Worth The Price (Hart's Fall, Montana) (10 page)

“Never told me how it felt to be married, Bran.”

Brandon swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, damp with sweat from the blistering midday sun and scowled. Clint’s question was innocent enough. If he was to give an honest answer, his two weeks with Danika were nothing short of perfection. Each and every morning he’d awoken with her curled up in his arms, sometimes with her arm flung across his face. She talked a lot, always telling him what she was up to, with whom she had spoken. Her natural playful nature made it so she was always teasing and trying to get a smile out of him. The sound of Danika’s laughter was as common to him now as the sound of his own gruff voice. In essence, his marriage was going too well. Sooner or later Brandon feared something had to give. No one could remain that happy and content for too long, especially not him.

“Feels the same. It’s a piece of paper.”

Clint drove a nail into the rigging of the corral they were putting together. The crow’s feet beneath his eyes crinkled as he squinted against the glare of the sun. “Does that mean you’re ready to send her packing back to ole Frank?”

Brandon snorted. Just because he was waiting for the ball to drop on him and Danika didn’t mean he was ready to hand her over to her da.

“I never said I no longer wanted her, now did I?”

“You didn’t. But you sure ain’t acting like man happy to be hitched to that cute young gal. You look like a cowpoke saddling up his bronco and waiting for someone to kick him in the balls and ride off with his horse and woman.”

Brandon grew silent. “I’d be a fool not to think that. My luck is shitty at best. If it’s not getting the other half of my face sliced up or losing the ranch…hell, the rest of my cattle if those bastards are bent on returning for more, it’ll be something else to screw with my marriage. Danika is the first woman I’ve ever wanted. That she’s my wife is nothing short of unbelievable.”
No matter the reason she married me
.

“Self-fulfilling prophecy,” Clint said with an overblown air of confidence. “That kind of thinking’s bound to mess you up. I see the way she looks at you. Don’t get me wrong. I try to keep the old peepers to myself when your missus comes around, but it don’t take a genius to notice that pretty li’l gal cares about you.”

“She doesn’t love me,” he said in a matter of fact tone.

“Do
you
love her?”

His jaw tautened at the unexpected question. A minute passed before he, answered, “No. I don’t love her. Danika didn’t come into this expecting love.”

“What if she brings it up? Women do that sometimes.”

He wasn’t a fool. Brandon knew Clint had a valid point. He was banking on the hope that conversation would never come to light. At least not anytime soon. He turned to his friend. “You mention love, Clint, what I’ll say to my wife if the topic comes up. Well I have one for you. Answer me this‌—‌what is love?

Clint lifted his scrawny shoulder. “C’mon Bran, you’re joking right?”

Brandon gave him a blank stare, to which the foreman gaped and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Hell. Everyone knows what that is. It’s when you care about someone. You don’t want anything bad to happen to them. You only want the best for them.”

Disappointment roiled inside his gut. Clint had simply spouted a classic textbook answer and yet he didn’t doubt for a minute the man actually did know how to love. Disappointment gave way to envy for the craggy-faced ranch hand.

Recalling Clint’s earlier question, Brandon opened his mouth to speak then closed it. A simpering grin broke out across his worker’s face. The old man suddenly began to wipe his dirt-smeared hands on the leg of his worn leather chaps.

Brandon knew automatically that someone was approaching. Danika. The scent of her jasmine perfume clung to the dusty air.

Turning, he watched her approach. There was a mesmerizing smile on her face. The single row of cornrow she had plaited this morning at the side of her hair, loosened from her bun and fell to the side of her face.

“Hey,” she greeted. Her soft lips brushed against his cheek. Her head shifted, this time to issue another smile at the older man. “Good evening.”

To his annoyance, Clint’s grin stretched so wide, Brandon expected his foreman’s face to crack at any moment. “Evening, Miss Danika. Looks like you came at the right time.” Clint slapped a hand to his back in exaggerated pain. “Thought I was gonna have to wait until ma back gave out for Bran to give an ol’ man a five-minute break.”

Brandon rolled his eyes at the show of theatrics. “Can we please have a minute here?”

After Clint took the hint and left, he returned his attention to Danika who looked as if she was fighting back a grin and also waiting on him. This morning he had promised to accompany her to the homeless shelter, Danika and her co-workers had spearheaded the construction of.

“Are you ready?”

“I am, but is there anything you need help with before we go?” Her gaze trekked the unfinished corral. “What about the calves? Did you finish inspecting them for today?”

“We still have a few that need to be tagged. The guys should have them done by tomorrow.”

She linked her arm through his as they headed to his pickup truck. “Why do I get the impression even if you did need the help you wouldn’t let me know?”

“I have enough workers, Danika. I didn’t marry you to gain another worker on the ranch. Plus, you have your hands full helping all those kids and families at the center.”

Halting in mid-stride, she cocked her head to the side and jabbed a small finger to his chest. “Of course we both have important jobs. However, you’re my husband. You come first, Brandon. Always. I love my work and helping every single family in need that comes through our door at the Family Services Center. I really do and I can’t see myself doing anything else. But you, me, the ranch and our life here‌—‌or I should say, the life I would like for us to build here‌—‌that’s where my heart is. So please don’t ever tell me that I have my hands full. Not when it boils down to us.”

Brandon gaped in astonishment. He wondered what his workers and the rest of the population of Hart’s Fall would think if they saw Danika scolding him without the faintest trace of fear. All because she was upset he hadn’t thought of himself as important enough in her daily schedule.

“I heard you,” he said, still in awe. “Loud and clear. You’ll kick my ass from here to Billings if I say something that stupid again.”

Her pretty face lit up. “Fast learner.”

It felt like tiny silken fingertips were stroking above his heart. Brandon couldn’t help but hold her to his chest. “I pay attention to everything you say and do. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“You didn’t. Although, I will be five minutes from now, if we’re not sitting in your pickup on the way to the shelter.”

“You really care about those people don’t you?”

“Of course I do. It’s hard not to, especially when most times there are little children in need. That’s my favorite part about being a social worker. Kids are pretty amazing and it’s heartbreaking to see them suffer for whatever reason. When I was little I never had any brothers or sisters. I’m okay with being an only child now, but I used to be so jealous of the other children with siblings. I guess in a way this is a chance for me to have at least some interaction with the little ones.”

“Your parents only wanted one kid?”

“No. They wanted more. It wasn’t possible.” She let out a sheepish laugh. “I’m sure you’ve noticed my dad’s a bit up there in age. It took them a long time to have me. That’s why he was so overprotective.”

“Maybe.” The reminder of Prescott and her connection to him felt like a mid-winter ice storm slashing into his veins and dousing his joy.

She slapped his arm in a playful manner. “I swear Brandon, one of these days you’re going to blab all your secrets to me. Like how you manage to downplay that accent so well and only use it when it suits you. Oh and especially what you’re thinking right now, when all you say is ‘maybe’.” Her voice deepened into a masculine baritone to mimic his.

Laughing, Brandon entwined his arm around her waist and drew her to him once more. “I think maybe it was better when you were afraid of me, even if it was only a little. You showed more respect then.”

She giggled, which resulted in her plump lips widening. The very sight sent an ache to his groin that would see no relief until tonight.

“You could never scare me again.”

“Never?”

“Never, ever. No way.” Her features grew serious, the smile vanishing. “I wish everyone would know the real you.”

“And who is the real me?”

“The complete opposite of what most people think. Look at Clint, for instance. You were the only rancher around here who was willing to hire him. Not many people are so accepting or willing to trust, to take a chance on a homeless man who was drunk more often than not. Also, I know this is a busy time of the year for getting the cattle ready for the fall auctions, yet you’re taking the time to help out at the shelter.”

Brandon shrugged. He didn’t need praises sung to him. Clint was a hard worker who hadn’t touched a bottle of alcohol since the day he started working on the ranch. And who the hell was he to turn his nose up at someone who shared the same knowledge of survival outside in the frigid cold without a cent in the pockets.

“There’s nothing special about any of that.”

“There is,” she insisted. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Luckily, you have me and I definitely won’t let you discredit yourself.”

Resisting Danika’s allure when it came to her ferocious defense of him proved to be his undoing. Brandon lowered his head and captured her soft lips between his. “Where the hell were you when I needed you so many years ago?” he asked, knowing full well his question would make no sense to her. He backed her against a nearby tree. “You’re the only person in this world I have. The only one I care about.” His lips dotted kisses along her nape. “Even if I screw it all up, Danika, don’t leave me.”

She wound her arms about him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I’m here Brandon. I’m not going anywhere.”

As they approached the old farmhouse that was undergoing a total redesign to become the newest place of hope for residents in and outside of Hart’s Fall, Danika waved her hand in greeting to a husky woman scurrying toward them. Beth Ann, her boss, was the head of the committee in charge of the oversight and future management of the shelter. The middle-aged counselor wore her graying hair in a bob that swished against her reddened cheek with each step she made. Danika noted the smile on her face was unusually bright considering they had spent much of the day together at the office.

“Goodness, and they say there’s no such thing as a Montana summer.” Beth Ann wiped her hand across her forehead in another exaggerated motion then switched her focus between Danika and Brandon. “When you told me you were bringing Mr. Sharpe along with you today, I knew I had to be here.”

Her brows creased. Did Beth Ann also not trust Brandon, Danika wondered. What, did she believe he would smash the dry wall and rip the place apart like the Hulk or some other ridiculous character who was also physically flawed.

On the verge of asking her boss, nonetheless in a polite fashion what her statement implied, Danika remained silent as Beth Ann rushed on, her focus…her giddy focus entirely on Brandon. “Mr. Sharpe, I know you’re a busy man, what with that enormous ranch and all. It’s no surprise how shocked and delighted I was when you stopped by in May and donated the furnishing. Unexpected as it was, I can’t tell you enough how much the committee and I appreciate your effort. Thank you.” She glanced at Danika. “You too, Dani, coming here each week.”

Danika ignored the praise. All she wanted to know was why hadn’t Brandon said anything to her about playing such a key role in the shelter? Furnishing a place that was to accommodate many families must have cost a small fortune. Why would he go out of his way to do that? She looked over at him. He seemed uncomfortable at the mention of his contribution. Danika waited for his reply to her boss’s gratitude. Her wait was short-lived and in vain as Beth Ann was called away by someone yelling for her assistance.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, feeling somewhat betrayed. She always tried so hard to get Brandon to share his thoughts with her and here her freaking boss seemed to know more about him than she did.

“It’s not a big deal. People need beds to sleep in right?” He strode toward a corridor, cluttered with empty cans of paint and still in need of flooring. Danika quickened her pace to keep with him. She tackled his arm, forcing him to stop in mid-stride. “It is a big deal. It’s a very big deal when every day I tell you about what I’m doing and what’s going on in my life. I’ve been talking non-stop each night about this project and all you do is sit there, quiet, acting as if all of this is new to you. So yes, Brandon, it will always be a big deal when I have the feeling you’re not willing to share all of yourself with me. We can sleep together and make love in all positions from here to Kingdom come, yet I’m not good enough to know more about you except for the size of your—”