The Rancher's Bride Page 8

  “This is great,” she declared. It was exactly the type of downtown she liked to explore. A variety of stores seemed to welcome visitors in with their covered walkways and huge picture windows. Art galleries, boutiques and restaurants, not all of them sporting covered walkways, sat along Main Street, parking spaces right out front.

  “Oh, yeah, great,” he echoed. He was back to looking sullen again. “Come on,” he said after pulling into a spot in front of a brick building with a wooden overhang. The sign that hung above a covered walkway said Richard’s Jeweler. “Let’s get this over with.”

  No. He wasn’t in love. His tone of voice said it all.

  Well, well, well.

  Chapter Nine

  “Mr. Clayborne,” said a man Ryan didn’t recognize, the door tinkling in their wake. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  Ryan almost turned right back around again, except his mother would kill him.

  He looked up from beneath the brim of his hat in time to see a man the size of Texas slip out from behind a huge, glass counter, one filled with rings and watches and other pieces of jewelry. He wore a dark gray suit that must have cost him a fortune, and not because it was tailored. It must have taken at least ten yards of fabric to cover him from head to toe.

  “And this must be your beautiful fiancée,” gushed Mr. Richard, or at least that’s who Ryan assumed he was. He certainly moved across the hardwood floor with the speed of someone who owned the place. “My, my, my, and what a lucky man you are, Mr. Clayborne.”

  The man came to a stop atop a giant, black rug with the store’s name on it. “I’m William Richard. Welcome to my shop.”

  “She’s not my fiancée,” Ryan snapped.

  To give him credit, William Richard recovered quickly. “Oh. I do beg your pardon.”

  “I’m his wedding planner,” Jorie explained.

  “Ah. Of course you are. Forgive my mistake. I thought I knew most of the wedding planners in town. You must be new to Fredericksburg.”

  He smiled at them both, though it was obvious the man was still uncomfortable.

  “I am.” Ryan watched as Jorie smiled at the man reassuringly. She could make the devil feel home in heaven, he thought. “I’m Odelia Clayborne’s new assistant, Jorie Peters.”

  They shook hands. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Peters.”

  “What a beautiful store you have,” she said, looking around. On the walls were clocks, their ticktocks filling the room with sound. “It feels like we’ve stepped back in time a hundred years.”

  “The building’s been here since the late 1800s,” Mr. Richard said, clearly pleased that she’d noticed.

  Jorie leaned forward and gave the man a smile meant to set him at ease.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve been mistaken for a bride, by the way.” She ratcheted up the volume of her smile in a way that would have melted a heart-shaped box of candy. “It must be the color I’m wearing.”

  She motioned toward the silky, off-white sweater she wore, the one that made her look like a model. Ryan thought she couldn’t be more different from Laurel if she tried. Quiet and unassuming. Those were words that fit Laurel. Not Jorie. Laurel wouldn’t have said a word to the jewelry store owner, just let Ryan handle the situation. Yet here was Jorie already charming the socks off him. He could tell William Richard appreciated Jorie’s words of reassurance, too, and that she had a new fan.

  “I can tell Odelia’s lucky to have you.” He smiled in Ryan’s direction. “Mr. Clayborne, your mother gave me specific instructions to pull out only my best pieces. Follow me.”

  Well, of course she did. His mom couldn’t resist meddling even when he’d specifically asked her not to. She loved Laurel like a daughter.

  Just as he loved her like a sister.

  “I had no idea what size diamond you were looking for so I just pulled out an assortment of shapes and carats.” The man slipped behind his counter, returning a few seconds later with a tray of rings that sparkled beneath the canned lighting and caused Ryan’s stomach to plummet to his toes.

  This was it.

  “Jorie, you pick.”

  Mr. Richard looked up at him in surprise.

  Ryan turned away. He had to tell himself not to run, although it felt as if the neck of his shirt had suddenly shrunk.

  “Ryan, really,” he heard Jorie say. “This is something you should do for yourself.”

  He took a deep breath, forced himself to unclench his hands.

  What are you doing?

  Getting married, he firmly told himself, turning to face Mr. Richard who stared at him as if he might suddenly scream obscenities at him. He must look like walking thunder. That’s what his mom always said when he was in a bad mood.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he didn’t know who he was apologizing to, Jorie, the shopkeeper or his absent mother. “This whole ring thing just isn’t my deal.”

  The man didn’t look convinced.

  “Let’s start with the basics,” Jorie said, and Ryan noticed she had perfectly manicured hands. A ring would look good on her finger. “Do you know what shape diamond you want?”

  “Round,” he said, though in reality it was the first word to pop into his mind.

  “White gold, platinum or eighteen-karat gold?” the shopkeeper asked.

  And though he knew he shouldn’t do it, he looked at Jorie and tried to envision what she would want.

  “Platinum.”

  “Good choice,” said Mr. Richard.

  Just have her pick out the damn ring.

  “Size?” the man asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “No problem,” said the man. “What about carats. Any idea how big you want to go?”

  He peered at the tray of rings in front of him, and even though he told himself it was a damn foolish thing to do he glanced at Jorie again, trying to imagine what she would want.

  “Nothing too big,” he said. “Something showy, but not too flamboyant.”

  She was staring at him strangely, as if she knew what was going through his head. But that wasn’t possible. She couldn’t read minds.

  “There,” he said, pointing to an oval-shaped ring that sent out sparks of color. “That one with the fancy design on it.”

  “Ah,” said Mr. Richard. “The filigree. Excellent choice.”

  If he’d picked a ring made of tin, the man would have said the same thing, Ryan thought.

  Mr. Richard picked up the ring in question. “Isn’t it stunning?” he asked.

  Ryan turned toward Jorie. “What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  She didn’t like it. He could tell. Though he barely knew her, he recognized the little wrinkle between her eyes. The way her lips compressed slightly, only to relax into a make-believe smile.

  “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said quickly.

  “You don’t like it. Why?”

  Discomfort shone from her eyes.

  “Come on. You can tell me.”

  “Okay, fine. I don’t like it… I mean I do. It’s truly lovely.” Her eyes grew wistful. “It’s just not right.”

  “How so?”

  “Because it’s not Laurel.”

  “Okay, then tell me what is Laurel?”

  She worried her bottom lip. Ryan watched as her tongue snuck out for a second.

  He nearly groaned.

  “Nothing too delicate. This ring is fancy, Laurel is…simple. Less…girly.”

  And she’d nailed her right on the head. Amazing. It must be her training. She was good at picking up on the small details.

  “So tell me what you think would work.”

  “I’m thinking she’ll want somethi
ng elegant, yet practical. Something that won’t get damaged when she works around the ranch.” She smiled up at him again. “That’s why platinum is such a good choice. It’s one of the hardest metals.”

  “She’s absolutely right,” said the jeweler. “Perhaps you’d like to look at the selection of platinum rings only?”

  Ryan lifted his hat, scratched his forehead before saying, “Fine.”

  Jorie nodded her approval. He had to look away, not that it did any good. He was aware of Jorie standing next to him, of the way she smelled and the warmth of her body—

  Stop it.

  This was ridiculous, not to mention, sick. He was here to pick out a ring for Laurel, not lust over his mom’s new wedding planner.

  “Here we go,” said Mr. Richard after he rearranged the available selection of rings. “These are your choices.” He waved a hand over the right side of the tray where he’d sequestered about ten rings.

  Ryan glanced at each of them and decided he hated them all. “You choose,” he told Jorie.

  “Ryan—”

  He began to turn away before he could stop himself from doing otherwise. “You’re the professional.”

  “But still—”

  “Please,” he said, pausing for a moment. “Pick.”

  He watched her pretty blue eyes dart over his face, as if searching for clues to what could possibly be going on. Whatever she saw, she must have realized how serious he was because she examined the tray, pointing to a ring with a band of inlayed diamonds and a round center stone that was beautifully cut, yet not too big.

  “There,” she said.

  He watched as Mr. Richard picked up the ring.

  And he couldn’t breathe.

  The hypocrisy of it all. Why had he agreed to do this? Laurel would be okay. Yeah, her dad would lose his mind, but he’d get over it. Surely they didn’t need to go through with this charade of a marriage?

  “That one’s stunning,” he heard the jeweler say. “Two carats. Oval cut. Simple, yet elegant.”

  His stomach churned again, this time to the point that he suddenly felt ill. He took a step, then another and another. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Ryan?” Jorie called out, concern in her voice.

  He kept walking, needing air. God help him, what was he about to do? Did he really want to consign himself to a loveless marriage?

  The answer came to him instantly.

  No.

  “Ryan, wait.”

  He heard footsteps behind him, and he sped up, pushing through the door so hard the handle stung his palms.

  “Darn it, Ryan, stop.”

  It started to rain. Ryan could hear it on the roof that covered the walkway. He could smell it, too, the scent of wet dirt suddenly filling the air. He didn’t know where he was going.

  He should have grabbed a coat, he thought, stepping out from beneath the covered walkway and heading toward the neighboring building. His hat only shielded part of his shoulders. Rain left dime-sized spots on the red fabric. He didn’t care.

  “Hey.”

  Jorie rushed by him, placed a hand against his chest. “If you don’t love her, why are you marrying her?”

  The jewelry store must have a walkway covered by tin, that was why he didn’t hear her right.

  “Believe me, Ryan. The last thing you want to do is marry someone you don’t love.”

  Only he had heard her right. She stared up at him, rain dotting her cheeks and nose and lips and God help him, he suddenly felt the urge to kiss her.

  “Laurel and I will be just fine.”

  He started off again, although where he was going, he had no idea. He just needed to walk.

  “Why?” she called out after him.

  He told himself to ignore her, to pretend as if he didn’t understand her question, but against his better judgment he found himself turning toward her.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do,” he said.

  He turned away again, headed toward a coffee shop at the end of the street. That’s what he needed, a good, strong cup of coffee.

  “You got her pregnant, didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “You did, didn’t you?” she asked, jumping in front of him once again and grabbing him by the arm.

  He told himself to deny it, after all, he hadn’t gotten Laurel pregnant. But something about the way she stared up at him, something about what he saw in her eyes. It had him thinking crazy thoughts. “Yeah,” he heard himself say. “I did.”

  And why he did that, he had no idea. Except…maybe he did. Maybe he said it because as he looked into her eyes, he saw kindness there. That, and something else. Something that scared him and had him thinking he needed to scare her off.

  “Is that why you’re marrying her?”

  No, he wanted to say.

  “Yes.”

  He got what he wanted then. The thing he saw in her eyes, he killed it with a single word.

  She stepped back from him, hugged her arms around herself, raindrops saturating her face and flattening her hair around her in a way that would have made a lesser woman look horrible, but it was impossible for Jorie to look bad, he’d begun to realize.

  “You’re an honorable man, Ryan Clayborne,” she said softly. “Laurel’s lucky to have you.”

  Chapter Ten

  A half hour later they drove home through the oak-studded countryside in complete silence. Jorie attempted to engage him once or twice, but his monosyllables made conversation next to impossible. It was almost a relief when they reached the end of Spring Hill Ranch’s long drive.

  “Office?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “I’m done for the day.”

  He didn’t say a word, just made the left-hand turn toward the old ranch house. It was still raining, the wipers squeaking upon the glass, the quiet whirr of the truck’s heater causing Jorie to grow sleepy. It’d been a long day. After they’d returned to the shop, Ryan had played chauffeur while she visited the local florist and a couple of caterers. Everyone had seemed glad to see her.

  Everyone but Ryan.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said after he pulled to a stop in front of his home.

  He didn’t say anything, just nodded, but he didn’t shut off his engine. Jorie watched the wipers traverse the glass one more time before opening the truck door. The arcs the wipers left behind were like colorless rainbows.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He nodded without a word.

  She couldn’t get out of his truck fast enough. She waited to hear him drive off, was surprised when he shut off his truck’s engine instead. She resisted the urge to turn and look, to see what he was doing. What she wanted to do was get out of her dank clothes. Even though it’d been a forty-five-minute drive back to the ranch, she was still damp from the multitude of dashes in and out of the truck throughout the day. She was tired, too, the stress of everything wearing her out. What she wanted to do was take a shower. Maybe start a fire afterward. She had a fireplace, she thought, dashing for the front door.

  He’d gotten Laurel pregnant.

  So? she asked herself. It happened. At least Ryan was marrying Laurel.

  Unlike her own father—

  She quickly quashed the thought.

  Ryan was going to be a father, and though he hadn’t meant it to happen, she had no doubt he’d do his best when it came to raising his child. He was that kind of man. And the child would have a loving home, and a grandmother who would spoil the child to death.

  She couldn’t get her key in the door. Her hands shook too badly. Must be the latent memories of her childhood.

  “Jorie.”

  The keys slid from her hands.

  “Here.”

 
; He came up to her quickly, grabbed the keys before she could.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking them from him. Yet for some reason she couldn’t look him in the eye. She couldn’t breathe, either.

  “Don’t mention any of this to my mom.”

  She shot him a look of reproach. “Of course not.”

  He was staring down at her and she spotted it then, the inner misery that was in his eyes. “It’s really not what you think.”

  “No?”

  “Laurel and I have an understanding. We’ll give our marriage a year, maybe two, and then we’ll see what happens.”

  “What about the child?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you just going to leave it behind?”

  Now it was his turn to stare down at her reproachfully. “Her child will always be taken care of.”

  Her child. “It’s your child, too, Ryan.”

  He half turned, looked off into the distance. The rain made it seem darker than it was, the drops that fell on the roof a staccato beat that for some strange reason, helped to make Jorie feel as if they were the only two people in the world. He was shaking his head, slowly, as if denying to himself that he’d fathered a child.

  “It’s such a damn mess.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said. “But I respect you for doing the right thing.”

  “That’s just it,” he said, facing her again. “It’s not me that should be doing the right thing.”

  She was starting to shiver, she realized, wishing she had a jacket. “What do you mean?”

  Again he turned. Again he stared out into the distance, this time without moving, staring watchfully like an animal trying to sense danger.

  “The child’s not mine.”

  The words literally rocked her back. “Excuse me?”

  “I know I told you it was,” he said, hooking his hands in his jeans, shoulders slumped as he faced her again. “But I had to tell you that. In another month, maybe two, it’ll be pretty obvious Laurel’s pregnant. We don’t want anyone to think I’m not the father.”