Cowboys & Navy SEALs

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

All eyes turned as the string quartet began playing the Wedding March. A hush came over the crowd as Brooke and her father began walking down the aisle. “Brooke certainly makes for a beautiful bride,” Gertrude whispered in Gracie’s ear.

Gracie nodded, her eyes fixed on Brooke. She was a vision. “Wow! Look at that dress, it must’ve cost a fortune.”

“Yes, it did.”

Gracie looked to the head of the chapel where Nash was standing. He straightened to his full height and adjusted his coat. His handsome face was strained as he took in a deep breath. Misgivings churned in Gracie’s gut. A forced marriage had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now she was starting to second-guess herself. Gertrude had reluctantly gone along with the plan because (according to her) she wanted to give Gracie sufficient room for either success or failure. A daunting thought! What if Brooke and Nash couldn’t make a go of it? She’d be back to square one with eighteen months wasted. She was so inept at being an angel! And Brooke was the toughest assignment of all. She was starting to wonder if there was a man alive strong enough to deal with her. Why had Gertrude saddled her with this assignment? Why?

Her thoughts soared upward like a plane recovering from a nosedive when she saw the change in Nash’s countenance as Brooke stepped up beside him. His features softened ever so slightly, and she caught a trace of appreciation in his eyes as they flickered over Brooke. He likes her! A lot! Maybe there is hope, after all. She uttered a prayer of thankfulness before turning her full attention to the wedding.

The glass-enclosed chapel offered a panoramic view of the courtyards beyond, giving the impression of being surrounding by a lush forest. White lilies, roses, and crisp greenery adorned the pews, and the arched ceiling with open wood beams was a work of art. A lump had welled in Brooke’s throat when the string quartet began playing, and she feared she might lose it then and there. Everything was so perfect … and yet it wasn’t. Her mind was catapulted back to when she and Nash were together. Oh, how she’d dreamt of this moment so many times. He’d been hers then—everything she ever wanted. How well she remembered the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The confident set of his chin. His dry sense of humor. How bold and reckless he was with his diehard, stubborn streak as fierce as hers.

She’d been so nervous walking down the aisle she could barely put one foot in front of the other. She was grateful for her daddy’s strong arm; otherwise, she might’ve ended up in a crumpled heap of satin and lace. Her pulse beat so fiercely in her ears, creating a dull roar. Then something strange happened. The moment she stepped up to the altar, the roaring stopped and everything other than Nash faded into the background. Nash caught her eye and smiled. Time seemed to fold in on itself, and they were back where they once began. He seemed to sense her anxiety and gave her a nod of encouragement. The simple gesture did more to boost her morale than anything else could. Her heart lifted ever so slightly as a grin slid over her lips. He winked, sharing the intimate moment. She went warm all over. The pastor began the ceremony, but she barely heard a word. All she could think about was how amazing Nash looked. He was different from how she remembered—harder and more weathered like a piece of worn leather. Her Nash had been more idealistic—the rancher turned corporate guy. Back then, he’d been more pliable and open to her world. When Nash deserted her, he discarded any remnants of the corporate world and embraced life on the ranch and bull riding, making his separation from her total and complete. Then again, he was still the same Nash. The strong, sure set of his chin was the same, as was the thoughtful look in his observant eyes as he listened to the pastor. For one small moment, she could almost believe that this was real … and that Nash still loved her. Almost. The word seemed to whisper through the room, opening a small conduit of endless possibilities as her eyes moved to his lips. She could still remember how he tasted. She’d felt complete and total love in those strong arms, like she was wrapped in a protective cushion where nothing could ever hurt her. And then in a cruel twist of fate, he’d hurt her most of all.

Trepidation fluttered in her breast when she realized that the pastor had stopped talking. He and Nash were looking at her expectantly. This is where she was supposed to speak. She looked at Nash. He was the picture of patience, waiting for her to verbally affirm her willingness to marry him. The only telltale sign of his discomfort was the slight tensing of his jaw. “I do,” she blurted.

Relief settled into his eyes, and then it was his turn. Time seemed to stop as his eyes captured hers. She tried to discern his enigmatic expression, but couldn’t. “I do,” he said firmly.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Anxiety engulfed Brooke. She couldn’t kiss him! Not in front of all of these people! She stepped back slightly, but Nash caught her and pulled her to him, his arms encircling her waist.

“Relax,” she heard him whisper.

She gasped as he dipped her backwards. His masculine scent invaded her senses. His lips came down harder on hers than she expected, like he was claiming her his, but then they went soft as he deepened the kiss. The old flame leapt up between them, making her go weak in the knees. For a split second, all reason fled, as she got lost in the feel of him. On instinct, her hands went around his neck in an attempt to get closer. When he pulled away, she felt like she was coming out of a daze. She really shouldn’t have been surprised at the intense physical reaction because no man had ever affected her the way Nash had. The more things change the more they stay the same … unfortunately.

Just as she was trying to compose herself and salvage what little dignity she had left, she saw the cocky grin on Nash’s face, and then he had the nerve to wink! What was she to him? Some big joke? Humiliation scorched over her, burning out any residual feelings she had for him. So this was how it was going to be. Well, that was fine with her! After all, it was much easier to hate him than to love him.

She went rigid when he linked his arm through hers. When she tried to pull away, he held her fast. “Let go of me!” she snarled.

He grinned and tightened his hold. “You didn’t seem to mind a second ago.”

Of all the smug and conceited things to say! In another time and place, she would’ve slapped him!

“Smile, darling,” he drawled, “you just married the man of your dreams.”

Her face flamed. “Hah! Not hardly.”

“Oh, you have.” He looked at her, his eyes holding all of the confidence in the world. “You just don’t know it yet.”

Immediately after the wedding, the guests adjourned from the chapel, through the trellised colonnade, and to the lavish ballroom where the reception was being held. Like the chapel, the room had floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed a stunning view of the sculptured grounds and forest. Dusk was settling in, giving the room a warm, mellow glow that was accentuated by the Austrian crystal chandeliers, which captured the light and fractured it into tiny diamonds that circled dreamily around the room.

The guests were sitting at round tables, scattered throughout the room, or rotating around the tables loaded with food. Brooke and Nash took their designated places, trying their best to maintain the charade of the happy couple as they greeted guests and made small talk. When in reality, they were two separate islands that could never get past all of the tainted water between them.

The division amongst the groom and bride’s guests was so distinct that Brooke could almost see a line drawn between them. The guests there on behalf of Nash were mostly ranchers, cowboys, and blue-collar workers. Whereas the guests on her side made up the majority of the upper crust society in the Dallas/Forth Worth area. She could tell from the stiff upper lips and haughty glances that her kind wasn’t keen on accepting Nash’s kind into their circles. And the majority of Nash’s guests looked uncomfortable in the opulent surroundings, like they couldn’t wait to shed their dress clothes and get the heck out of Dodge. The scene was disheartening because it proved how different she and Nash actually were. Nash had been working at SM Creative Agency when they first met and was trying to make a name for himself in the advertising world. For one small moment, they’d been able to bridge their different backgrounds and come together. But now that he’d gone back to his cowboy roots, they were worlds apart. How was she supposed to survive eighteen months on a ranch, in the middle of nowhere? She shuddered at the thought and glanced at Nash, who was engaged in a conversation with a fellow cowboy—the kind who thought that a cowboy hat, jeans, plaid shirt, and boots were the perfect attire for a fancy wedding. Unbelievable!

She felt someone watching her and looked over to see another cowboy, leaning against the wall. He wore a surly expression on his face like he thought he was the Marlboro Man or something. She cringed at the come hither look in his eyes as he ogled her. She shot him a death glare and then ignored him, even though she could feel his eyes on her—burning into her flesh and making her feel like a slimy piece of meat. She was halfway tempted to point him out to Nash but then realized that the gesture would be futile. What did she expect him to do? Defend her honor? She nearly laughed out loud at the thought as bitterness knotted her stomach. Despite Nash’s wisecrack about her being married to the man of her dreams, he’d been ignoring her the entire evening, speaking to her only when absolutely necessary. She might as well have been a complete stranger or part of the décor. She stole a glance to where the Marlboro Man had been standing and was relieved to see that he was gone

She turned her attention to her mother and father. They were the perfect couple—he was debonair and she was beautiful. Dressed to the nines, they were in their element, hobnobbing with the guests. They were a stark contrast to Nash’s father Luther and his wife Cynthia who were standing on the other side of her parents. In fact, Cynthia looked sullen and uncomfortable like she was afraid it would break her face to smile. Luther and her daddy had been longtime friends, going back to high school. Even so, it had been a few years since Brooke had seen Luther. He looked older and feebler than she remembered. A rugged man with salt and pepper hair that was thinning on top, Luther was the epitome of a rancher with his leathery skin and large, calloused hands. His gray suit was worn like it had seen better days and was stretched so tightly over his broad shoulders that Brooke feared it might rip with any sudden movement. While Luther and Nash’s body type was similar, Luther’s features were much plainer than Nash’s, and his nose was a size too large for his face. And yet, there was something arresting about Luther that was undeniably attractive. It was his demeanor, Brooke decided, and the fierce look in his eyes that demanded the world to fall at his feet. She knew that look well, and she also knew the power those eyes wielded, for when she looked into Luther’s eyes it was like looking into Nash’s. Luther caught her scrutiny and walked over to her. There was an awkward pause before he began. “Congratulations and welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She extended her hand to shake his and was surprised when he gave her a hug instead. Then he released her and gave her a forthright look. “I owe your father a great deal for what he did to save the ranch.”

The comment was probably meant to be helpful, but at the moment it was the unfortunate match that lit the powder keg. Tears sprang to Brooke’s eyes. “Yes, Daddy is quite the chap—auctioning off his only daughter to the highest bidder.”

Luther’s face went ashen, and he was at a loss for words, but Brooke was just getting started. She was about to dig into him good when strong fingers clamped around her arm. Nash leaned in and whispered. “That’s enough! My dad is not the enemy here.”

Luther took the opportunity to move out of the line of fire.

Brooke spun around. “Oh, yeah, then who is?” She gave him a look so sour it would’ve curdled milk. “Is it you? You stand to profit quite a lot from this little venture, don’t you Nash?”

His jaw went hard. “As do you.”

“You’re all miserable leeches!” She regretted the outburst the minute it left her mouth, especially when she saw the dark look on Nash’s face.

He leaned in so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face. His voice had the dangerous control of a rattlesnake getting ready to strike. “We’ve got eighteen long months to sort out our differences. So shut your mouth and act the part of the simple-headed debutante you’ve been trained to be.”

She gasped, tears stinging her eyes. “How dare you!”

The cowboy standing next to Nash let out a whoop of admiration as he slapped Nash on the back. “It didn’t take you long to train your little filly, did it?”

The swift anger that rolled over Brooke was so intense that it caused bright lights to explode in her head and begin falling around her like shooting stars. Her fingernails itched to claw that smart mouth right off the cowboy’s face, and then she would make her way to Nash. Instead, she forced a laugh, zeroing in on the cowboy. “Spoken by a man who couldn’t get a woman if his life depended on it! Oh, and in case you didn’t notice, this is a wedding—not a rodeo … so you can lose the silly hat and boots.”

The cowboy’s face went scarlet, and he gulped like he was trying to swallow his tongue.

A trace of amusement flickered in Nash’s eyes as he turned to her. “Well, it’s obvious that you haven’t lost your bite.”

She got up in his face. “And it’s obvious that you’re still the same conceited jerk you’ve always been.” She lifted her chin in the air as she gathered up the train of her dress. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

She only got two steps away when Evie realized that she’d left her post. “Brooke, get back here,” she commanded. “You have to mingle with the guests.”

She spun around, shooting death darts at her mother and daddy. They were the ones who’d gotten her into this mess! “You greet them, Mother!” she yelled, ignoring the shocked looks coming from the guests. “This is your little shindig, and I’ve had enough!”

The cool breeze felt good against Brooke’s hot cheeks as she stepped outside. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, and there was no making sense of anything. When she went on the rampage, most men went to great lengths in order to stay out of her way, but not Nash. When she lambasted him, he’d socked it right back to her without so much as blinking. Nash had always been that way—ready to fight with the slightest provocation. He would take a horsewhipping before he backed down from a fight! While there was something to be said for his unconquerable spirit, he was the only man that could make her so angry that she couldn’t think straight. A simple-headed debutant? Was that really all she was to him? She hugged her arms and walked over to a fountain in the hopes that she could escape the view of the people in the ballroom. Outdoor lights resembling street lamps were placed strategically around the grounds, providing enough light for her to see a football field’s distance in every direction. The fragrant scent of flowers perfumed the air. She looked up over the tree line at the stars twinkling against the velvety sky. The full moon had an orange glow that caused the night to take on an element of magic—a bitter reminder that her life was anything but magical. For better or worse, she was now a married woman. Her bags were packed and loaded into the limousine that would take Nash and her to the ranch where they would continue this ridiculous charade. The eighteen months ahead stretched like a never-ending treadmill where she would be forced to keep taking step after mindless step.

She stood staring at the sky for a few more minutes until the wind picked up, raising goosebumps over her flesh. As tempting as it was to stay out here and hide, she knew full well that if she didn’t go back in soon, her mother would send out the posse. She blew out a breath and turned to head back inside. She ran headfirst into the Marlboro Man that had been ogling her earlier. She took a step back from him. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I was just leaving.”

“What’s your hurry?” His eyes shamelessly raked over her.

“Really? You’re flirting with me on my wedding day?” She shook her head in disgust. “Unbelievable.”

He laughed. “Nash and I go way back. We ride the same bulls. I figured we might as well share the same girls.”

A hysterical laugh rose in her throat. “Are all cowboys thick-headed Neanderthals? You’re pathetic! Now, get out of my way!” She stopped cold when she saw the merciless look in the man’s eyes. Then she caught a whiff of his breath. “Ew! You reek of alcohol!”

He grabbed her arm and began pulling her in the direction of the trees. “Come with me, and I’ll show you what a real man can do!”

An icy fear gripped her as she began hitting him. “Let go of me!” Tears started streaming down her face.

He laughed and held on tighter. “Not so tough now, are ya?”

Wide-eyed, Gracie turned to Gertrude. “We have to help her!” After the wedding, they’d gone into invisibility mode so that they could stand close enough to Brooke and Nash to hear what transpired. They’d heard the heated exchange between them, and when Brooke stomped out of the ballroom, they’d followed her out here.

“Don’t panic.” Gertrude pointed. “Help is on the way.”

“WHAT—IS—GOING—ON—HERE?”

The thundering voice seemed to shake the ground as Marlboro Man dropped Brooke’s arm like a hot potato. Relief swept through her as she stumbled and then fell into Nash’s arms. He searched her face, gently wiping away the tears. “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

Concern etched his features, and then the rage set in. “Did he hurt you?”

Marlboro Man let out an uneasy laugh. “Ain’t no sense in getting all riled up. This is just a big misunderstanding.”

Brooke’s eyes lassoed as she shot the man a look of pure hatred. “There’s no misunderstanding! He tried to attack me!”

Nash nodded, his mouth forming a hard line as marbles formed at the corners of his jaw. He let go of Brooke and turned to the man. “What’re you doing here, Tucker?”

He chuckled, but it came out sounding like a sneer. “Same as everybody else. Came to see my old friend tie the knot.” He spit, and the loogie landed a mere inch from Nash’s foot.

“We’ve never been friends.” There was a dangerous edge to Nash’s voice.

A scornful smile twisted over Tucker’s lips. “I see how it is. You treat your women the same way you ride the bulls. Hogging it all to yourself and leaving none for nobody else. What’s the harm in sharing?”

Rage splattered over Nash the moment before he socked Tucker in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.

“You’ll pay for that,” Tucker muttered, clutching his jaw.

Nash reached down and grabbed the front of Tucker’s shirt, yanking him to his feet. He was about to punch him again when Brooke stepped up and caught hold of his arm. She wouldn’t mind seeing the scumbag get pummeled to a pulp, but she didn’t want Nash to be put in a compromising position, especially not today. And it wouldn’t bode well for her either. She’d be a laughing stock if the press got wind of this, and she didn’t want Nash to end up with blood on his tux.

“Don’t. The spineless worm’s not worth it.” Brooke could tell from the enraged look on Nash’s face that the comment had barely registered. “Nash … please let it go. It’s our wedding and we haven’t even had the first dance.”

Nash hesitated and gave Brooke a quizzical look.

“Let’s go back inside,” she urged, “I’m cold.” She gave him an encouraging smile.

Blood was trickling from Tucker’s mouth, and fear had crept into his eyes. He looked relieved when Nash released his shirt and shoved him backwards. Nash jabbed a finger into his chest. “If you ever so much as look at my wife again, I’ll finish what I started. You got that?”

Tucker averted his eyes and scuttled away.

Pride swelled in Brooke’s breast. She liked how proprietary Nash sounded. His wife. At least for the next eighteen months, anyway.

Nash’s shoulders relaxed as he turned to Brooke. He flexed his hand and then shook it, wincing slightly.

He was so breathtakingly handsome, standing there with that fearless expression and ruffled hair. He’d come to her rescue and saved her … literally! She shuddered to think what would’ve happened had he not been here. Her heart swooned, and she fought to get control. “Should we put some ice on that? It’s bound to be sore.”

“Trust me. I’ve had worse.”

“What’s the deal between you and that slime bag?”

He gave her a lopsided smile that sent her heart into summersaults. “I guess the circuit’s just not big enough for the both of us.”

“In other words, you not only kicked his tail a minute ago, but you also kick it on the circuit. That explains a lot. He’s second best.”

He rubbed his neck and began kicking at the dirt. “Yeah … something like that.”

The fact that he was uncomfortable with her praise made him even more endearing.

He looked up. “It’s a beautiful night. Lots of stars out.”

“Yeah.” An awkward silence settled between them, but Brooke couldn’t let this moment pass without clearing the air. “I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot earlier.”

He looked surprised and then amused. “Is that what that was? Poor Bobby’ll probably never recover from that tongue lashing.” He made a clucking sound with his tongue. “First you insult his manhood, and then you insult the poor cowboy for wearing his hat and boots. What’s the world coming to?”

She arched an eyebrow, the anger resurfacing. “Well, maybe he should think next time before relegating a woman to a filly.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure he will.” He gave her a speculative look. “And what about me?”

She got the distinct feeling that he was flirting with her, and she rather liked it. “What about you?” she asked, keeping her voice light.

Mischief danced in his eyes. “Still think I’m a conceited jerk?”

Her lips formed a pout, and then she gave him her best seductive smile—the one that had been known to turn more than a few guys to putty in her hands. “Absolutely.” She eyed him. “Still think I’m a simple-minded debutante?”

“The worst.”

A smile quivered on her lips. “Jerk!”

He leaned in. “Princess!”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“So … Mrs. Rigby, I take it from what you said earlier that we’re on dancing terms now?”

She went warm all over. He’d called her Mrs. Rigby . “Maybe.”

He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes .”

The space between them seemed to shrink, and she became keenly aware that they were alone. Her breath hitched when he stepped up to her, conflicting emotions battling in his eyes. “I’ll probably regret saying this, but you really are breathtakingly beautiful.” He touched the curve of her cheek.

Electricity raced through her veins, and all she could think about was how he’d kissed her earlier. Then she realized what he’d said. All of the doubt came rushing back with a vengeance. “Why would you regret it?”

His jaw started working, and he looked like he would answer but then shook his head.

“There y’all are. I’ve been looking all over!”

They turned as Evie walked up to them.

“We’re fixin’ to start the dancing.” Reproof lay heavy in her voice. “And y’all kind of need to be there for it.”

Nash crooked his arm and held it out to her. She gave him a questioning look and planted her feet on the ground. There was no way she was going anywhere until she got an answer.

“We’ll dance tonight and talk later. Okay?”

“Honey,” Evie continued, “we’ve got to go inside. Everybody’s wondering where y’all are.”

“Okay,” she relented, linking her arm through his.