Worth The Price (Hart's Fall, Montana) (14 page)

“Now how about this surprise? I don’t want you to blame me if we get caught up again.”

Danika agreed. Within minutes they were headed toward the house. The instant Brandon opened the door he smelled her cooking. The aromatic scent wafted from the kitchen and into his mind. He was immediately launched into a memory of the pub he would pass by each and every day as a teenager, knowing he would never have enough money to step inside and purchase a meal.

“You’ve been busy today,” he said to her.

Her wide lips parted into a bright smile that made his chest tighten with longing. “You know what it is?”

He resisted the urge to laugh at the irony of a scent he knew so well, yet had only sampled once. “I wouldn’t be Irish if I didn’t know. It’s seafood chowder.”

“I looked up some recipes and thought maybe you would like it. It said that it’s typical of Ireland so I thought…”

“You wanted to please me?”

She nodded slowly. “I do. I thought you already noticed that.”

He had. Although Danika pleased him sexually there was something entirely different about her going out of her way to prepare a meal simply because he might enjoy it. More so, when he knew for a fact she harbored a passionate dislike of seafood.

Brandon swallowed hard. She was hitting on so many buttons, leaving him unsure of how to cope with the influx of emotions she was stirring within him. Taking a single step backward, Brandon realized this was another moment to distance himself. He cleared his throat and asked, “Can I taste the chowder?”

“Of course. I’ll heat it up.”

He followed her into the kitchen, where she reached for the wooden spoon and began to stir the creamy soup.

“Well, I’m sure you know I’m still learning all this stuff about cooking. It was always just Dad and me and he was out at the office most nights, so there was never much of a reason for me to cook anything that went beyond the microwave. But I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me poisoning you or anything. I followed the recipe to a ‘T’. So I hope you like it.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Or you could always just pretend.”

“Poison never crossed my mind. I’m sure I won’t ever have to pretend anything with you.”

Danika brought the spoon to his lips. “All righty then, cowboy. Bottoms up.”

He downed the hearty soup in one gulp, fully aware of the anticipation beaming in her eyes to see if he truly liked it.

“Best I’ve ever tasted,” he told her as she withdrew the spoon. It wasn’t a lie. The one time he’d tasted the dish was at the home of a neighbor who had taken pity on him and gave him a bed to sleep in the same night he’d returned home to the government-issued flat and found both his mother and money gone.

As quickly as the memory came it went in a flash. Danika scooted him to the breakfast table. It was hard to think on anything save for the gorgeous girl standing beside him, ebony hair entangled with specks of grass and flour, and feel anything but profound bliss.

After she had filled a bowl and placed the warm chowder in front of him, Danika took the seat across the table. He added another spoonful to his mouth, worried by her lack of chatter. She was staring at him in deep thought with one hand propped against her cheek.

“Do you ever wish to go back?”

“Back to where?”

“Ireland. Your memories aren’t the rosiest, but it seems like a place you still have in your heart.” She shrugged. “Who’s to say one day you won’t wish to pack up and leave all this behind. You’re not poor anymore, Brandon. You’re grown man who’s come a long way. It would be different now. You could make a better life for yourself anywhere, even in Dublin.”

“And leave you here? Is that what you’re asking? You think I’ll want to find meself an Irish gal?” he asked, placing stress on his accent.

Another shrug. “It’s not impossible. I could be a novelty that wears off within a year or two. Maybe you’ll wake up one morning and realize it wasn’t worth your twenty thousand dollars to have me as your wife. Who knows? And if you did want to move there, perhaps I wouldn’t fit in with everyone else.”

“That will never happen.”

She studied him with a stubborn glint in her eyes. “Why is it impossible, Brandon? Is it because you’d never be willing to let go of the Bar S?”

“To hell with the ranch. I don’t value a piece of land or cattle above my own wife. Dammit, I don’t value anyone or anything over you, Danika.”

Her eyes widened into orbs, prompting Brandon to take a steady, calming breath. “Don’t get me wrong. I would like to return there someday,
Cailín
, but only to visit. With you.” He locked eyes with hers and curled his finger. “Now, come sit with me. Please.”

She pushed her chair aside and eased herself on his lap. “I thought we made it clear you’re mine?” he asked. “I’d never let you go or walk away from you so easily when every night for the past year I could barely sleep, imagining what it would be like to have you here in my house, my bed.”

She expelled a soft gasp. “I had no idea, Brandon. I wasn’t aware you noticed anything about me except that I was Frank Prescott’s daughter. The girl who didn’t know how to keep her foot out of her mouth.”

“You know why I was afraid to say anything to you.” The same reason he hadn’t been with another woman before Danika in years. Pride. It had sustained him and kept him from subjecting himself to the inevitable sting of rejection and the subtle and not so subtle face of disgust.

“I know why and I still think it’s silly.”

Brandon gritted his teeth.
Silly
. There she went with that word again. Did the woman not realize that she was married to the ugliest man in Hart’s Fall?

Before he had a chance to speak, she spun around to face him. “You’re gritting your teeth, aren’t you?”

A smile tickled his lips. “Of course I was. You referred to me as silly. Geese are silly. Not husbands whose wives seem intent on flaunting their lack of respect.”

“What about husbands who don’t respect their wives, or rather their wife’s eyesight? Hmm, Brandon. What do you say to that? I don’t wear glasses. According to my last eye exam, my vision is twenty-twenty and from my perspective, there’s not a damn thing wrong with you.” Her lips quirked. “Well, except that permanent scowl on your face, which I am pleased to say has now magically disappeared.”

“It went away because of you.”

Worth the Price

“What time is your appointment?”

Danika picked at the meal in front of her. In a half-hearted manner, she answered Zoe. “At three o’clock. Why?”

“You’re barely eating. I’m usually the one picking at my food. It’s not like you, Dani. Are you afraid Brandon is going to be upset if it turns out you’re pregnant?”

Danika wanted to answer with a resounding no, but it was impossible to disregard the prospect, that a pregnancy might indeed ring as a shock to him. The topic of babies had never surfaced between them and both were guilty of making no efforts to use protection. By the time she’d been ready to start on birth control pills, the fear had already settled in that the possibility of pregnancy was all too real. Not wishing to cause undue harm to the child that could be developing inside her womb, she left the unopened pills to sit in a cabinet, much like the pregnancy test she had purchased but was terrified to pee on. After hearing the story of how her mother had received multiple negative results from drugstore tests before a doctor’s positive confirmation changed everything, Danika knew she didn’t have the courage for that emotional roller coaster ride.

With Zoe’s question on her mind, she wondered if Brandon would share in her excitement to have a baby, a precious little bundle of joy, evidence and a culmination of their... Danika sighed and pushed away her dish. She wasn’t afforded the luxury of using the term love. There was no denying she had fallen in love with her husband. Unfortunately to this day not once had he alluded to emotions that ran deeper than caring and fondness for her. In turn, the fear of having her devotion unreciprocated made it easy to keep the words buried in her heart.

Danika eyed her friend who was busy separating the creamy French dressing‌—‌which Evelyn had placed on the dish despite Zoe’s protest‌—‌from the vegetables.

“Even if Brandon is upset about the pregnancy, there’s not much that can be done is there? I’d never get rid of or abandon my child to please someone else. Plus, I honestly doubt he’d expect that of me.”

“Okay. This is about your dad then. Mr. P still hasn’t returned your phone calls?”

“I’m tired of this, Zoe. I’ve decided to just go there later today and see if I can talk some sense into him. It’s crazy what’s going on. If he refuses to budge, then there’s nothing else I can do. A last ditch effort. I refuse to let my relationship with my only living parent burn to ashes without giving it a final shot.”

Zoe stared back at her with haunted eyes. “I don’t blame you. If I’d known my parents and I was in your situation, I’d do the same.”

Danika felt uncomfortable. She was lucky to have known both of her parents. “Zoe…”

Her friend held up a hand and smiled. “It’s fine, Dani. This is about you and Brandon. Not me. Will you tell him if the doctor says you’ve got a little Sharpe in there?”

“He’ll be the first to know. I won’t share it with anyone else. Except for you of course since you’re my best friend.”

Zoe smiled. “When you told me you were marrying Brandon I was worried for you. I shouldn’t have been. One look at you and anyone can tell how happy you are. I hope your father sees it too.”

After spending another day at the Cattle Raisers Association determined to find out the status of the investigation, Brandon pushed through the doors, faced with another day of disappointment. He didn’t expect the steers to be recovered, but what he did expect was to have some type of information by now as to whom the culprits were and if his ranch was targeted or not.

“Hey, Sharpe!”

He halted in mid-stride. Austin Hart was heading straight at him. Brandon swore beneath his breath. He and Hart had never spoken more than two words and that was limited to the rare encounters at the feedlot store.

“What’s on your mind, Hart?”

“Heard you’ve been having some trouble over at your ranch.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Brandon replied in a brusque tone meant to curtail any intended conversation or inquisition.

“Cattle rustling is a serious matter, Sharpe or didn’t you get the memo. I don’t know how the hell you of all people hit the jackpot on a type of crime we haven’t seen for over twenty years in Hart’s Fall.”

“Then be lucky for your last name. Not like you have anything to worry about now do you?”

“My last name has nothing to do with how well I run my ranch. In any case, this isn’t about me. It’s about all of us. I’m sure you know I’ve just been appointed as co-chairman of the Association. I want to get to the bottom of this. Hart’s Fall is a quiet town, an ideal place for ranching and we pretty much intend to keep it that way. In the big city that kind of stuff might get ignored and passed over for the bigger crimes, but not here. You know as well as I do that these cattle ranches are about the only way for many of the people in town to find employment. Once those rustlers get started, who’s to say they won’t hit on all the other pastures.”

Brandon’s frustration grew in leaps and bounds by the second. Teeth clenched, he rounded on the man. “What do you want me to do? Think I mailed out invitations for someone to raid my pasture and steal prized bulls that would have guaranteed a hefty price at auction? You think I want my ranch to fall apart and have Prescott and every goddamn person in this town throw a confetti parade because Sharpe finally has to clear his ugly mug out of town?”

“Calm down, man. I’m not the enemy here. If anything we can just say it’s interesting. For lack of a better word. Usually when these crimes occur it’s not only one ranch the thieves raid. They can have a truck loaded up and filled with cattle from just about every ranch they come across. These guys don’t care. Especially now. The economy has gone to the dogs. The price of a fat Black Angus at auction or in the butcher shop is more than enough incentive to risk imprisonment.”