than the girls. And, for the most part, the boys had accepted her as one of their own. But they thought, wrongly, that because she was a girl she would be easy to beat. She wasn’t. The boys in town had always made bets with her and they had always lost. When the boys grew into men, they still lost. What she lacked in strength, she more than made up for it with an innate desire to win. She had been competitive since she was a kid and that had never changed. Everyone knew Genevieve was the reigning champion for winning wagers in Rust Creek Falls; it was a title she wore with pride. And she planned on leaving this town undefeated.
There was a cockiness lurking behind Knox’s dark eyes that made her jaw clench. This was the exact look cowboys gave her right before she beat them at tractor chicken. No matter how big or tough, the braggadocios all blinked and ended up driving their tractor into a ditch while she kept right on driving her tractor on the road. She never blinked.
“Then,” Knox said as he took a step toward her, his tone steady and serious, “I dare you to marry me.”
She’d always had a bit of a temper and it had gotten her in trouble more times than she could remember. She took a step toward Knox.
“You dare me?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You dare me?” she repeated, surprised that he had thrown down a gauntlet that he had to know she wouldn’t be able to resist picking up.
“You’ll be married by morning, Crawford, so you’d better watch who you’re daring to do something.” She jabbed her finger in his direction, her cheeks flushed.
“Naw, I doubt it. I bet you won’t marry me.” She hated the fact that there was smugness in his tone now. “You’ll chicken out.”
Chicken out? Did he actually know that those words were like waving the proverbial red flag in front of the meanest bull in Rust Creek Falls? “I never chicken out, Knox.”
“Neither do I.”
Genevieve slipped her phone out of her back pocket, typed in a search, and then scrolled through the information on the website she chose. She held out the phone for Knox to see. “We can drive to Kalispell tomorrow, get a license and get married the same day. No waiting.”
“That doesn’t scare me.” He smiled at her. “Does it scare you?”
“Nothing scares me.” She kept searching for information about getting married in nearby Kalispell. “There’s a problem.”
“What’s that?”
“We need someone to officiate the wedding and it says here we need to book months in advance.”
“That’s not a problem. I know a guy I can call.”
“You know a guy?”
“Yeah. I know a guy. I’m sure he’ll be able to squeeze us into his schedule.”
“How romantic.” Genevieve slipped her phone back into her pocket. “Meet me tomorrow morning, eight o’clock outside of the Gold Rush Diner.” Genevieve pushed open the door, bristling mad. “If you show up, we’ll go get ourselves hitched.”
“I like the sound of that.” Knox held out his hand. “Shall we shake on it?”
Her hand slipped easily into his. “We enter into a platonic marriage and then when we get an annulment you pay all of my expenses to move to California—including moving my horse, Spartacus.”
“My word is my bond as a man.”
“My word is my bond as a woman,” she countered as she tugged her fingers free.
She had meant to call his bluff, but it had backfired. Instead of backing down, he’d stepped up.
He picked up a long piece of greenish alfalfa hay off the floor, quickly tied it into a small circle and, with his straight white teeth showing in a genuine smile, he knelt down before her on one knee and extended the makeshift ring.
“Genevieve Lawrence, will you do me the honor of being my fake bride?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Don’t ruin this special moment for me.” He moved the hay ring back and forth for her to see. “It’s not every day I get engaged.”
“Fine,” she said with an annoyed sigh as she held out her left hand. “I will be your fake bride, Knox. But only if you show up tomorrow.”
The cowboy stood up and slipped the crude ring onto her finger. Did she imagine it, or did a small shock pass between them when he took her hand in his? She looked at the ring encircling her finger; she had never thought to see any type of ring on that finger for years, if ever. Even a hay ring made her feel boxed in like a trapped wild animal.
Genevieve swayed backward and put her hand on the door to steady her body. She pushed the door open quickly so she could get some air into her lungs. When she stepped out into the wide aisle of the barn, she took in a deep breath, wanting to fill her lungs with as much air as possible to fend off the dizziness that had sprung up out of nowhere. She forced her brain to will her body to get it together and calm down. She was well-known for her nerves of steel when she was off-road racing or vaulting on the back of her horse—why were those nerves failing her now? Perhaps because this was the most serious bet she had ever made in her life—and if she was wrong, and Knox actually showed up, Genevieve knew that she wouldn’t be the one to back down. If she was wrong and he showed up, she would be married by sundown tomorrow.
Genevieve closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds; when she opened them, she had her game face firmly back in place. To Knox, she said in a clipped, no-nonsense tone, “Don’t forget to put that check in the mail, Crawford. I’ve got bills to pay.”
“No need, darlin’,” Knox called out after her with a pleased laugh in his voice that made her shoulders stiffen as she walked away. “I’ll just bring it to you tomorrow.”
* * *
The next morning, thirty minutes before their planned meet time, Knox parked his truck in the crowded lot of the Gold Rush Diner. He spotted Genevieve’s truck, still caked in mud from her off-road shortcut, parked nearby. He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, thinking about the moment he would arrive at the diner, not knowing if Genevieve would really show up. It surprised him that the sight of her truck didn’t make him feel nervous in the least. In fact, his stomach had been churning all morning at the thought of her not showing up. Now that he knew she was here, all he felt was relieved. And hungry.
Knox pushed open the door to the diner and nodded his head in greeting to the folks he knew. Rust Creek was a small town; it was typical to run into folks he knew everywhere.
“Find a seat where you can,” the waitress pouring coffee behind the counter called out to him.
Knox had already spotted his target. Genevieve was sitting in a booth in the back of the diner, her long, wavy blond hair freshly washed and cascading over her shoulders. She wasn’t dressed for an elopement, but then again, neither was he. Just like him, Genevieve had on her work clothes—jeans, boots and a T-shirt. No doubt she assumed he was going to back out of the wager, just as he assumed she would.
