The Inheritance

Greer turned toward him, relieved that he’d returned. Afraid of dropping Bethany, she’d begun to wonder if he was ever coming back. She had no idea that babies wiggled so much. The shrug was careless and self-conscious.

“No. It was never part of my job description.”

He held off taking Bethany for a minute, amused at the way Greer was holding the baby out to him, as if she were a wriggling snake that could at any moment turn and bite her. “Only child?” he guessed.

Something within her darkened. She wasn’t here to discuss her background, or the lack of it.

“Something like that.” Why was he just looking at her? Why wasn’t he taking the baby? “Would you like to take your daughter-to-be back?”

“Sure, I’ll trade you.”

It was then that she saw he was holding a small black velvet box in his hand. The kind rings were found in. But that was silly. It seemed odd that Rafe had an engagement ring just lying around. It wasn’t as if it was a spare tire or an extra pair of jeans to be kept around in case of emergencies. The kind of rings that were housed in velvet boxes were expensive.

“All right.” Gingerly, she began to negotiate the transfer. Just then, Bethany grabbed a strand of her hair and wound her fingers around it tightly. As the baby pulled hard, tears of pain sprang to Greer’s eyes. “Ow!”

“Hold it,” he warned. “I think we’ve got a snag here.”

Think? “What was your first clue?” Greer all but yelped.

Rafe laughed under his breath in response. Holding Bethany in the crook of his arm, the velvet box in the same hand, he used his free one to extricate Greer’s hair from Bethany’s grasp. For a baby, Bethany had a pretty strong grip. Like her dad, Rafe thought, sadness spearing him.

He took a step back in case Bethany tried to make another grab for Greer. The hair she’d clutched remained all stuck together.

He grinned. “I think you might want to wash that. Looks like Alyssa gave her something sticky to play with just before she brought her over.”

“Terrific,” Greer muttered.

Gingerly, she ran her fingers over the strand of hair that had been rescued. Rafe was right. It was decidedly sticky. Candy sticky. She probably looked like something straight out of a Halloween night, Greer thought glumly. Battling mushrooming embarrassment, Greer tried to smooth down the stiff strand of hair with her hand and knew she was probably only making things worse. She couldn’t wait to get back to her hotel room and take a hot shower. An extra-long hot shower to work all this tension out of her shoulders. Not to mention the rest of her.

“Maybe you’d like to wash your hands,” he suggested. Not waiting for an answer, Rafe led the way to his bedroom. Opening the door, he kicked aside the pair of jeans he’d left on the floor. “Bathroom’s right through there.” He pointed toward the open door at the far end of the room.

“Thanks.”

Walking into the room, she was exceedingly conscious of being in a man’s bedroom. It wasn’t something she was even remotely familiar with. The only men she had come in contact with until recently all wore three-piece suits and faced her across a boardroom table, not a bedroom.

She tried not to pay attention to the rumpled, unmade bed with its comforter dripping down onto the floor, or the thought of Rafe being in it. She tried even harder to ignore the jeans he’d kicked aside, the ones he’d stripped off earlier and left on the floor on his way to the shower.

Despite her efforts, the maleness of the room insisted on assaulting her from all sides.

Washing her hands quickly, Greer hurried away from the intimate surroundings as soon as she could, before their impression could have a chance to sink in any further than it already had.

When she returned to the living room, she found Rafe sitting on the sofa. Oblivious to her, he was busy playing with the baby.

She couldn’t help noting how at ease he seemed. His legs crossed, he was holding Bethany on one knee and jostling her in a simulated pony ride that had the little girl shrieking with delight.

He seemed like the perfect father, she thought. Just showed how initial impressions were deceiving. Seeing him earlier, she would have said that the only place the man could have been at ease was in a saddle.

Or a woman’s bed.

The thought snuck up on her, making her cheeks warm before she had a chance to shake it off. Terrific, she thought disdainfully, they were probably pink again. He was going to think she was some kind of trembling, backward vestal virgin.

He glanced up and realized that Greer had walked back into the room and was watching him. Ending the impromptu pony ride, he rose to his feet. With Bethany in his arms, he walked over to a playpen in the corner. Tucked into an alcove that doubled as a makeshift study, complete with a small, second-hand desk, it was almost out of sight.

Looking at it, Greer thought the playpen seemed completely out of place within the very masculine room.

“You stay here for a few minutes, honey,” he told the baby. Turning his attention back to Greer, Rafe held out the velvet box he’d gotten from his room. “Here, if you’re going to pretend to be my fiancée, I think you might need this.”

Greer had no idea why she felt so nervous taking the box from him. After all, this was just pretend. She opened it, and even though it was a typical ring box, she was still surprised when she found herself looking down at the contents.

“It’s a ring.”

For just a moment, she’d looked like a little girl, afraid of being disappointed at Christmas as she opened the one gift that mattered, he thought.

“Sure it’s a ring.” He drew a little closer to her, intrigued by her expression. “What did you think it was going to be, a washer?”

“No, but—” Astonished, she raised her eyes to his face. “It’s an engagement ring.”

She left the rest unspoken, but it was clear that she was having trouble understanding why a cowboy would just happen to have an engagement ring sitting around in his bedroom.

He wasn’t sure if he should be taking offense or not. “Yes, so?”

Exasperation flittered through her. Why did he insist on dragging things out? He knew what she was asking him. “So what’s a cowboy on a horse ranch in the middle of Nevada doing with an engagement ring in his bedroom bureau?”

“It was in the nightstand,” he corrected her. He saw impatience crease her brow and got a kick out of it. “And civilization has managed to reach here.”

She blew out a breath. She wasn’t trying to insult him; she was just trying to make sense out of this.

“That’s not what I meant. Most people don’t just ‘happen’ to have engagement rings lying around.” And then the answer hit her. She’d put her foot into it, hadn’t she? It wouldn’t be the first time. When it came to her private life, social skills were not exactly high on her list of accomplishments. “Did you…I mean did someone…?”

Damn it, he’d been engaged, she realized, and something had gone wrong and now she was making things worse by artlessly prodding. Why couldn’t she just leave well enough alone? She flushed. Her tongue always seemed to fail her when it came to private matters.

He’d never seen that shade of red on a woman’s face before.

“No, no one jilted me, if that’s what you’re getting at. I won the ring in a poker game.” He saw her embarrassment ebb away, replaced by a touch of suspicion. He could guess what she was thinking. “Don’t worry, it’s real. The guy I won it from was the jilted one. Actually, his woman ran off with someone else before he ever had a chance to give it to her properly. He figured hanging on to the ring brought him bad luck.” That had been Albert’s story, but it had come after the man had had more than his share to drink. Rafe laughed shortly under his breath. “At least it did that night when he was playing poker.”

Greer stared at the orphaned engagement ring for a long moment, words failing her. It was beautiful. Small, it twinkled like a perfect star that had fallen out of the sky.

“Well, don’t just keep staring at it, try it on.” Before she could, Rafe plucked the ring out of its velvet seat. Taking her left hand in his, he slid the ring on her finger. It went on easily. Rafe smiled. “How about that, it fits.”

The moment he slipped the ring onto her finger, she could feel something tingling all through her body. Like magic.

Silly thought, she upbraided herself. But the feeling didn’t go away.

“Yes,” she answered quietly, “it does.”

Their eyes met for a moment, and then he released her hand. He slid his own into his back pockets. “I guess it’s official, then. We’re engaged.”

She forced a smile to her lips, her stomach churning. She started feeling an odd queasiness. “When’s the wedding?” When he looked at her in silence, she added, “That’s a joke.”