Page 8 of The Cowboy Takes A Bride

“No, meet us there. Make sure you go down to the countyclerk and get the marriage license. I’ve emailed you all the docs you’ll need.”

“All right. Anything else?” He cataloged it like he did all his business transactions.

“Didn’t you say you had family or something that worked at the clerk’s office?”

“Yeah, a second cousin. Why?”

“Any chance they’d be willing to code the information into the system inaccurately?”

Jace straightened. This was starting to sound a little sketchy. He didn't need anymore trouble, thank you very much. He had enough with the day-to-day of the ranch.

“What are you getting me into Sabrina?” He’d walk away if he had to.

“I’m only trying to give her some time away from her father. Make it a little harder for him to find her.”

“Am I going to have a problem with this father?”

“No, you’ll be able to handle him. It’s Meredith that needs to learn to do that, and distance and time will help her. I promise, when the time comes, her father won’t be an issue.”

She always made good on her promises, and no one could read people better than Sabrina Holloway. He’d seen that firsthand, with the exception of Lawton of course. But everyone fails sometime.

“You’re sure about this, Rina?”

“Unequivocally.”

“OK, see you in two days.” He shook his head in disbelief, surprised at how willing he was being led into this nonsense. A matchmaker and a mail order bride. Who said times were changing?

“You’ll thank me soon enough, my friend,” Sabrina said before disconnecting.

Jace opened his email and found the one from Sabrina.Attached was a grainy picture of a young woman's profile. Though he couldn't make out her face, the lighting was poor, there were several things he was able to see. The fancy evening gown, the casual elegance with how she held a champagne flute, and opulence surrounding her. She looked...too fancy for a Wyoming ranch.

Tucking the phone back into his coat pocket, he shook his head, debating on whether to cancel on Sabrina. He stared at the empty space next to him. Would she sit on the fence with him? Like his mom had done with Pops? Or would this place bore her like it had done with others? Only time would tell.

But for now, it was time for the farmer to take a wife. Or, in his case—the cattleman.

4

Pulling the cord on her window blinds, Meredith used slow, deliberate movements to block out the midday sun. She was desperate not to make a sound or stir the bubbling nausea in her belly. One sudden move or any loud noise, and it would release. Sighing with relief, albeit minuscule, she closed her heavy lids as she gently rested her head against the wall. She’d take her successes, however small, whenever and however she could get them. If she didn’t get ahead of this headache, it would be a full-blown migraine before she knew it.

Who was she kidding? She was nearly at migraine status now. Sliding her cheek along the wall, she slowly turned toward her bed. Looking through one eye, she was able to make out the clock on her nightstand.

She had an hour. Maybe an hour and half before she was expected downstairs. A third evening event in less than five days was likely the culprit for her current state. But as this was an election year, the buzz regarding who would be running was high and, undoubtedly, her father wanted to ensure he was backing the right candidate.

It was Meredith’s duty to listen, probe, and report back what the women were repeating. To glean out pillow talk. Doing so left Meredith with a desire to shower often and an ever-ready apology on her lips.

Oh no, it would certainly not do for Markus Hanover to be on the wrong side of this outcome, for he had too much at stake, depended too much on strong-arming others as a business tactic. To back the wrong person would result in a large dip in profit. Or so he liked to rant about these days.

She shuffled to her bed, as picking up her feet would require too much energy and jostle her stomach more than she’d like. She set the pillows up so she’d be upright when she got into bed. Lying down would be far too uncomfortable. Easing onto the bed, she managed to get herself into a comfortable position without losing her stomach contents.

Success!

She’d rest for a bit before forcing herself up to get ready. If her father hadn’t said a million times how essential tonight was, she’d beg off. Plead if she must. But because tonight’s event was hosting the cream of the crop of movers and shakers, Meredith knew her pleas would fall on deaf ears.

Letting her eyes drift closed, she tried to clear her mind of all the things that polluted it. Who did she want to be?

Ever since Sabrina had asked the question, Meredith had been trying to find the answer. When she took a close look at her life and her relationship with her father, she was unable to find any happiness, any brightness in the emptiness inside her.

Would she be able to live under a new identity, telling a story that wasn't her own? For the rest of her life? What if she met someone and wanted to marry him? Would she tell him the truth? If not, could she sustain the lie? Truth was, she wasn’t very good at subterfuge.

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