Cowboys & Navy SEALs

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

“Well, what do you think? Can you handle living here for the next eighteen months?”

No way ! was the first thing that went through her mind, but then she saw Nash’s hopeful expression as he studied her with those watchful eyes. She forced a smile and tried to sound genuine. “It’s great.”

He chuckled. “You’re a lousy liar.”

Her face fell. “What? That’s not fair.”

“I know you. You can’t stand being more than five minutes away from a shopping plaza or spa. Having to be out here must seem like an interminable prison sentence.”

“I guess I could always take up barrel racing or calf roping,” she quipped.

He laughed. “Now, that’s something I would pay to see.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. Nash had a knack for reading her like a book. Being stuck out in the middle of nowhere did seem like a prison sentence. And to make matters worse, Rigby Bros. Ranch was so dated it was a throwback to the eighties, with an overall feeling of neglect. The only positive aspect of the main house was being large enough for Nash and her to have their own wing. She’d been horrified at the prospect of being cooped up with Luther and Cynthia. It was comforting to know that she would have her own space, away from prying eyes. Although, there was only one kitchen for the entire house, so she would have to eat with them.

She was still in her wedding dress, which was starting to itch, and her feet were killing her. She flipped off her heels and sank down into the sofa. She was so exhausted that she could’ve fallen asleep right there.

Nash sat on the loveseat and began loosening his bowtie. Always a straight shooter, he got right to the point. “I figure we need to lay down the ground rules, right from the get-go, since we’re going to be spending lots of time together.”

She suppressed a yawn and stretched out on the sofa. “Go ahead, rulemeister. Lay it on me.” Her eyelids were so heavy she could hardly hold them open. A minute later, she drifted off to sleep.

“Well, it looks like Cinderella’s still sleeping.” Gracie stepped closer to Brooke, examining her. “I can’t believe she didn’t even bother taking off her wedding dress … and her makeup.” She turned to Gertrude. “I read in Vogue Magazine that every time you go to sleep wearing makeup, it ages you three days.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She shrugged. “That’s what the article said.”

“Because Vogue is the scientific authority on aging.”

“Good point.”

Gertrude was always so contrary, but she didn’t feel like arguing with her today. Her mind was focused on more important matters—like whether or not her plan would work. It had been touch-and-go at the wedding, and she’d been on pins and needles, fearing something would go wrong and that the wedding would get canceled. Now, she just needed to figure out how to make Brooke and Nash fall in love. She rested her hands on her hips, cocking her head. “Do you think this will work?”

“I’ve had my doubts.” Gertrude paused, looking thoughtful. “But so far, it seems like things are right on track.”

Gracie felt a burst of hope. “They seem well suited for each other. And Nash can certainly hold his own.” She’d nearly freaked when Brooke accused Nash and his family of being miserable leaches, but then he hurled back a rapid-fire insult. “They just need a little push. If Alex and Dawson had not gotten stranded out in the snowstorm, then they never would’ve realized they still loved each other.” There had to be a way to make Brooke and Nash come together.

Gertrude’s eyes went large behind her pink, cat-eye glasses. “That snowstorm nearly killed Alex and Dawson. Under no circumstances are you to pull anything like that again.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Like I could make it snow in the summer … in Texas.”

“Gracie, promise me that you’ll be sensible this time. I mean it!”

From the intense way Gertrude was glaring at her, she was starting to feel like a bug under a microscope. “Geez! All right! I won’t do anything stupid.”

Gertrude looked unconvinced. “So what’s the plan from here?”

“Well, as luck would have it, Stewart assigned me the task of keeping track of the hours that Brooke and Nash spend together. That’ll give me an excuse to keep tabs on her.”

Brooke began to stir. Gracie motioned. “I still can’t believe she zonked out on the couch—wearing a twenty-two-thousand-dollar dress. Look how wrinkled it is. ” She shook her head remorsefully. “She’s been given everything, and she doesn’t even appreciate it.”

“Money doesn’t buy happiness … or love.”

“No, but it certainly helps. I would’ve loved to have a hundredth of the resources that Brooke has access to.”

“It won’t do you an ounce of good now.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Gracie said, fighting to keep her voice even. Why did Gertrude insist on pointing out the obvious all of the freaking time?

Brooke groaned and then sat up, rubbing her forehead.

Gracie changed the subject. “At least sleeping beauty is finally up. She’ll never be able to get out of that wedding dress on her own though. It took forty minutes for her mother to get her buttoned into it.”

At that, Brooke gasped and scooted back against the sofa. “What’re you doing here?”

For a second, Gracie thought she might’ve been talking to Gertrude and her, but then realized they were in invisibility mode. She looked behind her to see who’d come into the room, but no one was there.

“What’re you doing in here?” Brooke demanded. “Did Daddy send you to check up on me?”

Gracie was dumbfounded. It certainly felt like Brooke was talking to them. She turned to Gertrude. “Is she talking to us?”

An indignant sneer twisted over Brooke’s face. “Of course I’m talking to y’all! Who else would I be talking to?”

“You can see us?” Gracie said.

“Duh! A person would have to be blind to miss you.” She stopped and looked at Gertrude, a new suspicion firing in her eyes. “I recognize you. You’re the woman from the inn.” Accusation hung heavy in her voice. “And you’re Gracie!” Her nostrils flared. “I knew it was you from the moment I saw you in Daddy’s office! I’m going to expose you for the rat you are!”

Alarm pummeled over Gracie. “I thought we were in invisibility mode.”

Gertrude’s face was the color of chalk. “We are.”

Apprehension flashed in Brooke’s eyes. “Invisibility mode? You’re both crazy! Get out of here before I call the police!”

“Is everything okay?”

They turned as Cynthia stepped into the room.

Brooke jumped up and pointed at Gracie and Gertrude. Panic laced her voice. “These people are stalking me! Get them out of here!”

Cynthia went wide-eyed. “Brooke, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay! Call the police!”

Concern filled Cynthia’s eyes. “There’s no one here but us.”

“They’re standing right there!” Brooke’s voice went shrill like it was bordering on hysteria.

This was bad! Really bad! “What do we do?” Gracie said.

“We rewind time until right before she wakes up.”

Tears formed in Brooke’s eyes as she looked pleadingly at Cynthia. “You don’t see them?”

She paused for one long moment. “No. There’s no one there.” Pity tinged her voice. “Maybe I should call a doctor.”

Gertrude waved a hand, and they were standing in the same spot, looking down at Brooke. Thankfully, she was still asleep in her wedding dress, just as she’d been before.

“What in the heck just happened?” Gracie whispered. Gertrude had an answer for just about everything, and it wasn’t often that she got rattled. But judging by her distressed expression, she was not only rattled but jolted to the core.

“I-I’m not sure.” She rubbed her forehead.

“There must be some provision or section in your exhaustive set of rules that explains this.”

“Um, not that I can remember. This has never happened before.”

Gracie thought back. “That’s not true. Brooke heard us once before when we were in invisibility mode, and we thought it was a fluke.”

Gertrude squared her jaw. “Something peculiar is happening here.” She gave Gracie a worried look. “And I’ve got to find out what it is.”

Brooke looked around the unfamiliar surroundings, trying to get her bearings. She sat up and looked down at her wedding dress as the events from the day before came rushing back. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa while Nash was still talking. Her head felt sluggish and big, and she still found it hard to believe that she was married—she glanced around, frowning—and that she lived here. An interior designer and a few thousand bucks could do wonders for this place. The dark paneling on the walls made it feel like a dungeon, and the carpet was worn and stained in spots. The furniture was mismatched, but at least the leather sofa was comfortable. She’d surprisingly gotten a good night’s sleep, despite the circumstances. The silhouette wedding dress was so snug that it was starting to cut her in two, making her feel like a mermaid in a straitjacket. And she had no earthly idea how she was going to get the wretched thing off. At this point, she was tempted to grab a pair of scissors and just cut it off. (She would have, if she didn’t think her mother would have a heart attack.) And where was her luggage? Had Nash even thought to bring it in? Had he given any thought whatsoever to her wellbeing? At least he had the decency to throw a blanket over her last night.

She gathered the train of the dress and caught it in a wad as she padded across the carpet. She vaguely remembered Nash saying that there were two bedrooms in the wing, but she’d been so tired the night before she didn’t know which one was hers. Was Nash here? She hoped not! She would hate for him to see her looking like this. Her hand went to her hair, and she tried to smooth it down. She approached the first bedroom. The door was slightly open. Cautiously, she looked in and was relieved to find it empty. The bed was made. She stepped inside and over to the dresser where she saw a framed picture. She moved closer and picked it up. It was of Nash and his mother, Sylvia. They were at a rodeo. Sylvia was smiling at the camera, but Nash was looking at his mother. The look of adoration on his face caused her heart to lurch, and she felt a wave of sadness over his loss. Nash’s arm was slung casually around his mother, and she was struck by the unencumbered smile on Nash’s face and how similar he and Sylvia looked. She’d been a beauty with her patrician features, thick mane of blonde hair, and easy smile. Nash may have inherited his dad’s body type and penetrating eyes, but he got his dashing good looks from his mom. She’d only met Sylvia a couple of times but remembered her as being easy to talk to and quick to smile. And, she’d been warm and accepting. At the time, Brooke took Sylvia’s acceptance for granted—the comfortable pair of shoes she could slip on at will, then discard whenever she wished. In her heart of hearts, she knew that she’d also taken Nash for granted. He’d been so in love with her that she assumed the love would always be there. How na?ve she’d been. Everything fell apart after Sylvia’s death, and there was no fixing it. Despondency settled over her as she replaced the picture.

She went to the closet and saw Nash’s tux, hanging beside a dozen or so plaid shirts and a couple of denim ones. Several pairs of cowboy boots lined the floor. Two cowboy hats rested on the top shelf. She chuckled, remembering Nash’s reaction when she berated his friend for wearing the exact same items. His bull riding gear caught her attention, and she ran a hand over the leather chaps.

“There you are.”

She jumped guiltily, placing a hand over her chest. “Cynthia, hello.” She forced a laugh. “I didn’t see you come in.”

There was open disapproval in Cynthia’s watery eyes as they looked her up and down. “I came to check on you to see how you’re settling in.”

Brooke lifted her chin in the air. “Not very well, I’m afraid. I don’t know where my luggage is, and I need help getting out of this dress.”

Cynthia nodded. “I can help with the dress.” She frowned. “Your luggage is in your bedroom. This is Nash’s room.”

The implication was clear. Stay away from Nash. A ridiculous notion, seeing as how they were married and would be required to spend four hours a day together for the next eighteen months. What was this woman’s problem? From what she’d seen of Cynthia thus far, she was not impressed. Cynthia was medium height and build with bleached hair, the color of snow, which came just below her ears. Her neck was on the fleshy side, and she had one of those old-fashioned hair-dos, with defined curls that looked like she got it set weekly at the beauty shop. Concrete had more flexibility to it than Cynthia’s hair. She was dressed rather plainly in jeans and a baggy polo shirt.

Cynthia motioned. “Let me show you your room. You really shouldn’t be in here without Nash’s approval.”

Her eyebrow shot up. If Cynthia weren’t Nash’s stepmother, Brooke would’ve put her in her place, then and there. However, it was in everyone’s best interest to play nice. So she bit back the angry retort and followed Cynthia, who led her to a room beside Nash’s. The room had the same dated carpet as the rest of the wing, but in place of the dark paneling, there was faded pink wallpaper with roses. The bed was made of brass with a floral quilt.

“Turn around, and I’ll help you get out of that dress,” Cynthia ordered in a brusque tone.

Brooke nodded and complied.

The silence that settled between them was so awkward Brooke felt compelled to carry on a semblance of conversation. “Rigby Bros. Ranch is quite a ways off the beaten path. Is it hard living so far from the city?”

“Not especially. We have everything we need here.”

“Really?” That was a laugh! The ranch was falling down around them, hence the arranged marriage. “Don’t you miss having a shopping plaza nearby? Or restaurants? Or a fitness center? You know, those amenities that make a person feel whole.”

Cynthia chuckled. “Not everyone has to be surrounded by the superficial in order to feel whole.”

Unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of a tongue-lashing, Brooke had her fill of this drab woman, who had a much higher opinion of herself than she deserved. She was starting to second-guess her decision to bite her tongue. It was obvious Cynthia had no intention of accepting her into the family circle. She’d stood silent like a mute, while Cynthia leveled jab after jab. Time to even the score a little because she wasn’t about to walk on eggshells for the next eighteen months. “So, how long have you and Luther been married?”

“A year this coming fall.”

“Wow, that was fast.”

Cynthia’s voice grew strained as she instantly rose to the bait. “What do you mean?”

“Sylvia’s only been gone two years.” She paused for effect.

“Your point?” Cynthia snapped as she finished undoing the last set of buttons.

Brooke shimmied out of the dress and took a deep breath, relieved to be free of the tight thing. “Thank you, that feels so much better.” She tossed it on the bed and strode over to her suitcase where she unzipped it and pulled out a robe. Quickly, she wrapped it around her. “My point is that I can’t imagine that it has been easy on Nash for his father to remarry so quickly.”

Cynthia’s eyes went hard. “Nash’s feelings are none of your concern.”

“On the contrary, everything that involves Nash is now my concern. He is my husband.”

Cynthia’s face turned an ugly red that made her hair look even whiter. “In name only!”

“Contractually, we are bound together.” She studied Cynthia. “Let’s cut to the chase. You don’t approve of me, do you?”

Her chin jiggled as she clenched her teeth. “I certainly don’t approve of people marrying for money.”

“Oh, so you’re against marrying for money, but you had no scruples about marrying a poor widowed man, while his wife’s body was still warm.” She clucked her tongue. “Now that’s a bit of a double standard, don’t you think?”

Cynthia gasped like she’d been slapped. “You’re a horrible person.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “And I won’t let you use Nash to suit your selfish purposes.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “My selfish purposes?” She let out a humorless laugh. “My father’s money is being used to keep this miserable ranch afloat. Luther’s profiting from it. Nash’s profiting from it.” She looked at Cynthia. “And you’re profiting from it. So while you’re accusing me of being so horrible, you might want to take a look in the mirror.”

Rage filled Cynthia’s eyes as she shook her head and then turned on her heel, slamming the bedroom door behind her.