The Cowboy Songwriter's Fake Marriage Read online

  Requirements:

  Over 26

  Cooks healthy meals

  Active lifestyle

  Loves children (I have 1)

  Looking for a best friend to partner with for life.

  No intimacy required.

  He gagged at the last line, but how else was he going to get across the fact that he wanted a platonic relationship? Still, he was a writer by trade; he should have done better. Before his internal editor could take over, he hit send.

  “That was either brilliant or stupid,” he said to the empty room.

  He’d know by noon tomorrow which one it was.

  2

  Emily

  Emily Wilson blinked and pushed the Matchmaker away from her face so her eyes could focus on the strange ad. “Wanted: a Wife.” She blinked again. It really said that. The Matchmaker was a local paper that had a few articles but mostly classifieds for garage and estate sales and appliances. Occasionally, someone would put in a job offer or was looking for a specific skill, like welding or refurbishing a violin.

  She skimmed the rest of the ad, worried because a part of her whispered apply. She’d just turned 29, hadn’t dated anyone seriously in four years, and wanted to be a mom.

  But there was no way becoming a mother and having a family could be that easy … could it?

  “Are we going to start soon?” asked Mrs. Maxwell. She wore leopard-print yoga pants with a black top today. Her husband was a bigwig in the entertainment industry, and Mrs. Maxwell always dressed like she’d walked off the pages of a fashion magazine.

  “You bet.” Emily glanced around the room, noting that all the regulars were in place with their yoga mats rolled out in front of them and their shoes lined up next to the mats.

  A gentleman with gray temples and a nice build entered. “Am I in the right place?”

  Emily smiled. Her room was just off the regular workout space with weights and machines. “Yoga?”

  “Whatever gets me ready for ski season.” He went to the back of the room, grabbed a mat, and rolled it out without saying another word.

  Oh-kay. She dropped the Matchmaker onto her desk and hurried to take her place. “How are we feeling today? Is anyone in pain?”

  No one raised their hand. The beautiful thing about teaching a yoga class for people who had arthritis was that she could modify the class for a particular person’s comfort if needed. In the winter, they adjusted often, but since summer was in full swing, they were able to jump right in.

  The yoga class was the one part of her job as a physical therapist she looked forward to. Pushing patients to the limits of pain and physical abilities didn’t bring her the satisfaction she’d seen in her coworkers. She liked helping people and was active, so PT seemed like a good idea.

  She’d known there would be hours indoors, but she didn’t know how much it would wear on her. Her dad called her a “drop of sunshine,” but she’d come to learn that she had to recharge in the sun often to keep that happy spark alive.

  She took the class through several poses, her thoughts drawn back to that strange ad. She pictured several different kinds of men posting it. Desperate men. Scoundrels misrepresenting themselves. But the idea that came back over and over again was of a guy who was lonely and tired of dating games. She was pretty tired of them herself.

  As she walked through the room to check her students’ form, she noticed the new guy grimacing. She grabbed a block and placed it on the floor next to his hand. “If you use this, you’ll keep your balance and won’t strain.”

  He stared at her chest, which was right at eye level as he bent over. “That’s some good customer service.”

  She grimaced, searching for a way out of the situation that didn’t involve telling him to move his eyes up, which would embarrass her and the rest of her students. She remembered what he’d said about skiing. “We’re all about getting stronger in here, so you don’t get hurt on the slopes.”

  “It’s nice to know you’re watching out for me.” His tone was flirty. “I’m from out of town, and you’re making me feel very welcome.”

  The way he talked made it sound like she was encouraging him in a way she hadn’t intended to. Feeling like there was a worm on her neck she wanted to swat away, she smiled woodenly and moved on to help the next person.

  When class was over, Mrs. Maxwell stopped to pat her arm. “You’re such a darling.” She wiped her damp hair out of her face. “Thank you for class.” Mrs. Maxwell’s arthritis had come on a few years ago. She’d been able to get it into remission last year. Emily hoped it stayed that way.

  “You’re so welcome.” Emily tightened her ponytail, which had come lose during a downward-facing dog. “You did great today. You’re really sinking into those poses with confidence.”

  “I feel more confident. Thanks.” She winked and trailed out behind the other class members.

  Emily wandered to her desk, her mind back on that ad. What a strange thing to think about—applying to be a man’s wife.

  Even so, part of Emily wondered what made a man so open. It took guts to post an ad like that. Had he suffered a broken heart? Was his child in need of a mother? Her own mother was the heart and hearth of their home. Her heart went out to this stranger.

  She marked down the number of students she’d had today. With that done, she could meet Mr. Maxwell to work on his bum knee. There might just be tears today, and she wasn’t looking forward to the session. Gearing herself up, she wasn’t looking where she was going and

  ran into the hard chest of the new guy. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t see you there.” She laughed lightly, waiting for him to back up.

  He didn’t. “Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

  She chewed her lip. He wasn’t really her type. His hair was combed slick and straight, like an older version of James Bond. And his eyes were steel gray, a shade that sent shivers down her back—and not the good kind. “I already have plans.” She purposefully kept it vague. He didn’t need to know that her plans included ice cream and Netflix.

  He stepped closer. She stepped back, keeping her personal space the same. He moved forward again, and her back was against the wall. On her right was the desk. She could climb over it. As if reading her mind, his hand landed next to her shoulder on the brick, blocking her in.

  “I was promised a good time this week,” he said low and husky, his eyes dipping to places they shouldn’t have.

  “Not by me!” She shoved against him, noting the harsh smell of his aftershave.

  He leaned into her, pinning her with his chest. Her heartbeat and her vocal cords locked in place. She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t run. She was frozen with fear that spiked through her and locked her limbs in place.

  “I’ll forgive you.” He kissed her bare shoulder.

  “Stop.” She squeezed the word out, mortified that she could barely hear it.

  He chuckled cruelly, and his lips vibrated against her skin as he worked his way along her collarbone. “I was going to buy you dinner first. But I don’t mind skipping the meal.”

  “No.” She willed her hands to shove against him, to resist, but they were clamped in place. He grabbed at her body, roaming his hands over the back side of her yoga pants.

  There were people close. They would help her. They just needed to hear. She drew in a shaky breath, swallowed, and yelled, “Help!”

  His beefy hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Hey!” barked Dan, one of the other PTs.

  Her attacker backed away. “Sorry.” He faked chagrin. “We should keep it professional in the office, babe.”

  Her hands and legs shook. She stayed against the wall, needing help to stand.

  Dan watched the guy saunter out before noticing her state. “Em, you okay?”

  She fell forward, holding her arms across her middle. “He attacked me.” She wretched out the words. “He sat in my class and then he, he …”

  Dan helped her into a chair. He pulled out his phon
e and dialed. “I’d like to report an assault.” His voice moved to the background as she rocked, too stunned to cry.

  Her eyes landed on the ad in the paper. Her world suddenly didn’t make sense. She wasn’t safe here. She didn’t even like it here. Yet she’d stayed because her education had cost a pretty penny and she’d felt obligated to follow through.

  Something inside of her whispered that she should make a change—a big one. Get out of the gym. Find a new life where she enjoyed getting up each morning. One where she could be safe.

  She picked up a pen and drew a slow, perfect circle around the ad.

  Two days later, Emily went back to the office to pick up her last paycheck. She’d taken a job she didn’t love and therefore didn’t care enough to go back after the assault, other than making sure she was paid what she was due. The scales had fallen away from her consciousness, and she’d decided to find her passion.

  When she looked back on the assault, she decided it could have been much worse. She could also see that it was horrible. No one should have to go through what she did, and she was proud of herself for pressing charges right away.

  The police had arrested the man—Roger. He’d spent a night in custody before his girlfriend posted bail. His girlfriend! Emily wanted to tell her to run away. Run far, far away from the monster.

  She kept her chin up as she went through the automatic doors. Charity, another PT, ran across the room and threw her arms around Emily’s neck, holding so tight Emily gasped for air when she finally let go.

  “How are you doing?” Charity asked, her eyes full of sympathy and … something more, a knowledge of the shock and sense of having your safety stripped away. Charity understood—maybe she’d even been there before.

  Emily wasn’t about to ask her, but she placed her hand on top of Charity’s and looked right in her eyes, letting her know that she understood too. “I’m doing okay.”

  “Good.” Charity squeezed her arms again. “I’m going to miss you.” She hugged her once more and then turned to walk with her to the HR desk, where her check waited. It was nice to have someone to walk with her, someone close. There were people all around, and that helped too. She’d thought she’d be overcome with memories or flashbacks, but that didn’t happen. She wasn’t going to walk into her old room and tempt fate.

  Emily had a short convo with Karyn about wrapping up her employment. As she was standing there, her eyes caught on the Matchmaker with a perfect circle drawn around an ad. The circle triggered a memory, something about sitting at the desk after the attack. She couldn’t grab onto it with both mental hands, but her curiosity was piqued. The paper was printed three times a week; this couldn’t be the same one that had been on her desk the day she was attacked.

  “Can I see that?” She pointed to the paper.

  Karyn glanced down. “Oh, yeah.” She stopped typing and handed her the page. “That ads created quite a stir around town. Everyone is talking about it.”

  “Really?” Emily hadn’t been out much, holing up with her sister and watching chick flicks that reminded her there were good men in the world. “What’s the buzz?” Dang, it felt good to talk about something other than herself and her feelings—to just feel normal for a minute. She scanned the ad again.

  “Well, my sister thinks the guy is a nutjob, but my sister-in-law thinks he’s lonely and desperate.”

  Emily smiled. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s kind of sad. To advertise for a companion like that—how lonely does a person have to be?” She went back to clicking and clacking.

  I fit the description. Healthy. Cooks. I’m 29 and a half. Emily’s heart began to burn inside of her, urging her to send in a reply. “What do they think of the women who answered him?” she mumbled.

  “Oh goodness, no one’s crazy enough to respond to that rubbish.” Karyn snatched several sheets out of the warm printer and handed them over. “Here’s the letter of recommendation Mr. Samson promised you, and your check. You’re all set.” Her shoulders and the corners of her mouth lowered. “I’m sad to see you go.”

  The kind words were another balm to Emily’s wounds. She may not have loved working here, but she did like the people she worked with—they were positive, helpful, generous, and generally watched out for one another. “I am too.” Right at that moment, she was disheartened to think she wouldn’t be coming in here every day. She left, waving at the regulars and her ex-coworkers on the way out.

  Once she was outside the glass double doors, all she had to do was turn her face to the sunshine to know she’d made the right decision.

  Something crinkled under her arm, and she looked down to find the Matchmaker tucked there. Not knowing when she had taken it with her, she held it out in front of her. A sense of calm and purpose filled her heart. She typed out a quick response to the ad on her phone, including that she wasn’t looking for romance or sex, but a friend would be nice. As a final touch, she snapped a picture of her letter of recommendation and sent the whole thing off to the email address indicated before she changed her mind.

  Her phone rang, and she answered for her sister. Poor Lexi was probably wondering if Emily would have rent money this month. Her sister sank everything she had into the condo they shared, going on faith that the Lord would help her make the payments. “Hey,” Emily said by way of greeting.

  “Hey yourself. I don’t suppose you changed your mind on quitting.”

  Emily stretched her free arm out, letting the mountain heat roast against her skin. “Nope.”

  “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I just found us a roommate.”

  “Really?” Lexi had been advertising the third bedroom for months. “That’s great. Especially considering the fact that I may be moving out.”

  “What?!” Her shriek was loud enough that several heads turned Emily’s way as she headed to her car in the parking lot.

  “I, uh, applied for a new position, and it comes with room and board.”

  “Where?” Lexi demanded.

  Emily chewed her thumbnail, suddenly nervous about her decision that only moments before had felt so right. “Remember the ad for a wife?”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “I prefer the term inspired.”

  “What are you going to do if he contacts you?”

  “I’ll go for an interview.” She unlocked her car and climbed in. The heat grabbed onto her and warmed her all the way to her bones. She smiled even as she slammed the key in the ignition so she could roll down the windows.

  “You don’t interview a husband—you date him.”

  “I think he’ll be interviewing me. And isn’t it the same thing?”

  “No, it’s not the same. And that’s even more of a reason to withdraw your application.”

  Emily sighed. “There is one thing that worries me.” She glanced in the rearview mirror at her thick eyelashes, which looked stunning with several coats of coal-black mascara. She loved the new swoop she’d started doing with her liner; it opened up her blue eyes and made them pop.

  “One thing?”

  “I get the feeling that he’s looking for someone a little more motherly.” She wasn’t the type to wear mom jeans. She liked yoga pants and wearing Barbie ponytails. If she showed up looking like a girl who lived at the gym, he might think she wasn’t the type for the job. But she also really loved wearing makeup, having shiny hair, and looking like a woman.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “The ad mentioned his child and he wanted someone over 26, so I think he’s looking for a certain maturity level.”

  Lexi laughed. “And how are you going to look like a mom?”

  Emily made a face. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Your sarcasm is not welcome here.” The air conditioner kicked on and blew lukewarm air into the vehicle. Emily welcomed it, checked her mirrors, and backed out.

/>   Lexi huffed. “Well, maybe my advice will be welcome. Do not marry a stranger. It’s insane.” She paused. “Are you in some kind of shock because of the assault? What does your counselor say?”

  The police had given Emily the number for a local counselor. She’d seen her twice in the last 48 hours. While she might always have some triggers, she’d been reassured that overall, she was mentally stable and able to function well in society.

  “Actually, I was thinking of applying before the attack even happened. So there.” Her phone dinged. Stopping at the entrance to the lot, she glanced at her phone. “Umm …”

  “What?” Lexi asked in that tone that she’d used when they were kids and Emily had to stop to tie her shoes again.

  “He answered me back.” Emily grinned as she read through the invitation to meet at a coffee shop the next day. “I have to go.” She needed to hit the thrift store and find something to wear.

  “See? He’s already separating you from the people who love you.”

  She laughed, feeling like she was on the right track for the first time in a long time. Long before the assault, even before moving back to Moose Creek. “I’ll let you know if he turns out to be a serial killer.”

  “How will you let me know? You’ll be dead.”

  “I’ll haunt you,” Emily joked.

  “You’d better,” Lexi replied, letting her know that she wasn’t too serious about

  Emily said goodbye and hung up. She took a good look in the mirror, wondering if she was actually crazy. Then, she decided that crazy people don’t ask that question, so she must be sane. With a wink at herself, she took the next opening into traffic.

  3

  Xavier

  A light breeze tugged at napkins and lifted the American flag hanging on the back of the small mountainside café. Xavier sat on the deck, watching a family from Texas paddleboard around the small lake. Their accents were heavy and their children respectful even as they splashed each other. They all wore Texas University ball hats, cutoff jeans, and smiles. The attendant who rented out the paddleboards sat on a three-legged stool and read a novel.