Silver James - Convenient Cowgirl Bride

He attempted to look contrite but she didn’t buy it for a second.

“Call me Chase, please.” He brushed a manicured hand through his expertly styled hair. “Look, Savannah, this is a win-win for you. And for me.”

“You still haven’t explained your reasons, Chase.”

“My father has decided I need to settle down, and I need to get married in order to do that.”

“So why me?”

“Because he has an acceptable wife picked out for me already.”

She couldn’t breathe for a moment, and her voice sounded slightly strangled as she pushed out words she didn’t want to say. “An acceptable wife. And I’m not. You want to marry me because I’m a dirt-poor, Choctaw cowgirl and it will piss your old man off.” Heat surged in her cheeks and her fingers tingled from adrenaline. She wanted to hit him. Or run. Anything but sit here and be embarrassed by this rich clown.

“No, Savannah. That’s not true. Not really. Yes, I need to be legally married before he gets here Friday. Yes, you happen to be here and in a position where we can help each other out. But no, it didn’t occur to me that you’re...that you would be something to taunt him with. Well, beyond the fact that I’d be preemptively marrying you before he could try to force me to marry Janiece.”

He sank onto the granite block that served as a coffee table, scrubbing at his face with the palms of his hands—hands, she reminded herself, with a better manicure than her own. There he sat in designer slacks, a starched cotton shirt with so many threads she probably couldn’t count that high, his high-dollar haircut and boots that likely cost more than she’d made last year. And here she sat in faded jeans fraying at the back pockets, scuffed boots all but falling apart, a T-shirt advertising a boot company, and her hair semitamed into a braid.

“But I have to be honest, now that you’ve brought it to my attention. Yes, if you marry me, there will be flack. From the old man and probably from my family. I’ve already talked to my brother Chance. He’s an attorney. I want him to draw up a prenuptial agreement.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Chase held up a hand to stay her argument.

“It’s to protect you as much as me. I’m making certain promises to you. You have every expectation that I’ll deliver. The prenup ensures that you’ll be taken care of, as promised. I won’t lie. Chance is not happy with me, but that’s par for the course. I’m sort of the bad seed in the family.” He offered a boyish grin meant to disarm her, and it succeeded—to a point.

“I’m not your type, Chase.” She tried to meet his gaze head-on and add a glower, but she couldn’t keep her eyes from sliding to the side as she spoke the truth. “I’m rough. I live from payday to payday. I don’t wear heels or designer duds. I don’t talk like you. Heck, I bet your hands are softer than mine. No one is going to buy this marriage as anything other than what it is—a marriage of convenience to get you out of trouble with your father.”

Chase couldn’t deny her words, nor would he do her the disservice of trying. She told the truth, but at the same time, there was something compelling about that. Most women—okay, every woman he’d ever dated—wanted something from him and would tell him whatever they thought he wanted to hear in order to get it. Savannah was different. She was...real. What he saw was what he’d get. And what he saw fascinated him.

She was prickly, stubborn, full of pride, curvy, tomboyish—all the things he stayed away from when it came to women. She’d be way more trouble than she was worth. She’d be a crimp in his social life. She’d bedevil him like crazy. And some perverse part of him looked forward to the challenge, actually craved it. He watched her struggle to meet his eyes, realized she was feeling exposed and didn’t like the feeling.

Despite his social failings where the opposite sex was concerned, Chase understood people and their motivations on a visceral level. That made him extremely successful in the entertainment business. He sensed this woman would always speak the truth, at least as she perceived it. He’d appreciate that in the long run, if not always in the present. And despite her strength, there was a vulnerability shrouding her that stirred a deeply buried protective streak.

“I won’t embarrass you, Savannah. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’ll take care of you for the length of the contract between us. You’ll walk away at the end with what I’ve promised—new truck, the trailer, the horse we get from Kade, all your expenses. Clothes. Food. Hotels. Vets for the horse, including Indigo. I’ll get Kade to bring your new horse out and he’ll take Indigo back to the ranch to heal. You keep the money you win. You’ll have enough to keep you going when we divorce. I’ll even do something stupid so it’s all on me. You can walk away free and clear with your head high.”

“Why, Chase? I still don’t get it. Why not just tell your father to go...” She stopped before using the word on the tip of her tongue and corrected it to “Uh...take a flying leap? You’re an adult. Why let him control you?”

She had a point, but his reasons were so messed up, a battery of psychiatrists would have a field day trying to figure out his family dynamics. “Look up the term dysfunctional family in the dictionary. The definition will be two words. The Barrons.” He lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “But you deserve the truth. I’m weak, Savannah. And a coward, pretty much. My father is a right bastard, and he’s ridden roughshod over every one of us. He’s threatened to fire me. Chance fixed the family trust so I’ll be taken care of, but I wouldn’t be in charge of Barron Entertainment.”

He pushed off the table and strode to the windows. Las Vegas and the desert beyond spread before him in a seemingly endless vista. “I like what I do. Hell, I love it. But more important, I’m good at it. I wasn’t good at anything growing up.”

Chase snapped his mouth shut and stiffened. What the hell was wrong with him? He never revealed his true thoughts to anyone. Not even Cash, especially not now. He wasn’t smart like Chance. He wasn’t a leader like Clay. He wasn’t honorable like Cord. And he sure wasn’t like his twin, always putting the family before his own needs. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“We’re not consummating the marriage.”

Thankfully, her words interrupted his reverie. He turned his head, and heat curled deep inside as he swept his gaze over her. She really was beautiful in a down-to-earth way. He didn’t miss the widening of her eyes, the quick intake of breath that swelled her breasts or the delicate shiver that skittered over her skin as he watched her.

“But we are sleeping in the same bed,” he countered.

“Whoa. What?”

“We have to convince my father we’re married. That means you sleep in my bed—with me—while he’s here. You’ll be headed out on the circuit after the rodeo, right?”

She nodded, apprehension warring with something else in her expression. Was that interest? Maybe a touch of curious lust? He liked that idea.

“We won’t necessarily be together under one roof. Except when you come back here and there’s a long stretch between your appearances.”

“Why can’t I go home to Oklahoma?”

“Because you’ll be my wife, and since this is my main residence, you’ll come here. I’ll arrange for permanent stable and training facilities for you.” He walked back across the room and stopped in front of her so she had to crane her neck to look at him.

“We work together in public to make sure no one gets the wrong perception.” He resisted the urge to cup her cheek. “We’ll paint a picture of a happy couple in love. I’ll have Tucker set up accounts for you at the hotel’s boutiques. Buy whatever you need. I promise not to drag you to a fancy party unless absolutely necessary, and I’ll prep you before that happens. We’ll hold hands in public. Smile at each other. Do that sort of thing. Here in the apartment, when we’re alone, we act as normal. My bed is huge. You can put pillows down the middle or whatever you need to feel comfortable. I promise not to put the moves on you.”