Texas Tango: Texas Montgomery Mavericks, Book 2 (7 page)

BOOK: Texas Tango: Texas Montgomery Mavericks, Book 2
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“Pretend what? To be in love with you?”

She shook her head. “Pretend to marry me.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Maybe, but…” She dropped her hands on the sofa cushions and stared him straight in the eye. “Hear me out. If you say no, fine, but at least listen to what I have to say.”

He waved her on and leaned back.

“Here’s what I was thinking. We fly to Waterton, Arkansas. There’s a direct flight from Dallas to the local airport there. We take out a marriage license, go to the hospital, let Mamie watch us go through a wedding ceremony, she can sign the danged thing and then we fly back to Whispering Springs. We’ll never file the license, so there’ll be no marriage. I mean, think of all the times people get a marriage license and never go through with the wedding. That’s what the clerk’s office will think. This would give Mamie so much peace.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on his knee. “Please, Travis.”

The palm of her hand heated his flesh, even through the thick denim of jeans. He’d never noticed how long her fingers were, or that her nails bore a professional-looking manicure.

He mentally thumped his head.
Get your head in the game.

“Forget it, Caroline. That’s nuts. No way am I going to con what is probably a nice old woman. First, it’s beyond dishonest, and second, I believe in marriage.”

She dropped her head heavily against the back of the sofa and pulled her hand away from his knee. The heat from her touch quickly dissipated in the air-conditioned room. He immediately missed her touch.

“Will you at least think about it?” She looked at him with pleading eyes and he felt his firm resolve faltering.

“Look, since this is all a sham anyway, why not just get someone to play my part? Get some other sucker to pretend to be me pretending to marry you.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I would if I could, but I can’t.”

He gritted his teeth. “Why not?” he asked in a sharp tone.

She drew back. “Remember last Christmas when your parents were snapping pictures right and left? There was one of us, me and you. I, um sort of sent that to Mamie.”

“What?” He exploded off the couch and stomped across the room to snatch up his hat. “You’re insane, Caroline. No wonder your last boyfriend ran. He must have seen this bizarre streak and got out while the getting was good.” He pounded his hat on his head. “I am not going to have a pretend wedding like a couple of kids playing house. Forget it.” His eyes squinted in a threat. “Maybe you should think about leaving Whispering Springs a few months early. I’ll cover any buy-out on your contract. Hell, woman, I’ll hire a moving company to get your ass out of town.” He grabbed the door handle but her next words stopped him dead.

“I’ll give you Singing Springs Ranch if you’ll do this.”

He dropped his hand from the door handle and turned toward her. “No. I’ll pay you a fair price for Singing Springs.” He quoted a seven-figure number that was high but fair.

She shook her head. “I can’t sell you Singing Springs.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Uncle Angus asked me not to sell the ranch to you, so I won’t. But he never said anything about trading it to you.”

“You are either the most peculiar woman I’ve ever met or the dumbest. That ranch is worth a hell of a lot of money.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t give a flying fuck about money.”

Her foul language shocked him. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her say anything worse than shoot or darn it.

Her shoulders sagged like a deflated balloon. “I only want—no, make that need to give my grandmother what she wants before it’s too late.”

“No, Caroline. I won’t do this, not even for Singing Springs.”

 

Saturday morning, as Travis drove along the property line separating Singing Springs Ranch from Halo M Ranch, his desire for the property was so strong he could taste it. He’d been prepared to drop some serious cash to get it, but to stage a fake wedding, to play a fake groom to get the property felt, well, it felt dirty. Like he was a flim-flam artist selling worthless stock to an old woman. It wasn’t right.

But on the other hand, who would they be hurting, the imp who always got him into trouble asked. It was obvious that Caroline adored her grandmother and would do nothing that would ever harm her. Maybe he was overreacting. He just didn’t know if adding the Singing Springs acreage to his ranch holdings was worth the guilt he’d feel at deceiving an old woman.

The phone on his belt vibrated.

“Travis Montgomery.”

“Well, good morning to you, sugar.” The voice on the other end was female, Southern and sweet enough to send him into a diabetic coma. Elsie Belle Lambert.

“Mornin’ Elsie Belle.” He’d briefly dated Elsie Belle Lambert six months ago. After three dates, she’d begun pushing for something more permanent, like marriage. Even though he’d made it clear from the start that he had no interest in any long-term relationship, the woman never gave up. No amount of discouragement deterred her, so he didn’t waste his time trying. “What can I do for you?”

“You can go to the End of Summer dance at WSCC with me. I’ve got the most wonderful dress that’ll match your eyes perfectly.”

Ah. Damn. He should have remembered the annual dance at Whispering Springs Country Club. It marked the end of summer vacation and the return to school for students and teachers. A huge fundraiser for the high school football team, his family always attended to show their support for the local team.

Think, damn it. Think. Elsie Belle would not take no for an answer.

“I’m sure any dress would be lovely on you, darlin’, but I’ve already got a date for the dance.”

His announcement was met briefly by stunned shock. “Really? This far out? How nice. Who’s the lucky woman?”

He opened his mouth to say, “No one you know,” but what came out was, “Caroline Graham.”
Damn
. Why had he said that?

“Dr. Graham. How…nice. I’m sure I’ll see you both there then.”

“Of course you will. Good to talk to you, Elsie Belle.”

When she clicked off without saying goodbye—and without asking him to take her to dinner—he snapped his phone back into its holder. What was he thinking? How could he have blurted out Caroline’s name without thinking?

She had been on his mind. Maybe it was natural that her name would be the one on the tip of his tongue.

Had he just done the same thing Caroline had done when she told her grandmother about him? Well, hadn’t he just landed in a big old pile of steaming horse manure.

He finished his morning ride still unsure how to untangle the knot he’d just tied with his lie. Maybe Caroline didn’t have a date and he could ask her to go…as friends, of course. That’d make his lie not so much a lie and more of a prediction.

Before he headed to the barn, he turned Ransom toward Singing Springs. He opened the adjoining gate and rode onto Fitzgerald’s property. The grass was still green and high. The creek running through the back end of the acreage bubbled, fed continually from the underground spring. He slipped from Ransom’s back and allowed the horse to drink his fill of the fresh water. He wanted this property. Needed it to secure Halo M’s future and build the ranch he dreamed of. He’d always told himself that he’d do whatever necessary to get his hands on Singing Springs, and now it was being handed to him on a silver platter. He’d be a fool not to grab it.

He scrolled through the stored directory on his phone until he found Caroline’s number and then hit send. As the phone rang on her end, he paced and practiced what he would say when she answered. For just a moment, he felt as though he were fifteen again and calling a girl for their first date.

“Dr. Graham.”

“Hi. Caroline. It’s Travis. Travis Montgomery.” He flinched at how nervous he sounded. It was worse than when he was thirteen and going through the nightmare voice change of adolescence.

She laughed. “Yes, Travis. I got the Montgomery part. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if we could get together after church tomorrow. To talk…about Singing Springs. I’ll buy your lunch. We can drive over to Tuckerville. There’s a great Italian place.”

“Tuckerville, huh? Hiding me from the locals?” She chuckled. “Lunch would be great, but why don’t you just follow me home and I’ll cook. We can even hide your truck in my garage so nobody will know you’re here.”

This time he laughed.

“Besides,” she continued. “My house will give us some privacy to talk. Tell me you’ve given my offer some thought.”

“Some, but I have to be honest. I still have some major reservations, but I’m willing to discuss your offer a little more.”

“Good.” She sighed into the receiver. “I’m not crazy. Desperate, yes, but not crazy. Fried chicken work for you?”

“Oh, hell yeah. One other thing though. You realize how small Whispering Springs is and how fast news travels. If I follow you home for lunch, it’ll be all over town by two o’clock, so as bad as this may sound, I do want to park in your garage.”

“I’m fully aware of how quickly news can fly in this town. Why, I’ve already heard I’m your date for the End of Summer Dance at the club.”

He groaned.

She laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Mamie Bridges had been raised in the Superior Avenue Methodist Church of Waterton, Arkansas. From the day Caroline moved into her grandmother’s house, she’d attended the Methodist church every Sunday with Mamie. While in college, then medical school, and finally during her residency and contract work, she’d always made it a priority to find a Methodist church in the area to attend. Before she moved to Whispering Springs, her biggest issue had been deciding which Methodist church to attend. Not a problem here.

Being a small community, Whispering Springs offered limited religious options. Southern Baptist, Catholic or Methodist. Worshipers could choose one of those or drive thirty or more minutes to Tuckerville to attend church. Most townspeople and ranchers were divided between Baptist and Methodist, with Catholic mass only being offered every other Sunday due to low attendance and the lack of a Catholic priest to conduct services without bringing in one from Dallas.

Sunday morning, Caroline walked into the Whispering Springs United Methodist Church as she had every Sunday since moving there. However, today she felt as though every eye was on her. The usher who handed her the morning bulletin grinned a little too broadly and his, “Good morning, Dr. Graham,” was a little too jolly, as though they shared a secret.

Paranoid much, Caroline? There was no way anyone knew she and Travis would be having lunch today. She was reading too much into the usher’s greeting.

Caroline entered the sanctuary. The entry aisle bisected the rows on the right into the front portion of twenty rows and a back section of four rows. It didn’t take but one visit to discover mothers with new babies sat in the back section for easy access to the fellowship hall in case of cranky ones and dirty diapers that needed attention. The left side of the worship area had twenty-five rows. Where new mothers and babies claimed the back of the right side, teenagers claimed the last five rows of the left side.

Interestingly, the congregation referred to the left side as Fitzgerald side and the right as Montgomery side. Apparently, the two families had contributed equally to build the church in nineteen-nineteen. Caroline usually sat on the Fitzgerald side but only out of habit. She’d grown up sitting on the left side of the Superior Avenue Methodist Church’s in Waterton, Arkansas. Today, Jackie Montgomery waved to her from the third row of the Montgomery side and pointed to the seat beside her. Manners dictated that Caroline had to at least acknowledge the invitation, but she didn’t need to do more to stir up the rumor mill.

Caroline stopped beside the pew. “Good morning, Jackie.” She leaned forward until she could see the two women on the other side of the Montgomery matriarch. “Morning, Lydia. Hi, Olivia. Been a while since I’ve seen you. Hey, Adam.”

Olivia Montgomery Gentry was Travis’s only sister. From what she’d heard from Lydia, after a nasty break-up with the father of her son, Adam, Olivia and Mitch had only recently reconciled. Adam, a cute kid with curly dark hair, sat beside his mother swinging his legs as he drew horses on today’s service bulletin. He gave Caroline a lop-sided grin that she knew would break hearts some day.

After the greetings had been exchanged, Jackie pointed once again to the empty spot on the pew next to her. “Sit.”

Caroline chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Sitting.”

Jackie laughed. “Can you tell I’m used to dealing with hard-headed cowboys? Not to mention a hard-headed daughter.”

Caroline smiled. “That I can.” She glanced around. “Where’s Lane and the boys?”

“They’ll be along in a minute or two. Last I saw them, they were having a heated discussion about water rights with Judge Devlin.”

“I know nothing about ranching, but it seems like water rights come up a lot around here for discussion.”

“With this latest drought, even more than usual. So Lydia tells me you only have a few months left with us.”

Caroline nodded. “Right. Five. My contact with the clinic is up at the end of the year.”

“Have you given thought to staying on? We sure could use you around here.”

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