Page 49 of A Jilted Bride for the Cowboy

Why was Grandfather looking at him like that? Graham shifted in his seat. He was a city boy, remember? He wasn’t sticking around Montana any longer than he needed to. Right?

Except the rural quiet was getting to him in a positive way. He didn’t miss the hustle, the sirens, the people in his face everywhere he went.

Mountain lions. Grizzly bears. Rattlesnakes. Mosquitoes. He needed to remember all the downsides of living in the Wild West. Not that he’d seen any of those creatures, other than the pesky little bloodsuckers, but they existed. He knew they did. Weston had told him horror stories about those and more. Skunks. Wolves.

Would Weston pull his leg? Sheesh, that was a distinct possibility, but he hadn’t in this case. Graham had looked the wildlife up, and they definitely were native to this region.

Would Cadence want to stay in Montana? What was drawing her back to Chicago? Not her parents, certainly. Not a job. She seemed to love it here.

For the first time, Graham caught a glimmer of understanding for why Tate had pivoted and chosen the ranch as his home. If it made Stephanie happy, it made Tate happy. Wasn’t that how marriage should work?

Some things couples needed to compromise on, but their place of residence wasn’t one of those, unless they spent six months in each location. Hmm.

“Graham suggested treehouses as a future option. Apparently, there are tourists looking for experiences like that.”

Graham straightened, blinking. Since when had Grandfather taken his recommendation seriously? He’d turned in the rudimentary proposal Grandfather had asked for after their brainstorming session in April, but he hadn’t heard a thing until this minute.

“I have a team of architects looking into the possibility. We’ve identified a location on the riverbank we’ll call Eagles Nest that might make sense for a cluster of treehouses around a common restroom area.” Grandfather shook his head. “Why anyone would rather sleep up in the trees than have an ensuite beats me, but it’s a thing. They’ll even pay more for the privilege of climbing up and down a ladder to use the facilities. Give me a private jetted tub any day of the week.”

Interesting. The old man preferred baths to showers? Graham filed that information.

Grandfather leaned back and surveyed his offspring. “I’d like to hear your thoughts on treehouses and Conestoga wagons and yurts, as they all fall into a similar style called glamping.”

Well. Old dogs could be taught new tricks, after all. Never in a million years had Graham thought Grandfather would take his offhand suggestion seriously. Honestly? It had been the only thing he could think of at the time to contribute to the conversation at all.

* * *

“It seems we’ve wasted a trip.” Dad glowered at Cadence.

Mom wrung her hands, but were those tears glimmering on the ends of her impossibly long eyelashes real or fake?

Cadence had thought she knew her mother, but she’d been wrong. She braced herself. “I can’t marry Paul. I’m truly sorry you’re in financial difficulty because of it, but I refuse to be your sacrificial lamb.”

“We invested a lot of money into this wedding.” Dad wasn’t giving an inch.

“I’ll pay you back.”

He scoffed. “With what? How much is Walter Sullivan paying you to run social media pages?” Dad’s disdain was clear. “Minimum wage isn’t going to get you very far.”

It was considerably more than minimum wage, but Cadence would chew her own lips off before divulging the amount. It wasn’t any of Dad’s business. Except it kind of was.

Ack, the guilt over canceling everything at the last minute. “I’ll consult an accountant—” Graham’s face materialized in her mind, and she banished him “—and set up a payment plan.”

“That’s not going to cut it, Cadence. Not unless you are talking about thousands a month. Tens of thousands would be better.”

She stared at him. Just how much trouble was his business in? But she steeled herself. If he’d gambled everything to the point where only a connection with Donald Bradley could save him, that wasn’t her problem.

It was in her power to save her parents. Shouldn’t a good daughter do that?

But not by marrying a creep who didn’t love her. This wasn’t Victorian England or some fantasy world that operated on a similar premise of advantageous marriages solving everyone’s problems.

All she knew of those, she’d read in fiction, and romance had made the sacrifices palatable. Nothing could make a union with Paul Bradley agreeable. She shuddered at the thought of welcoming his touch.

So. Not. Happening.

“I can’t believe the nerve of Walter threatening Paul if he didn’t leave this godforsaken ranch today.” Dad paced their guest room. “We paid the ridiculous resort fee to stay here for two more nights.”

That was the best news Cadence had had in the past couple of days. “You don’t have to leave because Paul does.”

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