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

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

A mara

Amara could feel his eyes on her, but she wasn’t ready to go over to his table. All day she battled what she would do when she saw him again. Her first reaction to his proposal was, fuck no! What was the matter with him? Who proposed marriage in exchange for property? Which decade did he think they were living in?

Last night, when she woke up for the fourth time, she realised she hadn’t dismissed his proposal as pure foolishness. Amara was quick to blame her turn about on her sense of fairness. The Welches had been helping to tend the Johnson’s land since Chase’s grandfather was a boy. Willis Senior had promised her grandfather he could buy some of the land, and it had never come to fruition. Then his uncle had promised to right the wrong and leave the land to her brothers. Had he done it? No. Instead, Willis Johnson Jr. had found a nephew no one knew he had and left the land to him.

It was Willis Johnson’s land, and he could do whatever he wanted with it. However, he had made the Welches promises. The same Welch family who had cared for him when cancer ravished his body and stayed with him until he passed.

Amara had accepted it quickly. When her cousin Jo, who handled the probate, told her Chase might sell the land, Amara thought the land would finally go to her family. She hadn’t taken it well when he refused to sell. It had started a feud. Amara was tired of the Welches being screwed over by the Johnson family. Well, Chase was a Harrison, but he was a descendant. So same damned thing.

People had told her to let it go. It wasn’t like the Welches didn’t own any land. That wasn’t the damn point! The point was they had put blood, sweat, and tears into the Johnson land. She couldn’t do anything about it.

The only power she had was to ban him from her restaurant, so she did. Although, she kind of felt bad about it. Especially seeing the way he scarfed down his dinner with so much enthusiasm the night before. It made her think maybe she had taken things too far. She was certain if she tried to touch his plate, she would’ve pulled back a nub.

So far, Chase had only ordered a bowl of soup. She thought he would take advantage of his privilege of eating at the diner by ordering more.

“Rolynda, I’ll cash out Mr. Tanner. You can clock out.”

“Okay thank you. Before I go, are you going to tell me why you are letting Chase Harrison eat in here?” Rolynda was salivating at the chance of getting the tea.

“We will talk about it another time. Don’t you want to get home to your husband and sweet little boy?” It was the perfect distraction for Rolynda. The distraction would be temporary, but by then Amara would have figured out her next step.

Soon after Rolynda left, Mr. Tanner finally cashed out. The chef had gotten off an hour ago and went home. So now she and Chase were alone. He looked up at her and smiled. “I have to say that’s the best beef and vegetable soup I’ve ever had.”

They had been alone together the night before, but tonight felt different. There was a tension she didn’t appreciate that put her on edge. Amara didn’t like the foreign feeling. She sprung into action, clearing away the bowl. Her plan was to treat him like any other customer.

“Thanks. Can I get you something else?”

“I’ll have the special, or whatever, you’re having for dinner?”

What was the matter with him? Who did this sort of thing? “Did you just invite yourself to eat with me?”

He nodded. “We have a lot to plan.”

“Why do you sound like your ‘marriage scenario’ is a forgone conclusion?”

“Because it is.” God, he was arrogant! Of course, he wore it as confidence. Amara was about to reply, but then thought better of it. Turning on her heels, she headed to the kitchen. It didn’t take her long to prepare their meals. The food had been on a simmer since lunch. Amara had tried to convince herself she hadn’t been thinking of the big Wrangler when she prepared her dinner. However, that would be a lie. When was the last time she had gone all out on a Wednesday night? Well, he didn’t have to know that. Or that she took extra care when she plated their meals. Leaving it on the warmer, she pulled the butter rolls out of the oven. She couldn’t help but smile at the memory of how he had demolished the rolls the previous night.

Amara served their plates. Tonight, hunger didn’t have him abandoning his manners. He waited until she was seated and said a prayer before he even touched his utensils.

“This looks good. What do we have here, Sugar Plum?”

The nickname was like a record scratching. She was proud of the meal she’d prepared. When she cooked a good meal, it put her in good spirits. The nickname did not!

“Why are you calling me Sugar Plum?”

“I promised to come up with a sweet name for you. Is Sugar Plum off the list?”

“I don’t want you calling me Sugar anything.”

“That’s fair. All Sugar related names are off the list. How about Sweetums?”

“Do you want me to take your plate back into the kitchen?” Amara asked.

He raised his hands, shaking his head.

She knew he wasn’t taking her seriously, not while wearing the biggest grin she’d ever seen anyone display. “Because I wouldn’t pass up bison short ribs with root vegetables and roasted potatoes,” she informed him.

“Neither would I.” Chase held up his hands in surrender, then promptly dug in. After the first bite, he complimented her. “Damn, you can cook.” Then he looked at her plate. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I better, the way you are eying my plate. I’m not sure it’s safe.”

“That’s wise.” Chase chuckled.

Unlike the night before, he engaged her in conversation while they ate. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“A combination of Granny, Momma, and culinary school.”

His head whipped up in surprise. Amara felt some kinda way about it. “Why do you look surprised that I went to culinary school?” She narrowed her eyes at him. What did he think she was some country bumpkin? Never leaving her small town? Although, being called small was generous to Willowridge, which was barely a town. It consisted of a main road and exactly eight other streets. Hell, they only had two stop signs.

“Well, you said you were running this place since you were eighteen. Just wondered where you found the time?”

Oh! Maybe he wasn’t being a dickhole. He actually listened.

“When I was twenty, I went to culinary school in Toronto for two years. My Granny and Momma kept this place running while I was away.”

“Was it always your plan to return here?”

“Yes.”

“The lights of the big city did not tempt you?”

Amara liked it better when he ate like a neanderthal instead of all this small talk. Rather than answer him right away, she took a bite of the short rib. She really outdid herself. The entire time she chewed, he openly looked at her, waiting for her to answer.

“No. I’m not a big city person. I like knowing who my neighbours are. What about you? You decided to settle a long way from home.” When they had first met him, he had mentioned it was his first time in Canada, even though he had dual citizenship.

“I’ve lived in a lot of places. When I was younger, we lived in a few locations throughout the Midwest.” His jade-coloured eyes were clouded with sadness for just a moment before clearing. “Then I was in the army for a few years and was stationed at a few bases.” Even if he hadn’t told her he was in the military, she would have known. Chase, despite not being enlisted, still carried the air of being a part of the military, just as Rodney did.

“In all that time you never made it to Canada?”

“There never seemed to be a reason to. My Mom was Canadian, but she said her family disowned her.” Chase shrugged. “That is why it is so surprising my uncle left me Sagebrush Hills.”

Total bullshit. The thing that bothered her most is she genuinely liked his uncle, and thought he was a man of his word, a man with honour.

What did her brother Roddick tell her? “Come on Amara. Whatever he promised us, you can’t be mad he put his family before us.” Roddick was wrong. She could be mad. However, the Welch’s family motto was if you don’t like it, do something about it.

Chase was offering her an opportunity to right a wrong. The more she sat and talked to him, the more she was inclined to take him up on his offer. “So, if we were to do the whole marriage thing…” Amara thought nothing would make Chase put down his utensils when he still had food on his plate, but the direction of her conversation did it. “…how long would it be for?”

“How long would what be for?”

“The marriage arrangement. I mean, it wouldn’t be forever. Right?” There was no way she agreed to that.

“No.” Chase looked pensive. He picked up his utensils. “How about we agree to stay married for five years?”

Amara’s mom always told her, “if you don’t voice your opinion, your face certainly says it loud and clear.” She imagined this was one of those times. Chase burst out laughing. “Five years would go by in a flash.”

“I doubt it. How about two years?” she countered.

“How about we agree to discuss it in two years?”

Amara shrugged. She knew what her answer would be in two years. There was no need to argue that minor detail. “So, we tell everyone we are getting married. Then in like six months, we tie the knot?” It was her turn to wait for him to stop chewing. Although she had to wait for his response, she had a clue what his answer would be. He was already shaking his head.

While she waited for her answer, she took a bite of her meal. Even with the two rolls he ate, Chase was probably a bite away from clearing his plate. Whereas she had a third left. Compared to him, she was a slow eater.

“Two weeks, Scotcheroo,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Amara had no idea where to unpack this level of crazy. Not to mention what the fuck was a Scotcheroo?

“Two weeks is completely and utterly out of the question.”

“Six months doesn’t work for me. I need these women off my back yesterday. I was raised to be a gentleman, but I’m not sure how long I can go before I abandon ship and really hurt one of their feelings.”

“Hurt their feelings then. Most of your suitors are used to it.”

“Scotcheroo, that sounds really mean spirited.”

“What the hell is a Scotcheroo?”

“A name. I was trying out.”

“Wrangler, I won’t answer to that.” She speared him with a look, letting him know she meant business. “I’m willing to do three months.”

“Two weeks.” After taking the last bite of his meal, he pushed his plate away.

“You suck at negotiating,” Amara mused.

“Now who said anything about negotiating, Honey Bunch? I know what I want.”

“You need to be flexible. Two months. Honey Bunch is the worst one yet.”

“I don’t see the point of being flexible about this. One week, Kitten.”

Amara blustered. He’d taken away a week. She was unwilling to unpack her body’s reaction to the way he said the word, Kitten.

“One week is ridiculous.”

“Which is why I suggested two weeks in the first place.” He held his hand out for a handshake. Amara just looked at it.

“If I agree to this arrangement, fine two weeks, but it’s a no to Kitten.”

“Now, that one hurts. I could have gotten used to calling you Kitten.” The insufferable man had the audacity to wink at her.