Page 2 of A Jilted Bride for the Cowboy

“You’re the one who talked me into it. Helped me see reason.” Paul scowled. “That makes it your job.”

Graham rose from the patio chair. “You’re a coward. Do it yourself.”

“Coward?” Paul lowered his drink to a side table. “You’re a number-crunching wuss. You don’t have a single muscle in your entire body. You don’t get to call me a coward.” He slowly rose to his feet, gaze fixed on Graham. The guy’s eyes were clear and oh, so, angry. “You’ll pay, Gray.”

“Pay, Gray!” the best man yelled, and the others joined in the chant.

Graham did so have muscles. Just because he didn’t work out the way Paul and his buddies did — uh oh.

“Pool! Pool! Pool!” Darrell switched his tune, and the others followed his cue. They surged toward Graham and, before he knew it, he was flailing high in the air.

Splash!

Graham kicked to the surface of the pool and tread water. The groomsmen clapped each other on the back, laughing uproariously as they pointed at him.

Paul took a step closer to the edge, still focused on Graham. Would he offer a hand out? Would he apologize for his rowdy friends? Would he say he’d just been kidding, that he was madly in love with Cadence and, of course, he planned to marry her and would treat her like she deserved… a princess?

“You tell her, lover boy.” Paul’s voice was low and cruel. “If you don’t, I’ll marry her after all, but I doubt it will last until Christmas. She’s kind of needy. You know what I mean?”

Graham swam to the far side and clambered out. He patted the pockets of his shorts. His keys, zipped wallet, and phone were in place. Nothing would likely be damaged from the dunking. He stood, dripping wet, and stared at his cousin across the pool. “You’re serious?”

“Never more so.”

“Consider it done.” Graham turned and strode to the gate separating the courtyard from the roundabout driveway where he’d left his car. His dignified exit sounded like the sham it was as his waterlogged sports sandals slapped against the concrete with every step. At the gate, he turned and looked back.

Only Paul was watching him.

“Last chance to change your mind.”

“Do it.” Paul turned as Darrell slung his arm across his shoulders. “Bring me the ring.”

Graham took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and unlocked his Jetta. See? This was why he should keep his mouth shut. Conversations played out in his head all the time, and their inevitable downward spiral usually provided enough caution to keep Graham’s opinions barricaded inside.

No one wanted to hear from him. His workaholic parents certainly never did. He hadn’t had close mates in school. The Sullivan cousins he worked with tolerated him at best.

Grandfather’s recent purchase of a failing dude ranch in Montana had shocked everyone, though not as much as the reason behind it. Apparently, Grandfather’s youthful indiscretions had caught up with him when a daughter he hadn’t known existed contacted him. The old man had bought Sweet River Ranch in an effort to integrate two new grandsons in with the five — no, four — who already worked for him. Graham’s oldest cousin, Wally, had died in a helicopter crash last fall, leaving a one-year-old in Tate’s care.

Why couldn’t Graham be more like solid, responsible Tate? What would Tate do with this messy platter Graham had been handed?

Graham slid behind the wheel and pressed the starter. The engine purred to life.

Tate would never have let it get this far. He’d have had the nerve to tell Cadence he loved her long before she’d become engaged to Paul.

The only remaining question was, did Graham go home and change into dry clothes before showing up on Cadence’s parents’ doorstep? It would add another forty-five minutes, and it was already 9:30.

Best to go now, while he almost had the nerve. Dry clothes wouldn’t make things any better.

What on earth had he gotten himself into?

* * *

Cadence Foster chewed on the end of her pen then tapped it against her leather-bound journal. Shouldn’t a woman three days away from her wedding be happier? Mom said everyone got cold feet, and Cadence shouldn’t trust her emotions right now.

How about her feelings last week? Last month? Because this sense of impending dread wasn’t new. She’d felt all along like something wasn’t quite right.

Yes, her marriage to Paul was partly a business deal between their fathers. The Bradleys were considerably wealthier than the Fosters, but Dad had contacts that Paul’s father wanted.

But she’d thought she loved Paul — that he loved her — and the business stuff was a sideline, a bonus. Lately, she hadn’t been so sure. Paul seemed distant, saying he was busy and had a lot on his mind.

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