In Bed With The Wrangler

happiness.

Truth was, she was hiding out from herself, from the notion that she was living a lie, from the realization that she’d wrapped her life around a man she didn’t love.

The truth was both frightening and exhausting, and she needed time to figure it all out. More than an evening. More than a day. Even more than a weekend.

She needed to come to terms with the colossal mess she’d made of her life and decide where to go next. Ironic, really. Where Royce dreaded his ranch in Montana, she’d give anything-

Her eyes popped open, and she blinked him into focus. “Take me with you.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Take me with you to Montana.” Nobody would look for her in Montana. She’d be free of dress fittings and florists and calligraphers. No more gift registries or parties or travel agents.

No more Hargrove.

The thought took a weight off her shoulders, and the knot in her stomach broke free. Not good.

“Are you joking?” asked Royce.

“No.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Maybe.” Was she crazy? This certainly felt insane. Unfortunately, it also felt frighteningly right.

“I’m not taking an engaged woman with me to Montana.”

“Why not?”

He held out his palms, gesturing in the general vicinity of her neckline and the rest of her dress. “Because… Because…Well, because your fiance would kill me, for one.”

“I won’t tell him.”

“Right. That plan always ends well.”

“I’m serious. He’ll never know.”

“Forget it.”

No. She wouldn’t forget it. This was the first idea in weeks that had felt right to her.

She pulled off her diamond ring, setting it on the table between them. “There. No more fiance. No more problem.”

“It doesn’t have to be on your finger to count.”

“Yeah?” she challenged.

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“What if I wasn’t engaged?” Her words cut to absolute silence between them. The other sounds in the room muted, and time slowed down.

His gaze took a methodical trip from her cleavage to her waist, then backtracked to her eyes. “Sweetheart, if you weren’t engaged, I’d say fasten your seat belt.”

She snapped open her handbag. “Then how about this?” Retrieving her slim, silver cell phone, she typed a quick message and handed it over to Royce.

He squinted in the dim light, brows going up as he read the typed words.

I’m so sorry. I can’t marry you. I need some time to think.

“Press Send,” she told him. “Press Send, and take me to Montana.”

“There you are, pumpkin.” Amber’s father stepped up behind her, and his broad hand came down on her shoulder.

Shock rushed straight from her brain all the way to her toes. She whipped her head around to look up. “Daddy?”

“The limo’s at the curb.” Her father’s glance went to Royce.

Royce placed the cell phone facedown on the table and stood up to hold out his hand. “Royce Ryder. Jared’s brother.”

Her father shook. “David Hutton. We met briefly in the receiving line.”

“Good to see you again, sir.”

“You’ve been entertaining my daughter?”

“The other way around,” said Royce, his gaze going to Amber. “She’s an interesting woman. You must be proud.”

Her father gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We certainly are. But it’s getting late, honey. We need to get home.”

No, Amber wanted to yell. She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay here with Royce and completely change her life. She wanted to break it off with Hargrove and escape to Montana. She truly did.

Royce picked up the phone and slipped it back into her purse, clicking the purse shut with finality then handing it to her. “It was fun meeting you.”

Amber opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Her father scooped a hand under her elbow and gently urged her to her feet.

She stared at Royce, trying to convey her desperation, hoping he’d understand the look in her eyes and do something to help her. But he didn’t. And her father took a step, and she took a step. And another, and another.

“Amber?” Royce called, and relief shot though her. He knew. He understood. He was coming to her rescue.

But when she turned, he was holding out her engagement ring.

“Amber,” her father admonished, shock clear in his tone.

“My hands were swelling,” she answered lamely.

Royce didn’t bother making eye contact as he dropped the diamond into the palm of her hand.

Two

“Who was that?” Stephanie’s voice startled Royce as he watched Amber exit the lounge on her father’s arm.

Tearing his eyes from the supple figure beneath the gold-and-red dress, he turned to face his sister. Stephanie looked young and unusually feminine in her ice-pink, strapless, satin bridesmaid dress. It had a full, flowing, knee- length skirt and a wide, white sash that matched her dangling, satin-bead earrings.

“Are all women crazy?” he asked, trying to recall the last time he’d seen Stephanie in anything other than riding clothes.

“Yes, we are,” she answered without hesitation, linking her arm with his. “So you probably don’t want to upset us. Like, for example, turning down our perfectly reasonable requests.”

Royce sighed, steering her back to the table as he pushed the bizarre conversation with Amber out of his mind. “What do you want, Steph?”

“A million dollars.”

“No.”

“Hey,” she said, sliding into Amber’s vacated seat as the cocktail waitress removed the empty martini glass. She kicked off one sandal and tucked her ankle under the opposite thigh on the roomy chair. “I’m a woman on the edge here.”

“On the edge of what?” He pushed his half-full drink away. Had Amber’s text message been an elaborate joke? If so, how warped was her sense of humor?

“Sanity,” said Stephanie. “There’s this stallion in London.”

“Talk to Jared.” Royce wasn’t getting caught up in his sister’s insatiable demands for her jumping stable.

“It’s Jared’s wedding night. He already went upstairs. You’re in charge now.”

Royce glanced at his watch. “And you think I’m a soft touch?”

“You always have been in the past.”

“Forget it.”