Читать книгу The Mcclintock Proposal - Carol Ericson - Страница 11

Callie’s three little words punched him in the gut. He dug his shoulder into the post so he wouldn’t tumble down the church steps.

“What?” His one syllable, which echoed in his own ears, forced Callie to jump back. He must’ve shouted.

Despite the almost-full moon that lit Hillsboro’s main street, he couldn’t make out the expression on her face. She was joking. She had that kind of sense of humor, one of the many things he liked about her.

He threw his head back and laughed at the moon.

“Rod.” She shook his arm. “Rod, I’m not kidding.”

Swallowing his next guffaw, he choked instead. Callie pounded him on the back. Working with clay or whatever material she used for sculpting gave her strength. Her pats felt like blows from a hammer.

“All right, all right.” He straightened up and backed against the post. “That’s a crazy idea. Insanity must run in your family.”

“As someone once said, it not only runs, it gallops.” She giggled, a nervous sound that resembled a squeak. “This may be crazy, but it’ll work out for both of us.”

“Exactly how will a marriage to a woman who has carloads of thugs chasing her around New Mexico and lunatic relatives help me?”

Rubbing her hands together, she resumed her pacing, obviously warming up to the idea. “Think about it. We get married, and then I get the title to the ranch. I can borrow against the equity or sell off a few acres and pay off my father’s debts to Bobby Jingo.”

“What do I get out of it?” Other than the chance to claim this impossible, free-spirited, sexy woman as my own.

“Money.” She spread her arms in front of her, palms up, as if offering him the filthy lucre right here and now. “The ranch is huge. I can pay off Bobby, and there would still be plenty left over for you. You told me tonight how your ranch wasn’t profitable. Why didn’t you buy those horses in Austin? Too expensive?”

“I am not marrying a woman for money.”

She dropped her hands and bunched the skirt of her dress in her fists. “You have an opportunity to save a man’s life, not to mention my life, and all you can think about is your pride?”

The rabbit hole got deeper. How did he end up the bad guy? “Strangers don’t run around getting married for money.”

Her grimace melted into a smile, which washed over him, drowning his common sense.

“We’re not strangers. We’ve known each other for about four hours, and we’ve experienced more drama than some couples do in a lifetime. Fear, terror and uncertainty draw people together.”

He had to admit he’d opened up to this woman more than he did on a typical first date—most likely because he’d figured a woman fleeing from her wedding on a Honda 550 couldn’t judge him. And this wasn’t a first date. He uncrossed his arms and rolled his shoulders.

She continued, barely taking a breath. “People get married for all kinds of crazy reasons—money chief among them.”

Both of his brothers had married for love, but Rod never figured he’d find that with any woman. Being the oldest in the family, he remembered, more than his brothers, the cold indifference of their mother. He didn’t want to risk winding up with that kind of family. So he took no risks at all.

“Look at me. I almost married someone horrible to get money to save my dad.”

“And I’m much less horrible than Bobby Jingo?”

“Much less.” She laughed and took his arm.

He glanced down at her deceptively fragile fingers, wrapped around his forearm. At least Callie put everything out there. She didn’t have any ulterior motives, and there would be no expectations between them.

“What happens after you pay off your father’s debts and buy me a few horses?”

She shrugged and the silky strap of her dress slid off her shoulder for about the hundredth time since he met her. This time he hooked a finger beneath the strap, his fingers skimming her soft skin as he righted it.

Drawing in a quick breath, she stepped back. “We partake of that other American institution—divorce.”

“Alimony?”

“We’ll work out a prenup. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Does your grandfather’s will stipulate how long you have to enjoy your wedded bliss?”

She bit her lip and rolled her eyes to the sky. “At least two years. Why? Do you have plans?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll have a few plans in the next two years.”

“Do any of them involve a woman?”

“No.”

“So what’s the harm?” She grabbed his hands. “We stay married on paper for a few years, and then go our separate ways.”

“I don’t want people to think I married a woman to get her money.”

“Don’t look at it that way.” She squeezed his hands and tilted her chin to gaze into his eyes. “You’d be saving my life, Rod, and my father’s life. I need to find another studio and start working again. The money’s there to sweeten the pot.”

The pressure of her touch and the way her lips pouted inches from his own scrambled his senses. If he didn’t marry her, how would she get the money? He couldn’t loan it to her. Bobby Jingo would never stop pursuing her, but once she paid him off he’d leave her alone, especially if she were married…to someone else.

People married every day for far less noble causes than saving two lives.

He could keep his marriage a secret.

She’d go her way. He’d go his.

Maybe fate dropped a woman in a wedding dress on the side of the road for a reason.

To hell with everything.

Dipping his head, he took possession of those sweet lips. She dropped his hands, but he hitched an arm around her waist and dragged her closer, their bodies meeting along every line. She squirmed for a few seconds, slumped against him and then shimmied out of his grasp.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m kissing my bride-to-be.”

Rod’s words pierced through the cotton candy that had enveloped her from the moment his lips met hers. How could one kiss on the lips have such a monumental effect on every other part of her body? She felt…ravished. What would the rest of his anatomy do to her?

“Are you getting cold feet already?” His brows formed a V over his nose as his face gathered into a scowl.

“No. I’m thrilled. You’ve made me the happiest woman on earth.” She twirled around the church porch until something sharp poked her heel. “Ow.”

Lunging forward, he caught her in midspin. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Oh yeah. She’d been right to play on his protective instincts. She hooked her injured foot behind her other ankle. “I think I got a sliver.”

He swept her up in his arms, and then lowered himself onto the top step, sliding her bottom off his thigh so that her legs hung over his lap. “Which foot?”

“This one.” She wiggled her left foot. “It’s my heel.”

He cupped her dirty foot in his hand as if he held a precious work of art. Then he dug into his pocket and withdrew a pocketknife.

She curled her toes. “I don’t think it’s big enough to cut out.”

He snorted and plucked a pair of tweezers from the knife handle. “You are a city girl. Didn’t you ever spend any time on your grandfather’s ranch?”

“Not much. I moved around a lot with my mom.” She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the pain as the tweezers brushed her foot.

Several seconds later, Rod was massaging her foot. Her eyes flew open. “Do you think you’re going to massage it out?”

Pinching the tweezers between his fingers, he held it up. “I already got the sliver out.”

She hadn’t felt a thing. Her husband-to-be had a gentle touch despite his calloused hands. How the hell had she gotten so lucky? Maybe the losing streak she’d been riding these past few years ran out of gas on I-25, along with that motorcycle.

“What’s the plan?” Although she could sit here for the next three hours while Rod rubbed her foot, she had a wedding to attend.

“We get married.”

“Now? It has to be past nine o’clock. We still have to get a marriage license.”

“You almost got married in New Mexico. What do we need to get a license? Do we need a blood test?”

“We just need the license fee and a form of ID. No blood test, no waiting period. But I doubt if little ghost-town Hillsboro has a courthouse to get the license. Not to mention it’s Saturday.”

Rod slid the knife back into his pocket. “We’ll have to wait anyway. You still have your driver’s license?”

“Of course. How irresponsible do you think I am?” She shoved her hand into the fitted bodice of her dress and peeled her license from the side of her breast. “Tadah!”

He laughed. “You have a lot of tricks up your—or rather down your…a lot of tricks.”

Hoisting her legs from his lap, he stood up and extended his hand to her.

She tucked her driver’s license back into her strapless bra and grabbed his hand. “Where are we going?”

“Vegas, baby.”

ROD SLEPT BESIDE HER in the truck, his breathing deep and even. He’d insisted on driving the first leg of their ten-hour trip while she napped in the passenger seat. When she woke up, he was sitting ramrod straight, his eyes glued to the road.

He’d broken their deal. They worked out that he’d drive the first five hours while she slept, and she’d take over the wheel for the second half of the journey. Instead, he’d let her sleep for over six hours. She practically had to wrestle the steering wheel away from him to drive her share.

His chivalry impressed her and made her feel like a gooey marshmallow inside. Nobody had ever looked out for her the way he had this crazy day. His every move, since he first pulled over on the side of I-25, had been to protect her.

Even though she’d used all her wheedling powers, common sense and logic, she still couldn’t believe it when he agreed to her scheme. He’d admitted that he needed cash for his dude ranch, but she knew in her heart he’d based his decision on his desire to keep her safe. No, not desire, need. Something compelled him to perform good deeds.

She glanced at his handsome face, with its square jaw and broad cheekbones, one lock of hair curling over his eye. If he had such a burning passion to help women, why had matrimonial bliss eluded him so far? The man didn’t even snore.

A glow, like a giant spaceship, arose from the desert landscape. She accelerated toward its exuberant embrace. So many people came to Vegas looking for salvation, her father among them; but for her, this neon paradise really did offer deliverance.

Twenty minutes later, she cruised off the highway toward the Vegas strip. She nudged Rod’s shoulder with the heel of her hand. “We’re here.”

“Huh?” His head rolled to the side and he opened one eye.

“We’re in Vegas. Wake up.” Callie held her breath. Did his brief nap awaken him to the lunacy of their plan?

He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he cranked his head from side to side. “My neck’s stiff.”

No sign of regret yet. “Where to? Did the Marriage License Bureau give you directions when you called earlier?”

“It’s on Clark Avenue.”

Her pent-up breath escaped through her lips, as she sank against the leather seat. No regret at all. “Do you know how to get there?”

“No, but my GPS does.” He reached beneath the passenger seat and pulled out a GPS, a black cord wrapped tightly around it.

“I didn’t know you had one of those.”

“I’ve made the trip to Austin a few times. Didn’t need it for that drive.” He plugged in the GPS and tapped the screen a few times. The monotone voice from the GPS intoned the first direction to Clark Avenue and the building that would seal her fate with this man for at least a few years.

When they walked inside the building, a blast of cold air greeted them, although the early morning temperature outside hadn’t reached scorching levels yet.

They waited in a short line behind two other couples, nobody giving Callie’s wedding dress a second glance. When they got to the counter, the clerk gave them each a form to complete. When they finished, they slid their forms, along with their driver’s licenses, across the count er. Ten minutes later they walked out with their marriage license.

“Pretty simple for a momentous event.”

“Is it a momentous event?” He raised an eyebrow, a half smile reaching his lips. “I thought we had a business arrangement.”

“Of course we do. I meant a momentous event for other people.” The words she uttered weighed down her heart. For other people. This kind of happiness swept others away, not her. And apparently not Rod.

“Let’s get you some shoes for the occasion.”

SEVERAL MINUTES LATER, he wheeled along the curved driveway of the Milano Hotel and Casino on the Strip.

A valet parking attendant helped her out of the truck as Rod plucked the parking claim ticket from another attendant. “Shops?”

“Level B, sir. When you enter the hotel, take the escalator to your right and go down one level.”

Rod thanked the valet and ushered Callie into the hotel, the plush red carpet sinking beneath her bare feet. They entered a women’s clothing store, open already at seven in the morning, or maybe it never closed.

Callie picked out a pair of off-white sandals with low heels. When the saleswoman began to take one of the sandals off her foot, Callie stopped her. “I’ll wear them out.”

Rod joined her at the counter, holding a gold band, ringed with small gemstones, between his thumb and forefinger. “Will this work as a wedding band?”

She took the ring from him and slipped it on her left ring finger. “Is it expensive?”

“It’s cheap costume jewelry.”

“Okay, it’ll do.” She held her left hand in front of her, admiring the sparkle of the fake gems. Her gaze collided with the bugged-out eyes of the saleswoman behind the counter.

“I-is that all, sir?”

“Add this.” He slapped down a pack of spearmint gum. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t brushed my teeth in twenty-four hours.”

“Ditto.” Callie avoided looking at the saleswoman, whose mouth now resembled that of a gaping fish.

Rod handed over some plastic to pay for their purchases and asked, “Does the Milano have a wedding chapel?”

“Of course, and it’s on this floor. When you leave the shop, turn to the right. Go to the end of the line of shops and turn left. The chapel is straight ahead.”

As they left the shop, the woman called after them, “Congratulations and…good luck.”

Their luck held. The chapel squeezed them in before the first scheduled wedding of the morning. Rod paid for the standard package, which included a small bouquet for her, a boutonniere for him, a commemorative photo and a witness.

Top-notch all the way. Callie grasped the bouquet in her hands, the cloying scent from the lilies making her woozy.

The clergyman smiled and began speaking about love, commitment and sacrifice. Callie nodded as if all those words applied to her and Rod. She swayed, and then dug the heels of her new sandals into the carpet.

Rod took her arm and grinned down at her. That grin didn’t contain an ounce of hesitation or concern. Why should it? They had a deal. She’d promised to set him free once she met the conditions of her grandfather’s will.

“Do you, Roderick McClintock, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” Rod’s voice sounded close to her ear, and she closed her eyes. The low timbre of his voice reverberated in her chest, unlocking dreams and desires she didn’t realize she had.

McClintock. They didn’t even know each other’s last names. Callie McClintock. Mrs. McClintock. Mrs. Roderick McClintock. Callie and Rod. Yeah, she’d promised to set him free…but she didn’t want to.

“Do you, Callie…”

Her knees buckled as her world went black.

Callie sagged against him before crumpling into a heap at his feet. His mouth dry, he crouched beside her and called her name.

The clergyman joined him on the floor, fanning Callie’s face with the marriage license. “Is she okay?”

Her golden lashes fluttered against her cheeks, and Rod blew out a breath. “Callie, are you all right?”

She struggled to sit up, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to help her, propping her against his thigh. “Rod, I…we…”

“Shh. It’s okay. We’re going through with this.” As he smoothed her hair back, he glanced at the clergyman. “She’s nervous and hungry. We didn’t stop for breakfast this morning, after a long drive. Can you finish the ceremony now?”

“O-on the floor?”

“Finish it.”

The clergyman shot a worried look at Callie. “Miss?”

She nodded. “Let’s get this done.”

The clergyman shrugged. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Rod planted his lips against Callie’s forehead. He could save the real wedding kiss for later. He swept her up in his arms, dug in his pocket to tip the clergyman, and strode out of the chapel with his bride.

“Let’s get breakfast.”

“You can put me down now.” She kicked her legs, with those strappy sandals on her feet.

“What happened in there?” He set her down but kept his arm around her, in case she decided to take another tumble. “Did you have second thoughts?”

Her blue eyes clouded over. “I didn’t want to trap you into a situation you’d regret later. I realized how selfish I’d been.”

“I agreed to help you.” He gripped her shoulders, hooking his thumbs beneath the straps of her dress. “Once I commit to something, I see it through. And right now, I’m committed to finding breakfast.”

THEY FOLLOWED THE HOTEL SIGNS to the buffet and parted company at their table.

Rod piled food onto a couple of plates, shook out his napkin, and ordered coffee from the waitress. He sipped the hot, mellow brew while he waited for Callie.

For a minute in the chapel, he thought she’d changed her mind and took a dive to opt out of the deal. Would he have cared? He would’ve dropped her off at the bus depot in Vegas and paid for a one-way ticket to L.A. Out of sight, out of mind.

Yeah, right.

He could no sooner put Callie…McClintock out of his mind than he could walk into that casino and drop a twenty at the blackjack table. Hell, he didn’t even know her maiden name, but that didn’t matter.

She was a McClintock now.

Callie returned to the table balancing two plates of food, one heaped with bacon, eggs and hash browns and one overflowing with a huge waffle topped with strawberries and whipped cream.

“Weddings give you an appetite?”

“Well, I did almost faint at the…er…altar.”

They both dug into their food in silence, and Rod downed three cups of coffee to combat the weariness that kept tugging at his eyelids. He figured they had another long drive ahead of them, to reach Callie’s ranch in Wyoming.

Pushing back from the table, Rod tossed several dollars on the table. Callie scooped them up and counted out the eight dollars.

“Not enough?” Rod reached for his wallet.

“No. Very generous, considering we got our own food. I’m trying to keep track of how much I owe you, once I get my hands on some money.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re husband and wife, remember?”

She sucked in her lower lip and sighed. “I’m going to have to hit you up once more. I want to get out of this dress. Not taking a shower or brushing my teeth for twenty-four hours is bad enough.”

He plucked some bills out of his wallet. “Buy yourself some clothes, a couple of toothbrushes and some toothpaste, and I’ll roam the hotel hallways and filch some soap from a maid’s cart. We’ll clean up in one of the bathrooms before we take off.”

A half-hour later—armed with two bars of soap and two towels tucked under his arm—Rod met Callie outside the shop where she’d bought her shoes. She handed him a toothbrush after squeezing some toothpaste onto the bristles, and he headed for the men’s room. After he brushed his teeth and washed his face and neck, he hung the hotel towel over one of the stalls in the bathroom.

He caught his breath when Callie emerged from the ladies’ room, her blond hair pulled back into a silky mane. The blue, flowered skirt brushed her slim calves, and the blue top matched the color of her eyes.

She looked pretty in the wedding dress, but it belonged to another time, another life.

The valet delivered his truck, and Rod pulled forward, idling at the end of the hotel driveway. “Okay, where to? Do you need to go straight to the ranch?”

“No.” She tossed the wedding dress into the backseat. “I need to see my grandfather’s attorney first.”

“It’s still Sunday. His office won’t be open.” Rod pulled out the GPS and secured it to the windshield. “And by the time we roll into Wyoming, it’ll be close to ten o’clock at night.”

She tilted her head, her ponytail slipping over her shoulder. “My grandfather’s attorney isn’t in Wyoming.”

“I figured his attorney would be near the ranch.” His fingers hovered over the GPS screen.

“It is, but the ranch isn’t in Wyoming.”

“You said he built a house on his ranch in Wyoming.”

“Oh that. In all the excitement and prewedding jitters, I forgot to mention that he sold that original ranch and bought another one…in Colorado.”

A prickling sensation attacked the back of his neck, and Rod rubbed it. “Colorado?”

“The ranch is in Colorado, and my grandfather’s attorney is in Durango. So you see, we don’t have that far to go. But you’re right, his office will be closed on Sunday. So I guess it’s to the ranch first. Un-unless you want to go to your home.”

“Where is your ranch in Colorado?”

“It’s outside of Durango in a former mining town, Silverhill.”

Swallowing, Rod gripped the steering wheel with both hands, a low roar building in his ears. “Does the ranch have a name?”

“Yeah, the irony of it hit me on the road. You know how we were in Truth or Consequences?”

Rod nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

“Grandfather Ennis named his ranch Price Is Right. Isn’t that a coincidence? Another game show? Maybe it was a sign.”

“Price?”

“My last name.” She snorted. “I know we didn’t formally introduce ourselves but I’m, or rather I was, Callie Price.”

The roar in his ears cascaded in a thunderous roll. Callie Price. Ennis Price, the eccentric old man who owned Price Is Right. The ranch right next to his own.

The ranch he just acquired by marrying old man Price’s granddaughter.