Heidi Hormel – The Convenient Cowboy (страница 3)

Spence looked at the passing sign. Hours to her ranch, where they’d live—a negotiating point she’d refused to give on. His brother, Payson, would have a good laugh at Spence living on a working ranch, not a prettily landscaped one like those their friends’ families had owned when they were growing up. Spence wore the trappings of a cowboy and drove an oversize truck because it was what his clients expected. Everyone assumed a native Arizonan like him was a cowboy, but he was a city boy through and through.

He pulled in a deep breath, catching her oddly erotic scent of Granny Smith apples and smoky chipotle, before he put on his lawyer face. “You’ve laid out your expectations, but there are some points that will need further discussion. When we met, it was clear to me that you were committed to your family, your sisters. And I believe when I ‘proposed’ you said, ‘I’ll do anything to help my sister and keep my ranch afloat.’” Sounding like such a jerk might be the reason for all the lawyer jokes. On the other hand, he’d do whatever he had to do to keep his son.

“I did not say that.”

“It was implied.” He glanced over and saw her tabby cat–brown eyes narrow. She pushed back a strand of dark hair that had fallen from her stubby ponytail. Did she cut her hair herself?

“I married you. That doesn’t automatically make me—”

“I don’t make this request without reason, and it could easily be covered under the contingency clause in section ten, subsection D.”

“I don’t like the sound of contingency clause.”

“I told you to have an attorney look over the document.”

“As if I have the money for that. The whole reason I even signed the da...darned thing was for the money.”

“You did sign it, and there is a contingency clause.” Spence changed lanes and floored the truck, hoping to outrace this sinking feeling. He’d known that the marriage, the prenup contract and moving to the ranch had been desperation on his part... Hers, too. It wasn’t just the marriage that he needed. He hadn’t really made that clear during the negotiations. A lawyer tactic. He hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t asked, so... “As I said, we may have to submit to the court sending someone into our home to determine its suitability. My lawyer and I are also fighting for Calvin to have a chance to visit me while we negotiate for custody—”

“Excuse me, but that was not in the agreement or in anything we discussed.”

“The contingency clause—”

“My a—” He glared at her. “Aunt Fanny. You told me that Calvin didn’t live with you. That was the whole reason for the wedding.”

“Right. To get custody of my son. Didn’t you ever hear that possession is nine-tenths of the law, darlin’?”

She clamped her mouth closed, barely moving her lips when she said, “I married you for the money. You said this wouldn’t be a real marriage. I’m holding you to that, lawyer boy.”

He tightened his hands on the wheel and glared hard at the white SUV in front of them to stop himself from blurting out something he’d have to apologize for later. Why was he so annoyed that she didn’t want to be near his child? That was what he wanted. He didn’t want Calvin to think of her as a new mommy.

“If,” he emphasized, “I’m granted a visit, maybe you could go stay with your family. You and he wouldn’t need to meet.” Had he overplayed his hand? He glanced sideways to gauge her annoyance, noticing the sharpness of her jaw. Had she lost weight? What words was she holding back? How the hell had things gotten so complicated? For maybe the first time in his life, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I told you I don’t have the mothering gene.” She sucked in a breath, her face paling. “It is my ranch, so why do I have to leave?”

The way she talked about her sister, he was pretty sure she did have a mothering gene. But that didn’t matter now, because he was stuck. He’d let the lease go on his apartment—his crappy apartment—and he wouldn’t have the funds to pay for her sister’s tuition and the apartment anyway. He also had to pay his attorney. Spence had represented himself before, and it’d been a disaster. The case was too emotional. His attorney had let him slide on his bills before, but that had come to an end last month.

He knew how to negotiate. He’d drop the argument, change the subject and let her think that she’d won for now, then come back later and work on her. “I got us a room at the Ritz-Carlton at Dove Mountain, outside Tucson. The honeymoon suite.”

“Excuse me?” she asked in a tone that suggested that she wanted to eviscerate him.

“I don’t want anyone to think this marriage isn’t real. They might understand that we can’t immediately go on a big honeymoon, but we have to take at least one night. I’ll have the receipts.”

“Great. You can stay at the hotel. I’ve got animals to see to.”

“Someone is going out to the ranch to care for the stock tonight, too.”

“You have a stranger at my place, without my permission?”

“It’s my ranch, too.”

She made a sound that could have come from an arched-backed, bushy-tailed cat. Once again, his mouth had worked faster than his brain.

“Do you want me to divorce you before this farce starts? I can do it. Nonconsummation.”

Any other woman would have been thrilled that he’d taken care of everything. “I apologize,” he said, with little feeling. He felt her glare. “Even you have to admit that it’d look weird if we didn’t have one night to celebrate. We told everybody that we were so in love that we done run off and got married.” He could feel her anger, her annoyance... He wasn’t sure what. Being the good ol’ boy usually relaxed his clients.

“Cut the crap. You’re not a cowboy.” She paused for a moment, and with a smoother tone asked, “You really think someone is going to ask for receipts?”

“My ex’s lawyers will. I would, if she was my client.”

She snorted. “Convenient that you know what a lawyer would do.”

“The reservations are made.”

“You got two beds, right?”

Obviously, she saw the logic of his argument. “I doubt it. It’s the honeymoon suite, but I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Damn right, you will,” she said. “We’ve got to stop at the ranch, no matter what. I don’t have anything with me for an overnight stay.”

“There’s a bag in the back—”

“You went through my stuff?” she said, her voice rising.

“I stopped at the drugstore and picked up what I thought you’d need. You’d be amazed what they have.”

He glanced over and noted her stiff posture, along with the small frown line between her dark brows that made the tilt of her eyes even more catlike.

“You can order anything you like from room service,” he wheedled, using the voice that he’d perfected while married to Missy, the one that calmed cranky women. He resented having to placate her, but that was where he was if he wanted this balancing act to net him custody of his son.

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “I will do this tonight because it’ll make this marriage—” she spit out the word “—appear real. You pull crap like this again, and I’ll invoke the you-need-me-as-much-as-I-need-you clause.” She stared at him hard before she went on, “I’m an adult woman and expect to be consulted when you make decisions. This is not a dictatorship. I might not have a degree or a fancy address, but I know when I’m being played.”

“Duly noted,” he said, his grip relaxing just a fraction. How was he going to get through this marriage? The same way he’d made it through the first four years of Calvin’s life, protecting him from his increasingly addicted mother—one day at a time and using every trick he’d learned in the courtroom.

“Also, make a note to yourself to stay out of my personal life.”

“It won’t be so bad, darlin’.” He tried his hearty, cajoling voice again. “You know there are people who think I’m plumb charmin’.”

“Yeah, well, people said the same thing about Hannibal Lecter.”

Her last words came out as a gulping sound, the kind Calvin made just before he hurled. He turned to her. “You okay?”

“It’s your crappy cologne. It’s enough to make anyone want to toss her cookies.”

“Did you eat anything today? Maybe we should stop.”

“Pull over.”

“I didn’t mean now.”

“Pull over, or I’m puking all over your pretty truck. Right now.” She swallowed again, and he saw the sheen of sweat on her forehead. He swerved to the far right, ignoring the horns, skidding onto the gravel. Olympia pushed open the door before the truck came to a full stop and vomited into the dust at the side of the road.

He got out and raced to her. It might not be a real marriage, but she was a human being. She dry heaved for a moment and moaned in misery. He pulled open the door to the king cab and rooted for a bottle of water.

“Drink this.”

“I’ll just throw up again.”

“Rinse out your mouth.” He didn’t let her refuse. She took a long swig and handed him the bottle. He went back into the cab for paper towels, wet one and put it on her neck. “Do you think it’s the flu or something?”

She shook her head and leaned over, eyes squeezed shut. “It must have been something I ate.”

“You didn’t eat anything this morning.”

“That’s probably it.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m so dizzy. This is the fourth day in a row.”