Читать книгу Engaging Brooke - Dara Girard - Страница 11

Chapter 3

Jameson didn’t move. He didn’t smile or frown or give any indication of how her request had affected him. He just looked at her with an inscrutable expression.

Brooke gripped her hands tighter. She couldn’t have thought he’d get on his knees and propose, although she’d dreamed of a moment like that many times. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been this. She could take him being outraged, shocked or even appalled, but his dark steady gaze held her paralyzed. She didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. She’d said what she’d wanted and she knew she needed to explain but she didn’t know how.

“I know this seems crazy,” she said in a rush, desperate to fill the silence. “But I don’t know who else to ask. After my father’s death things just went—well, I don’t know the right word for it really. Then the will was read and he has this requirement in it. And the creditors are knocking down the door and I don’t know where else to turn and—”

Jameson crossed the room, sat down beside her and rested his big, firm hands on her shoulders. “Breathe.”

Instead she stopped breathing, the feel of his hands seeming to burn through the cloth of her thin cotton jacket, his nearness leaving her weak and unable to move. “I’ve forgotten how.”

A tiny smile softened his mouth. “Brooke, it’ll be okay.”

She wanted to believe him; she had to. The alternative was too painful. Brooke took a deep breath, knowing that fainting at his feet would only annoy him. “All right.”

He searched her eyes. “Good. Now tell me what’s going on. Start from the beginning.”

“Meredith and I had expected to inherit the ranch.”

“But you won’t?” he asked when she lowered her gaze.

Brooke licked her lips, wondering if he was even aware that his hands were still on her shoulders. They anchored her, making her feel less alone. With her father gone and her sister away she had no family to turn to. “Dad put a strange codicil in the will. He stipulated that we must both be married before the ranch can be passed on to us. Because Meredith is married, she’s eligible to get her half.”

Jameson sat back and released her. It was as if the sound of her sister’s name built an instant barrier between them. “But Meredith has no interest in ranch life.”

Brooke met his gaze. “I know, and she’s been approached by a private broker who is offering her a fortune to sell her half.” Ironic as it sounded, Brooke knew she couldn’t do that because her father stipulated that in order to inherit the ranch they both had to be married. The only solution Brooke had been able to come up with was that once she was married she would buy out her sister’s half.

“What happens if you don’t marry?” Jameson asked.

Brooke sighed. “The ranch will remain with Mitch, our ranch foreman.” Mitch Stokel had been at her father’s side for years. He was trustworthy and a hard worker. “Daddy feared that I wouldn’t be able to run the ranch on my own, and he’s right.”

“Then what’s the rush? You’re a beautiful woman. You’ll have no trouble finding a husband when you’re ready.”

He thinks I’m beautiful! Brooke had to bite back a smile of satisfaction. She knew she was attractive, and she had grown used to male attention. But Jameson’s was the only one that mattered to her. If he liked her looks, did that also mean he was attracted to her? “I don’t have time to wait. In the will he also stipulated that if I’m not married within thirty days of the reading of the will, ownership of the ranch will legally pass over to Mitch. I’ll be allowed to stay on the ranch as long as I live, and I’ll receive a handsome share of the profit if Mitch ever decides to sell, but the ranch won’t be mine. And, as I said, Meredith is anxious to get her hands on her half so that she can make money from it. I don’t know why he wrote the will the way he did. It seems as if it was his strange way of making sure both his daughters would be married. I don’t understand.”

Jameson rubbed his chin and frowned. “This has to be illegal. It’s blackmail. Have you gotten an attorney to—”

“I’ve had my attorneys look the will over and it’s ironclad. I think, odd though it may seem, my father did this to help me.” As a child, Brooke had always been more expressive than Meredith about how much she didn’t want to stay on the ranch when she grew up. Although she knew her way around, she’d always been more interested in pursuing her art. She made Western-style pottery. She knew her father didn’t want her to feel burdened or obligated. She suspected he felt guilty that the pressure he’d put on his daughters had driven Meredith away. But as she grew Brooke’s feelings had changed. She wished now that she had told her father, before he died, how much she had come to love the ranch.

“I know how much your father loved you,” Jameson said. “Ray Palmer was a person I admired and a savvy businessman. But this codicil still makes no sense. Why not just let you sell the place? Forcing his daughters to get married in order to keep their own land that they have rightfully inherited makes no sense.”

Brooke had asked herself the same question, and she still didn’t know the answer. Perhaps it had to do with her father’s loneliness. Her mother had died when Brooke was five, and her father had never remarried. Maybe by stipulating they both get married, he wanted to make sure that she and her sister didn’t wind up alone. They had been close to their father. He was their life and had always made sure they were provided for. At times spoiling them more than guiding them.

Brooke remembered the many summers the two of them spent going down the Blackfoot River in an inner tube with him. One of the favorite things she liked to do with her father was fly-fishing. Although he wasn’t much of a talker, she simply loved being in his presence. He was a good teacher and was always patient, even when she wasn’t. The last time they had gone fishing together, they had traveled up the mountain to a stream where he loved to go. Just to get away. On that trip she had caught a bounty of fish. He had been overjoyed and had congratulated her.

“So, I am a means to an end?” Jameson asked, breaking her reverie.

Brooke blushed. He would be a dream come true, but she couldn’t’ tell him that. She hoped that her story and situation would be persuasive enough. He was an honorable man. “Like I said, I couldn’t think of any other way out of this, and you were the first person I thought of.”

Jameson stood and grabbed his hat. “I can’t help you. I can’t be your fake husband.” He was polite, but it was still a rejection.

Brooke should have expected his response, but it was still devastating. Her heart shriveled a little. She understood. He had a life and he didn’t want it tied to hers. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but I’ll lose everything. And the implications are bigger than you think. Mitch has already been talking to the broker who represents Samara Lionne and she’s interested in buying Meredith’s half of the property. It won’t be long before Samara Lionne owns half of Granger. I have to do something now.”

* * *

Jameson paused. Samara Lionne? The same Hollywood starlet who’d bought Wes’s property? To hear that woman’s name twice in one day wasn’t a good sign. “What does she need with a second ranch?”

“Second?”

Jameson set his hat down. “Yes. Wes sold his parcel of land to her. What could she be up to?”

“I don’t know. But there is one thing I do know, and that is if I don’t get married the entire ranch goes to Mitch, and I’m afraid he’ll sell.”

This changed everything. At first when she’d talked about getting married, he’d thought it was a joke. A mockery. Did she really think he would marry her? Hell, he didn’t even feel like dating. He wasn’t ready to think of marriage, let alone marrying the little sister of the woman who left him. Besides, it didn’t make sense. Brooke could easily get any man she wanted and probably a host of those she didn’t. When he’d first seen her today, it wasn’t her mane of wild curls or her hazel eyes that caught his eye; it was her shy smile.

As strikingly beautiful as she was, a man would expect a coy or sexy expression, not something shy and unassuming, almost sweet. Few things in his life were sweet, but Brooke Palmer’s grin definitely was. It stirred something in him. When he had turned to look at her, he had been surprised to see her, and he was a little glad, too, although he didn’t know why. He’d always liked her. As a child she seemed to appear at the strangest times, when he was roping or returning the cattle to the pen, and always with her little sketch pad. He didn’t mind her presence; she was never a bother or in his way.

He wanted to help her, but he didn’t want to marry her. He didn’t plan to marry anyone. His focus was on BWB, but based on what she’d told him he understood her desperation. He didn’t want her to lose her land. Those facts united them in a way he hadn’t imagined. She understood what was at stake.

Brooke stood. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

Jameson stopped her. At first he’d thought her idea ridiculous, but he suddenly realized that her request wasn’t about romance or other fleeting emotions. This was a business deal. This was about saving history, their heritage. She understood it as much as he did. He met her startled hazel gaze. She really had grown into a beautiful woman. For a moment she made him think of the Calliope hummingbird—swift and bright. It was common to Montana and its name came from the Greek word meaning “little star.” With a woman like Brooke he could accomplish his goal. He was tired of outsiders messing with his town and interfering with the privacy they’d been able to maintain for generations. She wanted to use him, and he could use her. It would make them equals. A team.

“Brooke,” he said. “You’ve got yourself a groom.” He extended his hand to her. She took it and quickly let go.

* * *

Brooke wanted to hug him, kiss him, dance, maybe even laugh, but instead she rocked on her heels and hugged herself. “Great. We can go to the justice of the peace or just elope.”

Jameson shook his head. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it big.”

Her arms fell to her sides. “Big?”

“Yes, the bigger the better. Our wedding is going to be one this town will remember. We need to make a symbolic statement and show everyone that the families of Granger stick together.” His eyes were serious and probing. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Brooke met his dark stare. He was giving her a chance to turn back and retain her dignity. He was offering her a warning that he wouldn’t be an easy man to marry, that his heart belonged to the BWB. Not her. But, instead of being uneasy, her resolve grew. Even if their marriage would just be for show, it would be a dream come true for her to walk down the aisle toward Jameson Broward. She knew she was taking a big gamble, but she didn’t care.

“Brooke?” Jameson repeated. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

She smiled. “With all my heart.” She was sure.