Fortune's June Bride (Mills & Boon Cherish) (The Fortunes of Texas: Cowboy Country, Book 6) (7 page)

“What woman?”

She caught her reflection in the cheap mirror and made a face at herself to stop the sudden silly smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

Feeling immeasurably cheered, she went to work on the zipper again and this time, made it all the way to the top. She fluffed the tulle skirt that extended to her ankles below the edges of the scalloped lace overskirt and stepped out from behind the screen. “Almost ready. Where’s Frank?”

“Saw him out by the buckboard already.”

Which was a good reminder how far behind she was running. She always beat Frank to the buckboard. “I am not going to be late because of Roselyn St. James,” she vowed and shoved her feet—white crew socks and all—into the old-fashioned boots in record time.

Galen retrieved the ringlet-curled hairpiece that was hanging from a display of them while she quickly twisted her ponytail into a knot. “That’s her name?” He handed her the hairpiece. “The college roommate who gets on your nerves?”

“I didn’t say—” She made a face and clipped the hairpiece into place, instantly adding a half ton of spiraling red hair to the back of her head. “Yes. That’s her.” She slid her watch locket down the front of her dress and spread her hands. “There. All set. Ready to ride to my rescue?”

He held his white hat to his abdomen and grinned slightly. “Be my pleasure, ma’am.”

Something inside her belly did a little jig and she quickly pushed open the trailer door, hurrying down the steps. “See you at the altar,” she managed blithely and picked up her skirts to jog toward the buckboard, since the theme music had just started to play.

She was breathless when she clambered up alongside Frank, who gave her a pointed look as he tapped his wristwatch-free wrist.

“Sorry,” she mouthed soundlessly and quickly pulled on her headset and veil. Then the gate opened, and Blackie burst through.

For once, Aurora didn’t even have time to feel her usual surge of nausea. She looked over her shoulder toward Galen and Cabot where they and the rest of the cast were mounting up.

Galen tipped his hat toward her and she grinned before the buckboard turned nearly on two wheels as Blackie raced right on cue toward Main Street. “My daddy will roll over in his grave if the railroad comes through our land,” she cried into her microphone. “I’d do anything to keep that from happening, Frank. But I can’t marry you! I love another!”

Galen realized he was grinning as he listened to Aurora over the loudspeaker.

“Looks to me like you’re having some fun at this,” Cabot observed.

Galen tucked the “deed” into his shirt and nudged along his horse, Blaze, with a squeeze of his knees. “Maybe,” he allowed. But only because he was having fun watching Aurora have fun. He set his white hat more firmly on his head so it wouldn’t go blowing off when they made their mad dash down Main. “But I’m definitely not looking for a career change. Ranching’s in my blood. Only thing I ever wanted to do. Amusing as this might be for now, I’ll be happy as hell to hand over Rusty’s hat to whoever they get to replace Joey.” He took in the other riders as well as Cabot and gathered his reins. “Y’all ready?”

They nodded, and as one, they set off in a thunder of horse hooves.

Eleven minutes later, on the dot, he was pulling Aurora into his arms after “knocking” Frank off his feet, saying “I do” to Harlan’s Preacher Man, and bending Aurora low over his arm while the audience—always larger on a Saturday—clapped and hooted.

Unfortunately for Galen, the longer he’d gone without Rusty actually kissing Lila, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about it as he pressed his cheek against Aurora’s, her head tucked down in his chest.

“Big crowd,” he whispered. The mics were dead and he held her a little longer than usual. Because of the lengthy applause they were getting, of course.

“Too big,” she whispered back. “You going to let me up anytime soon?”

He immediately straightened, and she smiled broadly at the crowd, waving her hand as she tucked her hand through his arm and they strolled offstage.

But he could see through the smile to the frustration brewing in her blue eyes.

He waited until they were well away from the stage. “Sorry about that.”

“About what?” She impatiently pushed her veil behind her back and kept looking over her shoulder as they strode through the side street. She was damn near jogging, and the beads hanging from her dress were bouncing.

“Holding the...uh...the...uh,” he yanked his string tie loose, feeling like an idiot. “You know. The embrace.”

She gave him a distracted look. “What about it?”

“Holding it so long.”

Her smooth brows pulled together. “Don’t be silly. You were showing great timing.” She glanced over her shoulder again. “Oh, crud on a cracker,” she muttered. “Why couldn’t she just take her perfect two-point-five children to the freaking petting zoo?”

Galen looked back, too, to see what had her so agitated. All he saw was the usual line of people waiting outside Olde Tyme and several families moseying around shop windows. “Who are you talking about?”

“Roselyn,” she said through her teeth. Her cheeks looked flushed. “The moment I saw her in the audience, I wanted to bolt. I swear, she’s like a dog with a bone. Acting all sweet and nice when she has to know I’m not buying it for one second.”

Genuinely curious, he glanced back again.

“Oh, sheesh. Don’t
look
.” Aurora’s fingers dug into his arm.

“Aurora, Aurora McElroy!” One voice in particular separated itself from the general noise and Galen finally saw the dark-haired pregnant woman shoving a stroller ahead of her as she approached. “How could you not see me waving at you back there?”

“So close to escape. Yet so far away.” Aurora finally sighed and let go of Galen’s arm.

She obviously meant the backstage gate that was only a few paces away.

“This is humiliating,” she said under her breath. “Whatever she says, just go with it, okay? I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

He frowned, but she was already turning to face the oncoming woman with a wooden smile. “Sorry, Roselyn. You know how an audience disappears when you’re onstage.”

Roselyn finally reached them and she pressed the flat of her hand against her chest. “Mercy, I am out of breath chasing after you. Why didn’t you mention you were performing in a little show here?”

Galen could feel Aurora stiffening beside him. “I didn’t really have—”

Roselyn didn’t let her finish, though. She’d pulled off her glasses and was giving Galen a head-to-toe look that made him feel sort of like a side of beef being examined by the butcher. “And playing opposite your own real-life husband,” she went on. “How
sweet
is that?”

Galen stared. Real-life husband?

“I’m just dying to know how closely life imitates art, of course.” The other woman extended her hand, almost as if she expected Galen to kiss it or something. “I’m Roselyn St. James,” she introduced. “I’m sure Aurora has told you all about our time together in college. But I’m afraid I don’t know even the teeniest thing about you.” She smiled flirtatiously. “Which is simply a crying shame, don’t you think?”

Galen wasn’t ill-mannered enough to ignore the extended hand, so he shook it briskly.

And briefly.

“Galen Fortune Jones.” For some reason, claiming the Fortune name just then seemed in keeping with her highfalutin’ attitude toward Aurora. “But I’m afraid Aurora doesn’t share much about her college years.”

“Really?” Roselyn arched her dark eyebrows. “I can’t imagine why. We had so much fun together, didn’t we, Aurora?”

“A blast.” Aurora’s voice was beyond dry. “I’m sorry to cut this short, Roselyn, but we’ve got to get set for the next show.” She waved toward the wooden gate with the small cast-only sign on it.

Galen didn’t react to Aurora’s huge exaggeration.

“Well, let’s get together later, then. For dinner?” One of the tots in the stroller started squawking and Roselyn jiggled the stroller. “Hush, baby. Mommy’s talking.” She didn’t take her gaze off of Aurora. “I’m sure Anthony will be done with his interview—”

“Interview!”

Roselyn’s wide eyes widened a little more at Aurora’s exclamation. “With Moore Entertainment,” she said as if that explained everything. “I told you—”

“You said he was having a meeting.” Aurora’s voice was increasingly tight.

“You’re not bothered by the idea that you might be working for my husband, are you?” Roselyn laughed gaily. “I’m just kidding, of course. You wouldn’t be working for him. But he is on the short list for a really good position with Moore. Not here in Texas. Anthony would never want to come back here for good.” She jiggled the stroller more and gave Galen a confiding look. “Once he left the state, he dusted anything to do with Texas off his hands. He’s a lawyer, specializing in real estate and the entertainment industries.”

“Whoops.” Aurora had pulled out her watch locket. “Look at the time. Really late now.” She grabbed Galen’s arm and pulled. “Tell your husband good luck.”

Roselyn had a surprised look on her face that Galen didn’t quite buy. Mostly because there was a sense of calculation emanating from her pores that he
did
.

“I’ll be in touch,” Roselyn said quickly. “I’m such a romantic. I can’t wait to hear all about everything! When you got engaged, what the wedding was like and everything!”

“Perfect,” Aurora grabbed her skirt up with her free hand.

Galen tipped his hat briefly, and let her pull him through the gate, which she closed so hard after them that it vibrated on its iron hinges.

Galen crossed his arms and peered at her from beneath his hat. “So. What
was
the wedding like?”

Chapter Six

A
urora wearily pulled off her veil and microphone. She could hardly bear to look Galen in the eye, but she made herself do it. “I’m sorry. She always gets my goat.”

He let out a disbelieving chuckle. “So you told her we were married for real?”

“I didn’t think it would matter! I figured,
hoped,
I’d never run into her again.” She yanked off the hairpiece. “I know I shouldn’t have lied. And of course, the one time that I do, it jumps up and bites me on the tush.” She shook her ringlets at him. “You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!”

He cupped his hand over his mouth but his wide shoulders still shook and his eyes were filled with amusement. “Sorry.”

She tossed up her hands, wedding veil and red curls and all, and turned around. Obviously they didn’t have to get ready for the next show immediately, but there was no point taking up space in the narrow backstage walkway when saloon girls were beginning to file through, trying to get where they needed to go, too.

“Hold on.” He caught up to her. “Don’t get mad at me when the honeymoon’s not even over.”

She glared at him. “Good to know I can count on you to help the situation.”

He managed to stop chuckling, but he still looked as if he’d start again any second. “Why did you tell her that?”

She was squeezing her veil so hard, the band of flowers was in danger of being permanently bent out of shape. “Hold that.” She shoved it at him so abruptly he had no choice but to take the veil.

“I’ll hold it,” he allowed drily, “but I draw the line at wearing it.”

“Ha-ha.” She pressed her fingertips to the pain that had formed behind her eyebrows the second she’d spotted Roselyn’s scarlet shirt and glorious black hair in the second row near the stage when Frank had dragged her up the steps. “I told you she gets on my nerves.”

“Which, after two minutes of her, I can understand.”

She shot him a quick look. “You’re joking, right?”

He tossed her long veil over his shoulder where it looked almost comical, dangling down his back like some sort of lacy white cape. “What’s to joke about? She looks like a nosebleed to me.”

She walked ahead of him through the narrowing walkway. “Yeah, well, you’re probably the only male around who thinks so. Roselyn St. James collects admirers like my grandma used to collect string.”

“She’s pregnant, sports a rock the size of a golf ball on her finger and has two kids. Trust me, honey. She’s not collecting anything from this old boy.”

She rounded the corner, waiting until he came abreast of her again. “She’s beautiful.”

“Thought you didn’t like her.”

“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m a fool, either.” She propped her hands on her hips. “She’s beautiful. Stop-you-in-your-tracks, make-you-take-a-second-look beautiful. She was ten years ago, and she’s even more so now. Pregnant or not. And for nearly two years, I roomed with her. I had ample opportunity to witness the effect she had on anyone who pees standing up. Including my own boyfriend.”

“Ah.” He nodded sagely. “Now I get it.”

“I am
not
jealous,” she said through her teeth.

“Are you sure?”

She exhaled abruptly, feeling like a balloon suddenly stuck with a big, sharp pin. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t plan to ever see her again.”

“Didn’t sound like she’s on that same page.”

“She didn’t even remember that I came from Horseback Hollow, and she doesn’t have my phone number,” Aurora dismissed. “It wouldn’t even occur to her that I don’t own a cell phone. They’ll finish up their business here and go on their merry way, never to darken Horseback Hollow again. Because there was at least one piece of truth in her supposed desire to catch up, and that is that her husband would never voluntarily return to Texas to live. He always hated having to say he came from Red Rock whenever somebody asked.”

He caught her arm, stopping her progress. “You’re not saying that her husband is—”

“—my old boyfriend?” She made a face. “Not that I want to broadcast the fact that I was thrown over for Roselyn St. James, but yes. She never had to work hard for anything in her life. Not grades. Not money for college. She even parlayed a bit part on
Tomorrow’s Loves
into a main character. Whatever she wanted, she just lifted her pretty fingers, and it was hers. Including him.” She rubbed her forehead again. “I know. I shouldn’t have let that get to me, though. But you walked by the Foaming Barrel with that ‘wife of mine’ crack, and I didn’t correct her stunned astonishment that her small-town roommate hadn’t turned out to be an old maid after all. What can I say? Sue me.”

“You’re not an old maid.”

“I’m not exactly the belle of the ball, am I?” She squeezed the back of her neck. “And that’s exactly what she’d want to hear. The truth. That every male I know considers me just one of the guys. That I haven’t had a real date in two years. That I’m still living at home in my childhood bedroom with my parents! Roselyn’s personal enjoyment of life is directly related to the level of superiority she maintains over any female in her vicinity.”

“Well, hell, honey.” The corner of his lips tilted up. “Why don’t you say how you really feel?”

She glared. But then her annoyance fizzled, like yet another spent balloon. “Don’t make me smile.”

“But you have such a good one.”

She rolled her eyes and pressed her hand to her belly when it rumbled loudly. “Sorry. Didn’t have time to eat my lunch.”

“Guess we’d better do something about that.” He took her arm. “Can’t have your stomach growling when we’re around live microphones again. People’ll think a thunderstorm is brewing and skedaddle.”

“Such a way with words you have, Galen Jones.”

“That’s Galen
Fortune
Jones, ma’am. As it happens, I haven’t had any lunch yet, either. I got hung up at my place doing laundry.” He made a face.

“Laundry happens to the best of us,” she assured drily. Then grimaced. “Except Roselyn St. James. She probably has singing birds and talking chipmunks who take care of those menial tasks.”

He smiled. “Who knew there was a redhead’s temper lurking inside the redhead?”

“Trust me. Every blonde and brunette who’s ever known her feels the same way.”

“What’s
Tomorrow’s Loves
, anyway?”

“A daytime soap opera. She played Bianca Blaisdell.” Her lips twisted. “The town tramp.”

“Typecasting?”

“A nice thought. Roselyn’s the center of her own world, but I suppose I can’t really accuse her of being trampy.”

They reached the buckboard and she took the veil off his shoulder and left it and her mic on the seat for the next show.

“What are you going to do if she doesn’t give up on catching up?”

“She will.” Aurora led the way back to the trailer. She didn’t always change out of her costume between shows, but if they left the backstage area, she had to.

She changed as usual behind the screen and tsked over the fraying stitching near the zipper. They had a wardrobe department that took care of the costumes, making sure they were cleaned, etcetera, but Aurora could probably save time by taking her own needle and thread to it herself. For now, though, she found a pair of tiny scissors and clipped off the loose threads as best she could. Then she left the dress hanging on its padded hanger and went back outside where Galen was sitting on top of the picnic table, his boots propped on the bench.

He set his black hat back an inch when she appeared and smiled. “What’s your fancy?”

For the briefest of moments, she considered saying “you.” But given his reaction to her simple peck on his cheek the night before, she told herself to get over it and quickly. “Whatever is fast,” she said instead. “But maybe not the Foaming Barrel.”

“Afraid Roselyn’s still lurking around?”

“No. But I already bought a hot dog there once today and if I go back for another, they’re going to think I have the taste buds of an eight-year-old.”

“A sandwich over at the saloon?”

She nodded. “That’ll do. Maybe we’ll be able to catch a bit of the show. Serena,” she prompted when he gave her a blank look.

He pushed off the table. “I’ll leave the dancing girls to Frank.” Dressed in their everyday clothing, they were free to walk among the public areas, which allowed a considerable shortcut over to the saloon and they were able to find an empty table in the upstairs balcony that overlooked the stage.

She sat there to save the spot while Galen stood in the short line to give their orders, which would be delivered to their table when it was ready. He was back in a matter of minutes and set the number he’d been given at the edge of the table, then pushed the folded ten-dollar bill she’d laid out in preparation back toward her. “No wife of mine is paying for supper.”

She left the ten on the table. “This is lunch.”

“Splittin’ hairs.” He dropped his hat on the table and leaned his chair back on two legs. “Has it really been two years?”

She wanted to drop through the floor. It would be a nasty accident, falling through a lot of wood and aged brass, and surely successful at distracting him from the embarrassing question for which she had only herself to blame.

However, the floor beneath her was solid as could be, capable of handling a customer load three times as large as what was present.

“You
had
to notice that.”

He smiled slightly. “It was a comment worth noticing.”

“Not really.” She toyed with the plastic order number, which was fashioned in the shape of a sheriff’s star. “Horseback Hollow’s not chock-full of eligible bachelors interested in the girl next door.” She smiled. “Particularly considering the way your own family gets married all at once.”

He let his chair come back down on all fours. “That was a busy day.”

“Marrying off four of your siblings in one single ceremony? I’ll bet it was.”

“I’m surprised you weren’t there,” he mused. “Think I remember seeing your parents.”

“Oh, yeah.” She nodded. “Mama talked about it for weeks. The dresses. The food. I think she is afraid she’s never going to have another wedding in
our
family.” Particularly since Aurora had never found another soul interested in proposing after Anthony.

“She ought to come and watch you do it four times a day,” Galen was saying drily. “That oughta cure her. So what were you doing that day?”

“I was over in Lubbock taking care of some ranch business for Daddy.” She didn’t want to admit that she’d preferred being useful anywhere else over being a wallflower at such a joyful occasion. “And I saw Delaney in the general store a few weeks ago. She’s engaged now, too?”

“To Cisco Mendoza.”

“Of the Mendozas who opened the Hollows Cantina?” Marcos and Wendy Fortune Mendoza had established the upscale Mexican restaurant the year before.

“He and his brother Matteo are cousins of some sort to Marcos. Julia—Liam’s wife—is assistant manager there. She told me once, but can’t say I paid much attention. Wendy, though, is
my
cousin.”

Aurora was genuinely surprised. “Good grief. You have cousins
everywhere
, don’t you?”

He smiled wryly. “Ever heard of FortuneSouth?”

“Telecommunications or something, aren’t they?”

He nodded. “My mom’s oldest brother, John Michael Fortune, founded it. He’s Wendy’s father.” He toyed with the plastic number. “Everywhere we turn, there’s a Fortune.”

She studied him for a moment. “It’s not just more people around the Sunday dinner table, is it?”

She wasn’t sure at first he’d answer. But then he shook his head. “It’s an adjustment.” His lips twisted a little. “A big one. Particularly for my old man.”

And of all Deke Jones’s sons, Galen was most like him. She’d heard it time and time again. From Jeanne Marie. From Mark. “Families aren’t always what we expect,” she murmured.

He smiled wryly. “No. They’re not.”

She propped her chin on her hand, absently watching the fortune-teller who worked the entire park make her way among the tables on the main floor, offering up entertainment before the saloon girls started their show. “I had my doubts when the Mendozas opened the Cantina. I mean, we’re Horseback Hollow. What did we need with such a fancy restaurant? But they said the place would draw business from all around, and they were right.”

“Evidently they had plenty of experience from the restaurant Marcos ran in Red Rock.
Red
. My mom brought back some tamales from the place after one of her visits there. Better than any I’ve ever had, even at the Cantina.”

Mention of Red Rock made Aurora think again of Anthony. Which made her think about Roselyn, which made her mood want to swing sideways all over again. “What about you?” She sat up again. “When was
your
last date?”

He raised a brow. “Pardon?”

“Well,” she gave him a quick, cross-eyed look, “you know my dirty secret. Least you can do is even things up.”

“Couple months ago, I guess.”

“Naturally,” she drawled, though she was a little relieved that it hadn’t been just a few days ago or something. Not that she could imagine when he’d have time to be out dating considering how busy he was these days. But she also didn’t want to know she was fantasizing about a kiss—a real kiss—from him when he was out kissing someone else. It just made her feel that much worse. “Anything serious?” She was a little proud of her flawlessly casual tone.

He snorted. “Rusty and Lila’s fictional hitchin’ is as serious as I get. I’m happy to leave the weddin’ and beddin’ to my brothers and sisters.” He gave her a devilish grin. “I’ll just stick to the beddin’.”

Something else she didn’t want to think about.

She looked back down again at the fortune-teller. The woman was reading a little girl’s palm. “You’d think after ten years I wouldn’t let Roselyn still get to me.”

“Everybody’s got their Kryptonite.”

She glanced at him again. “And do you have something that renders you helpless?”

He shrugged. “Thinking about anything bad happening to my family.” His gaze flickered beyond her. “Hallelujah. Lunch is here.”

Aurora sat back while the server—dressed in a slightly less sassy costume than those the dancers wore—delivered their tray of sandwiches and soft drinks, collected the sheriff’s star number and left again.