Tycoon's Tryst (Culpepper Cowboys Book 10) (6 page)

Ah, introductions. Right.

“Sly, this is my sister, Beverly Korpanty.”

Sly stood slowly, thunder in his eyes.

Before he could so much as hold out a hand, Bev snorted in disgust. “Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me Beverly. It’s Bev. Beverly is a grandma name.”

“My grandma’s name was Helga,” the behemoth standing next to Bev said in a thick Nordic accent.

“Shut up, Hans. Let mommy take care of this,” Bev snapped without looking at him. She tipped her head down to look over her Tom Ford sunglasses and scanned Sly from head to toe. “Yummy. Who are you and how soon can I get you naked?”

The only good thing about Bev was how fast she had Sly’s jaw dropped to the floor. The fact that he didn’t look at all happy about being propositioned was a surprising confidence booster.

Sly pulled back the hand he had started to offer to Bev and Hans. “Rachel has told me so much about you,” he said, an ominous note in his voice.

“Yeah, whatever,” Bev replied, sounding like the valley girl she was. She dismissed him with a sniff and turned back to Rachel. “I saw the reports, and with that lawsuit, you’re going to fall short of Daddy’s profit thing.”

Rachel stood. She would need to tower over Bev for this conversation. Even with her expensive shoes, Rachel was still inches taller than her half-sister. “I still have three months.”

“A lot can happen in three months,” Sly added.

With an irritated click of her tongue, Bev whipped to Sly. “Who the hell are you?”

“Sly O’Donnell, head of Culpepper Holdings.” He grinned like he’d just told her he was the king of the world and she’d parked in his spot.

“So?” Bev curled her over-lipsticked lips at him. She blinked her mascara-clotted eyes, then gasped. “Oh my gosh, you’re the guy suing her.” That was evidently the funniest things she’d ever heard, and she laughed so hard Hans had to reach out and hold her up.

“I’m not suing her.”

Sly’s simple statement not only silenced Bev, it made Rachel’s heart stop in her chest. Without warning, her legs went weak in relief. He was dropping the lawsuit after all.

Just to be sure, she asked outright, “You’re dropping the lawsuit?”

“Yep,” he answered quickly and gloriously. “Not only that, whatever your percentage of the company is worth, I’ll buy it from you.”

Hot and cold flashes poured through Rachel. Her relief bounced to anger. “I don’t want you to rescue me, like I’m some incompetent spinster.” Wait, where had the spinster line come from?

Unsurprisingly for Rachel, Bev just snorted and laughed her irritating laugh. “Did she tell you to do that? Because if she did, she’s as stupid as I’ve always thought she is. Right, Hans?”

“Ya.” True to form, Hans gave his one-syllable answer as if he didn’t quite understand what he was being asked.

“Rachel isn’t stupid,” Sly insisted. Was it just her imagination, or was he getting angry too? “She’s brilliant, and she’s done amazing things with a difficult business.”

“Yeah, well, she’s stupid if she thinks she can use your money to buy me out.” Bev feigned disinterest, reaching into her bag to take out her phone. She didn’t make a call or type anything, she just held it up and mugged a few times to take duck-lipped selfies.

Sly, on the other hand, looked like he’d just discovered the Lost Treasure of Atlantis. “That’s it. I’ll loan you the money to buy out Bev’s shares in Korpanty Enterprises.”

Bev snorted. “Loser.”

Rachel shook her head. “You can’t,” she sighed. “Another provision of the will is that if either of us ever wants to buy out the other, we have to use only our own money to do it. No outside loans, no borrowing of any kind. Strictly our own money.”

“I could buy Rach out right now,” Bev bragged. “I’ve made a mint doing ‘art films.’ Isn’t that right, Hans?”

“Ya.” Hans grinned, looking down into Bev’s cleavage.

“And anyhow, I wouldn’t want that stupid old company. Well, except the underwear models. That’s where I found Hans.” She simpered and groaned in a way that was not suitable for work, and proceeded to run her hands across Hans’s body in ways that were definitely not appropriate for public. Hans just smiled and got…bulgy.

Rachel turned away in disgust. “What are you doing here, Bev?”

Bev played with her boy toy for a few more seconds, then blinked and turned back to Rachel as if surprised she’d talked. “You’re gonna lose, so I want my share of the company now. I have someone lined up to buy the whole thing.”

“What?” Rachel’s blood pressure shot up in alarm. “I mean, I knew you would sell it, but now?”

“Yeah. I need the money fast. Hans and I want to go to Milan for Fashion Week. I have this great idea for some performance art. I’m gonna buy a million dollars’ worth of designer clothes, then burn them all.”

“That’s insane,” Sly cut in.

“Since when are you interested in art?” Rachel growled.

“Since because I am,” Bev snapped in return. “So fork over your shares and be done with it.”

“No.” Rachel felt sick, but she had to do what she had to do. “I still have three months to make a profit.”

“Well, I want the stupid company before then.” That was the sum total of Bev’s argument.

“You can’t have it until exactly five years after Dad’s death.”

Bev shrugged. “I always get what I want.” She turned away from Rachel and hooked her fingers in the waistband of Hans’s designer jeans. “Come on, baby. Mommy’s got an itch she needs you to scratch. A deep itch.”

Without another word or look for Rachel or Sly, Bev turned to go, leading Hans with her. They pushed their way up to the counter and demanded a room. Rachel was too disgusted to watch. She slumped back into her chair and reached for another cookie. Might as well get fat and slovenly by stuffing herself with sweets.

Sly sat slowly beside her. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Rachel snorted. “Welcome to my life.”

Sly nodded, but was silent, clearly thinking. Rachel bent forward, spilling crumbs on the financial reports spread across the table. She wasn’t sure she cared. Nothing seemed to matter at the moment. Her dad’s will had her trapped and on the verge of losing everything. Bev was a gross pill, and it looked like she would have to swallow it. Three months was barely enough time to make a profit, with or without the lawsuit, but if Bev had it in her mind to force the issue early, well, she was right about one thing. She did always get what she wanted.

“I’ve got an idea,” Sly said at last, low and clever.

Rachel dragged her eyes up to meet his, reluctant to get excited over anything. She didn’t want him to rescue her. She still wasn’t a hundred percent sure she even liked him. She did want to jump his bones, but at that point, it would only be a consolation prize, not anything substantial. At least he was dropping the lawsuit.

“What’s your idea?” she sighed, not holding out any hope.

Sly’s grin widened. “You can buy out Bev’s part of the company, right?”

“Yes, that provision is in the will. But only if Bev agrees to be bought out.”

Sly shrugged. “She wants to burn fashion in Milan. Of course she’ll let you buy her out.”

Rachel crossed her arms, not sure where he was going. “So?”

“So you have to use your own money, right? You can’t take out a loan or borrow from a friend or have a third-party help you out.”

“Right,” she answered slowly. He had the look of someone about to come up with something conniving.

“What about money you acquire through marriage? If you were to marry and pool your resources with your husband’s, that would technically be your money, right?”

She stared at him and stared hard. What. The. Heck?

He sat straighter and spread his arms. “I’ve got money. Plenty of it.”

“And?” She didn’t like where this was going…did she? Was he suggesting…was he actually going to…could he really mean…?

With an enormous smile, Sly said, “Marry me.”

“
I
can’t believe
I’m doing this,” Rachel whispered to her reflection in the mirror at Culpepper’s church a day later. One day. One tiny little day.

“I think it’s romantic,” Denise, the woman who was styling her hair in an up-do, commented with a smile.

Rachel sent her a doubtful look. “Marrying someone only a couple of days after meeting them?”

Denise shrugged and twirled the curling iron through Rachel’s long, blonde hair. “Yeah, but it’s Sly O’Donnell.”

“So?”

“If there’s anything close to royalty in Culpepper, Wyoming, it’s the O’Donnell brothers.” Denise tested the heat of Rachel’s hair as it wound around the iron. “Unless you consider the Culpepper brothers to be royalty, because it was their great-great-grand-daddy, or someone, who gave their name to the town.” She tipped her head to the side. “So maybe the O’Donnell brothers are just knights in shining armor.”

Rachel couldn’t help but smile. She liked Denise. There was something hesitant, almost tragic about her, as if she’d gone through a lot of changes in her life recently and was still getting used to it all.

“Doc O’Donnell rescued me just last-last month,” Denise went on.

“Oh?” Rachel would have sat straighter, but Denise slipped the iron out of her curl and began piling and pinning curls on the top of her head.

“Yeah. Okay, well, here’s the scoop. I haven’t always had the best judgement about people, you could say. And…” She hesitated, her face going red as a tomato. “Well, anyone you run into in town will tell you that I…I haven’t always been the nicest. It’s a long story that began in high school with me getting knocked up and ditched by a jerk.”

“Sorry to hear that.” She was. It sucked to have men jerk you around, whether they were some guy you were dating or your own father.

“I wouldn’t trade my daughter Destiny for the world. She’s so much better than me.” Denise stopped and lowered her arms, pins in her hands, and looked up at the ceiling. “I am a good person, I am worthy, I am lovable, and can do great things,” she murmured, as if reciting a mantra given to her by a counselor. She then shook her head and went on. “There was this guy in town around the Fourth of July for the horse race. He asked me out, and I was flattered. Then he tried to get fresh with me.”

“Fresh?” Rachel cocked an eyebrow.

“As a daisy,” Denise answered in a flat voice, meeting Rachel’s eyes in the mirror. “Something bad could have happened, but Doc came along and put a stop to it. Sly was really nice to me too after that whole thing. And the other brother, Arch. They’re all pretty dreamy.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Twisting ropes of snakes slithered through her insides. Was she really marrying some guy on a whim?

No, not on a whim, she reminded herself. So that she could save Korpanty Enterprises. Sly said he was willing to do just about anything for his family and his hometown, well, she didn’t have family worth shaking a stick at, and she didn’t have a hometown, not really. But she had her company, and Korpanty Enterprises had her undying loyalty. So much so that here she was about to marry for money.

And she was about to get a family as part of the deal.

Denise fixed a few more curls into place, then playfully swatted Rachel’s shoulder. “Come on, it’s not as bad as all that. Sly is a hunk. And everyone around here gets married fast. It’s sort of become that thing we do. I doubt any of those Culpepper wives knew with absolute certainty what they were getting themselves into when they walked down the aisle.”

It shouldn’t have, but those words made Rachel feel better. “You’re right. People have gotten married for far stupider ideas.”

“Like love,” Denise snorted.

Rachel actually found herself laughing along with the woman. Marrying Sly might mean more than just getting the money to buy our Bev’s half of the company. It might mean spending serious time in Culpepper. If she did, she thought Denise might just be the kind of woman she wanted for a friend. She’d certainly get Denise to do her hair from then on. As Denise sprayed the living daylights out of her do, Rachel turned from side to side to study the woman’s work.

“That looks amazing!”

Elvie O’Donnell took the words right out of Rachel’s mouth as she rushed into the prep room. Elvie wore a nice dress herself and had her dark hair up in a cascade of curls on top of her head. She carried two bouquets, bringing one over to Rachel.

As soon as Denise was finished, Rachel swiveled her chair and sent Elvie a grateful smile. “Thanks so much for agreeing to be my bridesmaid. I know we barely know each other, but Sly’s your brother, and I…” She swallowed, a surprisingly strong ache forming in her gut. “I don’t really have family.”

“Don’t worry.” Elvie reached for Rachel’s hand and squeezed it. “In about half an hour, you’ll have more family than you can deal with.”

Rachel stood, still holding Elvie’s hand for support. “I thought it was just you and your brothers.”

“In our family, sure. But Dad was one of eight. We’ve got cousins scattered from Portland, Maine to Portland, Oregon.”

Rachel was so unexpectedly reassured by that answer that she let out a breath that felt like letting go of a bad dream.

“Wait, there’s more O’Donnells out there in the world?” Denise’s voice rose an octave, and her round face shone.

“Dozens of them,” Elvie answered. “And all of us have stupid names.”

“Elvie isn’t such a stupid name,” Rachel said.

Elvie barked a laugh. “It’s not my full name.”

Rachel blinked. “Wait. What’s Sly’s real name?”

Elvie grinned from ear to ear. “I think you’re about to find out. Come on.”

She rushed Rachel out of the room and along to the back of the church. Denise came with them, giving Rachel a final thumbs-up of approval before going to take her seat in the church. Much to Rachel’s surprise, the church was packed. No one was there for her, obviously. Bev and Hans hadn’t bothered to show up, even though Rachel had seen them at breakfast in the hotel that morning and told them what was going on. She had the feeling Bev hadn’t believed her when she said she was getting married at two. But that didn’t explain the sea of jeans-and-flannel-wearing cowboys and dressed up ladies that whispered eagerly, waiting for the wedding march to start playing.

“Are weddings a big social event in Culpepper or something?” Rachel whispered to Elvie as they waited at the back of the chapel.

Elvie giggled and answered, “Yes, actually. Sunday services too. But it’s not so much the joy of marriage or the sanctity of worship.”

“What is it then?”

She had her answer as a woman slipped out of a small room at the front of the chapel and took her place at the organ. As she started to play, the entire congregation held their breath.

All of a sudden, Rachel remembered why she was there. Her eyes snapped to the front of the room as Elvie began her walk down the aisle. Sly stood from his seat in the front row, both of his brothers standing with him. But Sly might as well have been the only man in the world. He was gorgeous, resplendent. The suit he wore must have been designer, and like his convertible, it didn’t quite fit in with everyone else around him. But at the same time, he had rugged good looks and just enough adventure in his eyes as he looked to the back of the church and spotted her, that she could easily see him in jeans, hiking through the wilderness.

And then their eyes met. For a moment, he looked stunned. There was so much frank appreciation in his gaze and such fondness in his smile that for one blessed minute, Rachel completely forgot that this wasn’t a real wedding and that love had nothing to do with it. Because frankly, the lightning bolt that struck her right in the gut felt very much like love.

“Psst! Miss, it’s your turn to walk down the aisle,” someone to Rachel’s side whispered.

She blinked and pulled herself together, taking her first step down the aisle. It was more like her first leap into the abyss of faith. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. But at the same time, in spite of everything, it felt so, so, SO right.

“You look like a goddess,” Sly whispered when she finally reached the front of the room and took his offered hand. “Can I kiss you now?”

A giggle escaped from her before she could stop herself. What? A giggle? When was the last time she’d giggled? When was the last time she’d been happy enough to even smile?

“That’s not the way things are done,” she whispered back.

“Shucks.” Sly winked and walked her the rest of the way to the front of the aisle. “Well, at least Brother Anthony’s ceremonies are short. And entertaining.”

As if on cue, the door that the organist had come out of opened, and a beaming, grey-haired man stepped out onto the chancel.

“Good afternoon, Culpepper!” he announced to the congregation, holding his arms wide.

The organist sighed and shook her head. “Just marry the couple, Tony.”

Brother Anthony grinned at the organist. “I’m getting to it, Lovie. But my fans want what my fans want.”

Lovie shook her head again. Brother Anthony didn’t seem to mind. He put on a bright smile and sauntered across the chancel to where Rachel and Sly were standing.

“Hold onto your hat,” Sly whispered, giving Rachel’s hand a squeeze.

“Well what do we have before us today?” Brother Anthony asked, giving Rachel and Sly a quick once-over. “Ah! Sly O’Donnell! Some filly managed to drag you up here in front of me at last.”

“Good afternoon, Brother Anthony,” Sly greeted him, trying not to laugh. “You met Rachel this morning, remember? When we came in to ask about marrying us?”

“Yes, sir, I surely do.” He looked around, barely acknowledging Rachel. “So where is she?”

Rachel’s eyes widened, but Sly shook his head subtly, telling her not to worry.

“She’s right here,” he said, pointing to Rachel.

Brother Anthony jumped back as though seeing her for the first time. “Her?”

“She is the one wearing the white dress, after all.”

“Well, I’ll be! She’s…she’s tall.”

Rachel had no idea whether to be offended or self-conscious or to laugh. Brother Anthony was a force unto himself. All she could think to say was, “Hi.”

“Well, hello,” Brother Anthony answered with a smile. He glanced between Rachel and Sly a few times, then said, “You’re really going to marry him?”

Rachel peeked sideways at Sly. “Um, yes?”

“Even though his name is Sylvester?”

She couldn’t help it. A decidedly unladylike snort shot out Rachel’s nose. “Sylvester?”

Sly’s amused grin shifted to a grimace. “I mentioned everyone in our family has horrible names, right?”

“I thought Sly was pretty horrible.” She couldn’t stop laughing, although she tried to keep it under control.

“Hey. No one thinks Sly Stallone is stupid. If he can pull off the name, so can I.”

Rachel laughed even harder. So that’s where his nickname had come from. “I’m going to start calling you Rambo.”

Sly’s grimace deepened to a frown. “Please don’t.”

“Oh, yes, I am.”

“I’ll call you ‘legs’ if you do.”

Rachel’s brow shot up. Where had he gotten that name from? Then again, being tall meant she had long legs. He must have been looking.

Holy crap. Sly had been looking at her legs and probably getting ideas!

Well, they were getting married, after all.

Speaking of which.

“Are you two gonna sit there chatting all day, or are we going to have a wedding?” Brother Anthony asked.

“A wedding,” Rachel and Sly answered at the same time.

“Good.” Brother Anthony nodded. “After all, that’s what these good folks came to see today. You all ready?”

“Yes!” The congregation responded with enthusiasm.

“In that case.” Brother Anthony shook himself, held up the Bible he was carrying, and began in a solemn voice, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this pretty, tall woman in holy matrimony. Now, I know you all know about holy matrimony, so I’ll skip to the good part so that we can get on over to the diner for the blue plate meatloaf special before Barbara runs out. So here we go.”

Rachel peeked at Sly, back to having a hard time not laughing, as Brother Anthony cleared his throat. Sly held her hand more tightly, the grin back on his lips and in his eyes. Maybe this wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

“Okay. Do you, Sylvester Stallone, take this woman—”

“It’s Sylvester O’Donnell,” Sly muttered to correct him.

Brother Anthony blinked. “That’s what I said.”

“No, you said…” Sly let out a breath. “Never mind, go on.”

“Right. As I was saying. Do you, Sylvester the Cat—”

“No,” Sly moaned.

“What’s wrong this time?” Brother Anthony asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Keep going.”

“Do you, Sylvester MacDonald…”

“O’Donnell,” Sly muttered.

“…take this woman—” Brother Anthony stopped, mouth hanging open. He stared at Rachel for a few seconds of complete blankness. Then he shook himself and said, “Oh, right. The underwear model woman.” He blinked and took a step back as though he’d surprised himself. “Are you wearing underwear?”

Rachel had no idea what to do with a question like that. The only thing she could do was take it seriously. “Yes,” she answered, perfectly solemn. “I always wear underwear.”

“Well good!” Brother Anthony looked more than usually relieved. He shook his arms out, then stood straight and went on. “Do you, Sylvester, take this underwear model to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Rachel opened her mouth to correct him. Sly stopped her. “You probably want to leave it there. It could only go downhill from here.”

“But is it legal if he doesn’t use my real name?” she whispered.

“As long as the correct names are on the marriage license…” Sly shrugged. He turned to Brother Anthony and said, “I absolutely do.”

“Good.” Brother Anthony turned to Rachel. “And do you… You have to have a name other than underwear model.”

A little stunned, Rachel answered, “It’s Rachel Korpanty.”

“Ah. See.” Brother Anthony nodded to her, then nodded past her to the watching, chuckling, grinning congregation. “There’s always a name, whether I remember it or not.” He cleared his throat and went on. “Do you, Miss Panty, take Sylvester Stallone to be your lawfully wedded husband?”