Fake Fiance, Real Revenge: A Three River Ranch Novel (Entangled Bliss) Page 12

  “Della,” he tried again, “this is a bad idea. Hard Tack is not for you. No way.”

  “Of course not for me!” She looked at him like he was an idiot. “I’ve got houses all over the world, my boy. I’ll certainly be back when I’m in the mood to sling a little cow shit, but this is exactly what I was looking for. For Paris.”

  “But I thought…” Mitch’s mind scrambled. “We talked about a destination resort.” A place where wealthy people might actually want to spend time. Something that would cement the reputation of Granger-Ellis forever.

  “And I was! Past tense. Pay attention.”

  “Was?” He could kill her. Any jury of his peers would understand. He’d never do a day of time.

  “All depends on what Paris wants. Maybe she won’t like the dude ranch idea. Maybe she’ll want to fix it up and run cattle on it again. Who knows? But whatever happens, it’ll be her home.” She turned away so Mitch couldn’t see her face. “I’ll miss her, but this is the happiest I’ve seen her since her daddy died.”

  Mitch remembered Sabrina’s words. “You think Paris wants this?”

  “All I know is, she looks…at home out here. With you people.”

  Well, damn. She put on a tough show, but Della cared for the girl.

  Then he thought of Hailey. Maybe Gus Harding would be relieved to start over, but how would his daughter feel about it? Rory said she was older than he thought, actually graduating from high school next year. The absolute worst time to uproot a kid. And to top it all off, she’d be forced to leave her beloved horses.

  She was a younger version of Paris, thought Mitch. But without the money.

  “I rebounded when her daddy died,” Della said suddenly. “I dragged that child hither and yon looking for I don’t know what. Did you know I was almost ready to tie the knot again? Franklin Laliberte. I told myself I was looking out for Paris but I was being selfish. I’m not too proud to admit it.”

  “Laliberte?” Mitch said faintly.

  “Della Laliberte. Say that after a couple of drinks.”

  The conversation had taken the kind of turn that always made him feel dizzy and out of step. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced his mind back to the image of Hard Tack.

  All he’d wanted was to show everyone the kind of beauty he could create, the kind of people who sought him out for his talent, to sweep in, impress everyone in Lutherton with his brilliance, then sweep out, his past humiliations avenged.

  And Sabrina. What about her?

  God. He had no business making deals that involved human beings. Or at least, people he cared for. This was why he stuck with arm’s-length land deals. Property, business, buying, selling. It made sense to him. He could see what was happening, what needed to happen. Jon Ellis took care of the rest.

  Talk about backfiring. Della had dangled a game-changing project in front of him, when she had nothing more than a glimmer of an idea in her mind. This whole trip? It was a reconnaissance mission. And Mitch? He’d slink away, knowing he’d ripped a hole in the fabric of the ranching community. Same song, another verse. Little bit louder, little bit worse.

  Granger-Ellis would be fine. They hadn’t lost anything, not really. But Mitch had seen the possibility so clearly, wealth and prestige beyond anything he’d ever expected, that the disappointment was unbearable. He should have known better than to get his hopes up.

  Jon wouldn’t care. He’d never believed it anyway, Mitch suspected. Besides, he didn’t even need the partnership. He could pick up and go anywhere in the world without a second thought. He had no demons in his past.

  Not like Mitch, who was in quicksand and sinking fast.

  And taking Sabrina down with him. Now, instead of being engaged for a month…well, where did that leave them?

  “You’ll at least offer a fair price, won’t you?” Maybe it didn’t have to end badly. “In this economic climate, a lowball offer would destroy Harding. I don’t need to tell you this.”

  “He’ll get over it.” She waved her hand, irritated. “Paris likes Montana. I think she could make friends here. Be happy. That means something to me. I made a promise to her daddy and this is my way of keeping it. But believe you me, I’m not about to pay one red cent more than I have to for that scrap heap. The way that man has let the place go, he should be kissing my feet that I’m even considering it. Deal with it, Mitch. This argument is finished.”

  …

  “Are you okay?” Sabrina whispered. “Is something wrong?”

  Mitch looked slightly sick. They were in the spare bedroom at her parents’ house, about to join the crowd Mr. and Mrs. Becker had invited to celebrate their only daughter’s forthcoming nuptials. She’d been unable to talk them out of it.

  Come to think of it, she felt a little sick herself.

  But something else was bothering Mitch. He had been avoiding her ever since they’d returned from the two-day trail ride. Okay, so this whole revenge thing wasn’t as uncomplicated as she’d expected. She was working up to it. She had to make sure she didn’t have feelings that would get her in trouble again when this ridiculous farce was over.

  It wasn’t her fault their bodies seemed to remember each other.

  They hadn’t actually done anything. He didn’t even know she’d been aware of his arousal and was even enjoying his touch.

  Ever since then he’d looked haunted, but she hadn’t had time to find out why. First he’d been holed up in the guesthouse with Della, then he’d mysteriously disappeared into town several times, then she had two deliveries that kept her hopping the rest of the week. Before she knew it, it was the night of their engagement party.

  “Sorry,” he said, his eyes hollow. “I just hate these things.”

  “Come on, in your business? Surely you do this all the time.”

  “Yeah,” he answered. “And I hate it, every time.”

  She looked him over. His hair was clean, with just enough product in it, his cheeks were freshly shaven, and his tailored suit looked better than anything Lutherton had seen in, well, ever. But his shoulders were tense, tight. A muscle in his jaw twitched and there was a line between his eyebrows.

  He’d made a real effort, but beneath the suave man of the world, she caught a glimpse of the boy who felt not good enough, stupid, hunted, and determined not to let his predators smell fear.

  She reached up and smoothed his forehead. “It’s going to be okay, Mitch.”

  He closed his eyes, as if enjoying her touch. “I’m always relieved when they’re over and I can get away from the crowd.”

  “To be alone with your supermodel date, maybe?” She said it jokingly, but Sabrina was surprised to find that there was a spike of jealousy in her words.

  “I don’t date anymore.” He adjusted his cuffs, looked at his hair in the mirror.

  “Good answer!” She patted his shoulder. “That’s the attitude.”

  “No,” he said, glancing at her hesitantly. “I mean, I don’t bring dates to social events. Haven’t for years.”

  “Well, no wonder you hate them, then.” She turned to the mirror now herself, hoping he hadn’t seen the flush that rose in her cheeks upon hearing his words. “But this time you’ll be with me.”

  “My fake fiancée.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I feel terrible about this, Sabrina. I should never have asked you such a huge favor. I didn’t think it through.”

  “But I did.” She looked into his eyes. “You needed this and I agreed. That’s what friends do. I’m a grown woman. My parents will just have to get over it.”

  In saying the words, she realized they’d become true. Maybe his current misery was all the revenge she needed. Maybe neither of them deserved any more pain. Except she didn’t know how she was going to survive when he left this time.

  “I have a lot of lies to keep straight.” He put his hand in his pocket, ruining the line of his jacket. “You better do the talking for us.”

  She glanced at him in the mirror, stopped adjusting her earring,
and pulled his hand out of his pocket. “Are you saying I’m a better liar than you, Mitchell? Is that what you think of me?”

  A pained expression flitted across his face. “No. Of course not.”

  “I’m kidding! And it’s going to be fine, sweetie,” she said again, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I’ll keep you safe. Plus, I know a few hidden spots in the garden.”

  This time he slanted a look at her that held the ghost of a smile. “I’m listening.”

  She traced a finger along his jaw. “No one will complain if we slip away once or twice throughout the evening.”

  All she’d wanted to do was get him to relax. It worked.

  He caught her wrist in his hand and brought it to his lips. “Promise?”

  His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and the sensation of his lips against the palm of her hand, then her fingers, then her wrist, almost destroyed her powers of speech.

  “Promise,” she managed.

  Then she pulled her hand away. His confidence was back, that was the main thing. They’d have a great time at the party, and everyone would be convinced that they were in love.

  Mitch’s tender touch and smoldering looks were nothing more than what she’d asked of him. No matter how it felt to her.

  He was getting into character. That was all.

  …

  “There’s my little girl!”

  Mitch felt Sabrina’s hand tighten in his. Here we go, he thought. Time to face the music.

  “Mitchell Granger!” Muriel Becker pulled him away from Sabrina, held him out at arm’s length, and evaluated him. “To think you were holding a candle for my baby all these years!”

  “Mom!” Sabrina protested. “You’re embarrassing him!”

  “Well, I don’t care,” she said, hugging Mitch tightly. “He’s family now. I get to say what I like to him. Welcome home, Mitch.”

  “I hear it’s quite the rock you’ve given her.” Sabrina’s father slapped him on the back. “Let’s see it.”

  Mitch wanted to die. He still hadn’t gotten her a ring, so Bree had convinced Rory that she’d forgotten it—yet again—and asked to borrow hers.

  “It’s beautiful,” Muriel gushed. “Just lovely, isn’t it Merv?”

  Merv agreed.

  Sabrina extricated him from her mother and led him through the house, introducing him to various newcomers to the community, reacquainting him with others who had stayed.

  It was like entering a time machine. Sabrina’s parents had remained in the house she’d lived in during high school. They’d changed a few things, as far as he could tell. Improved the flow of the kitchen. Updated the windows to take advantage of the view of the big backyard. They’d added a children’s play area, complete with swings, slide, and climbing ropes.

  “My parents have been preparing for grandchildren for years,” she whispered to him. Then suddenly her smile fled and the air between them grew chilly. She pulled him away from the window.

  Mitch stood still, the mood broken. He wondered if her parents knew that she’d once been pregnant. Probably, circumstances being what they were, Sabrina hadn’t told anyone. He winced against a sharp pain that struck somewhere in his chest. He’d always figured she felt lucky to have escaped being shackled to him. Now he wondered. It must have been so rough for her, too.

  “Are you okay?” She flushed and turned slightly, letting that curtain of honey-colored hair fall over her face. “Let’s, um, get a glass of wine,” she said, without looking at him, walking away.

  In the kitchen, they found Hailey Harding, busying herself arranging miniature quiches on a platter.

  “You don’t have to do that, Hailey,” Sabrina said, giving the thin girl’s shoulders a quick squeeze.

  “It’s okay, I want to,” Hailey mumbled.

  Mitch sympathized. He’d happily stay in the kitchen arranging pickles and wieners, given the option. Then he remembered how the girl’s life was about to get even worse. Because of him.

  “Here.” Sabrina pushed a glass of red wine into his hand. “Take a slug of this.”

  He obeyed, savoring the smooth warmth of the rich cabernet that slipped down his throat. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but Della’s functions had forced him to develop a taste for wine and now he was grateful. He took another gulp.

  “And that’s enough.” Sabrina arched her brows at him. “We want to loosen you up, not get you dancing the funky chicken.”

  “Yeah,” Mitch muttered. “Like that’ll happen.”

  The wine wasn’t working fast enough. He felt as if all the frayed edges of his life were unraveling at once and he’d lost track of what was important and what wasn’t. If he’d ever known in the first place.

  They followed the murmur of voices to the covered deck on the west side of the house. Tables and chairs had been pushed together and tiny twinkle lights were strung along the wooden beams overhead. The sun wasn’t down yet, but it would be soon, and the ambiance could not have been more homey and welcoming and romantic.

  “There he is!”

  Zachary Gamble stood up and strode over on long legs.

  “Thought we’d scared you off for good,” Zach said, slapping him on the back. “Glad to see I’m wrong. You met Desiree last winter, I think?”

  Beside him stood the dark-haired, flashing-eyed beauty he’d heard had been the one to help Zach’s dad learn to walk again after being paralyzed in the crash. She grasped his hand in a surprisingly strong grip, and pulled him to her to plant a kiss on his cheek.

  “I think it’s only fair to warn you, Mitch,” Desiree said with a laugh, “Rory and I have taught Sabrina everything we know. We have a system, it works, and you do not want to mess with it. But Carson and Zach can tell you, we’re worth it.”

  “Good to know,” he said. Perfect. He’d have a coven out to get him after he and Sabrina called it quits.

  “Let’s see that ring, Bree,” Des said. “Oh, it’s lovely. Wait. Isn’t that a lot like Rory’s ring?”

  Zach looked at it over her shoulder. “It is.”

  “How would you know?” Des asked with a snort.

  “I know,” he answered, “because you made me memorize it so I’d know what to buy you.”

  “Oh, right.” Des giggled, then grabbed Sabrina’s hand. “Well, I guess Carson and Mitch have the same taste.”

  “They are brothers, after all,” Sabrina said, pulling her hand back and turning the diamond to her palm. “Who needs their wine topped off?”

  With that, she escaped. Mitch wished he could be so lucky.

  “So how’s the big city treating you?” Zach asked, leaning against a beam. He tipped his bottle in Mitch’s direction. “You’ve outgrown beer, I see.”

  “Nah. I’m only doing this for Bree.” He clinked his wineglass to Zach’s bottle. “I’ll join you next round.”

  He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the company of an honest-to-God friend. Jon Ellis was a great guy, but their relationship was mostly business. Mitch didn’t know him the way he knew Zach. He’d been friends with Cale too, and grieved his death when he’d learned of it. The Gamble family had been through far more than anyone else he knew, and yet Zach looked happy. At peace. It mystified Mitch.

  “So, you and Des?” He waggled his eyebrows. “What’s a gal like her doing with a mutt like you?”

  “I keep her happy,” Zach said, laughing. “Let’s leave it at that.”

  “You really want to go there, mijo?” Des asked. She grinned at Sabrina who was generously refilling glasses from a fresh bottle of wine. “Testosterone is a pure poison, my friend. Destroys the brain.”

  “You weren’t complaining last night,” Zach growled.

  Des punched him and instantly, he caught her arms, trapping her next to him. “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to rope a wily filly, Mitch,” he said, jerking against her struggles. “Out here a cowboy needs every tool he’s got.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Rory
said, joining the group. “They talk big but when you actually get out the whips and chains, guess who starts crying for their mamas?”

  “We sharing secrets, then?” Carson said, behind her. “Is that it? ’Cause I’ve got a few on you, too, babe.”

  Rory grabbed him and covered his mouth with both hands, her fair cheeks bright red. The teasing and banter kicked into high gear then, with both couples sharing bawdy jokes with spirited good humor.

  While he and Sabrina laughed and held hands.

  “Tell us about Granger-Ellis,” Zach said. Other voices chimed in. But for some reason, everything he once wanted to boast about now seemed petty.

  “It’s a development company,” he said finally. “Construction, really.”

  “There’s that testosterone poisoning again.” Sabrina shook her head at him. She went on to describe his business in minute detail. And the way she explained it, he was a visionary instead of a cold cutthroat. It was like she was talking about someone else.

  Listening to Sabrina’s version of his life, he relaxed. This, he realized, was what home was about. He’d come here wanting only to impress these people and they’d opened their arms, as if they’d forgotten those troubled early years entirely. As if they’d always expected great things of him, and had missed him while he was gone.

  Could that be true? Or was it simply what he wanted to believe? His resentment had been the fuel that had gotten him started, had forced him to create Granger-Ellis, had kept him moving forward, trying, failing, trying again, until he managed to get the ideas out of his head, to shape wood and metal and earth into homes and neighborhoods.

  The irony hit him like a slap to the head.

  His whole career had been an attempt to re-create some vision of home.

  The one place he’d vowed never to return to had been the catalyst for every success he’d ever found.

  Now he was here and he found himself not wanting to talk about Granger-Ellis. Yet everyone was so interested, as if he was the local hero, come home.