A Deal at the Altar: Hired by the Cowboy / SOS: Convenient Husband Required

CHAPTER FIVE

THE RADIO WAS playing softly in the kitchen when he entered, and the table was set for two, but Alex was nowhere to be found. On the counter was a crockpot. He lifted the lid and the appetizing smell of chili wafted out. His stomach rumbled in appreciation. She had told the truth when she’d said she was a fast learner. It didn’t look like they’d have a repeat of last night.

“Alex?”

“Out here.”

He followed the voice to the deck that faced west. She was standing at the railing, facing the dim outline of the mountains, squinting against the sun.

He stared at Alex. The deepening sunlight framed her figure, outlining her curves, and he was shocked to feel desire streaking through him like a current. Where in the world had that come from? Of course she was attractive—he wasn’t blind—but he hadn’t factored that into the plan. He frowned slightly. It had been a long time since a woman had had that effect on him. He’d been focused on Windover, and working things out, and hadn’t taken the time to pursue a relationship. And he honestly hadn’t considered how much having an extra person around would change things. He’d looked forward to being alone with Alex all day, perhaps too much. He had thought of how her eyes snapped and flashed as she angered, how hard she was on herself for the smallest error. How independent she was. But they’d made a bargain. And he had to keep personal distance.

“Are you all right?” Her voice was sweet and a bit shaky.

“I’m fine.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping back. “Dinner smells great.”

She turned back to the view. “I found the recipe on the kidney bean can. I told you I could make things out of a can.”

He smiled. “Mmm, progress.”

“You haven’t tasted it yet,” she remarked wryly, and he took a place beside her at the rail, making sure their elbows didn’t touch. He could still smell her, though, light, citrusy, and his nerves clawed at his stomach.

“Can we eat later? Let’s take a walk. You haven’t even seen anything of the ranch yet, and you’re going to be here for at least the next several months.”

They hadn’t really had a chance to talk much about themselves, only about the deal they were making. They could be friends, and maybe, just maybe, he’d forget about how pretty she was in the late-day sun.

“Is it OK to leave the chili on?” Her eyes looked up at him, worried.

“That’s why it’s called a slow cooker,” he teased. “Your meal will still be here when we get back.”

They walked out past the lane and to the edge of a field, side by side but careful not to touch. A grove of trees and a fence separated the field from another meadow. Cows bawled in the warm sun as they grazed, their jet-black hides shining in the early-evening light, and Connor took a deep, restorative breath.

“It’s part of you.” Her voice interrupted their silence.

He exhaled slowly, surprised she understood so intrinsically. “Yes. It always has been.”

“I can tell. It’s in the way you look at the land. I’ve never had anything like that. I envy you.”

Connor recognized the low note of sadness in her words and responded. “What was your childhood like, Alex?”

She stared straight ahead while he gazed at her profile. She was beautiful in such a simple, natural way, and she tried to be strong. But there was something in the wistful turn of her lips that made him sense the pain beneath the surface, and he longed to make it better. It had always been his thing, trying to fix whatever went wrong. But he knew better than most that there were some things you just couldn’t fix—and he’d thought he’d left that protective streak behind.

The smell of fresh-cut hay filled the air around them, familiar and comforting, as she began.

“My parents were historians. We had a house in Ottawa. But we were gone so much…it was more like a base of operations. We traveled a lot.”

She glanced up at him, her smile contrite as magpies chattered in the poplars.

“You said you were alone. Where are they now?”

She stopped, bit down on her lip, and squared her shoulders. “Dead. When I was eighteen they were going on a work trip to Churchill. They were taking a bush plane in…it’s so remote…but the plane never made it.”

So she was utterly alone. Alone like him.

“I’m so sorry, Alex.”

She started walking again. “My parents were smart people, but they thought they were indestructible. They had little insurance. By the time I was done paying estate taxes, my lawyer, and their outstanding bills, there was hardly anything left. The bank took the house and I got an apartment, worked as a waitress.”

She let out a long breath; that was all she was comfortable revealing at this point. They really didn’t know each other well enough for her to reveal the nitty-gritty details. The loneliness. The longing for a normal childhood.

“That’s my life in a nutshell. What about you, Connor? Did you ever want to do anything besides farm?”

He had. As a teenager he’d wanted nothing more than to be a farm vet, and he’d planned out his future like a roadmap. He’d work from Windover, and he and Jim would run the ranch together after Dad retired. And his family had supported that dream. He had taken his science degree and been about to enter vet school when he’d given it up to take sole control of the ranch operations.

“I was going to be a vet.”

Their feet made whispering sounds through the tall grass. “So what happened?”

“I was home from university that summer. Dad had a load of cattle headed for the States, and Mom and Jim decided to go along.”

His voice flattened, sucking out the emotion, making it sound like a news report rather than a life-altering personal event.

“They were a little south of Lethbridge when the wind must have caught the trailer. Someone said it looked like a weird downdraft, but we never knew for sure. Anyway, they went off the road. All three of them were killed.”

His throat bobbed, suddenly tight and painful, and he was unable to go on. But he remembered that day as vividly as if it were yesterday.

He’d driven down himself. Half the cattle were injured, two were dead, and three had to be put down. He still saw the stains of red on the highway, smelled the death there. The cattle could be replaced, but in a single, devastating moment he’d lost his whole family. By the time he’d arrived they’d already been taken to the morgue. In a split second he was Windover. Everything was suddenly empty, like a colorless void. It wasn’t right, working without Jim’s jokes by his side, or his dad’s warm wisdom, or his mother’s nurturing support. They were just…gone. He’d never understood why he’d been the one left behind. Always wondered if he could have somehow prevented it if only he’d gone along. Instead, he’d taken the day and had gone to Sylvan Lake with friends.

His feet had stopped moving, and he was ashamed to discover tears in his eyes. Alex said nothing, just twined her fingers with his and squeezed. He cleared the ball in his throat roughly.

She understood. Their upbringings were diametrically opposite, yet a single moment in each of their lives had devastated them completely. He sighed. She’d been hurt as badly as he had. And he wouldn’t risk being the one to do it to her again. All he’d need would be more guilt.

They turned back, the house visible, rising alone against the sky in the distance.

“I didn’t realize we’d come so far,” Alex remarked, and for a few minutes they pondered the significance of that statement.

Connor changed the subject, away from them and to the much safer topic of the background of the ranch. “This place…I’ve never considered leaving. Even my great-great grandfather stuck it out through a horrible winter. That’s how Windover got its name, you know.”

She left her fingers within his, a link between them on the path. “How?”

“He put up a rough cabin that first year. There was just the two of them, and the story goes that they were almost ready to pack it in when a Chinook blew in, melted most of the snow, and brought instant spring in the middle of March. He called it the wind over the mountains, and when they bought their first livestock it became Windover Farm and later Windover Ranch.”

He had roots that went so deep. How could he ever understand someone who’d been rootless most of her life? She was glad now she hadn’t revealed more than she had. They’d led completely different lives.

“Do you think we can go through with this?” she asked, angling a sideways glance at his profile.

“The wedding, you mean?” Connor nodded. “I think we are both realists. Despite the obvious differences in our situations, our personalities seem to match. Considering the predicament we find ourselves in, it seems like a workable solution. Practical. I know you have your doubts—anyone would—but if you’ll let me show you that you can trust me…”

“Show me?”

The air cooled around them as the sun dipped further behind the mountains. “If at any time in the next few weeks you want out, I’ll take you back to Calgary myself. Take this time, Alex, to find out who I am. To be sure I’ll keep my word.”

“But what happens in the end?” She swallowed. After two days she was already envying him his home, the one she’d always longed for and he’d always had. On one hand she told herself not to get attached to the kind of life she could have here at Windover, because it wasn’t permanent. The other part of her told her to enjoy it, absorb all that she could and save it as a beautiful memory.

“I don’t have all the answers. But, knowing what we know, surely we can part as friends in the end?”

“Do you think it’ll be that easy? Going back to being alone?”

“Do you?”

The house grew closer with each slow step.

The thought of living alone now seemed dull and pointless, even after such a short time. It was a joy to know that someone was coming home at the end of the day. It gave the time she spent a point, a meaning. She’d have her baby when it was over, but who would Connor have?

“Who knows? We’ve both been alone for a long time. Maybe we’ll drive each other crazy and you’ll be glad to be rid of me.” She tried a cocky smile, but faltered at the look in his eyes as they stopped at the edge of the dirt road.

He turned to face her, his warm gaze delving into hers, drawing her in and making her thoughts drift away on the evening breeze. His hand lifted to her cheek. “I think there’s a very good chance you’re going to drive me crazy,” he murmured, his thumb stroking her cheek tenderly.

She stepped back in alarm, her face burning from the intimate touch and the clear meaning of his words. She left his hand hanging in thin air. A truck approached and spun past them, stirring up loose gravel and clouds of dust.

When the air cleared they said nothing, but crossed the road and made their way up the lane.

* * *

SHE WOKE AT dawn and checked her watch. It was barely five. Squinting, she glared at the window that was letting in all the lemony fresh sunshine. Last night she’d been so distracted she’d forgotten to pull the blinds. Her cheek still remembered the weight of his hand, caressing the soft skin there. Her drive him crazy? Not if he drove her nuts first. He was giving her the opportunity to back out. And she should. She was far too taken with him already. He was too strong, yet kind and understanding.

And he looked far too good in a pair of faded jeans. Add in that messy, slightly ragged hair, and any woman would be a goner. She should run, very quickly, in the opposite direction.

But the truth of the matter was this was by far the best way for her to provide for her child. She couldn’t go back to where she’d been staying, as the tenant had decided to move in with her boyfriend when Alex left. She’d quit her job at a moment’s notice. And now was no time to start from scratch.

She stared at the window. The flimsy white curtains didn’t do much to keep out daylight, even when the sun was rising on the other side of the house. Tonight she’d make sure the blind was down. She sure didn’t want to wake at five every day.

Footsteps passed outside her door, quiet, stocking-footed. A floorboard creaked beneath the weight. Connor was up already? She pushed the covers back and stepped out onto the hardwood floor. She’d missed his rising yesterday. She might as well get up now that she was awake, start learning what he liked for breakfast—and how he cooked it. If she weren’t going to be allowed to help outside, she meant to do her best inside.

She went downstairs dressed still in her pajamas—cotton shorts and a tank top. When she reached the kitchen, Connor already had a skillet on the burner and was half buried in the refrigerator, pulling out ingredients. He was dressed in what she now realized must be his customary uniform—faded jeans and a plain T-shirt. Her mouth grew dry as he dug deeper, the seat of his jeans filling out. She was in serious trouble here.

The touch of his hand on her face last night had prompted strange dreams. In them he’d stroked her cheek and kissed her. And it hadn’t been a brotherly kiss either. In her slumbers he’d taken her mouth wholly, completely. His lips had been soft, deliberate, and devastating. His hands had glided over her skin. Tender. Possessive.

He straightened, turned with eggs in his hands, and jumped.

She wanted to disappear through the floor. Belatedly, she realized her fingers were touching her lips…and that her nipples were puckered up almost painfully. All from the sight of his bottom in some worn denim.

“I didn’t expect you up for hours yet.”

Blushing, she turned away, searching the cupboard for dishes. Hormones, she tried, quite unsuccessfully, to convince herself. It had to be the excess hormones in her system making her feel so…carnal.

“I forgot to pull the blind last night,” she said to the plates. “You always up this early?”

He put a carton of eggs on the counter and nodded. “Ranching isn’t exactly a nine-to-five business. You hungry?”

She was ravenous…and she couldn’t blame that on her pregnancy. She’d found it incredibly difficult to eat after their walk, despite the fact that the chili had actually turned out fine.

“Normally I don’t eat until later, but after last night…”

The words hung between them, not only a reminder of their walk but of the strange feeling of intimacy that had followed their personal revelations. She needed to keep things casual. She’d walked away from his touch last night; he had no idea she’d started fantasizing about him. She didn’t want things to become more uncomfortable between them.

“What are you making?” She asked it quickly, to dispel the sudden feeling that he was remembering too.

“Scrambled eggs, sliced ham, and toast.”

“Will you show me?” She stepped forward, feeling a little silly that at twenty-three she didn’t even know how to scramble eggs. She wanted desperately to contribute, but having Connor have to show her everything…he could probably do it much faster himself than taking the time to instruct her. Setting her jaw, she vowed to pay close attention and learn—quickly.

“Sure.” He cracked eggs into a bowl and handed her a whisk while he put butter in the pan. “Here. Beat the daylights out of those for a minute.”

Her lips curved up without warning. She was really starting to like his sense of humor. He was relaxed and joking, which meant he wasn’t letting what had happened affect their relationship. Perhaps being married, even for such a brief time, could be enjoyable. Their personalities meshed. And, yes, the ranch was isolated, but Alex was used to being alone and didn’t find it too solitary. For the first time in a long time she felt a little hope that things would turn out all right after all. If only she could learn her share. If only they could maintain their boundaries.

As she was whisking he explained about adding salt and pepper and she paid close attention to quantities. He let the butter melt in the skillet, and then poured in the eggs.

“Once they start to set a little, then you keep pushing them around,” he explained, and handed her the spatula.

She stuck it in the pan but splashed a little egg batter over the side. “Like this,” he explained, and moved in behind her, covering her hand with his own on the spatula.

Alex’s breath caught. Connor had showered last night and now, at the start of day, the scent of his soap was mingled with the smell of man in the morning. His body was warm and firm, close behind her, and the intimacy of the moment curled through her. OK, maybe this marriage wouldn’t be as enjoyable as she thought. Not if she had to spend the next several months hiding the fact that he made her pulse race every time he was close. Last night’s tender caress was only the tip of the iceberg.

His voice was oddly thick as he pulled away. “You’re getting it now,” he mumbled, and moved to put slices of bread in the toaster.

She pushed the eggs to one side and managed to fry the ham slices without incident. Silently they sat at the table to eat, while the light around them grew brighter.

“I called my grandmother last night.”

She nearly choked on her toast. “You did?”

“I explained I was getting married.” His smile was grim. “I think she’ll probably come up here today to check you out.”

She hadn’t counted on grandmothers. And his had to know that this wasn’t a regular marriage. This had been a real, functioning family, she was sure. And that meant that his grandmother would likely be outraged at the fact that he was marrying a relative stranger for money.

“Why did you do that? I didn’t sign up for irate grandmothers!” Her voice rose in panic. Not only was she a stranger, but an inept one. She didn’t know much about being domestic and less about farming. Surely his grandmother would find her completely unsuitable? Alex wasn’t ready for that type of criticism to be heaped on her head. After the ridiculous sexual thoughts she’d had about him lately, she couldn’t seem to keep up with all the emotions he inspired in her. Last night had been sympathy, tenderness. Then carnality, embarrassment. And right now she was seeing the red cape of anger. If this was going to be a rollercoaster, she wanted off.

Connor didn’t see the huge problem in telling his grandmother anything at all. After all, Gram had told him to get courting. Perhaps she hadn’t meant quite this quickly, but Johanna Madsen was a practical woman. She’d figure out the truth very quickly. She was the one who had put him in this position, so she could say nothing about how he handled it.

Thankfully, he knew that Gram wasn’t too hung up on conventionalities. But, more than that, Gram was the only family he had left. His honor, his family loyalty, demanded he be honest and upfront about it.

“She’s all I have, Alex.” He studied the ornery set of Alex’s chin and smiled at her stubbornness. In the light of early morning she was beautiful, without artifice. All that was amplified when her eyes snapped with anger and her cheeks flushed. Perhaps it was the pregnancy, but her skin had a luminescence—and he’d caught sight of lots of it when she’d arrived in her pjs.

Yet she wasn’t soft. There was a strength, a resolution about her that he admired. Alex Grayson was no pushover…and Gram would respect that if nothing else.