Convenient Cowgirl Bride

“Oh. Just...uh...wondering what you’ll be doing today while I go spend gobs of your money?”

“Running my empire.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “And I doubt you’d spend my money at all if I weren’t forcing it on you. Just be back by four this afternoon. We need to get the marriage license.”

Her breath caught, and her body went a little haywire, not that she would let her reaction show—especially since they had an audience. She’d be smart to remember that Chase Barron was a rascal—a very sexy one who used women without a shred of guilt. Pushing back from the table, she retreated. The expression on his face told her he knew what she was doing. She didn’t really care. She needed space.

“Before you go, we both need to sign the prenup.”

“Oh, right.”

* * *

Tuck watched her go through the racks. He was flirting with the salesclerk, but he also made note of what Savannah was doing. Every time she checked the price tag of an item, he snagged it and told the clerk to hang in it the dressing room.

“Stop doing that, Savannah. If you like something, try it on. If you want it, it’s yours.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say.”

The negligent lift of one shoulder indicated he didn’t care about her feelings on the matter. “Look, hon, my cousin very often leaps without considering the consequences. I read the prenup. I know what you’re getting out of this deal. I’ve also spent time with you. You aren’t comfortable with this. I don’t know what your reasons are but they have nothing to do with Chase’s money.”

It was her turn to offer a desultory shrug. “People are still gonna talk.”

“Yes, they will. You need to be prepared for that. Especially since Chase won’t always be around to shield you.”

“What does that mean?” she faced Tucker and asked. “Shield me from who?”

“His family. The media. Anyone familiar with the Barron name.”

Chase would deal with his family so that wasn’t a concern. The media? Yeah, that would suck. “Maybe I can fly under the radar. I won’t use his name when I enter my events.”

“Sorry, babe. That won’t work. The Barron name will be plastered all over your truck and trailer. And Chase isn’t exactly shy and retiring.”

That got an eye roll. “No kidding.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head back in an attempt to ease the tight muscles in her neck. After taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and offered Tucker her I’m-gonna-do-this face. Then she spoiled it all by asking, “He’s not going to be monogamous, is he?”

Tucker’s expression was full of sympathy. “I doubt it. But you’ll have to be.”

She laughed at that. “I haven’t had a date in two years.” Heading to the dressing room, she left Tucker standing there with his mouth hanging open.

Four hours later, they walked out of Leather and Lace with bags and boxes and more clothes and pairs of boots than Savannah had owned in her entire life. Tucker had convinced her to change from her jeans and T into a dress that reminded her a little of traditional Choctaw garb. Embroidery, ribbons, a full skirt, all in natural colors that Tucker insisted set off her golden-brown skin and dark hair. And new boots. Expensive new boots that fit her feet like gloves. The boot maker in L and L had spent an hour measuring, drawing and discussing leathers, heels, colors and stitching designs. Tucker refused to let her see the bill but she’d seen the price tags. Who in their right mind dropped almost twenty thousand dollars on clothes? Oh, yeah. Chase Barron and the women he was used to dating, for sure, but not plain ol’ Savannah Wolfe.

The last person she expected to see was Chase leaning up against Tucker’s sleek Mercedes SUV, looking all fashion-model perfect in his tailored suit, starched shirt and designer tie. The slow grin lighting up his face did all sorts of things to her bits and pieces—which she needed to ignore because she was not letting Chase get under her skirts. Skin. She meant skin. And he was just slick enough that he could charm his way right there if she gave him any room at all.