Do You Take This Enemy?

“Will you stop!”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “I have all sorts of reasons why this would benefit you. I just want a chance to present my case. And don’t tell me a Ryder can’t exist in proximity to a Brant. What do you think goes on at rodeos and cattle sales? I’ve rubbed elbows with your kin, including your dad. We don’t like it, but we do it. We can talk without bringing down the wrath of our kinfolk. Now, how about tomorrow night?”

She debated only a few seconds because she was intrigued and she knew there was a possibility of solving a lot of problems for her father. “Yes, I’ll go with you to dinner.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up around seven. Will your father let me set foot on the place?”

“Yes, if I want you to.”

“So I don’t have to wear my gun?”

“Don’t you dare be packing!” she gasped.

“Sorry. I couldn’t keep from teasing you,” he said, touching her cheek while his dark eyes twinkled. “I’ll be there in my best suit at seven, and we’ll go to San Antonio so we won’t see anyone we know. That suits me fine, too.”

“Have you ever not gotten your way?”

“Yes,” he replied. She heard the harsh note in his voice while his expression became solemn.

“Well, what happened? That must have been a dilly.”

“When my wife got pneumonia and died. When my folks died.”

“Your wife and your parents?” She could hear the pain in his voice. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Yeah. See you at seven at your house.” He turned away and in long strides went around his pickup.

“Gabe,” she said, hurrying after him, too aware of using his first name. “Let me tell Julian goodbye.” She moved past Gabe, going to the back of the pickup.

“Wow, you have a lot of cars,” she said, leaning over the side of the pickup. “Which one is your favorite?”

Julian held up a blue one. As she talked to him about his cars, she felt Gabe standing nearby, watching and listening to her. After a few minutes, she smiled at Julian.

“I have to go now, Julian. It was nice to meet you.”

“Thank you. It was nice to meet you,” he said politely and she turned to look at Gabe.

“You’ve taught him well,” she told him.

“I try. See you tomorrow night.”

“Who takes care of Julian?”

“I have a nanny,” he replied.

She nodded and walked away, hearing him talk to his son. When she climbed into her pickup, Julian was buckled in again and Gabe had started the engine. Making a sweeping turn, he drove away while she watched. She was still surprised—tomorrow night she had a dinner date with Gabe Brant.

The man ran roughshod over all her arguments. Marry him—it would be like getting a dictator in her life. They were strangers and already he was getting his way. And his flirting struck nerves. There was a chemistry between them. She was surprised he felt it, but she had felt it around him all her life.

She threw up her hands. She had to tell Mrs. Farrin, which would be bad, but telling her father about her dinner date would be much worse.

That night as they ate thick steaks, Ashley set down her fork and braced for a storm. “Dad, I’m going out tomorrow night with Gabe Brant.”

“Dammit, Ashley,” Quinn snapped, dropping his fork and frowning. “Why? You can’t consider a sham marriage or any kind of marriage to that man.”

“I think I should hear his arguments,” she said quietly, torn between agreeing with her father and trying to do what was best for everyone.

“You’re a grown woman now and a smart one, but you shouldn’t be going out with a Brant.”

“It’s just a dinner date.”

“I’ve heard talk from Gus and the men. He lost his wife last year and he lost both his parents the year before that. Now all he has on his mind is expanding his ranch—with our land!”

“What happened to his parents?” Ashley asked, curious, yet wanting to avoid asking Gabe.

“Old Thomas died of a heart attack, probably because he was meaner than sin. Brant’s mother had cancer, I think. But don’t go feeling sorry for the man. They say he’s hard as granite. I’m sure he’s like his dad.” Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s he taking you? How do you know you’ll even be safe with him?”

“I’ll be safe,” Ashley answered, smiling. “I have my cell phone and besides, he doesn’t want my body. Like you said, he just wants my land.”

“Don’t do this, Ashley. I hate the thought of you going out with him,” Quinn grumbled. “I can take care of myself and this ranch. We’ve just had a little setback. Marry him! The man has nerve. I’d like to take my shotgun and run him off the place and forget it.”

“I don’t think that would be good for your blood pressure,” Ashley responded dryly. “I wish you wouldn’t even think about it.”

“I think it would make me feel immensely better to run him off our ranch. I don’t want you to go out with him.”

“And I don’t want to go, but I think I should hear him out. His offer may hold possibilities,” she reminded him, feeling as if she were arguing with herself instead of her father.

“Ashley, to be caught up in a marriage—any marriage—would still be hellish. That means dealing every day with someone you can’t stand to be around.”

“I might manage to stand to be around him,” she answered quietly, thinking how sparks flew between them when they were together.

Her father swore softly and she felt torn between conflicting needs. “I can’t stop you,” he admitted.

“It’s just a dinner. Only a few hours and I’ll be back home.”

Her father stared beyond her and shook his head. He tossed down his napkin. “I have to get outside and walk around while I think about this.”

“Please don’t worry. Forty-eight hours from now the time with him will be history.”

As Quinn left the room, Ashley rubbed her pounding head. She was half tempted to cancel the dinner date, but then she thought about her dad’s health, the debt that was accumulating, and she knew she had to go out with Gabe.

After breakfast the next morning she went to her room and looked at her clothes. She waded through her dresses and finally decided on a dark blue, high-waisted sheath dress. Something simple and dark. She wanted to wear a hood over her head. The world grew smaller daily and the chances of running into someone they knew loomed large to her.

She was on edge most of the day, and her nerves still jangled when she finally went to her bedroom to get ready for her date. Closing the door behind her, she looked at the room where she had grown up. It still held her maple four-poster bed, maple furniture with a rocker covered in blue cushions. An oriental rug covered the floor. As a girl, how many nights had she slept in that bed and dreamed of Gabe Brant, fantasizing about a date with him? Well, she finally was going on that date.

He had lost his parents and wife all within the past few years. She knew he had to hurt over those losses. Whether he grieved or not, Gabe was tough and ruthless.

She kept thinking about Julian. The little boy was adorable. Marry the father and she would have a son. She drew a deep breath. She shouldn’t marry him because of his little boy.