side by side, in perfect sync, their arms extended and black hair flowing, they rode out of the stadium in a gallop.
“That’s amazing.” She clasped her hands in front of her like a child. “They’re wonderful.”
“Yeah. Pretty special. They have another sister who used to perform with them—Mesa-but she married and moved away. I’ll introduce you sometime.”
“I’d like that.”
Jacey leaned across AnnaLeigh, her voice small in the noise of the cheering crowd. “Daddy, can I be a trick rider, too? I bet the Flying Sisters would teach me.”
Holt hiked an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to ride broncs.”
“Yeah, but the girl costumes are prettier.”
AnnaLeigh caught Holt’s eye, and they laughed together.
It tickled inside, this sharing of humor.
She was afraid she liked it.
Before the crowd could settle again, the rodeo continued through steer wrestling, team roping, and saddle bronc, the latter of which, she learned, Holt had also participated in. From the reaction of people they’d met and those who continued to stop by his seat for a chat or a photo, she figured he must have won a lot.
But now his daughter was his priority. So much so that he was willing to find a wife just so Jacey could have a mother.
How could she not admire such devotion?
During the next events, AnnaLeigh asked questions and Holt leaned close to explain. He seemed to appreciate her interest, and if she had tingly feelings, she blamed the excitement of the rodeo.
More than once, they laughed or groaned together over something that occurred in the arena.
The anxiety of the last few days eased as she found herself enjoying the rodeo and the man and child who’d brought her.
When the bull riding commenced, Holt really came alive. This was his favorite event, the ultimate challenge, he claimed.
“It scares me to death,” she admitted.
Holt smirked a little, and she wondered if he was brave or crazy. The danger couldn’t be denied.
The second rider out of the chute rode two hops before being flung like a ragdoll to the dirt. He lay on the arena floor, limp and still. The bull charged.
AnnaLeigh plunged to the edge of her seat. She flung one arm against Holt. “Oh, no, Holt! Is he dead?”
Holt took her hand and squeezed. The fantasy fairies fluttered again.
He gave her arm a gentle shake. “He’s all right. See? The bullfighters will get him out of there.”
In seconds that seemed to last forever, the bull was diverted by one incredibly brave man while two others helped the dazed competitor limp to safety.
AnnaLeigh’s pounding heart would have settled except Holt still held her hand.
Would he let go again, as soon as the moment passed, as he’d done before?
He didn’t.
Tugging her hand against his thigh, he held on.
What did it hurt to pretend this was real, that this handsome cowboy loved her, that he was the father of the baby growing inside her?
After all, he was to be her husband, the man who’d unwittingly rescued her from Alan. She might as well enjoy the moments like this one. She and Holt needed to like each other. Only as friends, of course. Liking wasn’t the same as falling in love. Friendship was a good thing. Friendship would make their home and marriage less awkward.
Jacey, mouth filled with popcorn, leaned across AnnaLeigh for what must have been the hundredth time. A few kernels of corn spilled into AnnaLeigh’s lap.
“Daddy, when is the wedding? AnnaLeigh said she doesn’t know.”
Holt shot AnnaLeigh a glance that said he hoped no one nearby had overheard. “Pretty soon. Right, AnnaLeigh?”
Still acutely aware of her skin touching his, she murmured, “Whenever you have time.”
He loosened his grip, lifted his hat, and scrubbed at his short hair. “That’s the tough part, squeezing in anything extra. My schedule is tight.”
Any fantasy AnnaLeigh might have had about the hunky cowboy tumbled to the arena floor, smashed in the dirt.
Squeeze in a wedding? Right. She got it. Other than pleasing Jacey, their marriage was totally unimportant to Holt.
She’s known that all along, so why, all of a sudden, did the truth hurt?