a paper marriage—a marriage in name only,” she explained. “He can run cattle on our ranch and expand a little because he knows we don’t use all our land.”
“The only way he can know that is if he’s been on our property. I will shoot that greedy son of a bitch if I catch him trespassing!”
“He could know that without getting on our property,” she said calmly, trying to stay calm herself to quiet her father. “Everyone in town knows you’ve had health problems.”
“Why in thunderation did he ever think you’d agree? Damn, he’s ruthless and greedy. There’s nothing we’d get out of it.” Quinn grumbled.
“According to him there is. We’d get his help running this ranch and his money backing it.”
Her father clenched his fists, his face growing more red. “Dammit. He just wants our land.”
“But his would be ours as much as ours would be his,” she argued.
Quinn shot her a searching look. Shutting his mouth, he went to the mantel to prop his elbow on it, and she saw that he was actually thinking about Gabriel Brant’s proposition. Her spirits sank a little because she had had to think about it herself.
“There have to be a dozen other guys around here who would marry you and work with me on the ranch.”
“No one has called and asked me out,” she answered dryly. “At least going out with Gabriel Brant might be interesting.”
“How do you know that? You don’t know the guy at all.”
“Of course, I do. I’ve been around him when we were growing up. I saw him at parties and football games. He was older, but he was always in the middle of things and sort of the life-of-the-party type,” she said. Back then she had thought he was incredibly sexy and handsome and wished he would notice her; wished that he was anything except a Brant.
Quinn turned to study her. “You’re not actually considering this, are you?”
“I have to think about it. It holds possibilities.”
“Hellfire. The guy’s a shark like his dad. He owns ranches all over Texas. He’s land-hungry and you can’t trust a Brant.”
“Maybe, but the marriage would still give us the same rights with his ranch that he would have with ours.” She gazed into the distance and frowned. “I thought he was married.”
“He was, but she died about three years ago. He’s really thrown himself into ranching since then. If I remember right, I think he has a little boy.” Quinn ran his hand over his head.
“A son?”
“Now don’t go getting soft because he has a motherless child. I know what a pushover you are about kids. Honey, if you’re thinking about his proposal, you’re doing it for me. Don’t.”
“I’m doing it for you, for me, for the baby, for the ranch. It’s for all of us,” she said, walking over to give her father a hug. He wrapped his arms around her to hug her in return. She could feel his shoulder bones and thought again about the weight he had lost.
“I love you, Ashley. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I love you, too,” she replied, giving him a squeeze and moving away. She sat on the sofa. “Dad, Gabe’s offer has possibilities.”
Quinn shook his head. “I can’t imagine—a Ryder marrying a Brant.” Quinn rested an elbow on the mantel and stared into space. “You just think you’ll always have your health and then one day you don’t.”
“Please don’t worry. I promise that I won’t do anything I don’t really want to,” she said, leaning back and wondering if she was trying to convince herself.
Ashley discussed it until he announced that he was going to bed. After he was gone, she paced the room. Her father was frail and the burden of the ranch was stress in his life that he didn’t need. The ranch was losing money daily—something that hadn’t ever happened in her lifetime.
Was what Gabriel Brant proposed absolutely unthinkable? It would be a paper arrangement. She ran her hand across her head. She couldn’t trust a Brant. Old hurts plagued her as she remembered how she had trusted Lars, a man she had thought she had known and loved. He had broken her trust and she had learned a bitter lesson.
An hour later, Ashley went to bed, but she tossed and turned and didn’t sleep well. She kept seeing Gabriel Brant, legs crossed, leaning back against his pickup. And she kept remembering how, when she had met his dark eyes, her pulse had raced.
Finally she fell asleep but overslept the next morning. When she went to the kitchen, her father had already gone. Ashley fixed her breakfast and got out paint samples to pick colors for the nursery.
Fifteen minutes later, she realized her mind wasn’t on colors. She was thinking about Gabriel Brant’s proposition. He had a child. A son. She wondered about the little boy who had lost his mother when he was so young. Yet the marriage would be a business arrangement and nothing more. Gabe wouldn’t make any demands on her. No emotions would be involved. Lawyers could protect her. She threw up her hands. How could such an arrangement work?
The phone rang and she crossed the room to pick it up.
“Ashley?” came a deep, masculine voice. “This is Gabe Brant. I’d like to see you again.”
Two
“I’d like to see you right away. I’ll drive to your place. How’s an hour from now?” Gabe asked.
Ashley closed her eyes and ran her fingers across her brow.
“Good. I’ll be there,” he announced before she’d had time to answer. He hung up, and she was left with a dial tone.
“You don’t believe in saying goodbye, do you?” She hadn’t said much more than hello. She slammed down the receiver, glanced at her watch and went to her room to change her clothes. Then she became annoyed with herself for changing just because Gabriel Brant was coming.
Yesterday she’d had an intense, prickly awareness of him. She ran her fingers through her hair, and studied herself in the mirror. She was in a T-shirt, a denim jumper and sneakers. So be it. She combed her hair into a ponytail and went downstairs. Forty minutes later, she left the house and climbed into one of the ranch pickups and headed toward the road.
Alongside the county road in the shade of a tall cottonwood, she parked by the mailbox, retrieved their mail and climbed onto a fender to sit and wait for him.
Right on time she saw his red pickup coming up the highway. Sliding off the fender, she watched as he slowed. To her surprise, she could see a small boy in the back seat. Gabe parked and climbed out. He wore a T-shirt and jeans. His thick, slightly wavy brown hair was neatly trimmed. Her pulse jumped at the sight of him. Brant or not, the man was good-looking. Her gaze slid past him and she watched the little boy and jump out of the truck to take his dad’s hand. The child stopped in his tracks and studied her with large, dark-brown eyes that were as thickly lashed as his father’s.
“Ashley, meet my son Julian.”
Julian
