Barbara Dunlop - Thunderbolt over Texas

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he insisted. “You’re the reason we found it. You’re the reason we even knew where to look. You were there for Grandma when she couldn’t trust me-”

“Oh, Cole.” Sydney’s heart instantly ached for him. “It wasn’t a matter of trust.”

“No?”

“She was embarrassed beyond belief. I was a stranger. She didn’t care about my opinion the way she cared about yours.”

“That’s not how I see it.”

“You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking perfectly clearly. I want you to marry me. I want you to reap the professional benefits of showing the Thunderbolt. It’s all I can offer to make up for…”

Sydney fought the chill that moved over her soul. “I don’t want it.” Did he think they could just erase the past two weeks? He’d shown her the moon and the stars, then he’d yanked it all away. She’d watched the way he’d treated his family, felt the way he loved them, felt the way life might be if he might have loved her. But he didn’t, and he never would, and there was nothing she could do about that.

“You’re lying.”

“The answer is no, Cole.”

“You’ll break Grandma’s heart.”

“Low blow,” she retorted, a weak smile cresting his lips.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He clamped his jaw. “Marry me, or I’ll fight dirty.”

She folded her arms across her chest, not about to give an inch. “Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

“I’ll call Bradley.”

Sydney pulled back in horror.

“I’m sure he’ll have some ideas about showing the Thunderbolt.”

She shook her head. “Cole. No. You don’t know what he’ll-”

“I’ll do it. Either you marry me, or I make a deal with Bradley.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I don’t bluff.”

“That man’s evil.”

“Then marry me.”

“No.”

He threw up his hands. “I’m not asking you to walk the plank. You only have to put up with me for an hour or two. Give me one little kiss, pretend you like me at the reception, then we each go our own way. You’ll find reasons to be in New York. I’ll find reasons to be on the ranch. And, after a decent interval, we tell everyone it didn’t work out.”

“Could a proposal get any less romantic?” she asked.

He glared at her.

“I mean, really, Cole. Is there anything you could add that would make a girl feel less desirable?”

He stared hard into her eyes. “My desire for you was never in question.”

Familiar stirrings rose up in Sydney’s chest. For a split second she considered saying yes and hauling him off on a real honeymoon. But she couldn’t do that. It would only put off the heartbreak, maybe make the pain even worse.

“You’re thinking about it,” he said. “I can tell you’re thinking about it.”

She shook her head.

“Say yes, Sydney. You can do it.”

Could she?

If she didn’t get past her feelings for Cole, she’d go insane. She needed to focus on something else. And her career was the only reasonable distraction. And at least she’d have the satisfaction of thwarting Bradley.

She gazed into Cole’s eyes, studied those flecks of storm-tossed gray for the last time.

“Fine,” she said, suddenly tired of fighting, tired of feeling, tired of wishing for something he’d never be able to give her. “I’ll marry you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She tossed her hair behind her shoulders. “After all, it’s the professional coup of a lifetime.”

Two weeks later Sydney was seriously rethinking her decision to marry Cole. But the Laurent was already poised for the Viking antique show, Grandma had already pinned the Thunderbolt to the bodice of Sydney’s wedding gown and, most importantly, Sydney had already said “I do.”

In the brand-new hay barn down the driveway from Cole’s cabin, all eyes were on the bride and groom. The small band launched into the bridal waltz, and Cole pulled Sydney into his arms.

The floor was rough, and the walls were bare wood. But the acoustics were impressive, and they danced together like they made love together, every movement in sync, every breath in harmony. She could swear their heartbeats had synchronized.

“Relax,” he whispered into her ear, gathering her close.

“I’m trying.”

“Think about the Thunderbolt,” he advised. “You’re going to be a very famous woman.”

“And so, I’m a success,” she said on a forced laugh, fighting to keep it from turning into a tear.

His hand stroked up and down her back, just barely touching her exposed skin where the dress veed between her shoulder blades. Ironic that the very man who was tearing her heart out was also comforting her.

She subconsciously moved closer to the heat of his body, his scent taking her back days and weeks to the tiny bedroom on the shores of Blue Creek. She could almost hear the clock ticking as he messed with time.

He settled his arm more securely across the small of her back while the singer crooned his way through a wholly inappropriate Shania Twain tune.

“Are you remembering?” Cole whispered.

“No,” she lied.

He bent closer to her ear, his breath puffing in warm bursts. “I sure am.”

“Don’t.” Memories could kill her. They were killing her.

“No matter what happened,” he rasped, swaying to the strains of promises and love for the rest of their lives. “No matter what I said and did that can never be fixed. I want you to know that you rocked my world.”

“Cole,” she moaned.

“For as long as I live, I’ll see you in that billowing bed with strawberry-stained lips and tousled hair, sharing my secrets, looking out for my family.”

“Please stop.”

“I’m so sorry, Sydney.”

She shook her head. “It’s not you.”

He gathered her closer still. “Well, it’s sure as hell not you.”

“Maybe it’s us.”

“Maybe it was circumstances.”

She dared to look up at him. “Does it really matter anymore?”

It was over between them. Not that they’d ever had a chance. He was her ticket to the Thunderbolt, nothing more. That he was the lover of a lifetime had messed things up, and that she had to lie to him had messed things up. But even without the lies, without the lovemaking, the best she could have hoped for is exactly where they were now-going into a sham marriage to circumvent a will.

He sighed against the top her head. “I hate leaving things unsettled between us.”

“We’re settled.” She was getting better and better at lying.

“No, we’re not.”

The band moved into the third chorus, and the lyrics all but pierced Sydney’s heart.

“What do you need to settle it, Cole? To know that I’m sorry I lied to you?”

“No.” He pulled back, cupping her face in his palms. “That’s not what I meant.”

To her surprise, he captured her lips in a long, soulful kiss.

Ridiculous hope fluttered to life as the song built to a crescendo of everlasting love.

She pulled back, intent on saving her sanity. “There are two hundred people watching us.”

“Lucky them.”

“Cole.”

“Just tell me you forgive me.”

“For what?”

He chuckled softly as the band held the final note. “Right.”

“Seriously, Cole. What?”

He stared into her eyes.

The note faded to silence and the audience burst into applause.

Kyle appeared next to Cole’s shoulder. “I believe it’s the best man’s turn.”

Cole plucked an ice-cold beer from the bar in the corner of his new barn.

Sydney needed to forgive him for insulting her. She needed to forgive him for threatening to have her arrested. And she also needed to forgive him for not recognizing she was the most wonderful woman on the planet.

He’d picked that sappy song himself, hoping by some miracle she’d know he meant it.

She hadn’t.

He briefly acknowledged the congratulations from one of his neighbors, but he didn’t engage Clyde in conversation. He wanted to fade into the shadows and watch Sydney sway in Kyle’s arms, since tonight might be the last time he saw her.

The song ended and he checked the impulse to rush back to her side.

She glanced around, then glided across the floor, her dress flowing softly around her ankles. A few people stopped her to exchange words, Cole’s neighbors, Sydney’s co-workers. Then a man cut in front of her, and Cole squinted. He didn’t recognize the guest, but something prickled along his spine.

Her back was to him, but her shoulders tensed as the two began to speak. Cole ditched the beer bottle and headed across the floor.

Halfway there, he recognized Bradley Slander.

He swore under his breath and quickened his pace, shouldering his way between guests. He still couldn’t see Sydney’s expression, but Bradley was way too close.

When Cole got into range, he heard Bradley’s tone dripping with malevolence. “-and so I’m wondering what it feels like to whore yourself for an antique.”

Sydney recoiled, and something exploded inside Cole’s brain. Instinct took over as he crossed the last few yards on a dead run. He grabbed Slander by the collar and slammed him up against the wood wall.

He held him there, nose to nose, forearm jammed against his sternum while Slander’s face turned an interesting shade of maroon.

“I don’t know how things work up in New York,” stormed Cole. “But here in Texas, y’all ’ve got two choices. You can apologize to my wife and get the hell off my land. Or I can blow off your balls and feed them to the dogs.”

Slander’s mouth worked, but nothing came out except raspy squeaks.

“Cole?” came Kyle’s warning voice.

Cole would have broken Slander’s nose for good measure, but he’d already wasted too many minutes of his life on the man, and he needed to make sure Sydney was okay.

He jerked back and let Slander crumple to the floor. Then he turned to look for her.

She stood frozen, a few yards away, her eyes wide as a few people tried to engage her in conversation.

Cole marched to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her away from the curious guests.

She was shaking.

Fortunately, the band hadn’t seen the altercation, and they played on. He guided Sydney into the middle of the dance floor and gathered her into his arms.

Her glance went to the doorway where Kyle was escorting Slander outside.

Cole turned her so she wouldn’t have to look.

Her voice quavered. “He-”

“He sends his apologies,” said Cole.

She nodded against Cole’s shoulder, her body stiff as a board.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Relax. It’s over. Just dance with me.”

She shook her head against his chest. “He just said what they’re all thinking.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“That I married you for the brooch.”

“They’re all thinking you’re a beautiful bride.”

“They’re wondering why you agreed to marry me. They’re thinking I’m a mercenary.”

“No, they’re not.”

“That’s what Katie thought.”

He tipped her chin up. “For a short time, maybe. But then she got to know you. She knows you’re not a mercenary.”

“But I am.” There was a catch in her voice, and his heart ached.

“We both know the truth, and that’s all that matters.”

She shook her head once more.

He kissed the softness of her hair. “Stop. Just stop.”

“But we don’t, Cole.”

“We don’t what?”

She tilted her chin to look up, eyes glassy and tearful. “You don’t know the truth.”

He squinted at her. Oh, no.

“The truth is, I didn’t marry you for the brooch.”

A chill of fear iced Cole’s spine. He couldn’t take another one of her deceptions. Not here. Not now.

She bit her bottom lip, and her chest rose once, then fell. “I married you because I love you.”

The fear in Cole’s body plummeted through the floor-boards. He gave his head a little shake. She couldn’t have just said those words. It was his own wishful thinking.

“Say that again,” he rasped, fighting the roaring in his ears.

“I love you, Cole,” she repeated.

He squeezed her tight. “Oh, Sydney. I have loved you for…” He stroked his hand slowly over her fragrant hair, marveling that his dreams had actually come true. “Forever, I think.”

Her voice lifted. “You do?”

He kissed her temple. “I do.”

A soft sigh escaped from her, she seemed to melt against him.

“Oh, Cole.

“I know.”

“We’re married.”

“I meant the song.” He cradled her face in his hands. “For as long as I live. I meant every word.”

“I meant my vows,” she whispered.

“I will love you,” he whispered back, “cherish you, honor and keep you.”

“Till death do us part,” she said, finding his hand with her own and twining their fingers together.