Bet You'll Marry Me (8 page)

“How's it going?” he asked, his focus on the leftover rope he was coiling.

“Well, the men are having fun. In spite of their numerous attempts to propose to me the pack trip appears to be a success. What do you think?”

“I'm starving,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “When are you going to cook?”

“Is food the
only
thing on your mind?”

Nick nodded, his expression innocent. “Yes.”

Stunned, Jenny watched the handsome dark-haired cowboy shift his attention back to the rope. Why was he so quiet? Why didn't he smile or flirt with her like usual? She shot him a look of annoyance and stumbled over a root on her way to unload the cooking supplies.

N
ICK GRINNED BEHIND
her back. The men were in rare form this day, and she was going to need him to step in and save her before the night was over.

Listening to all their conceit and murmured intentions had aggravated him to no end. The skywriting proposal had been especially irritating. But something snapped inside him when he saw Kevin wrap his arms around her. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

He'd also been disgusted when one of the nine other men kissed her cheek as they descended the fire-tower stairs.

But what riled his temper the most was when Charlie Pickett tried to carry Jenny into the remote ground-level equipment garage that lay twenty meters from the base of the fire tower. Fortunately, the garage door had been locked, and with a sheepish grin the music-loving cowboy set her back down on her feet.

He'd given Charlie a new song to sing when the others weren't looking, and by the time the guy rejoined the group, he was sporting a purplish blaze of color around his right eye.

Yes, she was going to need him to save her tonight, but not until she really needed it. All the other men who wrangled for her attention were making him look good. Perhaps later tonight, after they'd become more obnoxious, he would look even better.

She admitted she liked him, and from the way she kept sneaking peeks back at him while on the trail, he couldn't help but hope she'd start to show him some affection.

It would take some control on his part to restrain himself, but the longer he waited before stepping in to rescue her, the more appreciative she would be when he did. He just had to hold off for the right moment.

J
ENNY STIRRED THE
hamburger, beans, onions, and tomatoes into a thick, spicy chili sauce. The smell encouraged the men to build a campfire in the metal ring next to the picnic table.

As soon as the coals were ready, she set in three cast-iron Dutch oven kettles stacked on top of each other. The chili simmered in the large bottom kettle, biscuits baked in the medium-sized middle kettle, and the apple cobbler she'd made for dessert cooked in the small kettle on top. The heat traveling up the towering cast-iron trio cooked each entry to perfection, and the men devoured the food as if they hadn't eaten in days.

“The way to a man's heart is good cooking—and Jenny, my dear, this is
good
cooking,” Ted Andrews informed her.

“Whose tent will
you
be sleeping in, Jenny?” asked Charlie, passing around a flask of whiskey. “There's plenty of room in mine.”

“I sleep alone,” she assured him, and then frowned. “Charlie, how did you get a black eye?”

“A low-hanging branch caught me by surprise near the fire tower,” he said, and shot Nick a swift glance.

Jenny gave Nick a questioning look but he only shrugged and turned away to open a bag of marshmallows.

“Charlie, I can't allow alcohol to be a part of my pack trips. You'll have to put the liquor away.”

“He'll put it away, all right,” Ted Andrews interjected, “in his stomach. Hey, Charlie, give me some.”

“I said no alcohol,” she insisted.

“You can't expect a man not to indulge in a little drink while out in the wild,” said Levi MacGowan, taking out his own flask. “It jus' wouldn't be natural.”

It would affect their brains and make them even more eager to lay their hands on her. She looked to Nick for help, but to her utter frustration, he smiled and took a sip from the flask Levi offered him.

Drat. Levi was like a grandfather to her. And he loved his home-brewed whiskey. She didn't have the heart,
or the nerve
, to forbid him to drink after he'd paid to come on a pack trip he didn't need her to lead. And if she couldn't forbid Levi to drink, she couldn't forbid the others.

As the night wore on, the men edged closer, like a howling band of coyotes moving in on their prey. She couldn't even go to the pit toilet without one of the men trying to follow her. What on earth was she going to do?

Levi and the
Cascade Herald
reporter sat wide-eyed around the fire as they took it all in. Nick, however, acted as if he didn't even notice.

“In case you have forgotten,” she said, marching toward him, “you promised Harry you would protect me on this trip.”

“You're a tough gal,” Nick said with a shrug. “If anyone gets out of control, just slap him as hard as you slapped me that first day in the café.”

She stared at him in disbelief. A mere slap was not going to stop this drunken band of perverts. Surely, he could see that. What did he want her to do? Beg for his help?

She was trying to return to her seat on the opposite side of the campfire when Kevin Forester reached out a big looping arm and pulled her onto his lap.

“I've got a warm seat right here for you, honey,” he bellowed.

“Oh, no you don't,” said Ted Andrews, tugging her away from the campfire and into the encircling shadows. “The little lady is mine.”

“Let her go,” said David Wilson, and he reached out to draw her back into the edge of firelight. “If she's gonna be with anyone, it's gonna be
me
.”

“Why, you little bushy-haired punk!” Ted exclaimed, giving David a shove.

Kevin and Charlie stood in David's defense and suddenly Jenny found herself in the middle of a brawl.

She bent low to dodge the flurry of flying fists and pulled out her boot knife. Her protection. The one reliable thing she could always count on, besides her ranch, to keep her safe.

But before she could use it, someone whisked the knife out of her hands and fired a deafening shot into the clear mountain air.

“I'd appreciate it, men,” said Nick, his hand on his rifle, “if you would keep your hands
off
my fiancée.”

Nick's deadly tone, filled with more fury than she had ever thought possible, was enough to momentarily freeze everyone in their tracks. Herself included.

“Come here,” he commanded, crooking his finger at her.

She moved to obey, her legs trembling, and gave him a cautious look as she reached his side.

“I must be hearing things,” Ted Andrews exclaimed, narrowing his eyes on Nick. “What did you just say?”

“He called her his
fiancée
,” David informed him.

All at once the men loosened up and started to laugh.

Kevin slapped his thigh. “Good one, Chandler.”

Nick clicked the rifle into ready position and fixed each man with a hard stare. “I'm not joking.”

“You can't possibly expect us to believe she's going to marry
you
,” Ted exclaimed. “Hell would freeze over before she'd ever marry
you
.”

“Yeah,” Charlie Pickett added, “what about the bet?”

“Ask her,” Nick challenged.

“
Are
you his fiancée?” asked Ted.

Her breath caught in her throat as all eyes turned toward her, including Nick's. If she said no, the men would feel free to attack her. If she lied and said yes, it was possible they might leave her alone. She hesitated only a moment.

“Yes,” she said, struggling to control her quavering voice, “I am Nick's fiancée.”

Levi MacGowan's wrinkled blue eyes popped with excitement, and Alan Simms scribbled in a notepad as fast as his scrawny little rat-like fingers would let him.

Nick shot her a quick grin, handed her back her boot knife, and took a seat on a big overturned log.

“I still don't believe it,” said Ted, louder than before. “If they are really engaged, then I want to see her kiss him.”

“Yeah,” Kevin shouted. “Convince us, Jenny. Kiss him.”

“
What?
” she sputtered.

“It wouldn't kill you,” Nick said in a low voice only she could hear.

Her cheeks blazed with heat. Of course it wouldn't kill her. What was one kiss anyway? It was simply the lesser of two evils. With one kiss she could stop the entire group from pursuing her. She met Nick's expectant gaze with uncertainty.

Drat! Taking a deep breath, she approached the log he was sitting on and placed a terrified hand on each of his shoulders. It was only a kiss, she reminded herself shakily. She wasn't selling her soul.

 

Chapter Eight

N
ICK SCARCELY DARED
to breathe as Jenny drew toward him, bent her head, and brushed her sweet, whisper-soft lips against his.

It was the simplest of gestures, yet the kiss, freely given, set off an assortment of emotional charges he'd never expected.

Longing
. He hadn't realized until now how much he'd longed for this moment.

Adoration.
He wasn't sure if it was the helpless expression in her eyes as she walked toward him or her spitfire resolve to see the deed through, but he adored her.

Fear.
He'd never felt this way before. Not even with Caroline. His heart pounded with the erratic hoof beats of a stampede gone berserk, yet his body remained paralyzed. Gone was the ability to use his arms or legs. Or his brain.

What had she done to him? All thoughts vanished from his mind except one.

He was not going to let her go.

As he slanted his mouth over hers to deepen the kiss her hands pushed against his shoulder.

Please, Jenny
. The silent cry echoed between them as he moved his mouth back and forth over hers.
Kiss me.

When she did, the wave of exhilaration that washed over him was so powerful, it nearly knocked him backward.

She tasted like a sprig of fresh mint. Invigoratingly fresh. Adrenaline-pumping fresh. Inspiring, soaring, top-of-the world fresh.

Terrified she'd pull away, he cupped the back of her head with his hand to hold her in place. This time she didn't protest, but leaned in even closer. Close enough for her heart to beat over his. Close enough for her breath to warm his skin. Close enough for her hair to touch his cheek and alter all perception of reality.

Time passed unnoticed, and when they finally drew apart, Jenny whispered, “Was that convincing?”

“You convinced
me
.”

His goal was to win Jenny's heart, not lose his own. Still, it didn't hurt to desire the woman you planned to marry. It would make winning the bet that much sweeter.

“Are they still watching?” she asked.

He looked behind her at the empty seats beside the dying embers of the fire, and smiled.

“Yes,” he lied. “You better kiss me again.”

J
ENNY AWOKE TO
the loud continuous squawks of a raven as it flew overhead from tree to tree. It echoed like one of Billie's annoying alarm clocks that she slept through and wouldn't turn off. A second later, the bird's friends joined in to reply.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she climbed out of her sleeping bag and pulled back the canvas flap of the little green tent. And with her first step outside, stumbled right over the lumpy sleeping bag that lay straight across the doorway.

She picked herself up and peered into the face of the man who guarded her tent. Nick. He still slept, but in her stumble, she'd kicked him and the sleeping bag wriggled like a giant worm. She smiled and the previous night's events swirled through her mind.

The men had started to grab hold of her. Nick told them she was his fiancée. They didn't believe it. So she had kissed Nick . . .

Heat flooded her body from the top of her head to the very tips of her toes at the memory. She'd only meant to give him one short, light, perfectly refined kiss to convince the other men to leave her alone. It worked. After the kiss, she discovered everyone else had gone to bed.

What she
hadn't
counted on, however, was having the kiss last for
three hours
.

Later she'd started toward the tents, when Nick reminded her that the men were unpredictable perverts and might pounce on her in her sleep. If such a thing happened, he said, and he was far away and unable to hear her call for help . . . She'd shuddered at the thought and almost followed him to his tent. Then at the last minute a stray wisp of sanity saved her and she held her ground and slept alone.

Was she completely daft? Now it all became crystal clear how Nick had played on her fear to manipulate her the entire night. However, the fact he'd abandoned his own tent and slept outside to guard her anyway, just in case one of the other men decided to pay her a visit, was quite endearing.

She walked quietly down the path to the lake to pick huckleberries for the pancakes she intended to cook for their morning breakfast.

She had to admit, Nick was a good kisser. So good, in fact, that for a few brief hours he'd almost made her believe there
was
no bet and he was kissing her because he really wanted to. For the first time, she dared to wonder what it would be like to lose. If they married and Nick got his hands on her land, would he still kiss her like that?

A rustle in the bushes made her jump. A second later, Nick stepped out from behind, putting her whole body on heightened alert.

She'd hoped to have some time alone. She wasn't ready to face him yet. Her head was still wandering in a colorful fantasy world where dreams could come true—a place she hadn't been in a long time.

“Quit following me,” she exclaimed.

“I'm supposed to follow you. I'm your bodyguard on this trip, remember?”

“There's no one here to protect me from. Everyone else is still asleep.”

“I
know
,” he said, walking toward her with a mischievous grin.

She hid her smile and moved toward the edge of the lake, where she opened a small plastic container and began to fill it with the huckleberries from a nearby bush. Two black-tailed deer sprinted away at the sight of her, and Nick bent down by the water's edge to wash his face with his hands.

The clear alpine lake, set amidst glacier-carved rocks and flowering banks of Indian paintbrush, lupines, and phlox, was one of her favorite places. Farther back, towering ponderosa pines and noble fir led up to a steep stony ridge where one mountain rose majestically above all others. The sheer rock face of its jagged peak was illuminated with a brilliant purplish-orange glow in the early morning sun.

Nick let out a long, appreciative whistle.

“Everyone is in awe of Mount MacGowan the first time they see it,” she said, trying to keep the conversation light. “Old Levi will spend hours telling you how it was named after his ancestors. The back of his property borders the other side of the lake and leads all the way up the mountain.”

“I've never seen anything so beautiful.”

She cast him a quick glance. He was looking at
her
and not the mountain. Did he really think she was beautiful?

“That rocky cliff over there,” she said in an awkward effort to redirect his gaze, “is Granite Pass. There's a cave on the far end about a quarter of the way down.”

Nick came to stand close beside her. Too close. His male scent, mixed with the rough leather of his brown rodeo jacket, reminded her how good it felt to be wrapped in his arms next to the campfire.

“This is Harp Lake,” she said, and gestured toward the shimmering blue-green expanse beside them. “Some say you can hear the sound of harps when the wind blows across the water.”

Nick leaned in even closer and blew lightly into her ear, making her spill some of her berries.

“Have you ever heard it?” he asked.

“No. Only selected people can hear it.”

“Selected people?”

“Legend has it,” she explained, closing the lid of the berry container before she spilled more, “the lake is protected by angels. When you come to the lake with the one you love and hear the music from the angels' harps, it means you are destined to be together forever.”

“Do you know anyone who has heard the harps?” Nick asked, smoothing back a loose strand of her hair.

“My mother heard it. She was engaged to marry someone else when she met my father here. She came to tell him she couldn't see him again. Then she heard it . . . the faint strands of nearly a dozen harps . . . She looked into my father's eyes and she knew
he
was the one she was destined to marry.”

“Just like you are destined to marry me.”

“Nick, I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on the trail.”

He chuckled as he took her fingers, raised them to his mouth, and began to kiss the tips.

She swallowed hard. “I wouldn't marry you if I were beaten and thrown to the wolves.”

Letting go of her hand, he reached for her waist and pulled her into the circle of his arms.

“I wouldn't marry you even if—”

A sudden gust of crisp, fresh air fluttered breezily down the mountains, making the lake water ripple. She could have sworn she heard . . . her breath caught in her chest as she stared out over the lake and then up into Nick's silver-gray eyes.

“Would you marry me if you heard the harps?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft.

Stumbling out of his embrace, her heart hammered and her mind raced. It wasn't possible. Was it?

“Not all legends are true,” she sputtered, and broke into a run as she headed back to camp.

Nick watched Jenny's hasty retreat and laughed. He hadn't stepped foot in a church since his parents died, but if it helped to have Jenny think a higher power had destined them to be together, he'd play along with it.

He glanced back over the sparkling blue lake. What on earth could have produced the sound of harps? It had to be the rock formation on the opposite shore acting like a whistle.

For no angel would let him near her.

T
HE MEN WERE
in a somber mood as they helped Jenny roll the tents and repack the saddlebags and pack boxes. Not even “cowboy cappuccino” or talk of the gold mentioned in her great-great-grandfather's journals could perk them up. Everyone was quiet. Everyone, that is, except Nick, who whistled cheerfully as he bounced around camp grinning from ear to ear. The other men grimaced and muttered cutting remarks about him under their breath.

Jenny was thankful the men were keeping to themselves. She needed to sort out the crazy thoughts whirling about in her head.

Did she really hear the harps? She tried to take deep breaths. Tried to remember the bet and why she'd accepted.

It was ridiculous to feel this way over a man, yet she couldn't help herself. With his dark hair hanging over the collar of his blue flannel shirt, his dancing eyes, and flirtatious smile, he was absolutely irresistible. If the legend of Harp Lake was true, was she destined to marry him after all?

Her thoughts returned to the first time she'd attempted marriage, and her father's voice pierced through her memories as loud as if he were standing beside her.

“What kind of man is over an hour late to his own wedding?” George O'Brien demanded, pacing back and forth in front of the altar for the hundredth time.

“He'll be here soon, Dad.” Jenny ignored Reverend Thornberry's doubtful expression and glanced toward the church door in anticipation. “Travis
loves
me.”

Travis.
Just saying his name made her go weak in the knees. She couldn't help herself. From the moment the handsome rodeo star pulled into town, twirling his brown cowboy hat around on his fingers, she had been smitten.

“He might have overslept,” she said, calmly pushing a loose spiral of her long auburn hair away from her face. “He's had to put in some very long hours lately.”

Her father glanced at his watch and let out an impatient groan. “Well, the guests aren't going to stand around and wait all day.”

“Neither am I,” Reverend Thornberry interjected, looking down the bridge of his nose at her.

She gazed out over the murmuring crowd, who had dressed in their Sunday best and were starting to suffer from the extreme summer heat. The men were loosening their ties and mopping their brows with handkerchiefs, while the women fanned themselves with the paper wedding programs they had been handed at the door.

“You're right,” she conceded. “I'll just run across the street to his room above the café and see how much longer he's going to be.”

“That might not be a good idea,” her father said hesitantly.

“I'll go,” her cousin Patrick volunteered.

“I don't want you to embarrass him,” she said, shooting them all a smile. She smoothed the white satin and lace skirt of the bridal gown that had once belonged to her mother. “I'll go. Travis has either overslept or . . . oh, Dad, what if he is sick? I hope he didn't catch that flu that's going around.”

“He could be sick,” Patrick admitted. “But it wouldn't be from flu. I heard he drank quite a bit at his bachelor party last night. I bet he has a nasty hangover.”

Worrying over his well-being, Jenny gave the wedding guests a small apologetic smile and hurried across the street faster than she had intended to.

The Bets and Burgers Café was nearly empty due to the fact that most of the townspeople were waiting at the church to see her get married. With a quick wave to Pete, she made her way up the stairs to the second floor, where Travis had been able to rent a room for half the cost of one at the Pine Hotel. The café was a historical landmark from the gold-mining era and did not have an elevator. Usually she didn't mind, but today the ascent was making her breathless.

Just as she placed her hand on the doorknob to her fiancé's room a low groan sounded from within.
Travis.
Maybe he
was
sick. Her heart flipped over with concern. She should have come sooner. Why did she wait so long?

Yanking the door open, she rushed inside.

“
Jenny.
” Travis's eyes widened as he scrambled to pull the tangle of bed sheets over a squirming array of glistening naked body parts. “It's not what you think.”

At the moment she wasn't thinking at all. She simply stared, her mind strangely numb and detached from what her eyes were seeing in the dimly lit room.

Travis's handsome face was beaded in sweat, his disheveled dirty-blond hair sticking out in different directions. His chest was heaving as if he had difficulty breathing . . . or had just engaged in intense physical activity.