“I’ll be the reason the fees went up,” she said.
“Still. Men have pride, Cal.”
“Men have dumbass egos and ridiculous complexes about being a white knight when nobody asked to be saved. I want what I want. I want the control of my life. If those pansy asses can’t handle me paying for the costs that I created, that’s on them. They don’t have to take it. Fact of the matter is, I didn’t ask for any of this. I just want to compete. Same as everybody else.”
Except she didn’t want to be just the same as everyone else. She wanted to be better. She wanted to be special.
She had this fantasy... Buried deep inside of herself. That if she could just do something big enough, decisive enough, unique enough, her mom would suddenly understand her. And why she was so driven. That her dad would bring her in for a hug and tell her she was amazing.
That she would somehow set herself apart from her brothers.
And from her sister.
No longer just a replacement daughter who didn’t quite measure up.
Conviction burned in her chest and she wasn’t going to let him scare her off by being a smart-ass about wedding nights and whatever.
Her arms felt prickly.
He didn’t mean it, anyway.
“Marriage is important,” she said. “And I don’t like this. I’m sorry to have to ask you...”
“Marriage doesn’t mean a damn thing,” he said. “It’s a legal institution. Who the hell cares?”
“It’s sacred. You make vows. Before God.”
“Yeah, but I’ve always believed that if God is paying attention he’s well aware of who’s full of bullshit. So, he’s not going to take them too seriously.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” she said, taking a step to the side, like she might need to dodge a lightning bolt that would come through his ceiling at any moment.
He shrugged. “I say terrible things all the time. It’s kind of my thing. I say honest things. There’s no point in anything else. Life is short.”
“Yeah. Well. Too short to not do what I want. So... Will you marry me, then?”
“Sure,” he said, lifting his shoulder. “But you need to make it real clear exactly what’s happening here. Name your terms and conditions.”
“Just that...” She crossed her arms and stared him down. “I don’t need to be married for longer than sixty days. Not per the terms of the will. We should be able to get married December 1 and be divorced before spring. As soon as I have access to the trust fund. But it has to look real.”
She was shaking. Vibrating with an intense need for him to say yes coupled with the guilt that she felt over this whole thing and with her nerves over being dishonest. She wasn’t dishonest. That was the thing. But she had to be. For this. If her dad knew that she was marrying Jake just to get her hands on the trust fund, then he would... He would change things. He would make it so she couldn’t get it. He would do something to block her. He had to think it was real. He had to think it was real until the minute she got her hands on that money. That money that represented freedom. She didn’t give a damn about fancy... Anything. She didn’t care about any of that. It was about what it represented. About what...
He looked like he was considering it. “How do you see this going?”
“What?”
“I mean, what’s your strategy for after? Marriage isn’t any skin off my nose,” he said. “But I’ve to get this place in shape for when my horses arrive after the first of the year. And let’s get one thing real clear. You wouldn’t be able to pull this off around your family.”
She frowned. “What?”
Suddenly his expression changed. His face went intense and he took a step toward her. Then another and another until she was fair certain he was going to run smack into her. And she sidestepped him like he was a bull and she was the fighter, a small squeak escaping her lips. “What in blazes?” She blinked and looked at him like he was insane. “You were going to run into me.”
“I was leaning in for a kiss, Callie. And as your fiancé that’s something you should be real happy about. You shouldn’t be...skittish.”
Heat rash—from rage—broke out over her skin. “I am not skittish, you boneheaded periwinkle, you were random. You have to announce things like that.”
“Not if I’m your fiancé.”
“What’s your damn point, Daniels?” She was ruffled now, and her clothes felt like they were sitting crooked on her body.
“My point is you don’t know what the hell you want, or what you’re doing. And if this is supposed to look real we’ll have to play house here.”
She hadn’t considered that. The really annoying thing was she realized right then that he was right. There were things she hadn’t thought through. What she had figured was that she would come for Thanksgiving, make up some story about how they’d... Fallen for each other in that time, and then somehow go back to... Her life. She had figured maybe he would come with her. But of course that wouldn’t work. Of course not. When she wasn’t traveling with the rodeo she mostly lived in her family’s sprawling home on their Lone Rock property.
And there would be no way she’d want to live in that kind of proximity to her parents for this whole thing.
But she hadn’t considered staying here, either. Not for an extended period of time. But of course she would have to.
And then Christmas...
Well, at Christmas they would have to deal with her family.
Maybe she should tell him.
“I...”
“I just got this place going, Cal. I’ve got work to do. I don’t really need a wife, truth be known, but I could use a ranch hand.” He assessed her for a long moment, and she shifted uncomfortably, unable to read the glint in his blue eyes. “And if you’re going to be doing saddle bronc, then you need more training. And no one is going to handle that except for me.”
* * *
HELL. HE’D BEEN gearing up to deal with the reality of having Cal show up, but nothing could have prepared him for her declaring that she wanted to marry him.
Cal had somehow become his best friend. And he was a man who’d never claimed a best friend before, never in his life. It was unexpected. He hadn’t figured the sixteen-year-old spitfire he’d seen doing laps in the arena could teach him anything. But she had. About resilience, and humor in the face of defeat.
He’d come into the rodeo with demons on his heels. He’d ridden hard, drank harder. Slept with a new buckle bunny every night. Losses had been unacceptable—and there were a lot of losses. He’d been at the mercy of bulls with bad attitudes happy to grind him into the dust, and part of him had taken that punishment and relished it, even while losing put him in a rage.