Cowboys Don't Have a Marriage of Convenience, page 1
part #5 of Sweet Water Ranch Billionaire Cowboys Series
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
COWBOYS DON'T HAVE A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE
First edition. June 17, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Jessie Gussman.
Written by Jessie Gussman.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Chapter 1
One a.m. on Christmas morning.
Remington Martinez’s first white Christmas.
Texans in the panhandle probably saw the white stuff, but he was from southwest Texas. He’d spent the last two months on an Alaskan fishing boat, so this wasn’t his first rodeo, but it was definitely his first white Christmas.
If Ford Hanson had his way, it’d be Rem’s last Christmas as a single man.
He parked his three-quarter ton dually in front of the all-night gas station and walked inside. He didn’t need fuel, but he needed to stretch his legs. Grab a joe maybe. Although from what he’d experienced so far, northerners didn’t know how to make coffee. They seemed to use tweezers to measure the grounds instead of a spade shovel, the way coffee was meant to be made.
It wasn’t the only thing northerners didn’t get right, but it was his current gripe. That, and the cold.
His truck said -17. He’d never actually seen that little line in front of his truck’s temperature display until yesterday coming down out of Canada, which was like coming down out of another world.
’Course he was back in the good ol’ US of A, but he felt more like he’d moved into a Siberian village.
Maybe he looked like he was ready to spend the winter in Siberia. But the sleepy store clerk and the lady who walked in behind him carrying two children while a third trailed behind her weren’t wearing a fur-lined parka, insulated coveralls, and one thousand-gram insulated hiking boots like he was. Actually, from his limited experience with the hardy North Dakotans, he was somewhat surprised the woman wasn’t wearing flip-flops and a bikini.
The farther north he’d come, the odder folks had got.
The woman thanked him for holding the door for her and walked straight to the bathroom while he went to the coffee maker.
The stuff looked like weak tea, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, and he wasn’t going to teach the entire northern part of the country to make good coffee tonight, so he reached for a cup.
But he didn’t pick it up because the little kid that had been trailing behind the woman passed the end of the aisle, heading toward the door.
Rem hesitated. He didn’t usually get mixed up in other folk’s business, but it was cowboy cold outside, and that little guy only had some kind of pajama thing on. Didn’t even have real shoes, just little footie things connected to his pants.
He’d never spent much time with kids—he didn’t allow his mind to go to the dark place where he remembered what his fiancée had done—and didn’t know much of anything about them. But shouldn’t he have a coat on at least?
The little guy pushed at the heavy door.
Rem’s eyes went to the store clerk. He sat on the stool by the register, his arms crossed over his chest, his head back, eyes closed, mouth open, snoring.
Figures.
Rem glanced over at the bathroom. The door was closed.
He adjusted his hat and leaned down, looking out the window. A car with the parking lights on sat at a gas pump, like the woman might have fueled up before walking in. There wasn’t anyone in the passenger seat.
A set of headlights flashed from a car just pulling into the parking lot.
Rem couldn’t let the little guy go outside by himself with who knows what kind of stranger out there.
The kid hadn’t gotten the door open yet.
Just when Rem decided he might not have to worry about it because the kid couldn’t get out, the kid gave a huge shove, and the door popped open.
Rem swore.
He took two long steps over to the kid, grabbed him by the seat of his pants, and swung him up under his arm. He didn’t exactly know how one was supposed to carry a kid that size, smaller than a newborn calf but bigger than his cattle dog.
The kid started screaming like he’d put a firecracker in his pants, so it probably wasn’t the way he was used to being carried.
Rem strode over to the bathroom, hoping to set the screaming thing down in front of the door, and hopefully his mother would be out before he could make it to the outside door again.
He should have known from all the years he’d worked with animals. One didn’t castrate a piglet within hearing distance of its mother. He’d seen nine hundred-pound sows climb a five-foot fence to get to their precious, squealing porkers. A sight like that helped a man find a way to drop the piglet and climb the nearest cottonwood.
But that angry sow didn’t have a thing on the human mamma that came barreling out of that restroom, a baby in each arm, and he wouldn’t have been surprised to see a gun in her teeth, pointed at his privates with the trigger half squeezed.
A blast of cold air rocked the store as the outside door opened, but Rem didn’t take his eyes off the hollering woman in front of him. He closed his mouth over the explanation he’d been ready to give, dropped the kid, raised his hands in the air—despite her lack of a visible gun—and backed slowly away. He knew when he was outmatched.
The woman ducked forward and grabbed her offspring with one of the hands that still held a baby.
She glanced over at the door. “Watch this guy. He just tried to take my boy. Probably a child trafficker or molester or something. He’s obviously not from around these parts.”
How did she know he wasn’t from around these parts? Did he have it stamped on his forehead? He resisted the urge to touch his forehead under his hat brim and kept his hands in the air.
She didn’t have the smooth southern tones of women he was used to hearing, but he hadn’t gotten a word out of his mouth, so she wouldn’t know he didn’t have the clipped and jarring sound of a Yankee.
“Thanks for the warning. I left my other kids in the car with the motor running.” A voice, smooth as saddle leather and just a bit husky, came from his left, and he turned toward it, wondering at the stirring deep in the pit of his stomach.
A frail-looking woman, with hair as fair as his was black, wearing a long black skirt and a sparkling red top, like she’d just come from church, stood holding onto the hand of a boy not much bigger than the one he’d just tried to keep from walking outside and freezing to death. Not like anyone around here appreciated it.
“I’ll watch it for you, sister.” The woman who’d just come out of the bathroom huffed.
“Thanks, I’ll just be a minute.” The frail woman, with wrists maybe only twice as big around as his thumb, gave him a suspicious look before tugging on the hand of her child and keeping an eye on him as she walked to the bathroom. He kept his hands in the air, but his eyes tracked her as she moved. Her eyes were tired, her face careworn, but her movements were graceful and confident.
Still, she walked by him like he was a rat sticking its nose out of a hole.
He’d never felt so much like a criminal in his life before.
Apparently they put antifreeze in their veins come winter up here, since the red shirt that lady was wearing was short sleeved. Obviously the other kid hadn’t needed saving, either. Maybe his sleeper was made of heat tape.
At this point in time, he just wanted to get the tinted water these folks called coffee and finish the drive to his friend Ford’s home, where he’d stay for Christmas before getting directions to the home of his future wife. She apparently had four wild children, a dog that learned its manners north of the Mason-Dixon line, and a dilapidated home that was slightly more crooked than a DC politician. But she had a ranch and, as soon as she married him, a billion dollars. That was his paraphrase of Ford’s description.
Ford hadn’t actually told him what the woman herself looked like.
The bathroom door clicked, and the white-blond woman in the sparkling red shirt walked out holding tight to the hand of her little boy. Her eyes scanned the store until her gaze hooked on his.
He expected to see a return of the suspicion and disdain on her face. But like the time in the restroom had given her a minute to think things through, those emotions didn’t appear. Instead, her gaze was wary but thoughtful, too.
Rem had been a professional bull rider for over a decade. He thrived on the excitement and challenge. But he’d also learned to pay attention to the subtle signs.
He wasn’t in any danger of being attacked by this woman. For some reason, he wanted to defend himself, even though she wasn’t even the woman whose kid he’d saved.
But he’d learned, too, that a woman who looked soft and sweet could hurt him worse than a one-ton bull.
Actually, if he had to choose between his ex-fiancée, who was now his sister-in-law, and the one-to
This woman’s ice-blue eyes, the color of which reminded him of the Texas sky at high noon, warmed him. Without thinking, the manners of his childhood kicked in.
He tipped his hat and said, “Merry Christmas, ma’am.”
It was almost imperceptible, but she slowed just a bit, and her brows twitched. Then she jerked her chin up, acknowledging his words, and walked out the door.
“MOMMY, MOMMY, OPEN this.”
“I need batteries.”
“Wook at me, Mommy. Wook at me.”
“Can I get this out now?”
Elaine’s head throbbed, and like pretty much every day for the last two years, she felt like crying. She’d gotten so used to not letting the tears fall—not in front of the children at least—that her eyes didn’t prick, and she didn’t give it conscious thought.
Instead, she sat at the kitchen table, cognizant it was Christmas Day, and smiled at her three-year-old who wanted her to watch him, while correcting her older children. “When you ask, you need to say please.”
Did they have batteries? She wasn’t sure.
Why did they make the toy containers so difficult to open, anyway? Did stores really have a shoplifting problem with three-year-olds?
Maybe they just wanted to punish parents for having children.
Elaine truly appreciated her neighbors to the east, Ford and Morgan, Ty and Louise, Palmer and Ames, for inviting them in yesterday and giving her children gifts that she couldn’t afford. It had been kind and thoughtful and made Christmas sweet for her kids, since she was hardly going to her own family’s celebration.
But the chaos around her never stopped. With a glance at her phone, she realized it would be time to go feed soon. She was already bone-weary. Maybe, since it was Christmas, she’d let the kids settle down in front of the TV for a while this evening.
Just as she finished opening the package and handed it over to her three-year-old’s mumbled “thank you,” her phone rang.
It was her mother’s number, and she almost didn’t answer it.
But it was Christmas.
“Hello?” she said, trying not to sound as tired as she felt.
“Are you coming?” Her mother’s tone wasn’t unkind, but there was a trace of annoyance in her voice, like she was catering to Elaine.
“I told you three weeks ago I wasn’t.” She could not make the drive to Fargo without having someone feed the stock for her. That, however, was the least of her issues.
“I don’t know why you’re holding a grudge about this. You’re keeping your children away from your family and punishing them over your inability to get past your issues.” Her mother sounded wheedling and exasperated by turns.
“I told you that you were welcome to come here.”
“But James and Corrie wouldn’t have anywhere to go. Unless you’ve decided to forgive and move on?”
Was there really something wrong with her because she still had a hang-up with her husband running off with her sister? Was it that unreasonable of her to not want to ruin her Christmas by seeing them and their new baby? She’d also have to deal with all the questions of her own kids—why Daddy didn’t come see them, why he didn’t live here anymore, and, from her older ones, what had she done to make him hate them.
She was bone-tired, about to lose the ranch, and worried how she was going to support four children on her own once she did. Was it really that selfish of her to not want to have to face her cheating ex-husband and her little sister?
The betrayal of her sister hurt worse than the cheating of her husband. They were exactly twelve months apart, sharing the same birthdate in January.
But it couldn’t be good for her children for their mother to be holding a grudge against their father, no matter how badly she’d been treated. She needed to get over it. It was best for the children, and best for her mental health, too.
At that moment, an image from last night, or in reality, early this morning, cut through her brain. A man, tall and dark with flashing black eyes and a drawl as big as the North Dakota sky, came to mind. She shook the image off, even though she didn’t believe that he’d actually been trying to take that little boy. What he had been doing, though, she couldn’t say.
“Maybe next year, Mom. I told you I can’t drive the whole way to Fargo and still get the stock fed.”
“And I could see right through that for the excuse it is. I understand what James did was wrong, but you’re punishing the entire family by your stubborn refusal to set your differences aside for just a little while at Christmas.” Her mother sounded so hurt and disappointed.
Elaine had never wanted to hurt anyone, and she hated disappointing her mother.
“It’s too late this year.” Who knew how things were going to play out. Unless a miracle happened, she wouldn’t have the ranch next year. It was all she’d known all her life. She had no idea what she’d do when the bank took it.
“Too late for Christmas, but I’m going to plan a big birthday celebration for you and Corrie next month. I expect you to be here.”
“I can’t, Mom. You know I can’t leave the stock.” It was an excuse, a great one, since this time of year, she really couldn’t leave.
“Then we’ll have it at your house. Unless you want to keep nursing your bruised feelings and jealousy over your sister’s happiness.”
For the first time in her conversation with her mother, heat crawled up the back of Elaine’s neck, and pressure built in her temples. She gritted her teeth.
“I am not jealous.” That was the honest truth. She didn’t want happiness if it involved James. Their divorce terms had dictated that he didn’t have to pay child support, but in return, he signed away his parental rights. That was the only happiness she had wanted from James.
“Then stop acting like it,” her mother said, sounding a bit harsh in her firmness.
Elaine couldn’t blame her. Not much. She’d want her children to get along, too. But when she talked to her mother, her mother always made it seem like everything was her fault.
“We’ll have the party at your house, the last Saturday in January.” Her mother’s words sounded like nails being driven into her coffin.
Elaine couldn’t decline without a big fight. That much was obvious. She swallowed her anger and hurt. “That’s fine, Mom. Next month, a party at my house.”
Chapter 2
Remington followed Ford and Morgan down the windswept driveway of what could be his future home if things went the way Ford expected them to.
Rem didn’t mind the isolation. Where he’d lived in west Texas, things were just as isolated. And after the years he’d spent as one of the top professional bull riders in the country, with hordes of people following after him, mostly women if he were being honest, peace and quiet was something he valued.
Sure looked like there’d be peace and quiet here. At least from the nonexistent neighbors. The black lab that bounded out on the porch was everything Ford had warned him about. He allowed a grin to tug up the corners of his mouth as the dog jumped on Ford who set a well-placed knee to its chest, knocking the big thing over.
It bounded back up, tail going like the Texas wind, and sidled up to Ford—keeping all four paws on the ground.
Rem parked his dually beside Ford’s SUV and got out as Ford opened Morgan’s door. Rem still got a good chuckle out of Ford’s deformed face and figure next to Morgan’s exquisite loveliness. They weren’t a match that anyone would have predicted, but they were perfect for each other and obviously in love.
Love hadn’t worked out so well for Rem. It’d almost be easier if he had deformities. He didn’t have to worry about women wanting his money, since he’d sunk most of the cash he’d earned as a bull rider into his father’s ranch, thinking it would be his one day.
Then he and his dad had fought, about something stupid – how fast to expand their herd – but the fight had quickly escalated, not helped by his younger brother, Maximus, and his dad decided to cut him out of his will, planning to give everything to Max. Funny, but that’s when Olivia had decided she’d actually wanted to marry Max.
At that point, it had almost been a relief to Rem, since he’d never gotten over what Olivia had done with his money.
