Bet You'll Marry Me (5 page)

Drat! A tear spilled over the rim of her left eye. She hoped no one would notice, but when she wiped her cheek with her hand, she saw someone
did
notice. Double drat! Nick Chandler noticed everything.

She turned her head, spotted the large smoking tray in Billie's hands, and stifled a groan. Could the night get any worse? Jenny glanced around at the others, her stomach clenched, and braced for the next wave of disaster.

Patrick's jaw dropped. “What are we having?”

“Charcoal, by the looks of it,” said Frank with a sneer.

“It's a—a roast.” Billie set the tray down on the table. “It's just a little . . . well done.”

“Overdone,” Wayne amended. “Where did you go to culinary school?”

“I didn't,” Billie said, and bit her lip.

Wayne arched his brow. “Then how did you learn to cook such a mouth-watering piece of . . . uh . . . whatever it is?”

The men laughed and Jenny looked past Billie's hard-nosed expression to the wounded look in her eyes.

Jenny knew that look. It was the same look she'd seen in the mirror after she'd been laughed at,
ridiculed
, by the men who'd placed bets at the Bets and Burgers Café six years before.

First there had been one laugh. Then another. Followed by two more until the laughter joined together like a thunderous stampede. Around and around it went, racing from one end of the room to the other, grating on her nerves and devouring every shred of self-confidence she'd ever possessed.

“
Stop!
It's not Billie's fault.” She choked on her words and caught a surprised look from Wayne. “I think the temperature gauge on the oven is broken.”

Billie stared at her. Jenny stared back, but instead of the young woman's difference in size and appearance, all she saw was herself.

Maybe it was because Patrick's announcement had left her vulnerable. Or perhaps it was her mind playing tricks on her. All she knew, at that moment, was that she and Billie were the
same
.

N
ICK ROSE AT
four
A.M.
and discovered an urgent e-mail message from the previous day on his computer. Ten seconds later, he had his vice president at N.L.C. Industries on the phone.

“Vic Lucarelli called,” said Rob. “He's not happy you and Billie took off. He thinks you're hiding her—trying to get her out of the country or something.”

Nick's jaw clenched as he pictured the ruthless casino owner in his head. Wispy black hair, tanned features, beady dark eyes—-the man was exactly the type one would expect to meet in a back alley. Why his sister thought she could cheat the guy at a private game of cards, he didn't know. All he
did
know was that he had to protect her.

“Rob, did you tell Lucarelli I can get him the money Billie owes him as soon as I sell these Northwest land parcels to Mr. Davenport?”

“Yeah.”

“And?” Nick held his breath and could almost hear Rob squirm during the brief hesitation that stretched between them.

“If you don't get the money within the next two weeks he's coming after you.”

J
ENNY PULLED THE
covers higher, hoping to catch a few more minutes of sleep before chores needed to be done. A few more minutes of . . .

Her heart rate doubled as she sprang straight up in the bed and glanced around the room. She was alone. Taking a deep breath, she eased back against the pillows.

She'd dreamed about him last night. As much as she hated to admit it, Nick Chandler had entered her dreams . . . and
kissed
her. She could almost feel . . . She ran a finger over her lower lip and shook her head.

So what if he was the best rider she had ever seen? She'd fallen for rodeo stars before and it brought nothing but trouble. No, she couldn't allow herself to lose focus. She needed to win the bet. She needed that ten-thousand-dollar check to save her ranch. She could not subject herself to any more of Nick Chandler's playful teasing looks or incorrigible banter.

There was no way he'd ever really fall for a girl like her. He was too good-looking, too full of himself, too determined to win her heart. Men like him couldn't be trusted. They always had an ulterior motive for whatever they did. And he was distracting her. That's what he was—a big distraction. Well, she couldn't let him distract her any longer. Harry had asked her to give Chandler a week, but she couldn't allow the handsome cowboy to stay another day.

Jenny dressed and, once outside, squinted against the bright sun as she scanned the fields.

She spotted Harry's white hair at the far end of the pasture and marched toward him, fists clenched. Harry would listen to her this time and there was nothing that dream-invading Casanova cowboy could do about it. Chandler would be off the ranch within the hour.

Jenny quickened her pace and kept her eyes on her uncle. Harry began to swing a hammer, then he clutched at his arm and staggered backward as if stung. She'd warned him about the bees by that fence.

But a man doesn't keel over from a bee sting.

“Harry?” Jenny broke into a run. “
Harry!
”

 

Chapter Five

N
ICK RAN PAST
Jenny and dropped to the ground next to the old man's body. Harry wasn't moving. Ripping open his employer's shirt, he bent his head to listen for a heartbeat.

Jenny fell down on her knees beside them.
“
Dear God, no.”

“He's alive.” Nick straightened and glanced at her ashen face. “Jenny, I need your help.”

At first she didn't respond. She appeared dazed, as if in shock, and he shook her hard.

Then she motioned him aside, and proceeded to check Harry's vitals. “His pulse is faint. His airway is clear, but he's not breathing. I need thirty chest compressions, like this.” Jenny placed her hands together and pumped her uncle's chest. “I'll give two breaths, and then you continue the compressions.”

Nick nodded and followed her lead. He'd never given anyone CPR. When her uncle failed to respond, he wondered if it was his fault. “Should I press harder?”

“No.” She lifted her head. “You're doing fine. I think he's . . . Oh, dear God, he's turning blue.”

Nick glanced at Harry's marbled face, and despite the intense heat beating down upon them, an icy drop of sweat ran down the length of his spine.

“We've got to get him to the hospital.” His hands pumped Harry's chest a bit faster. “The farm truck?”

“Still broken. Wayne drove his pickup into town for supplies. Yours?”

“Billie took it to buy groceries.”

Jenny's face fell. “There's no other vehicles on the property. The neighbors are gone for the weekend and Harry will never make it if we have to wait for an ambulance. The hospital is forty-five minutes away.”

“I can cut the time in half.”

“How?”

Harry's entire body shook, startling them both, and Nick realized he was trying to cough.

“Hang on, Harry.” Tears streamed down Jenny's cheeks as her uncle's eyes fluttered open. “Please, hang on.”

“Sorry.” The whisper hung softly on Harry's lips as his right hand inched across the ground to grasp hers.

Nick swallowed hard. He couldn't let the old man die. But what would he tell Jenny when she saw N.L.C.'s logo on the helicopter? He hit the first number on his cell phone.

“Sam,” he said, his voice hoarse, “I need a chopper at the O'Brien ranch. “
Now!
”

J
ENNY SWAYED OVER
Harry's still form as the helicopter angled to the right. If it weren't for the sharp metal buckle of the seat belt biting into her middle, she'd never believe any of it was real. How could her big, strong uncle be so weak? How could they be flying, instead of driving, to the hospital in Wenatchee?

Just minutes before, the helicopter had swooped over the southern hillside, its blades whirling like a monstrous hummingbird. As it set down in the field, the propeller's wind whipped at her hair and her clothes.

Her main focus had been on Harry as she helped Nick and the pilot set him on the floor of the helicopter. It wasn't until she went to climb in with her uncle that she saw the emblem on the side door.

Jenny gasped. Let out a shriek. Involuntarily tried to step back. Instead, she tripped and fell. Landed on her butt in the dirt.

She pointed to the hateful blue-and-green spiral. “This is N.L.C. Industries' helicopter.”

“It's the only one in the area,” Nick said, taking her arm to help her up. “We have to go. Harry's life is on the line.”

Well at least N.L.C. Industries had finally been good for something. She looked over at the hard-faced G.I. Joe look-alike at the controls of the chopper. According to Nick, it was a lucky coincidence his pilot friend, Sam Reynolds, was in town. Nick assured her that Sam didn't work for N.L.C. Industries, but the company had brought him in to evaluate the airstrip they'd acquired south of town.

Nick sat beside him, pushing buttons and monitoring data, as if they'd worked together their whole lives. Where did Nick meet him? And where did Nick learn to operate the inside of a helicopter? She didn't quite buy the fact Sam was here by coincidence but she had more important things on her mind—like the pallid complexion of her dear sweet Uncle Harry.

Her head swam and her stomach felt downright sick. Everything seemed to float around her, as if she were trapped in a terrible dream.

“Radio the hospital in Wenatchee,” Nick instructed Sam. “Tell them to call Dr. Carlson.”

Frowning, Jenny leaned forward and placed her hand on Nick's arm to gain his attention. “Who is Dr. Carlson?”

“Harry's cardiologist.”

Jenny stared at him, openmouthed, unable to speak.

Nick gave her a swift compassionate look. “He didn't want you to worry.”

“He told you? You
knew
about this?”

“It's the reason he hired me.”

Her thoughts flew back to Nick's first day on the ranch. No wonder Harry had insisted they keep him. Her throat ran dry as guilt squeezed the air from her lungs. All this time she'd been trying to make Nick quit, she'd only been thinking of herself.

“Oh, God,” she said, her eyelids stinging. “I'm so sorry.”

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER,
the hospital crew carried Harry out of the back of the chopper on a stretcher and wheeled him into the emergency room. The admitting nurse told Jenny to remain in the waiting area, so she headed straight to the pay phone to call her cousin Patrick.

No answer. Had he already left for California? If he was on the road she wouldn't be able to tell him her uncle Harry was in the hospital. He'd want to know. Patrick and Harry weren't related, having come from different sides of her family, but after living next door to each other for so long, Patrick had come to think of Harry as his uncle, too.

Next she called Sarah at the bakery, thinking maybe the older woman could keep trying to call Patrick for her. But Sarah went into hysterics when she found out about Harry, and Jenny doubted she'd be much help.

Jenny hung up the phone and the familiar sterile stench trapped between the boxed walls of the building made her nauseous. She'd been in the hospital too many times for too many dying loved ones. Today the odious scent hit her harder than ever before. Harry was all she had left. What would she do if she lost him?

Nick, never leaving her side, led her over to a couch to sit down. A woman handed her a pen and a clipboard full of forms, but her vision blurred until she could hardly see the paper.
Don't cry
, she told herself.
Force it back.

She laid the forms aside and looked up at the ceiling. A dark stain the size of a melon marred the white expanse of what could have been a perfect paint job. Why hadn't anyone bothered to wash it away or paint over it? Didn't they know someone like her would look up at the ugly thing?

Not all the nurses were attending to life-and-death situations. Some were on the phone, some were on the computer, and some were sitting around and drinking coffee. With all the uniformed staff working this day, couldn't one of them take a few minutes to remove the stain from the ceiling?
Or tell her
what the heck was going on?

Why did they all seem oblivious? Didn't anyone care? Where were the doctors? Why wasn't anyone giving her an update on Harry's condition? Were they running tests? Hooking him up to monitors? Giving him medication? The last she'd seen, Harry had still been conscious. A good sign. But when would they let her in to see him? Or have someone come out to see her?

The minute hand took a full turn around the clock before the double doors separating her from Harry opened and Dr. Carlson called her name.

She jumped to her feet. “How is he?”

“Harry suffered a mild heart attack. One of the three coronary arteries is blocked eighty-five percent and he'll need surgery to open it back up.” Dr. Carlson's eyes filled with concern when he looked at her. “Did he mention any heart-related symptoms he might have had during the last few days?”

“No. He said nothing.”

Beside her, Nick shifted his feet. “He's had occasional twinges of pain in his chest. Last night he said his left arm bothered him and he didn't feel well. He told me he meant to make an appointment to see you next week.”

“He should have called sooner.” Dr. Carlson shook his head. “Harry's last appointment with me was three months ago. I gave him some pills to thin his blood and told him to stop working so hard. I don't suppose the stubborn old coot listened to me.”

Jenny's throat constricted into a painful knot as she thought about the way Harry rose at five
A.M.
every morning to work the fields, mend the fences, and herd the cattle. If she'd known about his heart condition, she never would have let him work another day in his life. She would have taken away his cigars, made him rest, insisted he eat properly.

No wonder he hadn't told her. If there was one thing Harry couldn't stand, it was being babied.

“The surgery will take hours,” said Nick as they sat back down. “Would you like to go for coffee, or—?”

“I want to stay.”

Her mind replayed Harry's collapse in the field and for one terrified moment, Jenny wondered what she would have done if Nick hadn't been there to help. There was no way she could have lifted Harry herself, and with the ranch hands gone and no vehicle . . .

“Nick, I want to thank you for . . . what you've done. You saved his life.”

“You're the one who saved him. Where did you learn CPR?”

“Veterinary school,” she whispered.

He gave her a startled look. Perhaps he hadn't expected a poor country girl like her to have had much education.

“I'd planned to be a veterinarian, but I didn't graduate. I came home after my third year when the money got tight. I had always planned to go back and finish, but then six months ago, my father died and I took over the ranch.”

“Where's the rest of your family?”

“My grandparents and my mom . . . they're all . . . buried beneath the apple tree in the northeast corner of the property.”

A fearsome ache wrenched the pit of her stomach. An ache similar to the one she'd experienced when she was very small and lost in the woods for the first time.

Her best friend, Michelle, had deserted her to run off to Florida. Her cousin Patrick left for California, and now with Harry's failing heart . . . she had no one left she could turn to. No one except Starfire, and she needed more than the companionship of a horse right now.

The pressure inside her head strained against her skull, her lungs tightened against her rib cage.

She was alone. Absolutely,
unbearably
alone.

Nick wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she jumped at his touch. He studied her with an expression she couldn't quite place. Compassion? Sympathy? What it was, she didn't know, but when she looked into his eyes she was drawn into the silver-gray depths—and for one timeless second it was almost as if he understood her.

“Shhh,” he whispered against her ear. “Let it go.”

She didn't have the strength to protest. She needed to be held, even if it
was
by the man who had bet against her. Drawing in a deep breath, she collapsed against his chest.

It had been a long time since she'd been in a man's embrace. She clung to her resolve not to trust him, but Nick's arms were warm and secure, and—at least for this one moment, she felt safe enough to release the deep, agonizing sobs she'd kept bottled up inside.

N
ICK STROKED THE
back of her long auburn hair, and as the hour drew on, Jenny quieted. His own raw emotions flooded over him as he thought of the similarities between Harry and his father.

Both were men of integrity, rooted in their own beliefs and working as if there were no tomorrow.

“My father told me someday we'd be partners and run the largest company in the nation.”

Jenny raised her head and he realized he'd spoken the words aloud.

“He spent endless days and nights designing blueprints for buildings, researching products, running the numbers.” Nick paused, smiling to himself. “He said he was doing it all for me and our future business.”

“He must have really loved you.”

“Billie thinks so. She was jealous he didn't include her in the plans.”

“Is that why she tries to be a tomboy?”

“Nah. I think it has more to do with the fact she was the only girl on my grandfather's ranch after our parents died.”

“What happened?” Jenny's tears subsided and she wiped her eyes on his shirt.

Not that he minded. Her tears cooled his skin, and soothed the bitter taste of the memory. “A drunk driver hit their car head on. It happened New Year's Eve. I was ten. Billie was six.”

“I'm sorry.” She began to push away from him, as if realizing for the first time she was on top of him.

He continued to hold her tight. “Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if they were still alive. The business I built is very different than the one my father planned.”

“You own a business? What kind of business?”

Nick shook his head and wasn't going to tell her anything, but then reconsidered. “Manufacturer of Fat Happy Horse Treats.”

“Is that how you get the horses to listen to you? With horse cookies?”

Nick grinned. “Satan loves them.”

“I bet the feisty chestnut I put you on loved them, too,” Jenny accused. A small smile escaped her lips but then faded as fast as it had come. “If your cookies can train horses as ill-tempered as mine, your business must make a lot of money.”

Nick shook his head again. “Overhead expenses and a malicious embezzling accountant can lock up a company's cash flow for months, making it hard to get money when you need it.”

“Is that why you want my land? You hope to find the gold everyone thinks is buried on my property to get a little extra cash?”