The Cowboy Imports a Bride(The Cowboys Of Chance Creek #3) (10 page)

"Yes, they are," the woman said.

"I'm Rob Matheson." He stuck out his hand.

She switched her wine glass to her left hand and shook with him. "Eva Lorimer."

"What do you do, Eva?" All around them, gowned women and suited men drank and talked and laughed. The noise level was definitely rising the more wine was consumed.

"I'm in data analysis."

Data analysis? "What does a data analyst do all day?"

She raised an eyebrow. With cheekbones like that she should have been a model. "Analyze data."

Hell
. "Want to explain what that means?"

"It means I sift through a lot of numbers and other information looking for trends that will help my clients improve their products and services."

Ah
. "In other words, you sit at a desk all day and stare at a computer." He made a face. "Tough break."

Eva frowned. "I love my job."

"That's because you've never ridden a horse."

"Excuse me?"

"All you city people – you have no idea what real work is supposed to look like. I feel sorry for you."

"Yeah, well I feel sorry for you, asshole." She turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Hmmm, that didn't go too well
.

He scanned the large, crowded room again until he spotted Morgan's red dress. She looked as unhappy as Eva had a second ago. Duncan was holding her arm and talking intently into her ear. He figured he'd better go find out what the bastard was saying to make Morgan so upset.

By the time he made it through the crowd, however, Morgan was heading toward one of the exits and Duncan was climbing onto the temporary stage that had been set up at one end of the hall. The musicians, who'd been providing some rather boring background music, became quiet and Duncan adjusted the microphone at the front of the stage and addressed the crowd.

"Welcome, one and all, to Cassidy Wineries' unveiling of its latest vintage…"

Rob reached the exit right as the door closed behind Morgan. He pushed through it, and called out to her retreating back, "Morgan. Wait!"

She slowed but didn't turn around.

"Hold up! What happened? What did he say to you?" When he finally caught up to her, his gut tightened in anger when he saw the tears sliding silently down her cheeks. "What the hell did he do?"

"He's taking credit for the vintage. My name won't be paired with it in any way. I mean, it's not like my name was going to be on the label or anything, but this was supposed to be my moment of glory – the night I got to stand up and be proud of what I did."

"Why isn't he giving you credit?"

"Because…I said no to him." She tried to turn away but he held her firmly.

"No to what?"

"No to…being with him. No to being his wife."

That son-of-a-bitch. Rage made it difficult to speak. If he said something now he'd sound like he was yelling at her. He paced away and fought to regain control of his temper. "Dry your eyes. I'm going to take care of this."

"No. Rob, don't…," she said, following him.

"Remember when I asked you to respect me? When we said our vows?" He knew it wasn't entirely fair to throw that in her face right now, but he'd be damned if he stood by and let Duncan Cassidy ride roughshod over her. He'd worked in the fields here for three days now and he knew how the hands felt about the Cassidys. Elliot was strict. Duncan was a jerk.

Morgan paused, opened her mouth and then closed it again. She searched his face with her gaze. "Okay," she said finally, although he could see that was an effort. "You said you'd think through your decisions. I'm trusting you to do that. What are you going to do?"

He nodded. "You'll see. Be back inside and ready in about thirty seconds, okay? Remember to smile. The bastards hate it when you smile." He strode back to the door and let himself in just in time to see Duncan grinning and preening in front of the crowd. Rob climbed the two steps to the stage, crossed it and stood side by side with the man, leaning in to the mic like he was part of the show and had something to add.

"Howdy folks, everyone having a good time tonight?" There was a ripple of amusement and surprise through the crowd at this unexpected interruption, but a smattering of applause and one good natured call back, as well. "I said, everyone having a good time tonight?" Rob repeated, more loudly. He'd emcee'd a concert or two at the Dancing Boot in his time. He knew how to rouse a crowd.

"Yes!" Cheers and clapping thundered through the hall.

"What are you doing?" Duncan hissed, elbowing him away.

"What you should be doing," Rob said in a low voice, keeping a smile plastered on his face. He grabbed the mic with one hand and wrapped his other arm around Duncan, as if they were old buddies. He addressed the crowd. "As Duncan was saying, we're so glad you could join us and get a taste of Cassidy Wineries' latest vintage. But now it's time to meet the mastermind behind the wine. A beautiful young lady, and my fiancée…"

Duncan elbowed him again, and in one quick, practiced motion, Rob flipped up the tails of Duncan's coat, shoved his hand down the back of his pants and twisted his fist into the man's underwear. Yanking upwards as hard as he could, he gave Duncan the wedgie of the century. "Tell 'em, Mr. Cassidy. Who made this wonderful wine?"

Duncan let out a bray like a startled donkey, then managed to croak out, "Morgan Tate," in a voice several octaves higher than usual.

"You heard the man. Let's give a warm welcome to Morgan Tate!" He nodded toward the entrance, where Morgan stood uncertainly. "Come on, darling. Tell the crowd a little about your wine."

One hand still entwined in Duncan's underwear, an image sure to haunt him for days to come, Rob shoved Duncan away from the mic, towards the side of the stage. Morgan hesitantly took their place and began to speak.

"I came to Cassidy Wineries a decade ago, determined to learn everything there was to know about cultivating grapes and turning them into wine…" she began. As she went on, her voice became stronger and he saw the crowd becoming captivated by her story. Soon she had them on her side, as she detailed the journey she'd taken to rise through the ranks from a lowly position working in the tasting room to becoming manager of the distillery. "This summer I finally discovered the one place in the world where I belong," she said, with a glance and a smile toward Rob. "That's why this vintage is called Coming Home. I hope when you taste it, you'll be reminded of the complexity of the landscape and people that make up the one place in the world where you belong. Thank you." She dipped her head, and the crowd applauded her enthusiastically.

Rob released Duncan, but leaned in to say into his ear. "That's nothing compared to what I'll do if you ever turn her smile into a frown again. Got me?"

Duncan nodded and hurried from the stage. Rob hoped that was the last they'd see of him tonight.

"Ready to dance?" he asked Morgan when he slipped his arm through hers and led her to the parquet floor that was now filling with couples. The band struck up a waltz.

"Okay. But tell me – what did you say to Duncan? I can't believe he let me up on stage." She slid her arms around his neck and leaned comfortably against his chest.

Rob suppressed a chuckle. "I'll tell you all about it when we get home tonight."

CHAPTER NINE

"Ready for this?" Rob asked as they prepared to deplane at Chance Creek Regional Airport six days later.

Morgan took a deep, steadying breath. The past week had been a whirlwind and she felt like she hadn't had a chance to get a hold of herself since the night of the winery party. Rob had never quite explained what he'd done to make Duncan keep quiet when he'd called her up to the stage. She hadn't seen the man for the rest of the evening, and on Monday morning she'd dreaded going to work. When she arrived at her office, however, she found a note from Elliot stating that Duncan was out of town for the week, and the distillery would be under her supervision. The days had flown by, her first peaceful experience in years at her job, and at lunchtimes she'd joined Rob and the field hands for an alfresco meal, getting to know the men in a way she never had before. It still left her speechless that Rob had taken to viticulture so smoothly and seemed to have so much fun working with the other men.

They spent their evenings packing up Morgan's apartment, getting their stories straight, and tumbling into bed and fooling around – without crossing the line into making love.

To Morgan's surprise, Rob didn't push her to go all the way, and she was grateful. It wouldn't take much persuasion now to get her on board with the notion. It was all she could do to hold back. Now she was more excited than she could say to reach Chance Creek and start a new life – and build her own winery – but she was nervous, too. What would everyone make of their whirlwind courtship?

As they gathered their belongings and took their turn inching down the aisle of the plane, Morgan's palms became wet. It was one thing to talk wedding plans with Lisa over the phone. It was another thing to meet Rob's family as his fiancée face-to-face. Would they like her? Would his brothers and father be as welcoming as his mother?

At least she wouldn't have to face them right away. Ethan and Autumn had volunteered to pick them up at the airport.

Once they made it past security they stopped and scanned the small crowd gathered to welcome the passengers.

"I don't see them," she said, looking from face to face again.

"Must be running late."

Before she could reply, a man she didn't recognize hurried up to them, waving a slip of paper. "Rob Matheson?"

"Yeah," Rob said, eyeing him curiously.

"Phone message from Ethan Cruz." He stuck the piece of paper into Rob's hand and hurried away, toward the ticket counters.

"What the hell?" Rob opened it up and showed her the writing.

Sorry, buddy – can't make it. You'll have to take a taxi.

Ethan

"He can't even pick me up from the damned airport?" Rob had his phone out in a second, and punched in a number furiously.

Morgan's stomach sank. Ethan must really not approve of their engagement if he'd leave them stranded this way. Maybe he and Claire didn't want her here, after all.

"Ethan? Get your ass out here…"

"SURPRISE!"

Morgan jumped as people leapt out from behind kiosks and baggage carousels. Autumn, Ethan, Claire, Jamie, Rob's brothers, Rose Bellingham and Tracey Richards, an older couple she had to assume were Mr. and Mrs. Matheson.

"Did you really think I'd make you take a taxi?" Ethan said, pulling Rob into a man-hug.

"You have before," Rob said, looking half-pissed, half-relieved.

"For a practical joker, you're pretty damn gullible."

"Rob! Morgan!" Mrs. Matheson – Lisa – approached with open arms. Morgan found herself squished between her and Rob, being rocked back and forth in a stifling hug. "Let me look at you two. My bride and groom! Rob, you caught yourself a pretty one! Let me see the ring." She tugged Morgan's hand upward and exclaimed over the diamond and its beautiful setting. "We're going to have so much fun planning your wedding! We'll go to Ellie's Bridals tomorrow."

"Mom, give her a break; we just got here," Rob said.

"Son," Holt said. Morgan noticed he wasn't smiling. He shook Rob's hand as formally as if they'd never met before. "Congratulations. I look forward to your wedding day."

Was Morgan imagining things, or was there a veiled hint of a threat in that growled statement? Remembering the way Rob's conversation with him had gone when he had announced their engagement, she had a feeling Holt didn't expect them to last that long. Well, they'd last all right.

They would last a lifetime.

* * * * *

"Rob, put your luggage in your father's truck," Autumn said. "Then you'll ride with us to our ranch for the wedding rehearsal. Dinner's at DelMonaco's tonight, then I'm stealing Morgan for a pre-wedding sleepover to keep Claire company before the big day!"

Rob acquiesced, although he didn't like the idea of sleeping apart from Morgan. Still, this was Jamie and Claire's wedding weekend and they got to call the shots. He'd spend tonight with his buddies, and give Jamie a proper send-off. After his father's greeting, he didn't feel like spending much time with family right now.

Still, it was good to be home, among the people he knew best. The wedding rehearsal and dinner afterwards was full of good-natured teasing and banter. After dinner, the men and women split up. Claire, Autumn, Morgan, Tracey and Rose all returned to the Cruz ranch. The men retired to the Dancing Boot for a final night of drunken carousing.

Or so Rob expected, before Jamie announced he had no intention of spending his wedding day with a violent hangover.

"Plenty of time to toss my cookies in front of my bride later," was how he put it. Instead, they decided to create the ultimate pool tournament, and Luthor Redgrave, the owner of the Boot, even chipped in an old bowling trophy to use as a prize.

They hogged the sole table for the entire evening, and while they didn't drink overly much alcohol, they still made the most noise of anyone in the bar. Rob rode home with Cab later in a satisfied frame of mine.

"You really going to marry Morgan?" Cab asked as they drove out of town toward the Matheson place.

"Yep."

"That's too bad." Cab peered through the darkness of the country road.

"Too bad? What do you mean?" Rob was taken aback by his friend's quiet pronouncement.

Cab tapped his thick fingers on the steering wheel, then seemed to come to a conclusion. He slowed down and pulled off of the road onto the dirt shoulder. This far out of town there were no streetlights, and the quiet of a Montana night settled over them as the engine died. Cab hesitated again. He always was deliberate about his actions. Rob grew impatient, but before he could open his mouth to hurry Cab along, the man began to speak.