Shotgun Vows

Mattie sighed. Would she ever find someone who would love her like that? A man she could respect and care about and raise a family with? A soul mate of her own?

It was her most cherished dream. Unfortunately, her brothers frightened away anyone who showed even the slightest interest in her. That made it darn near impossible to make her fairy tale come true. If Prince Charming didn’t have the guts to face down the Fortune brothers, then she didn’t particularly want to set up housekeeping in his castle. No wimp for her!

When her aunt and uncle had visited Australia and invited her to their ranch in Texas, she’d thought it was the opportunity she’d been waiting for. She’d taken them up on the offer and fallen in love with the state, the air, the wide-open spaces. The men that all the wide-open spaces would hold.

Since horses were her life, where better to find the man of her dreams than a Texas ranch? So many cowboys, so little time. The bad news was that Griff never left her side. The steely-eyed looks he gave any man who even glanced in her direction were enough to make monks out of them.

But Griff was gone. What was that American saying? Make hay while the sun shines. How appropriate on a ranch! And she finally understood the meaning. She would worry terribly about Griff, but with him away, it was definitely hay-making time.

Tonight the Double Crown cowboys held their weekly poker game. She’d almost forgotten, having dismissed the earlier casual reminder because she knew there was no way Griff would let her go. Or worse, he would accompany her—and then no one would have any fun. This was her first chance to join in. Maybe she could finally get one of them to notice her.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t hold dinner for you, dear,” her aunt said.

“No worries,” Mattie answered.

“I just love your accent,” Willa chimed in. “It’s so cute.”

“Thanks.” Mattie smiled at her, then looked back at her aunt and uncle. “I’m sorry to be so late. I just couldn’t tear myself away.”

“Your brothers say you have a way with animals, Mattie,” Willa said. “They say when they have a problem horse, you’re the one they go to. That’s such a gift. I’m a little afraid of an animal big enough to stomp me into roadkill without a second thought.”

“You traveled all over the world with your father, Willa,” Uncle Ryan said. “There was never time or opportunity to learn about horses.”

“I’d be happy to work with you and show you some tricks,” Mattie said. “Then you would be more comfortable around them. There’s no reason to be afraid of horses. I can find just the right animal—one with a nature as sweet as yours.”

Willa smiled. “How I envy your ability to do that.”

Not as much as I envy you. Mattie barely held in a sigh. Willa was so petite and pretty. Even her wire-rimmed glasses couldn’t disguise her beautiful blue-gray eyes. Tonight her shoulder-length auburn hair was secured on top of her head with a clip. Mattie made a mental note to ask how she did that. All thumbs herself, she never fussed with her hair. A braid was easy, fast, and worked just fine. That clip contraption wouldn’t hold up when she was riding. But if she had a date, it could work just fine, she thought.

Lily sipped her brandy. “Rosita put the leftovers in the fridge for you, Mattie.”

“Thank you.”

Then she was free. No big brother watching. Whatever was she going to do with all this independence? The pressure was on. She didn’t know how long Griff would be gone. The possibilities were endless. But tonight there was that poker game. Exhilaration surged through her, lifting her spirits.

The coast was clear!

Rosita Perez, the Fortunes’ sixtyish housekeeper, entered the room. Her black hair was pulled back, highlighting the one white streak that started at her forehead and disappeared into the bun at her nape. Mattie liked the motherly woman who dished out hugs almost as plentifully as food. The downside was that she was followed by a man in business clothes.

Mattie felt two parts excitement and one part irritation when she recognized Mr. Stuffed Shirt in the expensive suit. Dawson Prescott.

He hardly looked at her as he walked briskly past her to Uncle Ryan and shook hands. He nodded to her aunt and Willa, then gave Mattie the briefest of glances. Boy, that chapped her hide. Just like their first meeting when he had said she looked eighteen. Ever since, he’d ignored her, as if she didn’t exist. Every time she’d seen him around the Double Crown with her cousin Zane and her brothers, he hadn’t even glanced her way. Cheeky devil, she thought. She tried not to let it bother her, but it damn well did.

“I brought the portfolios for you to look at, Ryan,” he said to her uncle.

“Didn’t I tell you that I trust your judgment? I’ve put together a dynamite staff, the best there is, one that I trust implicitly to handle money matters. Mostly family, I might add.” He looked at Dawson. “Or practically family.”

His wife smiled lovingly at him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that pride, even in staff that is practically family, goes before a fall, my darling?” she teased.

He put his arm around her. “Yes. And when mine comes, it’ll be a humdinger. I can only hope there’s a bungee cord attached when it happens. But I trust Dawson. It wasn’t necessary to bring this out here tonight.”

Lily looked at the newcomer. “But since you did, the least we can do is feed you. Have you had dinner yet, Dawson?”

Tell her yes, Mattie said to herself. Yes, yes, yes.

“No, I haven’t,” Dawson answered. “But it’s not necessary—”

“There are plenty of leftovers,” Lily continued. “Can we warm something up for you?”

Say no, Mattie thought. No, no, no.

“That would be great,” he said. “But I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

Perverse man, Mattie thought. Completely ignored her mental telepathy. She would have to work on that.

“It’s no trouble, dear,” Lily said. “As a matter of fact, Matilda just walked in, and she hasn’t had dinner yet, either. So now she won’t have to eat alone.” The older woman smiled brightly.

The evening had just gone downhill in a big way, Mattie decided. And it had started out so promising…. Now she was cornered. She wouldn’t insult her family by not extending hospitality to another guest in their home. She would set a record for fast food-consumption, then say her farewells and head for the bunkhouse.

She forced herself to smile at Dawson. “I’m going to go clean up. Then I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Don’t rush, dear,” Lily said. “We’ll entertain Dawson while you freshen up.”

During her shower and then a quick combing and braiding of her hair afterwards, all Mattie could think was, Why me? Why did she draw the short straw and get stuck with the dude? Although if she had to be stuck with someone she didn’t like, at least he wasn’t hard on the eyes. She hadn’t been that close to him since their first verbal sparring. Then she’d been too annoyed to notice. But tonight, being in the same room with him, she couldn’t miss the intensity that made his hazel eyes seem more green, or the way the light picked up the sunstreaks in his brown hair, or how wide his shoulders looked in that white dress shirt, wrinkled after a day’s work.

“Work?” she said to herself, slipping on a clean pair of jeans. “Number cruncher,” she said disdainfully as she put on a long-sleeved white cotton shirt. She couldn’t think of a more boring or lonely way to make a living. In fact, she might even feel sorry for him—if he was anyone but Dawson Prescott.

She glanced one last time in the mirror, and sighed as she noticed the blond wisps of hair that curled around her face. No matter how hard she tried, her hair had a mind of its own. So she’d quit trying to make it do anything other than braid. Was it her imagination, or did her eyes look a deeper gray than usual? Must be the anticipation of that poker game, she thought.

Mattie made her way to the kitchen. The floor of the large room was tiled with Mexican pavers. A distressed-wood table with eight ladder-back chairs stood in a cozy nook at one end of the room. At the other end was a center island work area, a counter cooktop set into the cream-colored tiles, and a built-in oven. Not to mention the largest side-by-side refrigerator she had ever seen.

That was where she now saw Dawson, half bent at the waist as he scoped out the contents. She noticed that his gray slacks pulled tight across his legs, revealing muscular thighs. She wondered how he managed to produce all those muscles while poring over numbers all day.

“See anything good?” she asked.

“Lily and Ryan said to make myself at home,” he answered, as he continued to study the interior.

Then he looked at her, and she thought his gaze lowered to just about her knees. No doubt he was trying to think of something to say to cut her off just about there. She resolved not to rise to any bait he might set out. She would be the lady her mother always scolded her into trying to be.

She pointed to the open door. “I think pot roast and mashed potatoes were on tonight’s menu. If you’ll allow me?”

He backed away with an outstretched palm. “Be my guest.”

“Actually, I believe you’re my guest.”

“Look, Matilda—”

She held her hand up, palm out. “Stop right there, buster.” She tried to add a teasing note to her voice. “My aunt expects us to keep each other company for this meal. That implies making conversation. To do that you need to get my attention. Especially if I have my back turned. I’ll answer to ‘Hey, you,’ or ‘Yo, babe.’ You can even grunt if you’d like. But I despise being called Matilda. I let my family get away with it sometimes. But never ever, under any circumstances, call me that. Mattie is fine. Tildie will do. But if you call me Matilda, life as you now know it will cease to exist.”