The Cowboy Earns a Bride (Cowboys of Chance Creek Book 8) Page 18

  And was she being stupid to drag things out when she wanted him as badly as he wanted her?

  No—she needed to establish her business and her identity as a self-sufficient, trustworthy adult before she entered into a relationship. He needed to prove he would respect her boundaries, too. But maybe she should go talk to Luke and tell him how she felt. She could clarify that she did love him and wanted to be with him, too. She just needed a little time.

  And she’d tell him to behave himself while she was at it. Mia grinned. Then they could get it on to seal the deal. She looked forward to that.

  She also hoped to send the letter she’d finally written for Inez later today, too. She wanted to look it over one last time, but she thought she’d done a fair job summarizing the events that had taken place six years ago. She’d copied Inez’s style and kept things simple and to the point. That had made it a little easier.

  She didn’t know what would happen next. Every time she speculated about it, anxiety gripped her. What if Warner denied the allegations? What if he tried to get back at her?

  No sense in getting overwrought, she told herself, but she found it hard not to expect the worst.

  The rush started the minute the restaurant opened and continued until well past two, but by two-thirty there was enough of a lull that Mia was able to take her first half-hour break. She stashed her apron under the counter, grabbed her purse and rushed to Linda’s Diner, savoring the fresh wind that lapped her cheeks on the blustery April morning. She’d noticed the last vestiges of snow in the shady spots were melting away. Soon the days would lengthen and the watery sunshine would strengthen into the strong hot heat of May and June.

  Wedding weather. Her heart gave a little throb. She couldn’t wait for her chance to show the world she could achieve what she set out to do. By the time she slid into the booth across from Carl, she felt invigorated.

  “I ordered your glass of milk.” Carl nodded at the full glass in front of her. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat though.”

  Mia was hungry. Her baby was really growing now and there was no doubt about her condition. Her baby bump pressed out against her clothing like a cantaloupe. When Tracey bustled over to take their order, Mia said, “I’ll have a club sandwich and a side of French fries.”

  “I’ll have some of that peach pie. And keep that coffee coming.” Carl smiled at Tracey, who nodded absently and kept on going.

  “Want to hear my pitch?” Mia said, folding her hands before her on the table. She’d actually come up with one while she was working.

  “Sure. Lay it on me.” Carl sat back and waited.

  “Mia’s Memorable Events—When You Want Perfection The First Time Around.”

  Carl drummed his fingers on the table. “That’s an advertisement, not a pitch. It’s a pretty good advertisement, but not what we’re after.”

  “Darn.” She’d thought she’d done a good job.

  “Remember—you’re trying to interest an investor, not a customer. Why would someone else want to give you money to grow your company?”

  “Because in a year or two, I’m going to be the go-to girl for every event in this town. I’ve already got Ellie from Ellie’s Bridals sending women my way. After these first few events, I bet the rental company will do the same. The restaurant I work for? Fila’s Familia? They’re already so busy they can’t keep up and they’ll be my first recommendation for catering. Chances are that will work both ways.” As long as Fila got over her anger at Luke.

  “Now you’re getting somewhere. Sum that up in ten words or less.”

  “Invest in my event planning company because I own this town.”

  Carl laughed loudly and heads turned. “Okay, that’s too succinct. But you’re on your way. Next week I bet you’ll have it nailed. You’d better eat up.” They both sat back to allow Tracey to deposit their food on the table. “You’ve got to be back to work in fifteen minutes.”

  Three booths down the row, Luke hunched in the corner of his seat with a menu propped up as a shield. Across the table sat Jake, similarly arranged.

  “Can you hear what they’re saying?” Luke raised his chin a fraction of an inch and peered over his menu. He could see a quarter of Mia’s face as she chatted animatedly. All he could see of the man was the back of his head. But he knew all about Carl Whitfield—by reputation if not personally.

  Carl Whitfield was the man who’d stolen Ethan Cruz’s fiancée. Carl was the man who’d lowballed a family who could no longer afford to keep the ranch that had been in their family nearly a hundred years and bought it for a fraction of what it was worth. Carl was the man who’d hired Luke’s brother, Rob, to build a fantastic walled garden for his bride-to-be and then got dumped by her at the unveiling in front of a dozen people. Carl was also the man who’d sold that ranch for twice what he bought it for to Evan and Bella Mortimer.

  Like everyone else in town, Luke had privately sneered at the Californian when he first arrived dolled up like Hollywood’s idea of a cowboy. A hack rider and useless at ranch chores, it was clear he wanted to play at running a spread and he didn’t care who he hurt in the process. When he stole Ethan’s girl, Luke had classified the man as a lowdown snake. When he took the ranch from an old Chance Creek family for a song, his estimation of Carl had sunk even lower, and when Lacey Taylor dumped him in front of everyone, Luke figured the man had gotten exactly what he deserved.

  Now he was back—God knew why—and this time he’d set his sights on Mia. Would he steal her away, just like he’d done with Lacey? Carl looked different now—leaner, older. Wiser. Would he make sure this time the girl didn’t get away?

  Laughter rang out—first Carl’s hearty laugh and then Mia’s chiming one. Luke scowled. “What are they laughing about?”

  “Your bank account?” Jake angled his head to get a better look.

  Luke knew Jake meant it as a joke, but his barb hit home more sharply than his brother could know. Luke’s bank account would have been pitiful compared to Carl’s in any circumstances, but right now it was worse than ever. He’d bought all the baby furniture on a credit card already full to the brim. He was maxed out. He wouldn’t ask to have his limit raised, either. It was time to sink or swim on the salary he earned—such as it was. He hoped to God no fresh disaster struck at the Stone place. He wouldn’t be able to help Amanda if it did.

  “What’ll you have, boys?” Tracey’s matter-of-fact tones startled him into awareness of his surroundings.

  “Coffee, black. A cheese Danish,” Jake said. “Luke will have coffee and pie.”

  “Peach or Apple?”

  “Apple.”

  Tracey looked from Jake to Luke over to where Mia was laughing again. “Are you spying on your ex-fiancée? Because that’s just lame.”

  “I’m having coffee with my brother. This is where I always get my coffee.”

  “Uh-huh. Be back with that coffee-you-always-get right away.”

  Luke worried that Tracey might point him out to Mia, but he was in luck. Mia was standing up and pulling on her coat. Carl Whitfield stood up, too, and said good-bye, but instead of leaving with her, he resumed his seat once she was gone.

  “There’s your chance.” Jake nodded toward Carl.

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

  He got up and crossed over to Carl’s booth, dropping down heavily onto the bench seat across from the man. “Hi, Carl. Long time, no see.”

  Carl squinted at him. “You’ve got to be a Matheson with that hair, but I don’t know which one.”

  “Luke. Rob’s older brother.”

  “Got it. Good to see you again.” Carl held out his hand. When Luke didn’t take it, Carl grimaced and pulled it back. “Maybe not so good, after all.”

  “No. Not so good, seeing as you’re hitting on my fiancée.”

  “Aaah.” Carl chuckled. “Where to start. First of all, I haven’t hit on Mia. She’s much too young for me—almost too young for you, too, buddy. Second of all, I di
dn’t see a ring on her finger, which means you’re either not her fiancé, or you’re a lame son-of-a-bitch who can’t afford a wife. Third, that girl is desperate to talk about her business with someone, and since she’s coming to me that tells me that either you’re not her fiancé and she doesn’t want to talk to you about anything, or you are her fiancé but you have no business sense, which is probably the case because you haven’t put a ring on her finger, or you’re a complete fuck-up who doesn’t care about the thing that’s most important to his future wife. So which is it?”

  Luke shook off the man’s barrage of words, his anger unabated. “I’m her fiancé,” he repeated. “And I’m telling you to leave her alone.”

  Carl leaned forward. “No.”

  Jake reached the table just in time to catch Luke’s arm as he took a swing at Carl.

  “Whoa! Easy now. Not here!” He half lifted, half dragged Luke up from the table. “Let’s go. You two can reconvene this little meeting outside.”

  Luke allowed his brother to manhandle him up the aisle and out of the restaurant. A battle in Linda’s Diner would bring wrath down on his head from every quarter. Outside, Jake let him go, but stood between him and Carl as Carl exited the restaurant, too.

  “I’ve got no quarrel with you,” Carl said, holding his hands out. “All I’ve got is advice. That’s what Mia came to me for—advice on how to grow her business. Now I’ve got some advice for you: listen to her. Have you ever started one?”

  “One what?” Luke couldn’t see past the vision of Carl and Mia chatting, of Mia turning to the older man for help. Of Mia choosing Carl over him…

  “A business.” Carl’s exasperation was plain to hear.

  “No.”

  “I thought not. Otherwise you’d know how terrifying it is to find yourself solely responsible for every decision. She’s young, Luke. She’s feeling her way. She’s pregnant, working two jobs.…Why aren’t you helping her?”

  Luke blinked. Then lunged. Jake stopped him. Pushed him back.

  Carl held up his hands again. “I’m going back to my motel room, but I’m not the man you have a problem with. Look in the mirror and you’ll see who you should be angry at.”

  “Fuck you!”

  Carl walked away, shaking his head. Jake kept his grip on Luke until the man had turned the corner.

  “Shit, Luke. It’s like being out with Ned.”

  “That’s bullshit. Everything he said was goddamn bullshit.”

  “Really? Because it sounded like good sense to me.”

  Luke turned on him. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

  “I am on your side, but Carl’s right. If Mia is meeting with him because she wants someone to talk to, that means the two of you aren’t talking enough.”

  “Maybe she isn’t interested in just talking to him.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You heard the guy. Mia’s too young for him.”

  “When did that ever stop a man?” Luke thought about Warner. Shook it off. “Even if he isn’t into her, which I doubt, she could be into him. Everyone knows he’s rich as sin, right?”

  Jake nodded slowly. “You think Mia would hit on Carl in order to get her hands on his money? Are you listening to yourself, asshole? Mia’s the one who keeps refusing to let you pay her way because she wants to do it herself. She’s the one who’s set her heart on running her own business—an idea you keep trashing. If you’re going to accuse her of whoring herself out for cash, maybe she should dump your sorry ass.”

  “Maybe I don’t have enough money for her. Maybe that’s what she’s been trying to tell me all along.”

  “That she won’t let you support her because you don’t have a million dollars? I don’t think—”

  “You know what? I don’t need to know what you think. I need to figure this out on my own.” Luke climbed into his truck, slammed the door shut and roared off down the street, not caring who saw him or what happened next.

  Hours later he stood in the nursery watching the sea of dolls watch him back, still seething from his encounter with Carl. A long drive down country roads hadn’t calmed him. Neither had slogging through the remainder of his chores. Ned was right. These were the only babies he’d ever see in this nursery, because there was no way he could compete with a millionaire. Maybe he could have once, back when Carl was the soft, pasty-white businessman he had been, but this new Carl was both rich and masculine enough to attract a woman like Mia. Had the asshole been working out?

  Anger boiled up within him that it had ever come to this. That Mia had ever slept with Ellis. That she had held back from him when she moved in. That he’d blown his chance with her while she still lived here. That he couldn’t have a simple conversation with her without turning it into an argument. Mia would sleep with him, but she wouldn’t pledge her life to him. She’d have Ellis’s baby, but she wouldn’t let Luke become the father to her child.

  His chest tightened until he could hardly breathe. His pulse pounded at his temples. The sea of dolls stared back at him unblinkingly until Luke couldn’t stand it anymore. He charged downstairs, found the trash bags and grabbed a handful. Back in the nursery he opened one up and swooped armfuls of dolls and stuffed animals into it. When it was full to the brim he balanced it in front of him to tie off the ends. His fingers, shaking from rage, fumbled at the plastic ties and slipped, spilling half the dolls back to the floor. With a roar of anger, Luke kicked the nearest. It ricocheted off the crib and the dresser, and came to rest on the other side of the room. It felt so good to vent his fury he did it again, and again, sending the dolls and stuffed animals flying.

  “Damn it! God-damn it!”

  “Luke! What are you doing?”

  Luke spun around to see Mia in the doorway, her coat still on and her mouth hanging open. He glanced around him and took in the room the way she’d see it—dolls scattered over the floor and furniture, most of them dented, scuffed and damaged from his kicks. The walls and furniture scarred. He noticed one curtain half torn from its rod.

  Mia’s face crumpled and tears filled her eyes. Luke went cold. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  “What is it then? No!” She held up a hand, a tear spilling over her cheek. “No, I don’t want to hear.” She turned and ran down the stairs as fast as she could. Luke went after her, but halted halfway down when the front door slammed shut behind her. He sat down hard on the wooden steps. Kicked out at the railing once, twice—until it splintered and crashed to the ground.

  What the hell had he done?

  ‡

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What do you mean he was kicking babies?” Autumn asked, cradling Arianna closer.

  “Baby dolls. Stuffed animals. Just kicking them all over the nursery!” Mia was still crying. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t make sense of what she’d seen when she’d stopped by Luke’s cabin on her way home. All she knew was that it felt like Luke had aimed all his anger at her.

  “Had you bought them for your baby?”

  “No!” Mia shook her head vehemently. Autumn sat on one of the guesthouse’s sofas. Mia paced the room, unable to sit down. “I don’t know where they came from. There were dozens of them everywhere. Do you think Luke bought them and then got mad when I wouldn’t move back in?”

  “I don’t know.” Autumn looked equally mystified. “I don’t think you should be with a man who has a temper like that, either.”

  “He didn’t used to have a temper. He was always sweet.” Mia’s tears ran faster. “Maybe I pushed him over the edge!”

  “You are not to blame for this.”

  “Not to blame for what?” Claire came in, followed by Morgan, and Mia explained again what she’d seen.

  “That seems awfully… strange.” Morgan sat down on the couch and pulled her feet up under her. “But there’s been some bizarre stuff going on. What’s the deal with all the practical jokes?”

  “Has there been more than one?” Autumn asked. “The Preparation H t
hing was pretty weird.”

  “Well, there was the topiary disaster,” Morgan pointed out.

  “And the Sexy Cowboy calendar. Jamie’s been selected for August,” Claire said. “Just what I need—a thousand horny women staring at his photo all month. As if he isn’t vain enough already.”

  “So why the sudden rush of practical jokes?” Autumn shifted Arianna. “I mean, didn’t all the men swear off of them after your marriage, Morgan?”

  “I thought so. I’ll ask Rob and see if he knows anything about the dolls, Mia. Maybe Luke wasn’t mad at you at all. Maybe he was mad at the person who put them there.”

  “Maybe.” Her voice was thick and uneven. She scraped at her tears with the back of her arm. “Maybe if someone put all those dolls there, Luke felt they were making fun of him, since I won’t marry him.”

  Autumn brought her a box of tissues and Mia accepted them gratefully. She blotted her eyes but new tears fell as fast as she could dry them.

  “That’s the whole point of practical jokes, right?” Claire said. “To make the other person feel bad?”

  “I guess.” Mia dabbed at her face. “That’s pretty mean, though. Who would do that?”

  The other women couldn’t answer. “I think it’s time to figure it out, though,” Claire said. “I know I’m sick of this. Aren’t you guys, too?”

  “Definitely,” Mia said. If the dolls were part of a joke, then maybe Luke hadn’t lost his mind.

  “Maybe you should talk to Luke, Mia. Give him a chance to explain,” Autumn said gently.

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Morgan said as Mia yawned so widely she swayed. “Look at her. She’s exhausted. Mia—you go to bed.”

  Mia wanted to protest, but Morgan was right. She was too tired to even think straight. Too demoralized, too. No matter what the reason, seeing Luke destroying her nursery had devastated her. Another tear rolled down her cheek as she climbed the stairs and by the time she reached her room, she was sobbing again. This had to be the worst day of her life, and she didn’t know how things would get better anytime soon.