being her husband, even in name only.
She was provoking him. She had to be. But then he remembered her desperation when she’d approached him with her proposition, that phone call with Allen, and her need to gain complete control of her ranch.
He stared straight ahead, his jaw clenching. None of that was his concern. He didn’t care what she did, or who she lassoed into being her bridegroom.
The lie burned like acid in the pit of his stomach, and he took a long drink to douse the flames, which seemed to glow even hotter when another man approached Eden and sidled up to her right side—luckily out of Luke’s reach, who had the uncharacteristic urge to tell the fresh-faced kid to get lost.
“Hey, Eden,” the light-haired cowboy greeted her amicably. “It’s good to see you. Can I buy you a drink?”
Eden graced the young, eager man with a dazzling smile. “Why, how thoughtful, Billy. Yes, you may. I’ll take a whiskey sour.”
Luke’s brows shot up, and while Billy ordered her preferred drink from the bartender, he leaned close to Eden. “A couple of those, and a teetotaler like yourself will be passed out before you issue your first proposal.”
“I can hold my liquor just fine, Mr. Bodene.” Her smile was full of sugar, but the tone of her voice held a bit of an edge. “But it’s incredibly sweet of you to worry about me. And as far as that proposal is concerned, as long as I don’t issue it to you, why should you care?”
Indeed, his conscience prodded him—why should he care? “I don’t,” he bit out, wishing he sounded more convincing.
She patted his forearm in a consoling gesture he found more infuriating than soothing. “I’m glad, because if I remember correctly, you didn’t take me up on my offer, and I did warn you I’d try and find someone else.”
Before he could respond to that, the bartender delivered her drink, and she smiled her thanks. Picking up her glass, she slipped off her stool and allowed Billy to gently grasp her elbow and guide her toward a table where two other men sat, grinning like fools.
Eden turned and waggled her fingers at Luke. “Have a good evening, Mr. Bodene.”
His good evening turned out to be a pure, living hell. For the next hour, he nursed his beer and watched Eden flirt with the male population at The Silver Spur. He actually found himself envying the way she’d listen intently to something someone said, or laugh huskily at a joke. And with each minute that passed and she ignored his presence, jealousy gnawed at him.
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