A Cowboy's Woman (22 page)

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Authors: Cathy Gillen Thacker

BOOK: A Cowboy's Woman
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Oh, no
, Greta thought as she felt all the blood drain from her face. How was she going to tell Shane she had planned to do just that, this very morning, with no less than the man he, and every one else in town, erroneously considered to be Shane's arch rival for her affections?
“What's the matter?” Shane filled his hands with soap, then handed the bar to her.
Tell him,
Greta urged silently.
And have him turn his back on you now? And have Bonnie Sue Baxter be right about you after all?
Her reckless plan to give Shane damn good reason to leave her had never seemed more treacherous than it did at that very second. But it wasn't too late, Greta schooled herself firmly. She'd made a huge mistake, but it could still be rectified. All she had to do was act fast and Shane would never know about the break-up-provoking humiliation that she had planned for him that very morning.
“Nothing. I'm just—I've really got to get back to the dance hall,” Greta said hurriedly as she washed Shane's back and he returned the favor.
“Grand opening jitters?” Shane guessed, his touch more gentle and comforting than ever.
More like marriage-about-to-be-on-the-rocks-again jitters. Not to worry,
Greta assured herself firmly. She could fix this. All she had to do was get a hold of Beau in advance of his arrival at the dance hall, tell him everything was fine, the plan was off, and she'd never have to worry again.
 
THERE WAS ONLY ONE PROBLEM with plan B, Greta thought two hours later, as people began queuing up
outside, waiting for the doors to open promptly at five-thirty. She couldn't get ahold of Beau to cancel Plan A.
“That's the sixth time I've seen you with the phone in your hand,” Shane teased, as Greta frowned and hung up again. “Who are you calling?”
Tell him.
And have him get really mad? And feel even more hurt and betrayed?
“Just a friend,” Greta said, fervently wishing her ocean of regret—and the reason for it—away. She looked past Shane. “There's Dani now!”
Greta rushed to greet Dani Lockhart who, as a special favor to Greta, had agreed to act as a hostess that night. Dani hugged Greta, then stepped back to survey her denim dress, hammered silver belt, and boots. “You look great.”
Greta admired Dani's fire-engine-red dress and matching boots. “So do you.” Knowing if anyone could help her out of this jam she'd gotten herself in it was Dani, Greta turned to Shane. “If you wouldn't mind, um, could you step out front and tell everyone it will just be five more minutes, then we'll have the ribbon-cutting ceremonies, open the doors and begin seating.”
Shane chuckled as he turned to Dani. “This is the tenth fool's errand she's sent me on since we got back here.” He looked at Greta, his eyes so warm and silvery a woman could drown in them. “If I didn't know better,” Shane drawled sexily, leaning in close, “I'd think you were trying to get rid of me.”
Greta breathed in the tantalizing fragrance of his aftershave. “I'm just—”
“Nervous. I know.” He leaned in even closer and squeezed her hand. Then looked over at Dani. “Maybe you can calm her down.”
With another sexy smile, Shane left to carry out Greta's orders. Greta grabbed Dani's hand, threaded her way through the bustle of activity and tantalizing aroma of chicken-fried steak, and dragged her to a stool close to the service door of the kitchen. “You've got to stay here and watch for Beau. He's due here any minute.”
Dani looked at her as if she'd grown two heads. “Are you okay?” she asked bluntly.
“No, and I don't have time to explain why I'm not, right now,” Greta said sharply, aware time was dwindling to a precarious degree. “Just keep Beau from getting anywhere close to me tonight. And I mean. anywhere close to me.”
Dani held up one hand, requesting permission to interrupt. “Are you forgetting that Beau and I have a blood feud going, and that's putting it nicely? He is not going to want to talk to me. So, short of having him bounced out of here, I don't see how I can possibly—”
“Dani, please!” Greta said. The way things were going, she would never get herself out of this mess, let alone with her marriage to Shane in one piece! “Just for one night forget all that and do this for me. Please.”
Dani's expression changed at the urgency in Greta's low voice.
She was confused, but understood the solemnness of the situation nevertheless. She abruptly stopped arguing. “Sure.”
“Good.” Greta breathed a sigh of relief. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw her husband winding his way toward her. “And don't mention this to Shane, either,” Greta hissed.
Dani's eyes narrowed contemplatively. “Whatever you say.”
Shane took her hand in his. “The wait staff says
they're all ready. The mayor's here to cut the ribbon. And so are the film crews from local TV stations and the newspaper photographers. So anytime you want to head out there to open the front doors...”
Greta pasted on her most-brilliant smile. She took the arm Shane offered her. The sooner they got this over with, the better. “Let's go.”
To Greta's relief, the ribbon cutting went without a hitch. By five forty-five, every table was full, and there was a waiting list for the next hour. The DJ she'd hired to run the sound system was doing a fine job of starting the music. Shane's entire family was there, as was hers. And there were people already out on the dance floor kicking up their heels. She had just headed back to the kitchen to oversee the meal service when Beau ducked in the back door. Dani stood, as planned, and planted herself directly in Beau's path. Words were exchanged. Then Beau tried to charge past Dani. Dani stepped in front of him. Greta—seeing Shane was nowhere in sight—was relieved to discover she had the time and opportunity to call the whole thing off.
Color flowing into her cheeks, she rushed toward Beau.
Beau pushed past Dani at the same moment Shane stepped in the service door behind Beau. Greta stopped dead in her tracks, knowing anything she said or did would be observed by Shane.
That was all the opening Beau needed. Right on cue he swept her into his arms and bent her backward from the waist.
“Darling,” Beau said loudly enough for everyone in the kitchen to hear as he gathered her close for a staged romantic kiss. “I am so sorry. Please. You've got to forgive me and give me a second chance!”
Chapter Eleven
“N
ot now!” Greta mouthed.
Before she could explain there had been a big change of plans, Shane was already striding forward, looking very much as though he wanted to punch someone, no questions asked. “What's going on?” he demanded of Beau and Greta.
“It's not what it looks like,” Greta told Shane hastily as she grabbed ahold of Beau's shirtfront and hauled herself upright.
“Sure it is,” Beau said, giving Greta a deeply romantic look that she knew darn well he didn't begin to feel.
Shane studied them silently for a moment. “Then what is it?” He demanded in a voice far too casual to be believed.
To Greta's dismay, Beau made no move to let her go. Rather, he kept his arms wrapped protectively around her like a vise. “Exactly what it looks like,” Beau told Shane heavily, using every ounce of leading-man charisma he had. “Greta's finally come to her senses.” Beau poured it on thick. “She knows she should never have walked away from me and married you on the rebound.”
Shane turned to Greta with a quiet smile. “Is that true?” he demanded, hurt turning his eyes a deep, smoky gray.
Playing to the script they had previously agreed upon, Beau confirmed, “She told me so this morning.”
“This morning,” Shane repeated, evidently recalling how rancorously he and Greta had parted.
“But that was before you and I talked this afternoon, Shane,” Greta amended hastily. Giving up on doing any of this gracefully—never mind without an audience—Greta wiggled and shoved her way out of Beau's arms.
“Meaning what?” Shane advanced on Greta incredulously, not stopping until they stood toe-to-toe. He hooked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “If we hadn't ‘talked' this afternoon, you'd be with him now?”
Greta tilted her chin up defiantly. Their eyes met, held. She knew she dared not be anything less than honest. “The way things were at that point,” she explained, sorry now she'd ever tried to embark on an escapade of her very own, “I didn't think I could continue with the marriage. But now that I know that you really do love me, Shane,” Greta gripped Shane's arms and finished desperately, “I don't have to do this thing with Beau.”
“What thing?” Shane demanded as Greta blushed from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.
She didn't know quite how to answer, especially in front of an audience.
Still waiting for his answer, Shane looked at Beau.
Beau lifted his hands. They'd deviated so far from their script, he clearly had no idea what Greta wanted him to say. “Don't ask me. I'm just here to claim her,” Beau said dryly.
“As what?” Shane demanded. “Your mistress? Your wife?”
“Whatever she wants,” Beau said, looking at Greta steadily, with a meaning only she could read. “And she knows that.”
Aware Shane didn't seem to want to be touched at all—especially by her—Greta released her grip on his forearms. “Let's go somewhere private,” Greta urged Shane, “and I can explain.”
“That doesn't work, either, honey,” Bonnie Sue drawled. “I've tried it. This is one arena where Shane doesn't like any competition.”
Where had she come from? Greta wondered, whirling around to glare at her. And how long had she been listening? And were those customers in the kitchen area now, too? Plus her parents? And Shane's!
Bonnie Sue Baxter made a face of mock indignation. “Looks like I hit a nerve, doesn't it?”
“I don't know about that, but Greta couldn't have gotten better publicity if she'd tried,” the photographer from the
Laramie News
quipped as he lifted his camera and began snapping away. “This is definitely a page-one story.”
Ignoring everyone else, Shane continued to stare at Greta. He was a force not to be denied. “Tell me the truth, Greta,” he ordered. Her hot-blooded lover vanished and in his place appeared a cowboy who always rode away alone. “Did you ask this guy to come here tonight and make a move on you and help break us up?”
Greta didn't know what to say to that without making things worse. Certainly not the truth. She stared at Shane, tongue-tied, miserable, hideously embarrassed.
Shane shook his head grimly. “Well, there's my answer.”
Desperate to salvage something of the evening, and her marriage, Greta turned to Beau and said heavily, “Look, I know what we agreed to earlier, and I appreciate all your help, but I've changed my mind.” She gave him a look that said this, at least, was on the level. “I want to stay married to Shane.” She spoke as if underlining every word.
Beau studied her, his concern for her evident to everyone in the room as all activity ceased. The music coming from the dance hall seemed a million miles a way.
A muscle worked in Shane's jaw. He was watching her and Beau with a look fiery enough to scorch them both. “Let me get this straight. You told
him
—” Shane jerked his head at Beau “—you wanted out before you told
me
?” Incensed, Shane angled his thumbs at his chest.
Greta swallowed as her knees began to shake. “He's my friend.”
“Looks as if he's more than a friend, to me,” Bonnie Sue Baxter remarked snidely.
Having had more than enough help from Shane's ex-fiancee, Greta whirled, finding she was quickly becoming of a mind to deck someone, too. “You stay out of this!”
“Someone has to look out for Shane's interests,” Bonnie Sue said smugly, delighting in the chaos Beau's sudden declaration had created. “Clearly, you're not. But then, maybe you just enjoy being fought over. Too bad for you Shane is the type of man who doesn't play those kinds of games.”
As Bonnie Sue had found out herself, Greta thought. Deciding there was only one way to shut her up, Greta snapped, “Guess you discovered that the hard way, didn't you, Bonnie Sue?”
Bonnie Sue gasped. More than a few eyebrows rose. And Bonnie Sue retorted, “It's just too bad for you that Beau, here, is so quick to give up on you,” Bonnie Sue continued. The implication being that Greta wasn't worth fighting for and hence would now end up alone, too.
“I'm not afraid to fight for Greta, if that is what it takes,” Beau said, jumping to Greta's defense.
Greta groaned. Of all the lame-brained things to say!
Shane growled, “Neither am I.” Then paused to give Beau a grim look. “That being the case,” Shane said. “Want to take it outside?”
Beau looked back at Shane. Although nothing was said, some understanding—that seemed to exclude everyone else in the room—seemed to pass between the two men.
No, Greta thought.
“Sure.” Beau shrugged finally, still holding Shane's gaze, more confidently now. Beau smiled, a slow, thoughtful movie-star grin. “Why not?”
All of a sudden Greta felt that things—though outwardly calm—had just taken a turn for the worse. “Now hold on a minute, guys. This really isn't necessary,” Greta said hastily, recalling all too well how much Shane liked living life to the limit and Beau liked mixing it up in his action-adventure films. Clearly, the two men thought they had just found a new level of excitement. But this would be no fun-filled battle with another stunt-trained actor. Before all was said and done, blood could actually be shed! And Shane had already had stitches once today! “The last thing we need here on opening night is a fistfight in the parking lot,” Greta continued lightly.
Shane looked at Greta. He shook his head at her naiveté. “Who said anything about using our fists?”
 
THEY WERE PULLING HER LEG,
Greta thought.
They had to
be. “What's it going to be then, a kick-boxing duel?” she asked both Shane and Beau, sure they'd back down now they'd made their point, which was that she never should have started this little escapade that had swiftly landed her in way over her head. She should never have tried to put something over on Shane, even if they
hadn't
kissed, made up, made love and declared their love for each other.
Shane rubbed his jaw smugly. “Pistols.”
Greta wrung her hands. Every bona fide Texan she knew liked to live in a way that was larger than life. Here, in one of the biggest states of the nation, bold brash behavior was considered a virtue. But to even talk about a duel was downright ridiculous. And furthermore Shane McCabe knew it!
“You can't be serious,” she said, chastising both men in a low, derisive voice.
“Why not?” Shane's change of tactic was as smooth and seamless as his smile. “You've been needing publicity for your dance hall, haven't you?” Giving her no chance to answer, Shane looked at Beau. “And don't you have a movie opening soon?”
Greta groaned. Beau always had a movie opening soon.
Dani Lockhart, the film critic in the group, was quick to volunteer. “It's about a love triangle, between a married woman, her husband and the glamorous interloper. Not so coincidentally—in life as in fiction,” Dani continued, illuminating their gathering audience, “Beau here plays the smarmy interloper.”
“Watch who you're calling smarmy,” Beau said, glaring at Dani, their ongoing feud never more apparent than at that moment.
“I just call ‘em as I see 'em,” Dani snapped back.
Shane gestured at Beau and nodded at the service door and the alley beyond. “Let's you and I discuss this outside, man-to-man.”
“Sure.”
The two men exited the building and stood talking a short distance away. The show clearly over, for the moment anyway, everyone began going back to work. Dani walked over to stand by Greta.
“They aren't really going to do this,” Greta fumed as the two women watched from outside the double doors. “Shane is just angry with me, so he's yanking my chain.” The same way they had yanked their parents' by running off and getting married. This was just another of Shane's escapades. Only this time she was going to be the brunt of the joke, rather than taking part in it.
Dani sighed thoughtfully, her eyes still on Shane. “He does have a flair for the dramatic.” She laughed softly. “Maybe he should have been the one in films.”
Shane's three brothers joined the two men at the other end of the alley. The talking continued. Soon there were smothered grins all around. “Now I know they're up to something,” Dani declared.
“Don't I know it,” Greta muttered, her low voice getting testier by the second. “The question is what.”
After a moment Jackson McCabe returned to join them. “They're going to do it,” he announced to one and all, looking remarking calm and okay with everything, despite the fact he was a surgeon who spent time
patching up people who ended up on the wrong side of a bullet. “Travis went to get the guns.”
So where's the hitch? What am I not seeing
? Greta wondered frantically. “They're going to kill each other over me?” Greta exclaimed dryly.
Wade McCabe joined them, too. The multimillionaire oilman also looked awfully calm. “No. They promised no one would get hurt.”
TRY AS SHE MIGHT, Greta could get no further information out of any of the McCabes. To her astonishment, the four McCabe brothers even enlisted the help of the local police and the DJ hosting her opening-night festivities. Twenty minutes later the street in front of the dance hall was roped off. The crowd was gathered out front, buzzing with excitement.
Shane and Beau did not disappoint.
They came swaggering back, old-fashioned gun holsters—the kind the cowboys wore in the days of the gunslingers—hugging their hips. Big pearl-handled pistols reminiscent of the Old West were tucked into each holster. Greta didn't know what the two were planning. The best she could hope for were gag pistols that shot out flags that said
Bang!
But she didn't like it one bit. She was fuming. Her patience with their male shenanigans at an end, she stormed over to head them off at the pass. “I demand you two stop this right now!” she said.
“Too late for that, Greta, honey,” Shane said. He looked at her with eyes so cool it was a miracle she didn't freeze right there in the street.
“He's right.” Having taken Shane's side in whatever it was that was going on, Beau nodded at the crowd that had gathered. “The people here are expecting a show,”
Beau said, with a movie star's penchant for attention and adulation, “and we can't disappoint.”
Before Greta could say another word, the DJ took over, explaining via the microphone that it was a battle of hearts and Greta was the prize. He guided Greta safely out of harm's way, stationed the men fifty paces apart in the center of the street and explained the rules. Both men had to wait for his signal, then the quickest draw and or best shot would emerge the victor. “May the best man win.”

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