Worth The Price (Hart's Fall, Montana) (12 page)

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I am sorry for what you had to go through,” Danika said gently. “If you believe that I see you as anything but Brandon, my husband and the only man I want to be with, then you’re mistaken. And your
sob story
will not make me stay and forgive you because I had no intention of leaving. Staying angry about earlier today would just be petty and silly in light of everything.”

All the emotions Danika had bottled away in her attempt to stay strong for him came pouring out. She rose on her elbows and pressed her mouth to his lips, stopping only to catch her breath.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asked, after the kiss broke.

“Every word of it. Nothing you say is going to make me look at you any different.”

He regarded her carefully. “You don’t care that I wasn’t able to defend myself?”

She wove her fingers through his black hair. “It’s in the past. And like I said, you have me now. I would never let anyone hurt you.” Brandon was more than twice her size and many people in Hart’s Fall moved bricks and stones to avoid him. As much as she cared about him, Danika wasn’t in denial concerning his appearance. Combined with his sheer masculine size and the butcher-like cut on his face, her husband was the most menacing-looking person in town. But as ridiculous as it sounded even to her own ears, she
would
protect him. From everyone including her own father.

His head lifted and Danika felt a surge of triumph at the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ll protect me?”

“That’s right. Guess I never told you about those Tae Kwon Do lessons I took?”

He pushed back a strand of hair from her face. “I don’t believe you have.”

The touch was gentle and sweet, without the slightest hint of intimacy. It felt like they were entering into uncharted territory, that their relationship had shifted. For the better. The air in the room grew thin for her. Danika forced a smile, despite the pull of her heart urging her to wrap her arms around him and tell Brandon how much she was falling for him. How deeply she was falling in love.

She continued the playful banter. “The lessons didn’t end quite that well for me. I did manage to get as far as a green belt, but I broke my ankle trying out a new technique.” She lifted a shoulder. “Dad pretty much put an end to my ‘Kung Fu’ wannabe days, after that little mishap.”

“It’s all right, Danika.” He swept his lips to her temple. “I should be able to protect both of us without anyone breaking an ankle or any other body part.”

Her heart was drumming so hard she wondered if it was possible for Brandon to hear the frantic beat. “Brandon?”

He raised his head and eyes brimming with desire seared into her. Excitement pulsed between her legs. “I lied to you before.”

His thick eyebrows arched to which Danika nodded. “I hadn’t fallen asleep by accident. I was waiting up for you.”

Another smile touched his lips. “I hoped you would. I could barely concentrate, worrying if I would be welcomed inside the house.”

“You worry way too much.”

“I worry because I have someone I care about. I’ve never had that before or anyone who gave a damn what I had to say.”

“So, Brandon Sharpe cares what I think?”

His face went blank. “Isn’t it typical for a husband to care what his wife thinks?”

“Our marriage is the definition of not typical. It’s a simple question, Brandon. Do you care what I think?”

“I care.”

Worth the Price

Brandon checked his watch. It was shortly after eleven in the morning, which meant Prescott was bound to be inside his downtown office of Prescott Construction. Although he had never before entered the spacious loft-style firm, he was shocked at the appearance. Gone were the sleek multi-colored modern designer furnishings that used to be viewed through the expansive glass walling. They were replaced by empty space scattered with a few boxes here and there. Instead of workers with telephones attached to their ears and typing away on computer keyboards, there was, well…no one. He wondered how soon before Prescott had stopped paying their wages, they had all abandoned ship.

Sidestepping a plastic container deluged with folders and sheets of paper, Brandon rounded a corridor, then heading past a deserted cubicle to Prescott’s office at the end of the hallway. He stopped in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. The dark-skinned man was slowly and painstakingly removing a picture frame from the wall. Halfway between laying it in the box at his feet, he noticed Brandon. The frame slipped from his hand, hitting the bottom of the cardboard with a clatter.

“Came to gloat, Sharpe?” Frank Prescott asked, face upturned in anger. “Or maybe you wanna rub it in my face some more how you weaseled every goddamn thing away from me.”

“I came to talk about my wife.”

“Your wife?” Prescott scratched his head. “Oh, you lost me for a second there. You must mean my little girl who you managed to brainwash and turn against me?”

“How about the woman you should be thanking for keeping your sorry self off the streets. Me, I couldn’t care less what happens to you, but for some reason Danika has it in her head you’re worth the effort. So what does a bastard like you do instead? Crap on the only person who thinks your worthless hide deserves the help.”

Prescott’s nostrils flared. “And what about you? You know damn well you don’t care about Dani. This is about you using my daughter to get to me.” He slammed his fist against the desk. “Damn you. I don’t for a second believe you didn’t fuck with my car. Never had a damn problem with the engine until that day. Mighty convenient eh, me breaking down miles away from the auction. You knew, goddammit, you knew how determined I was to place my bid on the land. Every cent I had was riding on it.” His eyes beaded with fury. “How did you do it, Sharpe? Forget about screwing with my car. Where the hell does a nobody like you crawl out of the woodwork with enough money to buy that ranch? How’d you manage to rustle up those funds? C’mon I won’t tell anyone. Just between you and a broken-down old man.”

Brandon folded his arms and clenched his jaw. This was insane. He wasn’t about to offer Prescott another ounce of fuel for his miserable fire.

“That property should be mine. Every damn thing of value to me, you’ve managed to get your cruddy hands on. You’ve got my daughter shacking up at your house in a sham of a marriage, all because you’re holding dollar signs over her head. Acting like a damn street walker for you is what she’s doing.” The older man’s chest moved furiously up and down. His breathing became labored.

“Prescott—”

“Get out of my office,” he wheezed, gripping the edge of his desk.

“I’m not going anywhere until you hear what I have to say. Whatever you think about me, just know that I’m not holding a gun to Danika’s head. She can leave if she wants to. You hear me, Prescott. I’m not keeping your daughter on my ranch as a slave, prostitute or whatever else you might think. Danika’s free to go anywhere she chooses, whenever she wants.”

“Then send her home. Tell Danika as soon as she ends this so called marriage she can come home. Her bedroom is still there. It’s exactly as she left it. I haven’t changed a thing in there. Give me back my daughter, Sharpe.”

A tick ricocheted through his muscles. Was Prescott not only thickheaded, but deaf as well? “I just told you I’m not holding her hostage on my ranch. She’s my wife, Prescott.
Wife
, in every sense of the word. Danika is mine and I didn’t have to force not one thing on her.”

In a seething tone, Prescott whispered, “I’m warning you for the last time. Get the hell out of my office and don’t ever let me see your twisted mug anywhere near my home. So help me God. Matter of fact, get the hell out of Hart’s Fall and slither back to whichever Godforsaken hole you crawled out of before you came and ruined…took everything from me. I only pray to God you don’t drag my daughter down into the cesspool with you.”

Danika swiped her hand against her damp eyebrows. She had stopped by the shelter after work, intending to complete the painting she’d begun the previous day. The humidity of the afternoon in a building that was not yet wired for air conditioning made the job all the more tiresome. She dipped the flat paintbrush into the tray, wet with a sun-kissed yellow color to add a second layer of coat to the lounge area wall.

“Dani, what do you think about this color for the kitchen?”

Her head lifted to see Zoe standing outside the doorway with a small bucket of paint in hand. Danika squinted to get a closer look, cringing at the puke-green shade her friend wished to use on the kitchen walls. She pretended to mull it over.

“What about the terracotta color I saw Beth Ann with earlier? You could paint with that. The original tiles that were used in the farmhouse came back yesterday. They were pieced together nicely. You should take a look. They might go better with it.”

Zoe hesitated then looked down at the pail in her arm. “Be honest. It’s ugly isn’t it?”

Danika offered a weak smile. “A little.”

“All right you win. Terracotta it is.” Zoe turned then paused in her step. “That uh, that’s the brownish orange color right?”

Danika nodded before recognizing they were no longer alone. Automatically, her gaze darted to Zoe. Danika prayed she wouldn’t become trapped in a battle of words between Austin Hart and her friend.

The great-grandson of the town’s namesake, swept into the room, his ice pick glare piercing its target. “What are you doing here?” he asked, disgust hanging on his words. “Don’t tell me all those fancy designers finally got tired of working with a stick figure who can’t keep her butt from landing on the floor?” He moved further into the room. “New York spat you out, so nothing to do now but slum it in Hart’s Fall?”

Zoe laughed and rotated her waif-like shoulder with a look of indifference. “A few tumbles on the catwalk aren’t going to stop me. As a matter of fact, I have a flight booked for Manhattan next month. This stick figure has been tapped for a very lucrative contract with a high-end designer who’s dreamed of working with me for ages.” Zoe flipped a thick braid off her shoulder. “As touching as your concern is, please keep it to yourself.”

Danika examined the rancher’s face to see if his level of shocked matched hers. Not once had Zoe mentioned her plans of returning to New York or modeling. In truth, her friend had avoided the subject all together and Danika hadn’t pressed the topic. Hart’s features, however, betrayed nothing.

“Austin, can I help you with something?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Sure. Beth Ann would like to know if you’ve started the guest list for the grand opening party.”

Danika shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll get right on it by the end of next week. It’s less than three months from now. We should have enough time to straighten it all out long before November.”

She turned to her friend and blew out a low exaggerated breath of relief as the rancher exited the room. He was mid-way through the door when she saw Brandon’s approach. His wide shoulders almost collided with Austin’s.

“Sharpe.” Austin issued a curt nod and cast another glance backward.

Brandon jerked his head in response, barely acknowledging the man. Zoe was no better. She bolted out the door, the can of paint clutched tightly in her hand.

“What’s that about?”

Danika rolled her eyes. “You don’t even wanna know.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He took a purposeful stride toward her. His attention switched to the door then returned her with an intensity that made her shiver. “When I see a man like Austin Hart leave in a rush and your best friend following suit. I definitely want to know.”

She dragged in a tremulous breath. Brandon was jealous. Her heart felt light and airy, yet she managed to maintain her expression of serenity as Brandon braced his hand on the wall above her head. “Do you suspect I’m having an affair with Austin?” A steady pulse raced through her veins. “Maybe Zoe walked in on us.”

His eyes locked with hers. Danika felt that look all the way down to her baby toes. She wondered if he actually thought her capable of cheating.