The Wrangler Takes a Wife (Silver Creek Ranch #7)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

C hase

Chase pushed his empty plate away. He should have been embarrassed at how clean the plate looked. It had gotten a once over by one of the delicious rolls. There wasn’t a trace of gravy left.

“Are you finished with your food trance now?”

He chuckled. “That was damn good food.”

“So, you were trying to get me to agree to marry you for some land?” Although her voice was full of bite, she smiled saccharinely at him.

“People marry for convenience all the time. I really need these women to back off.”

“Listen. I hate to admit it. I grew up with most of these women. They are a persistent lot. Not even you deserve that, but they haven’t had an eligible bachelor with that much land, who isn’t hard on the eyes, and older than sin. So, they will not quit.” All Chase heard was she thought he was good looking.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“You have a wax buildup? No, I said you’re not ugly.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Talk about a huge jump.” Amara took a small bite.

“You know what? I’ll do you a favour. Since you like my food so much, I’ll let you eat here. You better leave a generous tip every time. Starting tonight. I’m charging you for my dinner too. I’ll ring you up before you leave.” Her smile was both genuine and a little… scary mixed with sexy.

“I’m happy to pay for dinner. Now about us getting married?—”

Amara cut him off. “It won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t believable.” Now, he didn’t know about that. They were attractive people.

“Because?”

“I don’t like you, Wrangler, and everyone knows it!” Well, she was right. Amara had been very vocal about her dislike for him.

“I don’t see why we can’t convince them you’ve changed your mind.” It would take some work. She shot daggers at him. Okay, lots of work.

“What about you?”

Chase raised his eyebrow in confusion. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“You think you can convince them I’m your type?”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? “I don’t have to convince them of anything. They don’t know me. So, how would they know my type?”

Amara sighed, looking more exasperated at him than usual. “You think they are going to buy you’re into me?”

“Why wouldn’t they? I’m a healthy man with good vision. What is there not to be into?”

“Oh, you one of those, I don’t see colour folks.”

“No. Now you are gonna have to keep up. I just told you I have good vision. Is this your way of saying they won’t buy it because you’re Black?”

“Yes!” She threw her hands up in the air. “No one is going to believe your southern ass is into me.”

“Well, I guess we will just have to tell them I’m not from the south. I’m from the Midwest, Sugar.”

Her eyes opened comically. “That sounds very southern to me. And don’t call me Sugar.”

Chase did everything he could not to laugh. She was furious, but he found her adorable. “Well, I’m going to have a sweet name for you. Mm. Let’s see.” He said rubbing his beard covered jawline. “I’ll come up with something, don’t you worry.”

“I’m not worried because like I said this…” she said, motioning between them. “…just won’t work.”

Chase took her warm hand in his larger ones. They both inhaled sharply. She felt the charge; it wasn’t just him. He didn’t allow her to pull away from his hold. The pad of his thumb stroked her hand. Her hand was so soft. “I can promise you they won’t doubt that I’ve fallen for you.” He brought her hand to his lips. Desire flared in her eyes before it was replaced. With fury.

“Gimme back my hand, Wrangler.” Amara’s usual sharpness was missing. Oh, yeah, he was going to win her over.

“Okay, as enlightening as this has been. I have to close up so I can get to bed.”

“Alright, I will stop by tomorrow before closing and talk about it some more.”

“We don’t need to talk?—”

“Can you add a slice of that rhubarb pie to my bill? Actually, add two.” He’d been eyeing the pie.

Amara glared at him before she stood. “You are going to have to take your pie to go.”

“No problem.” He rubbed his hands together. His sweet tooth was grateful for something other than those oatmeal cookies and Scottish biscuits. The general store only stocked the ones with raisins, and he hated raisins.

True to her word, she brought over a to-go container. He opened it and saw his slices of pie. My oh my. She was generous with her cutting. There was half a pie in there. His future wife cared about him. Closing the container, he gave a big smile and winked at her. Amara dropped the bill on the table. “Cash or credit?”

“Cash.” The bill was more than reasonable. Especially given how much food she gave him. He left her a generous tip. Then totally unnerved her by stepping into her space. He squeezed her shoulder. She took a step back.

“Good night, Amara. See you tomorrow.”

After he unlocked the door and walked out, he waited on the sidewalk. When she didn’t move to lock the door right away, he knocked on the door and waved her over. Amara sauntered over and pushed the door open. “Lock up,” he ordered.

“I’ve owned this place since I was eighteen and have locked up every night with no help.”

“Amara. Do what I say and lock the door.” Chase was fully aware it was the shock which made Amara comply with haste. After she locked the door, she spent a whole moment glaring at him. It didn’t go without notice she left the door locked. No one could accuse him of not playing it safe. He winked at her. She stomped her feet and marched off. He walked to his truck, laughing. His life was about to get so much more interesting.

Once he was in his truck, he debated whether he should secure his pie by buckling it up. Chase didn’t want anything to happen to the pie. He didn’t buckle it in, but he put his hat on top of the container and paid more attention to the speed limit. A covered foil container greeted him when he reached the top of his stairs. Ugh. Amara needed to get on board sooner rather than later and put an end to this shit. A navy-blue Tacoma was coming down the road. Chase stood on the porch, cradling his container as it approached. Rodney, Amara's oldest brother got out of his truck. The man’s gait always made you wonder where the fire was. “Harrison,” he greeted. Like Chase, Rodney was former military.

“Welch.” He nodded.

“What do you have there?” By the look of his smile, he had a good idea.

“In here…” Chase said, tapping the container. “…is rhubarb pie.”

“It’s one of her best. Now, how did you manage to get that?”

“I bought it from her.”

Rodney gave a long whistle. “And here I thought you only worked miracles with wild horses.” He looked down at the foil container. “Only one meal tonight?”

“No, I took some out to the guys earlier, before I went into Willowridge.” Before he went to see Amara, there had been eight meals left on his porch.

“You sure are popular. I’m glad those days are behind me.”

It was Rodney who planted the seed of taking a wife. Well, he didn’t know he did, or that Chase had selected his sister. However, he had shared the single vultures hadn’t stopped until he had popped the question to his wife Louisa.

“Everything okay,” he asked Rodney.

“Yeah, I was heading home when I saw you coming up the drive. We got back all the bison that escaped yesterday.”

Over the last few months, Chase had been receiving a crash course on farming bison from Rodney. He’d been surprised to learn bisons were the main livestock which populated his uncle’s ranch. They were big, magnificent animals. Chase didn’t have experience farming them. However, Rodney was giving a full education. He knew everything and was Chase’s right hand, like he had been to Uncle Willis. Rodney was good people. When Chase moved on, the land would be in good hands.

They spoke for a few moments until Rodney called it a night. “I’m going to let you turn in and enjoy your pie.”

Chase nodded at him, then eyed the foil container. He had yet to even pick it up or look inside at what was in it. “Would you like me to take it with me? I can give it to Jimmy.”

“Yeah, that would be great.” He was an older hand who lived out near Rodney. Jimmy had been eating most of Chase’s ‘gifts’.

Chase took a shower, and even though he yawned through most of it, he was determined to have some pie before bed. He cut half of one slice. Damn, it was good. Despite being cold, the pie was delicious, which was a sign of a good pie. As he brushed his teeth before bed, he was more determined than ever to keep the peace between himself and Amara. His stomach needed the win.

The next morning, Chase was up as usual before sunrise. He made himself a large cup of chicory. It had been a few years since he gave up coffee. After he came home from his last deployment, it made him too jittery. Jittery and dark memories didn’t play well. He had been so lost for so long incapable of distinguishing between the present and the war. So, he’d given up coffee to help keep his mind from racing. It had helped some. However, it wasn’t until he went to Silver Creek Ranch that he could lock away the nightmares that had followed him home. By then, he had gotten used to the coffee substitute. Preferred it, in fact. Now it was a part of his morning routine, along with the oatmeal he was having. It would stick to his ribs until it was time to eat lunch. He smiled at the thought of lunch for the first time in a long time. After he ate his canned ham sandwich, he was going to have leftover pie.

By the end of the day, Chase’s muscles were sore. It was his day to spend with the wild horses. Often it was backbreaking work, but he loved it. It was a great day, well, except for when Annalee had stopped by at lunch. She was one of his more persistent ‘suitors’. He was raised not to be rude to women, but she wasn’t getting the hint. She waited in her pink truck until he got back from the field for lunch. Then she hopped out with her basket. Like they had made plans to have a picnic or something.

“Hey Chase,” she called, sounding like a little girl. It irritated the hell out of him. He was a grown man. What did his forty-six-year-old ass want with a woman who sounded like a child and looked like she borrowed clothing a pre-teen could fit into? All the frills and pink were two sizes too small, leaving her fake melons on display. No thanks. Chase would take a hard pass. “I know it was a bust the last few times I brought out lunch to you, but I thought I would try again.”

As she got closer, the overwhelming smell of roses assailed him. He’d rather go back into the field and inhale manure. “It’s really nice of you, but I’m going to have to pass.”

The fake smile she plastered on her face slipped. “I don’t see why?” She pouted.

“Because Sagebrush Hills is a working ranch. I don’t have time to take lunch.”

“Not even for my momma’s fried chicken, fresh corn…” She pressed her forefinger to her lips, then lifted the covering on the basket, peaking in. “…potato salad and rolls?”

Chase shook his head. “I’m afraid not.” He wasn’t going to let this drag on. Just as he was about to say good-bye, she pulled out a container of fried chicken, waving it like it would change his mind. What the fuck was that? The shit looked like it was burnt. “Sorry you came all this way. I hope you have a good day.” With that, he touched the brim of his hat and walked away. He was certain he heard a muffled whine and then the stomping of her feet. His greedy ass put him in this position. Chase wouldn’t have been caught at home in the middle of the day if he ate with the guys like he normally did, but he didn't want to take the chance of someone wanting him to share his pie.

It was almost six before he had showered and headed to Willowridge. Chase didn’t realise how much he was looking forward to seeing Amara until he stepped into the diner and found they wouldn’t be alone. There was one elderly patron finishing up his dessert and a server. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. Her head swung toward her boss, who had just walked out of the kitchen. The server hitched her head in his direction. Amara sighed but nodded.

The young lady turned and smiled at him. “Please feel free to sit anywhere. I’ll be over with a menu.”