The Patriot A Small Town Romance - Jennifer Millikin Page 0,40
way a person walks closer to a fire just to feel the heat and watch the lick of flames.
“What do you think I was going to say?” His voice is thick, husky.
“Oh, I don’t know. Something like, ‘If Emerson is mine, then I want custody.’”
He shakes his head. “Wrong. I was going to ask you to marry me.”
It’s a good thing there isn’t anything in my mouth right now, because I’d be choking on it. “What?” I sputter.
“I’d want a child of mine to grow up with two parents, the way I did. The way you did.”
“Well”—I clear my throat—“Emerson isn’t either of ours, so crisis averted.”
He nods slowly, sipping his drink. His gaze grows even more intense, and I find myself squirming under it.
“I have a proposition,” he murmurs, running the pad of his thumb over his lower lip. “Just hear me out. It’s going to sound crazy.”
Crazy enough to need a caution? “What?” Trepidation colors my tone.
His head is cocked to the side and he sizes me up, like he’s determining if I’m ready to hear what he has to say. “The Hayden Ranch can’t be passed down to someone unmarried—”
“I already know that.”
He gives me a questioning look.
“I’ve made friends in this town, remember? And the Haydens are a hot topic.”
It’s obvious that irritates him.
“Right,” he says. “Anyway, I’m thirty-seven and I’m not getting any younger. What if—”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“Are you going to let me finish a sentence?”
“Not when your sentences are borderline insane.”
He has the decency to look at least a little embarrassed. “No, I’m not kidding. My dad is getting older and as of right now he doesn’t have someone to pass the HCC on to. I don’t know what else to do, and you and I appear to be pretty damn compatible—”
“Ah, yes, the foundation of every good marriage. The appearance of being compatible.”
“Five years ago we had something instantly—”
“That you walked away from. Or did you sneak?” I hunch my shoulders and pretend to creep.
“I goddamned cried in front of you.” His voice drops low.
“That was your reason for ditching me?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Oh, well, this ought to be fun! Marry a guy who runs at the first hint of vulnerability? Sign me up.”
“This arrangement would benefit you, too.”
My arms cross in front of me. “How’s that?”
“I’ll pay off your debt.”
The air leaves my lungs. My fingers curl into fists on the tabletop. Anger and mortification fight for primary emotion.
Wes’s face takes on a pleading expression. “First off, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried into your business. But for a hot second, I thought Emerson may have been mine, and I panicked. I have an Army buddy whose job is to monitor bank accounts for suspicious activity, and I asked him if he could find out anything about you.”
An indignant noise slips from my mouth. “So you were gathering intel? This isn’t the military, Wes. I’m not your opponent.”
He looks at me with apology. “Life is different in families like mine. I have a hundred and fifty years of legacy to protect. If we don’t come at every situation on the defense, there wouldn’t be a ranch left to fight for.”
The corners of my mouth turn down. “That’s depressing.”
He shrugs. “It’s life.”
“Are you going to ask me why I’m in that much debt?” My gaze dives to the table. I can’t look him in the eyes.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
His answer makes me look up. “Why? You think you’ve invaded my privacy enough for one night?”
“I shouldn’t have pried into your business.”
“You said that already.”
“Well, I meant it.”
“Well, I’m not going to marry you.”
He finishes his drink and pushes it across the table toward the back of the booth. I watch, dumbfounded, as his hand slides across the table and grazes the inside of my arm. His touch is rough and callused, the hands of a man who spends his days working under an Arizona sky. “Think about it, Dakota. It’s mutually beneficial. And it’s not like we hate each other.”
“Now that you’ve brought it up, what do we feel for each other? Are confusion tactics another delightful lesson you learned in the military? You send signals most people would understand as attraction, then you take what is supposed to be a sacred institution and make it a business proposal. I can’t figure you out.”
His face is impassive, and his eyes harden as if guarding a secret. “You don’t want