The Cowboy's E-Mail Order Bride (8 page)

He hung up, knowing that for all Rob’s intrinsic pain-in-the-assness, he was a friend he could count on in a pinch.

He tried to stifle the thought that he’d just dug his hole a little deeper. Worse, he was planning to enter the state of matrimony with a lie the size of Montana on his mind.

* * * * *

“That one.” Autumn pointed to a thin silver ring dotted with the tiniest diamond chip she’d ever seen.

The salesgirl, whom Ethan had addressed as Rose, looked at them with a frown. “Really? You want to try that one?”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” she asked Ethan innocently. She was not going to allow this man to spend a lot of money on her, story or no story, and when she secured her contract she would pay him back for the ring, just as soon as she could afford it… which unfortunately wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Ethan looked at the ring and frowned. In fact, he hadn’t looked comfortable since they’d climbed into the truck. Maybe he was having second thoughts. He glanced at his watch for what seemed like the fifth time in the past two minutes. “I think we need to take our time. I want you to try on every ring in the place until we find the right one.”

“Why don’t you tell me your price range,” Rose said, “so I can help you stay under budget. That way your bride-to-be doesn’t have to try so hard to spare your pocket.” She winked at Autumn.

Ethan hesitated, and for the first time Autumn realized he must actually be on a budget. Maybe that was the real reason he’d left the Big House and moved into the bunkhouse. Maybe the Big House cost too much to keep up. Was the ranch losing money? She found that hard to believe – it looked prosperous enough. Although what did she know about cattle? She made a mental note to do some more research on the internet when she got home. She’d been too busy learning about horses and Montana to focus on the financials of running a ranch.

“Five thousand,” he said, after a long moment.

Five thousand? It wasn’t a huge budget, but it was nothing to sneeze at. Sure, lots of women spent more – way more – on their rings, but five grand certainly bought more than a diamond chip. Did he think she was such a princess she would look down on him for keeping to that amount? What kind of women lived out here in Montana if $5,000 was regarded as cheap? He caught her eye and she thought she detected a faint reddening to the skin on his neck and cheeks. Ethan was blushing? Over five thousand dollars?

“That’s way too much,” she said, shaking her head.

“What’s way too much?” The door slammed shut behind her, making her jump, and in an instant Rob was next to her at the counter, examining the rings in the glass cabinet as if he was the groom instead of Ethan.

“Hey, Rob,” Rose said. “Ethan was just telling us his budget for the ring was five thousand dollars.”

“Five thousand! Don’t be a cheapskate, Ethan – buy the girl a real ring!”

“Rob,” Ethan growled. “Get out of here.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not staying. Just wanted to say hi to my best girl, Rose.” He leaned over the counter, and gave the petite brunette a resounding smack, “and to let your fiancée here know that you can afford to pay ten thousand dollars for a ring. Ten thousand. Got that, buddy? Rose, what do you think about these two? A match made in heaven?” He grinned, cocking an eyebrow.

“They’ll do just fine,” she said.

“Hear that, buddy?” he said to Ethan. “You’re golden! Rose knows these things.”

“Rob.” Ethan grabbed him and hustled him toward the door. Autumn watched him haul the man out to the sidewalk.

“What’s that all about?” she said.

Rose grinned. “Oh, Ethan and Rob have been friends all their lives. You’d think they could just give each other a man hug once in a while, but not them; they torment each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“They play practical jokes all the time. If you ask me, though, Rob deserves some tormenting. If Ethan says five thousand, I’d stick to five thousand.” She shrugged.

“Why does Rob deserve tormenting?”

Rose glanced around the store and leaned closer over the cabinet. “My friend Stacey heard from her friend Ella that her cousin was in town and met Rob at a bar. They were drinking and dancing all night and she went home with him.” She lowered her voice even more. “Normally, I’d say a girl like that got what’s coming to her, but no one deserves what Rob had planned. When they got to his bedroom he had a video camera set up – like, on a tripod! He’d hung a backdrop on one wall – painted like a barn with horses all around it and he had these lights set up. He wanted her to make a movie with him! A sex movie!”

Rose hissed the last words and Autumn’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. So she’d been right about Rob – he was sleazy. Good thing she hadn’t invited him inside this morning.

“What did he mean that you know things?”

Rose blushed. “Oh, don’t mind him. It’s just…” she fussed with some brochures near the register, “I get a feeling sometimes. About people. Couples. Whether they’ll make it or not.”

“Really?” Autumn did her best, but she was sure her face reflected her skepticism.

“It’s nothing, really.” Rose glanced at the door, as if eager for Ethan to return.

“And you think we’ll make it? Ethan and I?”

After a moment, she nodded. “Yeah. You’ll make it.”

Some psychic, Autumn thought, her lips twisting. She opened her mouth to question Rose further when the door banged open again and Ethan walked in, alone. “Sorry about that, ladies, just needed to take out the trash.” He looked from one to the other. “What’re you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“All right, no more distractions. Let’s pick out a ring.”

She felt in her handbag for her camera and drew it out. “Mind if I take a few pictures?”

* * * * *

That evening, Autumn sat at a desk in the spare bedroom, staring at the blank page on her laptop. She’d taken photos of the jewelry store, Rose holding a display of rings, and her own hand with the delicate, new engagement ring sparkling on her finger. Now she needed to write.

Ethan helped her move her bags into this room, although they agreed she’d share his bed when it came time for sleeping. Neither one of them could pretend anymore they were going to take it slow. He gallantly suggested she needed a place to herself to get away to sometimes.

She told Ethan she was an avid diarist, as well as scrapbooker, and she wanted to write down the events of the last 24 hours while they were still fresh – and that she greatly appreciated having her own room in which do so. In reality, she needed to begin her article, so that by the time she flew back to New York it would be ready to turn in.

Once they’d returned from shopping, they’d eaten a quiet dinner made from her picnic lunch leftovers, then sat for a time on the back porch watching the sunset. They’d kissed a little and snuggled a lot, all of which made her long to kick her laptop to the curb and head for bed with Ethan, but she had to remember this was just a story. The diamond on her finger wasn’t hers. Her fiancé wasn’t a fiancé, he was just some guy she was lying to for the worst of reasons.

Money.

Is this what her mother meant by taking care of herself and being independent? Somehow she didn’t think so. Sure, she would advocate doing what was necessary to survive, but was this necessary?

I won’t have a job if I don’t write this article, and in order to write this article I have to stay and play this out.

Was that true? Or could she somehow make a killer story out of what little material she already had? She grabbed her camera and clicked back through the photographs she’d saved.

No. She might have enough for a filler piece – two or three paragraphs, at most – but it wouldn’t make a feature story. For that she needed the whole shebang – a hook, the backstory – a complete picture of a lonely cowboy looking for a real cowboy wife.

While she was at it, she’d better make some notes about the questions she still needed answers to. Why did he run the YouTube ad? Why not look for love in his own home town? Why be a rancher at all? Why not join the 21
st
century and get a real job?

And did he really want kids?

When she realized she’d dropped her hand to her belly, she snatched it up like she’d touched hot coals.

Don’t even think it, Autumn – you can’t be pregnant. And you certainly can’t know that you are.

But she did know. She was as sure of it as she was of her own name. The thought made her hot with longing and cold with shame and fear all at the same time. What was she going to do? What would her mother and sister say when she came home pregnant?

A single mother, just like her own mom. Would she be able to rise to the challenge? Could she work all day at whatever came to hand, and go back to school to get her Masters so she could teach like her mother always said she should? Her baby in daycare from morning to night.

That last thought made her arms ache. She wouldn’t get to raise her own baby; not like she wanted to, anyway. She wouldn’t be there to hold her, play with her, keep her safe. Bake her cookies, play house, teach her to garden…

She bowed her head in frustration. After she became an ob-gyn, her own mother claimed she’d always felt stifled as a stay-at-home mom, but although she never said so, Autumn remembered things differently. She remembered many happy times with her mother and sister. Teresa used to set the timer on the oven and all three of them would race to finish their chores on summer mornings so they could spend the remainder of the day at a local pool. When they visited museums and art galleries, they had passionate arguments over which painting or sculpture they liked best. Her mother read aloud to them every night before bed. And then there were Sundays, and the noisy, fabulous feasts she missed so much.

She couldn’t believe Teresa hated those days. Instead, she thought her mother had decided to hate them, so the fact she’d lost them when her husband left wouldn’t be so devastating.

That didn’t mean Autumn couldn’t have days like those.

The ring on her finger glinted.

She could stay here, marry Ethan, be his wife. He wanted a stay-at-home kind of woman, someone to run the house, do the errands, raise the garden and the kids, and help with the ranch. They could make each other’s dreams come true.

Lord knew, it wouldn’t be a hardship to go to bed with him every night.

No.

She found herself shaking her head, her mother’s constant lectures echoing in her mind. That meant financial dependence on a man, and that was something she could not,
would not
, do. When you depended on a man you left your life open to earth-shattering changes – the kind that tore your heart out and stomped on it for good measure. She couldn’t raise a daughter with that kind of example. Marriage was a trap laid for women by men. A financial trap. And she wouldn’t be a party to it.

Write
, she told herself.
Earn your money and secure the future, for yourself and your baby
.

CHAPTER FIVE

How long did it take to write in a damn diary?

Ethan hesitated outside the spare bedroom door, one hand raised to knock. He heard the clack of computer keys and for one horrible moment wondered if maybe Autumn’s diary was one of those blog things. Hell, he hoped not. The last thing he needed was for details of his private life to be exposed to the world – especially the details of the last 24 hours.

“Autumn?” He rapped his knuckles on the door. “You still in there?”

“Uh…yeah!” He heard the snap of her laptop shutting and the pad of her feet as she approached the door. She opened it a crack.

“It’s been an hour. You aren’t sitting there telling our story to the whole world, are you?” He craned his neck to see into the room.

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

“You’re not one of those bloggers, are you? Or one of those video people?”

She cocked her head. “You think I’m writing an online diary?”

“Are you?”

“No. I’m just emailing a friend.”

“Can I come in?” She looked hot, peeking up at him like that. Just being this close to her made him want to touch her cheek, or better yet…

“Give me one minute to pack all this up and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“How about meeting me in the bedroom?”

A tiny smile quirked her lips and desire raced through his bloodstream. “Let’s meet in the kitchen first.”

She shut the door gently but firmly, and he sighed, frustrated she didn’t seem as eager to be with him as he was to be with her. He retreated to the kitchen and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge.

A minute later she joined him, taking a seat at the table. She looked nervous; she was playing with her new ring, twisting it around and around her finger.

“I know this is going to sound weird, and I don’t want it to be, but I feel like I have to say it,” she began.

Oh hell, if this was going where he thought it was going, he was just going to have to pack it in. First his parents’ death, then the discovery of the debt, then Lacey’s abandonment and now this woman, who’d managed to worm her way into his heart in less than 24 hours, was going to break up with him? And probably wanted to keep the ring for a souvenir?