Page 3 of The Rancher's Fake Fiancée

“She was a really nice lady, Daddy. I like her.”

Cole drew his eyes back from the empty space the woman had last stood in, to gaze down at the upturned face of his daughter. A frown creased his brow. “And she was a stranger. What have I told you about talking to strangers?”

“Yes sir…I remember. But she was nice, and you were standing right here. I didn’t think that would be bad.”

He felt foolish. Which was yet another reaction that was foreign to him. He knew the appearance of the woman had keyed him up, and he really didn’t want to explore the reasons for that. He just knew that he was taking out his frustrations on his daughter and that wasn’t right. His expression softened, his hand smoothing gently over the dark hair that fell straight over the child’s back.

“I’m sorry, Emmie. I didn’t mean to snap at you. And you are correct…I was here and therefore, you were in a safe position to respond to the lady. Now let’s take your folder and let me get the items Marcella needed so we can get checked out.”

A few minutes later, with the bottle of peroxide and the box of Bandaids his housekeeper had requested, they stood at the counter as the purchases were rung up. The rancher paid for them and then received the change back from Mrs. Schulze. He looked at the extra amount of money in his hand.

“Excuse me, Ms. Margaret, but you gave me an extra dollar in here.” He held the extra bill out to the woman.

“That’s not from me, Cole,” she responded with a twinkle in her eyes. “That nice Miss Jones said to give it to you. She said you would know where to put it.”

Chapter Two

Cole spent therest of the day putting out more fires of one kind or the other on the ranch. He had deposited a very happy daughter at the front door of her school after leaving the drug store. She still clutched that darn yellow folder in her hand as if it were made from gold instead of yellow plastic. The sight of it waving around only served to remind him of one thing…or rather one person…Miss Jones. The ever helpful, ever sassy, Miss Jones of platinum hair and skintight jeans. She had gotten back at him for the offer of repayment for the folder…leaving that ‘cute’ little instruction with Mrs. Schulze, who took great enjoyment in relaying it to him. As their paths were likely to not ever cross again, he was determined to shut her out of his mind.Easier said than done.Returning to the ranch, he deposited the pharmacy items into the hands of his housekeeper, Marcella Fernandez, who immediately informed him that his foreman, Gabe Allen, needed him in the Latigo pasture as soon as he could get there. And as he was about to head out the door toward the barn to saddle up and join the foreman, she dropped the other bombshell on him.

“Madeline called. She said she needed to talk to you immediately.”

He turned slowly from the doorway, his eyes narrowing on that bit of news. Any call or communication from his ex-wife never boded well for any number of reasons. There was always one thing he could be certain of though…it would invariably involve money…hismoney andherneed for it. Cole bit back the imprecation that came to his lips. The day was on a downhill slide.

“She can wait.” He hit the screen door with his hand and let it slam shut behind him. His long strides took him in the direction of the barn and his horse. His first thought was to take the Jeep and make better time getting to the far-flung pasture where his foreman waited. But he felt the need to saddle up and ride off the unsettling feeling of frustration that had been building inside him for a while.

It had flared just about the time a blonde had barreled into him in an aisle at the drug store. The level had definitely spiked the longer he had held contact with the silky skin and explored the depths of blue eyes that still followed him as he galloped across the flat pastureland toward the red rocks rising to the south.

The ability to take off alone on his horse always served as a soothing balm on his jangled thoughts. The land covered thousands of acres in all directions dotted with high mesas, deep ravines, colored canyon walls. Mesquite, sagebrush and pinions clumped together around water holes for the cattle who took refuge out of the glare of the midday Texas sun. The light breeze had heated fast and the sweat it created cooled on his skin as his horse carried him at a steady clip.

A continuous buzz broke into his thoughts. It wasn’t going away. The ever-present cell phone could always announce a real emergency from somewhere on the ranch so he reined in his mount and bit out a choice epitaph into the empty vista around him.

“Connors.” He was short on pleasantries.

“I told your servant to tell you to call me hours ago.”

His supply depleted itself when he heard the too-familiar voice with its hint of disdainful French accent which had been her perpetual state when speaking to him for most of the years they had known each other.

“To the point as always,” he ground back. “And as usual you need to get the facts straight. I have no servants. They are paid employees who do not have to take anything from you….most importantly your rude orders. So, if your call is so important, stop wasting both our time and get to the reason you called.”

“You never change…still the dictator of your little kingdom.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“I am getting married.”

Those words halted his movement to disconnect the call. Another of her ploys?

“How many engagements does this make? Number eight…or is it fifteen? Sixteen? I have lost count. And why do you feel the need to let me in on the poor victim’s suffering? In case you didn’t get the memo, on fiancé number one…I could care less what you do with your life.”

“Well, you will care soon enough. I am bringing him to Texas. To meet Emmaline. And then after we are married, our attorney will meet with yours. And the victory shall be mine.”

“What victory would that be?” His radar was on full alert at that moment. He had learned to never count his ex out of a fight, and something told him that was the true reason behind her call.

“The one where my very rich husband’s army of attorneys takes what you hold so dear…my daughter and a lot of that precious money of yours…for my pain and suffering all those years.”

“The courts gave Emmaline to me. You put up no argument. A child severely hampered your lifestyle in Europe where you couldn’t wait to scuttle back to. And if you found some unwitting fool to fall for your act, then he is to be pitied. Either way, you will have a wasted trip to Texas, don’t bother to come.”

“Oh, but I am already on my way, poor chere. We will arrive in a few days. I will call and tell Emmaline the news this evening. I am sure she will be overjoyed. Please tell your servants to ready those rooms in the guest wing for us. Three or four should be plenty. As much as I would prefer to stay in a city with better accommodation, Philippe is looking forward to seeing your rustic life. I will suffer through it for him.”

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