She slipped into the booth and waited for him to take his seat again. Once he had, she stretched a hand across the table. “I’m Shelby Cannon.”
He wiped his palm down his thigh before taking her hand in his. Small. Delicately boned. His own work-roughened hand swallowed her smaller one. “Troy Jacobs,” he returned. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
Her eyes sharpened when his fingers closed around hers, and he couldn’t help wondering if she felt the same kick to the system as he had when their palms first met.
Slowly she withdrew her hand, then fisted it with the other on her lap. “Mr. Jacobs—”
“Troy,” he insisted, and smiled, hoping to put her at ease.
She inhaled deeply. “Troy, then,” she said, and forced a polite, if tremulous, smile in return. “I know this may seem presumptuous of me to approach you in this way, but I’m running short of time and forced to be blunt.” She drew in another deep breath, then leaned toward him, leveling her gaze on his. “Are you married?”
The question came out of left field, catching him totally off guard. He wondered if she was planning on trying to pick him up, though she certainly didn’t look the type. “No ma’am,” he replied cautiously.
Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank goodness. I didn’t see a ring, but I had to make certain.”
“Are you?” he asked, thinking he ought to establish her marital status, since she’d considered his so important.
She shook her head, then leaned closer. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, earlier, when you were talking to those two men who were leaving.”
“The Corley brothers?” At her nod, he chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Me and the Corleys go way back. They’re steer wrestlers, too, and we’ve competed against each other over the years. Lately, though, they’ve been collecting all the winnings.”
She closed her hands around the edge of the scarred table and drew herself forward, her expression growing more earnest. “I heard you say that you might have to sell your horse if your luck didn’t change pretty soon.”
His ego took a beating, knowing that she’d overheard that. Not that he was desperate for money. He wasn’t. The comment had been made in jest. What embarrassed him was that she was aware of his current losing streak. He dropped his gaze and stirred his fork through his mashed potatoes. “My situation’s not quite as bad as it sounds.”
“How much is your horse worth?”
He jerked up his head to peer at her. “You’re wanting to buy my horse?”
Obviously startled by the question, she shook her head. “Oh, no! I don’t want to buy your horse. Heavens!” She laughed weakly and placed a hand over her breasts, as if the idea alone was enough to bring on a heart attack. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a horse. I’ve never even been on one.”
“So why do you want to know how much he’s worth?”
“I…I—” She pressed her lips together and forced her chin up a notch. “I’m just interested, is all.”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Twenty-five thousand dollars!” At Troy’s nod, she sank weakly against the back of the booth. “Twenty-five thousand dollars,” she repeated, then closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging in defeat.
When she opened her eyes, Troy would have sworn he saw tears in them.
“I don’t have that much money,” she said, her voice heavy with regret. She pushed to her feet. “Thank you for your time, Troy. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
He stretched a hand across the table, stopping her. “Hold on a minute.” She glanced at the hand that gripped her arm, then back at him and slowly sank back down, her gaze now watchful. Realizing he’d frightened her, Troy released his hold on her. “I thought you said you wanted to buy my horse?”
“Oh, no! I just wanted to know how much he was worth.”
“Why?”
She shifted uneasily on the booth. “Well,” she began, then averted her gaze, her cheeks turning pink again. “I was hoping that I could…well, that I could make a trade with you.”
“If you don’t want my horse, then what is it you want me to trade?”
He watched the pink turn a brilliant red. She plucked a paper napkin from the holder on the table and kept her gaze on her fingers as she began to shred it.
“Your name,” she said in a low voice.
Troy leaned closer, sure that he’d misunderstood her. “My name?”
A tear rolled over her lower lashes and down her cheek. She swiped at it furiously with the shredded napkin. “Yes. Your name.” Another tear quickly fell to replace the first.
Troy lifted a hip and worked a handkerchief from his back pocket and offered it to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, sniffing as she blotted the handkerchief beneath her eyes.
“Why would you want my name?” he asked in confusion.
“Not just your name, actually.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth.
Frustrated, Troy shoved aside his plate and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Maybe you should tell me just exactly what it is you want from me.”
She pressed the handkerchief against her lips, then fanned it in front of her eyes when they filled with tears again. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry. It’s just that I had so hoped you would agree to marry me and let me use your name.”
Troy was sure that he had stepped into a scene from the Twilight Zone. “Did you say marry you?”
She pressed the handkerchief beneath her nose and nodded. “I’d pay you, of course,” she hurried to explain. “I’ve got the money.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “But not $25,000. I only have about $5,000 in my savings account.”
Troy braced his hands against the edge of the table, pushed himself back against the seat and released a shuddering breath. He stared at her a long moment, trying to figure her angle. “And why would a pretty young lady like yourself want to marry an old cowboy like me? Hell,” he said, gesturing at her. “You don’t even know me.”
Her eyes flew wide. “Oh, no! I don’t want to marry you—I mean, at least, not in the sense you must think. I just need your name. My plan was for us to marry, go our separate ways, then divorce after the baby is born.”
Troy choked, his eyes going wide. “Baby?” he gasped hoarsely.
Tears filled her eyes. “Yes…baby.” She pressed her hand over her stomach, her lips trembling. “I’m pregnant.”
He dropped his gaze to her hand and the flat stomach beneath it.
