The Cowboy Earns a Bride (Cowboys of Chance Creek Book 8) (24 page)

“That’s bullshit. Everything he said was goddamn bullshit.”

“Really? Because it sounded like good sense to me.”

Luke turned on him. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am on your side, but Carl’s right. If Mia is meeting with him because she wants someone to talk to, that means the two of you aren’t talking enough.”

“Maybe she isn’t interested in just talking to him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You heard the guy. Mia’s too young for him.”

“When did that ever stop a man?” Luke thought about Warner. Shook it off. “Even if he isn’t into her, which I doubt, she could be into him. Everyone knows he’s rich as sin, right?”

Jake nodded slowly. “You think Mia would hit on Carl in order to get her hands on his money? Are you listening to yourself, asshole? Mia’s the one who keeps refusing to let you pay her way because she wants to do it herself. She’s the one who’s set her heart on running her own business—an idea you keep trashing. If you’re going to accuse her of whoring herself out for cash, maybe she should dump your sorry ass.”

“Maybe I don’t have enough money for her. Maybe that’s what she’s been trying to tell me all along.”

“That she won’t let you support her because you don’t have a million dollars? I don’t think—”

“You know what? I don’t need to know what you think. I need to figure this out on my own.” Luke climbed into his truck, slammed the door shut and roared off down the street, not caring who saw him or what happened next.

Hours later he stood in the nursery watching the sea of dolls watch him back, still seething from his encounter with Carl. A long drive down country roads hadn’t calmed him. Neither had slogging through the remainder of his chores. Ned was right. These were the only babies he’d ever see in this nursery, because there was no way he could compete with a millionaire. Maybe he could have once, back when Carl was the soft, pasty-white businessman he had been, but this new Carl was both rich and masculine enough to attract a woman like Mia. Had the asshole been working out?

Anger boiled up within him that it had ever come to this. That Mia had ever slept with Ellis. That she had held back from him when she moved in. That he’d blown his chance with her while she still lived here. That he couldn’t have a simple conversation with her without turning it into an argument. Mia would sleep with him, but she wouldn’t pledge her life to him. She’d have Ellis’s baby, but she wouldn’t let Luke become the father to her child.

His chest tightened until he could hardly breathe. His pulse pounded at his temples. The sea of dolls stared back at him unblinkingly until Luke couldn’t stand it anymore. He charged downstairs, found the trash bags and grabbed a handful. Back in the nursery he opened one up and swooped armfuls of dolls and stuffed animals into it. When it was full to the brim he balanced it in front of him to tie off the ends. His fingers, shaking from rage, fumbled at the plastic ties and slipped, spilling half the dolls back to the floor. With a roar of anger, Luke kicked the nearest. It ricocheted off the crib and the dresser, and came to rest on the other side of the room. It felt so good to vent his fury he did it again, and again, sending the dolls and stuffed animals flying.

“Damn it! God-damn it!”

“Luke! What are you doing?”

Luke spun around to see Mia in the doorway, her coat still on and her mouth hanging open. He glanced around him and took in the room the way she’d see it—dolls scattered over the floor and furniture, most of them dented, scuffed and damaged from his kicks. The walls and furniture scarred. He noticed one curtain half torn from its rod.

Mia’s face crumpled and tears filled her eyes. Luke went cold. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“What is it then? No!” She held up a hand, a tear spilling over her cheek. “No, I don’t want to hear.” She turned and ran down the stairs as fast as she could. Luke went after her, but halted halfway down when the front door slammed shut behind her. He sat down hard on the wooden steps. Kicked out at the railing once, twice—until it splintered and crashed to the ground.

What the hell had he done?

‡
Chapter Seventeen

“W
hat do you
mean he was kicking babies?” Autumn asked, cradling Arianna closer.

“Baby dolls. Stuffed animals. Just kicking them all over the nursery!” Mia was still crying. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t make sense of what she’d seen when she’d stopped by Luke’s cabin on her way home. All she knew was that it felt like Luke had aimed all his anger at her.

“Had you bought them for your baby?”

“No!” Mia shook her head vehemently. Autumn sat on one of the guesthouse’s sofas. Mia paced the room, unable to sit down. “I don’t know where they came from. There were dozens of them everywhere. Do you think Luke bought them and then got mad when I wouldn’t move back in?”

“I don’t know.” Autumn looked equally mystified. “I don’t think you should be with a man who has a temper like that, either.”

“He didn’t used to have a temper. He was always sweet.” Mia’s tears ran faster. “Maybe I pushed him over the edge!”

“You are not to blame for this.”

“Not to blame for what?” Claire came in, followed by Morgan, and Mia explained again what she’d seen.

“That seems awfully… strange.” Morgan sat down on the couch and pulled her feet up under her. “But there’s been some bizarre stuff going on. What’s the deal with all the practical jokes?”

“Has there been more than one?” Autumn asked. “The Preparation H thing was pretty weird.”

“Well, there was the topiary disaster,” Morgan pointed out.

“And the Sexy Cowboy calendar. Jamie’s been selected for August,” Claire said. “Just what I need—a thousand horny women staring at his photo all month. As if he isn’t vain enough already.”

“So why the sudden rush of practical jokes?” Autumn shifted Arianna. “I mean, didn’t all the men swear off of them after your marriage, Morgan?”

“I thought so. I’ll ask Rob and see if he knows anything about the dolls, Mia. Maybe Luke wasn’t mad at you at all. Maybe he was mad at the person who put them there.”

“Maybe.” Her voice was thick and uneven. She scraped at her tears with the back of her arm. “Maybe if someone put all those dolls there, Luke felt they were making fun of him, since I won’t marry him.”

Autumn brought her a box of tissues and Mia accepted them gratefully. She blotted her eyes but new tears fell as fast as she could dry them.

“That’s the whole point of practical jokes, right?” Claire said. “To make the other person feel bad?”

“I guess.” Mia dabbed at her face. “That’s pretty mean, though. Who would do that?”

The other women couldn’t answer. “I think it’s time to figure it out, though,” Claire said. “I know I’m sick of this. Aren’t you guys, too?”

“Definitely,” Mia said. If the dolls were part of a joke, then maybe Luke hadn’t lost his mind.

“Maybe you should talk to Luke, Mia. Give him a chance to explain,” Autumn said gently.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Morgan said as Mia yawned so widely she swayed. “Look at her. She’s exhausted. Mia—you go to bed.”

Mia wanted to protest, but Morgan was right. She was too tired to even think straight. Too demoralized, too. No matter what the reason, seeing Luke destroying her nursery had devastated her. Another tear rolled down her cheek as she climbed the stairs and by the time she reached her room, she was sobbing again. This had to be the worst day of her life, and she didn’t know how things would get better anytime soon.

Spotting the calendar on her desk, Mia realized she hadn’t returned the phone calls she owed to Lila or Tracey. And she hadn’t gotten everything organized for her meeting with Rose, either. But there was no way she could do it now.

Mia didn’t bother to brush her teeth or change her clothes. She climbed into her bed, pulled the blankets around her and cried herself to sleep.

At three in
the morning in April, the Double-Bar-K was cold, dark and as still as a graveyard. Luke let himself out of his cabin and walked carefully across the grounds until he reached the small outbuilding where Ned’s tools were neatly stored around the workbenches where he fixed all the machinery that was needed for the ranch.

By flashlight he began to gather everything he could move—screwdrivers, rasps, a ratchet set, even the blades from the bandsaw. If it wasn’t nailed down, Luke took it and loaded it into his truck. He held his breath when he started the engine, and let the truck roll down the dirt lane as far as possible in neutral with the headlights off until he felt it was safe to press on the gas and pull out onto the country highway. He drove south of town until he reached an old barn on the Hamm spread that was so ramshackle it was no longer used.

Ned would never, ever find his tools here. No one would. Luke might have lost Mia, but at least he’d have his—

Revenge?

Luke sat stock still in the seat of his truck, staring out at the black hulk of the Hamms’ broken down barn. What good was revenge? It wouldn’t bring Mia back. It wouldn’t mend the gaping hole in his heart she’d left when she’d run out of his house.

It wouldn’t fix anything.

Alone in the dark the only sound was the beating of his own heart. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, grappling for the anger that had sent him on this fool’s errand. Somehow it had drained away, leaving only defeat behind.

What was he doing stealing Ned’s tools instead of rebuilding Mia’s nursery, fixing the stair railing, and doing whatever it took to win her back? Was he still a teenager, squabbling and bickering with his brothers until no one on the Double-Bar-K knew any peace or happiness?

No wonder Mia had run from him. He was a first class asshole.

He started up the truck again, revved the engine and turned around with a screech of tires. He drove back home quickly, but rolled into his driveway with the headlights off again. No sense letting his whole family know how low he’d sunk.

He put all the tools away except the ones he needed to repair the nursery. He couldn’t stay up all night or he’d be worse than useless the next day, but in time he’d fix what he’d broken—in the nursery, yes, but also between him and Mia.

And tomorrow he’d get to work winning her back from Carl.

“I don’t understand.
You didn’t reserve the tents?” Lila White said into the phone. “We talked about them just the other day. I thought I made it clear how important they were. I’ve got seventy-five guests coming, my dear.”

“I know.” It was a strain for Mia not to let her frustration show. “I got caught up in work and wasn’t able to call the rental company, but I will do it today.”

“That’s what you said last time, dear. What about the silverware and plates? I don’t have seventy-five settings, you know.”

“Of course not, Lila. I’ll reserve those the same time I call about the tents.”

“The tent company doesn’t carry silverware. That’s two different companies.”

“Yes, two different companies and I’ll call them both, just as soon as I—”

“I’m positive it’s two different companies. Tents are very different from dinnerware. I’m sure they need two entirely different kinds of storage—”

“Yes, Lila. I know. Two different companies. How about we wrap this up so I can contact them?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone and Mia wanted to kick herself. Why had she snapped at poor Lila White? That wasn’t kind, or good business.

“Well, if you have the time,” Lila said finally. “I know how busy you are.”

“Lila, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m worried about the tent rentals and dinnerware, too. I want your party to be the best party ever and I feel awful I haven’t taken care of those details yet.”

“You are taking a lot on, dear.” Lila’s voice softened. “I know you’re working hard.”

“It’s important to me to do this right. It’s important to me that you’re happy, Lila.”

“I’m sure I will be. I’ll get off the phone right now and you call those rental places up.”

“Thank you.” As soon as Mia hung up with Lila, she searched for the tent rental company and dialed the number, shimmying into her work clothes at the same time. “Hello? I need to book three large tents on May fifteenth.”

The woman who’d answered the phone hesitated only a second. “Sorry—we’re all booked that day. Would you like to try another date?”

Mia froze, one foot into the pair of slacks she intended to wear to work. “What do you mean you’re all booked?”

“Our large tents book up months in advance for the spring and summer. We have some weekdays left in May and June, but if you need a weekend it’ll be the end of July before we have anything available.”

“July?” Mia thought she might faint. “Are there any other rental companies you can recommend? I have to have three large tents for the fifteenth.”

The receptionist made a doubtful sound. “Here’s our competitor’s number.” She rattled off a number that Mia wrote down swiftly on a scrap of paper on her desk, one leg in her slacks, the other still out. “Good luck. Maybe you’ll catch a break.”

“Thanks.”

But Lady Luck wasn’t smiling on Mia; the other company’s tents were booked as well. Mia didn’t know what to do. Lila had been so nice to her, even after she’d slipped and been rude. How would the woman react when she found out Mia had botched her party?