Suddenly it clicked. Betsy’s friend. The hired bride. The other hired bride. Lee gritted her teeth against an unexpected surge of, no, it couldn’t be, could it be . . . jealousy? She frowned, then caught herself and returned Annie’s smile.
“Nice to meet you, Annie. Is Will here?” Tag glanced toward a closed door with an “Office” sign over the top.
“He is, but he’s left orders not to be disturbed. One of his guests didn’t show. Some hoity-toity New York author . . . Michael Carrison? You know Betsy Mae’s handwriting.” Annie shook her head. “Well, Betsy Mae took the reservation a couple of weeks ago, didn’t remember to get a credit card or phone number or anything. Not only did the guy not show up, he didn’t even have the decency to call in a cancellation. Will’s trying to fill the slot, calling on some of his regulars. I expect he’ll be on the phone a while.” Annie looked at Lee again and frowned. “Don’t I know you from somewhere? You look awfully familiar.”
Lee shoved her surprisingly possessive thoughts into the background, startled by Annie’s comment. If this woman could help solve her identity . . . “I’m a friend of Betsy Mae’s,” Lee said. “Don’t you race barrels, too?” She grabbed Tag’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Not nearly as well or as often as Betsy Mae. That woman’s a maniac!” Annie laughed, a deep, gleeful sound that tugged a reluctant smile out of Lee. “But I do go to watch her and I’m sure that’s where I’ve seen you before. What’s your name, honey?”
“Lee. I’m Lee Stetson.” She watched the striking redhead’s face. Nothing. No sign of recognition at all. Damn!
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lee.” Annie held out her hand and Lee took it. “Even though I’m absolutely positive we’ve met before, somewhere. So . . .” She grinned at Tag. “You two tied the knot yesterday, huh? Will said you didn’t need me anymore. Now I see why. When the real thing comes along, who wants pretend? Congratulations.”
Tag’s quick squeeze of her hand stifled any comment Lee might have been planning to make. He was right, though. The fewer people who knew the truth, the better off they were.
But Annie had met her before! Finally, a person who associated Lee with rodeo. A beautiful woman who didn’t seem to mind that she’d lost a chance to “marry” Tag.
A woman whose hands were every bit as callused as Tag’s. Lee rubbed her thumb over her own smooth palm. There had to be an explanation, something simple, for her lack of calluses.
She’d worry about that little point later. At least she knew something. Lee was a cowgirl. Annie had recognized her . . . kind of. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“Have Will give me a call when he gets a free minute, will you?” Tag said. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Annie. I hope we’ll be seeing more of you.”
“Oh, you will, Tag, Lee. Most definitely. Will Twigg’s not getting rid of Annie Anderson nearly as easy as he thinks.” She laughed again, a bold infectious sound, and winked at Lee.
Lee’s original opinion of Annie made a quick one eighty . . . now that she realized exactly which man Annie had set her sights on. Tag tugged at Lee’s hand, pulling her toward the door.
She stifled a giggle. Tag was certainly in a hurry to get away from the tall redhead.
What would he think if he could read my mind?
Lee wondered.
What if he knows what I’m feeling?
The feelings of possessiveness she couldn’t dismiss. The sense of rightness about the man stomping along beside her.
Annie was still chuckling when Lee and Tag stepped off the porch and climbed into the surrey.
“What do you think she meant by that?” Tag muttered, clucking his tongue and snapping the reins lightly over Dandy’s rear.
“Meant by what?” Lee asked innocently. “Oh, you mean that we’d be seeing a lot of her?”
“That, and that bit about Will not getting rid of her too easy. What’d she mean by that?”
Tag couldn’t possibly be that dense, could he? Lee giggled. “That’s Annie’s way of saying Will’s met his match. She likes him, she wants him, she’ll get him.”
“Well, he’ll have some say in the matter, don’t you think?” Lee thought Tag sounded decidedly cranky.
“Not necessarily,” she said, goading him.
“Will and I both swore we’d never marry. She can try all she wants, but she won’t snag Will Twigg.”
“Was Betsy Mae in on this oath of yours?” Lee asked.
“Well, yeah, but . . .”
“And didn’t Betsy Mae just this week marry?”
“She’s a woman. Can’t trust a woman to keep a promise.”
“I see.” She did, actually. She really did see. But for a hard-living gal, one with rodeo in her blood, Lee just didn’t have it in her to give up.
No, not on a cowboy as sexy, ornery, cute and sweet as Taggart Martin. It was going to take some work, but Lee was convinced he’d be worth the ride.
She snuggled just a bit closer to him.
He drew away, stared straight ahead and ignored her.
Lee grinned. Somehow, she knew she’d always loved a challenge.
Chapter 7
IT WAS even worse than Tag had feared. Coop and Grandma Lenore were waiting on the front porch when he and Lee pulled into the yard. At the precise moment Tag noticed the casual, familiar manner in which Coop’s arm rested over Lenore’s shoulders, the old cowboy straightened up and stepped to one side, then raised his hand in greeting.
Tag glanced at Lee. The smug look on her face practically screamed
I told you so.
He flicked the reins roughly against Dandy’s rump. Instead of moving forward, the old horse came to an abrupt halt, turned his head and glared at Tag.
“You too, you damned nag?” Hell, even his horse had turned on him. “Gidyup,” Tag mumbled, with a lighter tap of the reins. With a regal toss of his big head, Dandy stared straight ahead.
Tag gritted his teeth. “Please, Dandy?” Lee’s quiet chuckle grated like fine sandpaper over his nerves when Dandy twitched his ears and smoothly stepped forward, pulled the surrey around in a neat circle and stopped in front of the porch.
“Didn’t expect you two home so soon,” Coop said. He rocked back on his heels and grinned at Tag. “Thought you’d take advantage of the time off.” Coop tipped his hat to Lee, then ambled down off the porch to help her out of the surrey.
“Too much work to do. You know I can’t get away this time of year.” Grumbling under his breath, Tag set the brake before climbing down, then grabbed his duffel bag and Lee’s gear out of the boot. He’d wrapped Lee’s wedding gown in a clean blanket and she was right there beside him to carry it into the house. Tag handed the large bundle to her, carefully avoiding any contact with her hands, her eyes. Essentially avoiding Lee, he realized.
Her quiet “thank you” raced across his flesh like a caress, then she turned away and sprinted up the stairs. He tried not to think about leaving her alone tonight, sleeping in that big empty bed while he tried to find comfort in a cold bedroll under the stars.
His grandmother’d been uncharacteristically silent. Tag didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about anything that had to do with Gramma Lenore dying.
Nor did he want to think about what might be going on between her and Coop. No, he wouldn’t touch that one with a ten-foot pole, either.
It was giving him a headache, trying to remember all the things he didn’t want to think about. He needed a new plan. Anything had to be better than the way this one was going.
There was so much that could go wrong.
Like . . .
“I need to go call Will.” Tag spun around and handed Lee’s bag to Coop, then tucked his bag under his own arm. “You help Lee get settled, will you, Gramma? I’ve got some business to take care of.” Before anyone could respond, Tag headed into the house. He needed to talk to Will before his buddy said something to Coop about Annie. The fewer people who knew about Lee and her lack of memory the better off he’d feel. That included Coop, the man who’d set this fiasco in motion.
Tag dialed the number. He stared absentmindedly at his reflection in the window, counting off the tone each time Will’s phone rang, thinking about Lee, worrying about his grandmother. When had life become so complicated?
Will answered the phone. As Tag launched into his creative explanation for Lee’s presence at the Double Eagle, the answer suddenly came to him.
Things had gotten complicated the minute he’d veered from the truth. When the lies started piling up, his life had begun crumbling down around him.
It was with a deep sense of guilt he accepted Will’s surprised congratulations. Now, not only was Tag lying to his grandmother, he’d added Coop and his best friend to the list. He hung up the phone and quietly left the room. How was he ever going to be able to keep his stories straight? How was he going to keep Coop and Will apart, before the two of them swapped tales of “Betsy Mae’s friend” . . . and Coop discovered she wasn’t the woman sharing his room? Somehow, he had to get away, back up to the summer range and the dawn-to-dusk work that had always been his salvation.
Most of all, he had to get away from Lee. He thought of her, sitting so proudly beside him in Big Ed’s old surrey, regal as a queen in a faded flannel shirt and the old blue jeans Tag hadn’t worn since high school. He’d chewed tobacco then, at least until his grandmother found out, but the faded circle on the back pocket where he’d carried his can of chew during those few months of teen-aged rebellion remained.
There was something awfully sexy about that perfect little worn circle stretched tightly across Lee’s rounded derriere. Something that tugged at his gut when Tag saw her shapely legs filling out his old blue jeans, the way the buttons on his plaid work shirt pulled across her firm breasts. It had taken all the control he had not to reach out and touch her, especially knowing she most likely wouldn’t have pushed him away.
Even with all the questions, Lee seemed more than willing to accept the attraction between them, the tempting fascination simmering not so far beneath the surface. Tag had to keep reminding himself how dangerous that temptation truly was.
He really did need to get away from her, no doubt about it. The empty spot she’d started to fill was beginning to itch. No way in hell was he going to let her scratch it.
“WELL, LEE, what do you think?” Gramma Lenore opened the door to Tag’s parents’ old room with a flourish.
Lee couldn’t believe the difference. A coat of fresh ivory-colored paint, new curtains in a soft moss green and a matching bedspread had totally changed the look of the bedroom.
“How could you possibly . . . ? It’s lovely,” she said. “Absolutely lovely.”
“Coop helped me.” Lenore stepped into the room ahead of Lee and swept the curtains aside. The flower box outside the window spilled out fresh impatiens in a cascade of pink and coral and white. “I had the curtains and bedspread stored away. Bought ’em years ago but never had a reason to use them. Do you like it?”
“Of course. But you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” Lee placed her bag on the floor in front of the big oak dresser and leaned one hip against the edge. Tag was right. It wasn’t going to be easy lying to Lenore. Not when this marriage obviously meant so much to her.
“It wasn’t any trouble at all. Besides, I kind of enjoyed working with Coop. We’ve been friends for years,” Lenore added.
Lee wasn’t surprised to see the older woman blush a deep crimson. “Friends?” she asked. “Are you sure that’s all?”
“That’s all it could be,” Lenore said. The look she gave Lee was steady, yet filled with remorse. “I was a married woman.”
“You’ve been a widow for a long time, Lenore.” Lee pushed away from the dresser and gently confronted Tag’s grandmother. “I’d have to be blind not to see the way he looks at you. Anyone would.”
“So?” Lenore drew herself erect.
“So, what are you gonna do about it?” Lee smiled.
Lenore’s shuttered expression told Lee absolutely nothing. Then, as if the question had never been asked, Lenore smiled and gestured toward the freshly polished oak dresser. “I’ve emptied the drawers for you and Tag.” She glanced at Lee’s tiny bag. “In case you’re wonderin’ about the suitcase, I thought that bag looked to be in better shape for a new bride. You didn’t have much to pack. Or unpack.” She raised her chin. “There should be more’n enough room for your things.”
Recognizing a dismissal when she heard one, Lee began unpacking her clothes. She opened the first drawer on the right side of the dresser. It was filled with neatly folded white undershirts and plaid flannel boxer shorts.
Lenore, or possibly Coop, had already moved Tag’s clothing into the room. Lee was certain she’d never shared dresser space with a man’s underwear before. Biting her lips against the sudden blast of intimacy, she slammed the drawer shut and tugged open the empty one next to it.
She carefully arranged her few items, aware of Lenore’s curious gaze boring into her spine. Questions hovered in the air between them, questions without ready answers. Lee sighed and turned around, her arms folded across her chest. Someone had to take the first step. “Why’s Tag been so set against marriage all these years?” she asked, thinking,
question number one.
“He married you, didn’t he?” Lenore responded as if she were throwing down a gauntlet. “Maybe he just had to fall in love with the right woman.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Lee countered. “I love Tag and I want to be a good wife to him.” There. She’d said it. Suddenly, deep in her gut Lee knew she meant every word. She swallowed, cleared her throat and continued. “Somehow I get the feeling he married me more because the time was right than because he really wants or needs a wife. Why would he feel that way?” She was fishing, she knew she was, especially since she knew the marriage was a sham, but for some reason she felt compelled, no, driven, to know more about Tag.
It was even more important than learning more about herself.
Lenore glanced away, her thoughts impossible to read behind a look of infinite sadness. “I blame myself, you know.” She trailed her fingers across the new bedspread. “I stayed with a man I didn’t love. I watched my son struggle through a loveless marriage when I knew a single word of support from me would have given him the courage to move on. Jim and Maggie were so wrong for each other. He was a cowboy from the very beginning, she was a big-city girl running from her troubles. The only good thing those two ever accomplished in their lives was the baby boy who grew up to marry you.”
Lenore’s soft laughter lacked any sense of humor. “Somehow, Tag got the best parts of both his parents. The only thing he got from me was his blasted stubborn streak . . . and a serious fear of commitment to anything other than the Double Eagle.”
The smile she turned on Lee was filled with sorrow, but with hope as well. “The only consistent things in that boy’s life have been Coop and this ranch. You’ve got the chance to break the legacy Tag’s grown up with. He needs a good woman who’ll love him so much he quits running. It’s not going to be easy. You know that, don’t you?”
“The important things never are, are they?” Lee returned Lenore’s sad smile. “Our situation, mine and Tag’s, is a bit”—she paused, then shrugged her shoulders—“different. That’s about the only way I can describe it. Our relationship is different. But I don’t plan to give up on him. I don’t think he realizes that yet.”
“Kind of an odd conversation to be holding the day after a wedding, don’t you think?” Lenore stepped closer to Lee and wrapped an arm around her waist for a quick hug.
“It’s an odd conversation to hold any time,” Lee countered. “It’s the best I can do.” She returned Lenore’s hug. “Now, what are we gonna do about that old cowboy who’s got his eye on you?”
“The same thing you’re gonna do about that young cowboy lookin’ at you, Mrs. Martin. We’re gonna rope ’em, haul ’em in and tie ’em down.” Lenore stepped back and held out her hand.
Lee took it, surprised at the strength in the older woman’s grip. “Agreed,” she said, shaking Lenore’s hand.
At that moment, Coop burst through the door. The women literally jumped apart. Lee got the giggles and Lenore covered her mouth with both hands.
Coop swung his grizzled head back and forth, staring at first one, then the other. Lee tried to choke back another burst of giggles. Coop frowned. “Ya gotta stop him,” he said, obviously talking to Lenore, but keeping his eye on Lee. “He’s takin’ off, dammit. The boy’s head’n for the hills.”
“What are you talking about, Coop?” Lenore wrapped her fingers around his forearm. Coop halted his tirade, his gaze fixed on Lenore’s hand.
“Tag already explained everything,” Lee said. “He told me he was headed up to the east range to look for strays, then over to the west valley to get things set up for the roundup. Even though the actual roundup isn’t supposed to start for a few days, he wants to make sure everything’s ready to go. I’m supposed to wait here.”
Lenore swung around to address Lee. “You’re not really going to let him go off on his own, not the day after your weddin’, are you, girl?”
Lee blinked twice. Understanding slowly blossomed. She had a choice. She just hadn’t realized it before.
“No,” she drawled. “No, I don’t think I am.” She turned to Coop. “Is there a horse I can take?”
Coop scratched his chin, then grinned at Lee. “Yep. Dandy’s plum wore out, but Daisy’s in the back corral. Just had her shod yesterday and she’ll be ready to go. She’s a cute little sorrel, a bit sprightly and still in training, but a barrel racer like you shouldn’t have a problem. You’ve ridden with just a hackamore before, ain’tcha? She’s got a real tender mouth, so we don’t use a bit on her.”
“Uhm, I . . .” What in the world was a hackamore? Some kind of saddle? What did a tender mouth have to do with it?
“Pack your things,” Lenore ordered. “I’ll help Coop get Daisy ready.” She glanced down at Lee’s stocking-covered feet. “You got boots?”
“Yes,” Lee sighed. Her blisters hadn’t heeled yet, but Tag was leaving without her . . . or at least he thought he was. She grinned, thinking of his reaction when she rode up beside him on a horse, all packed and ready to go.
“I’ll get my things together.” She turned to grab the few items of clothing she’d stuffed into the empty drawer. Lenore and Coop headed for the door. “Wait a minute,” Lee called. “How long are we going to be gone?”
“Roundup usually lasts a couple a’weeks,” Coop said. “Since you’re going up early, you’ll need at least two pairs of jeans.”
“You mean I have to wear the same jeans for a whole week?” The door slammed as Coop and Lenore headed for the barn. If either one of them heard her question, they chose not to answer. Two weeks. Somehow, Lee didn’t think she ever wore anything more than once before laundering it.
She tugged the dresser drawer open and eyed the meager contents. “I don’t have nearly enough underwear,” she muttered. No way was she limiting herself to two pairs of panties! She didn’t question her motives for following Tag. She didn’t want to think about taking off on a strange horse through unfamiliar territory. She did, however, feel a quiet sense of nostalgia for a suitcase, lost somewhere, filled with absolutely exquisite, sexy, lacy underwear.