The Bride Prize

On the other hand, Shane’s head had been full of rodeo six years ago and maybe Corrie was sensible enough to know she wouldn’t have liked driving all over the country living out of motel rooms.

And because her elderly father’s health had been starting to decline, she probably wouldn’t have been comfortable going off with a husband who had rodeo fever. But now that Shane was through with rodeo, the problem Corrie Davis posed had again become an issue.

Wondering what Corrie might still feel for his brother was second only to the question of why his brother was so attracted to a female like her. If he could figure that out, he might be able to find a way to make her look less attractive. And without her influence, Shane might come back into line that much sooner.

Nick was still thinking about Corrie when he heard Shane come in from the back patio and call out to their housekeeper. The fact that he was home made Nick consider the wisdom of going directly over to the Davis Ranch. If he could do something to dissuade Corrie from taking up with Shane again, it’d be better to do it right away before anything got much of a start.

He closed the computer program he’d been using and shut down, then reached for a cell phone before he headed for the kitchen. Shane was gone by the time he got there, so he let himself out the back and walked purposely toward his truck.

It took twenty minutes to drive to the Davis Ranch. Time enough to think about what he’d say, but also time enough to realize how dictatorial he’d sound. Though Corrie Davis wasn’t known for a quick temper, she had more than her share of pride.

And she’d run her own small place for a little over four years. She wouldn’t look favorably on a ranching neighbor she rarely saw who suddenly showed up to stick his nose into what she’d surely see as her private business.

The things she’d let him get away with saying, unchallenged, six years ago might go over badly this time. He wasn’t normally a subtle man, mostly because he was too blunt and focused on efficiency to bother with subtleties. But perhaps subtlety was the only way to handle her this time.

Maybe showing up on Corrie’s doorstep would be enough to remind her he was still around, still paying attention, and she’d be prompted to recall how strongly he’d once disapproved of any wedding plans between her and his brother. Maybe she’d sense that he disapproved just as strongly now. If she didn’t, he could be more direct.

The drive from the highway to the Davis ranch house was little more than a mile. As he came over the slight rise that managed to block the view of the midsize house and outbuildings from the highway, his gaze homed in on the slim woman who was bent slightly over the flower beds along the east side of the house.

He recognized Corrie right away, but what got his attention was that her normally braided hair hung loose like a glossy mantle, and it now dangled like a dark curtain over the blossoms. She straightened briefly to swing that glorious length behind her back, then bent again to empty a metal pail of water near the base of the flowers.

She finished and turned to look in his direction about the time he pulled his pickup to a halt in the drive. If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it. Of course, she had to have heard the truck engine as he’d driven closer. Plenty of time to conceal her reaction.

As he got out and started across the grass that was more brown than green, Nick wasn’t able to keep from ogling Corrie’s beautiful hair. But that only lasted a second or so before his gaze moved over the rest of her.

He didn’t see Corrie often, and usually only at a distance. Seeing her now, dressed in an old white T-shirt that had shrunk enough to cling a little, and cut-off jeans that ended high enough to show most of the length of her sleekly muscled legs, was very nearly a shock. And she was barefoot. She’d been dressed for ranch work almost every time he’d ever seen her, so to see her like this with a good half mile of leg showing, hit him like a two-by-four across the chest.

Hadn’t Shane just come from here? Was he the reason her hair was down and looked fresh-washed, and she was dressed in a way that, on her, was decidedly provocative compared to her usual wholesome appearance? And yet, she still looked wholesome. Wholesome, but appealing as all get out.

Corrie hadn’t thought Nick Merrick would show up, much less this soon, so she steeled herself. And wished to heaven she’d dressed in something more appropriate for company than a T-shirt and cutoffs after her shower. Since it was late enough in the afternoon, she’d thought it was a good time to water her flowers before she forgot, never dreaming someone would see her.

As she watched Nick Merrick stride toward her, she saw the bold sweep of his male gaze go over her, and she tried to look unaffected. Trying to appear unaffected by Nick Merrick’s nearness was a pretense she’d mastered long ago, but no man—much less Nick—had ever had an opportunity to see her bare legs, so it was a little harder to appear indifferent this time.

Desperate to distract herself from the way his gaze felt as it skimmed then lingered then skimmed again, she began to catalog the similarities and contrasts between the brothers.

Shane was the more handsome of the two, though they both had similar features and coloring. The difference between the brothers was amplified by the eight years that separated them. Shane’s handsomeness was smoother and a little boyish, but Nick’s had been seasoned by sun and weather and experience into a rugged toughness that made him look hard and forbidding. And worlds more compelling.

His black hair and black brows emphasized the piercing blackness of his gaze, while Shane’s eyes were an electric blue. Both men were the same six foot plus height, but Nick was more heavily muscled, despite Shane’s competitive fitness as a world champion bronc rider.

And Nick didn’t have the cowboy swagger Shane often showed, as if he was too purposeful and sure of himself to move in the cocky way some men did when they had something to prove.

Maybe that was because Nick had proved himself long ago, after his father had been crippled by a riding accident and confined to a wheelchair. Nick had left college to take over Merrick Ranch and take up the reins to everything else until he’d delegated enough to managers to concentrate most of his day-to-day energies on the massive chunk of Texas the Merricks owned.

The result was this harsh-looking, rawhide tough, formidable man, who wore authority as if he’d been born with it. He certainly had been born to it, and Corrie doubted he’d ever had a chance to be a lesser man. Not because a man like him would ever leave himself without a choice, but because it wasn’t in his nature to be less than he was.

He was a man who gave his best and expected the best in return. The woman he picked to marry would also be the best. She’d be beautiful and sophisticated and rich, with a pedigree as impressive as his.

Which had shut Corrie out of consideration at eighteen, and still did. A female like her had about as much chance of attracting a man like Nick Merrick as she had of jumping off the barn roof and flying to San Antonio.

That unhappy reality had no impact whatsoever on the odd, inner twang she’d felt every time Nick had ever come in close range. As he crossed those few remaining feet between them, the twang began to quiver and hum. When he halted in front of her and lifted his hand to briefly pinch the brim of his hat in a cowboy signal of politeness, she felt a dismaying heat go over her from head to toe…

Wary blue eyes, with feathery black lashes that any number of his old girlfriends would have killed to have, had watched him, searching his face as he’d walked closer, dropping to his shoulders then his chest before they’d shot back up, as if she didn’t want to be caught looking him over like women usually did. Nick couldn’t help liking that. Corrie Davis had never seemed to have a sexually forward or flirty bone in her body, and she apparently still didn’t.

But now that he was looking at her this close, he wondered why he’d ever thought her face was unremarkable. Her blue eyes had always been her best feature, but now the rest of her face had caught up. She had fine, lightly tanned skin, facial features that had evened out and matured into simple beauty, and a mouth that looked soft and vulnerable and intriguing.

Whatever his brother had seen in Corrie before had obviously blossomed, and Nick suddenly realized he might be in the fight of his life if he tried to come between Shane and this…lovely young woman. Was every man in this part of Texas as blind as he’d been?

He was surprised to hear the gravely burr in his voice as he nodded to her and said, “Miss Davis.”

She nodded back but didn’t speak right away. In that little pulse of time she managed to blank the wariness from her gaze. “If you’re looking for Shane, he left quite a while ago. Maybe three hours.”

“I’ll catch up with him later then.” Belatedly, he realized he ought to compliment her on the flowers. But when he looked at them to make the compliment credible, her bare legs came into sharp focus again and the only compliments he could think of for a second or two were a half dozen variations that included the words “long stems.”

“You’ve got some beautiful flowers, Ms. Davis.” He lifted his gaze—a surprisingly difficult task—to her face.

He’d hesitated slightly before he’d said the word flowers to convey his other meaning. The color that surged into her cheeks told him she’d caught it.

He smiled, satisfied by that, and nodded toward the metal pail. “Can I give you a hand?”

Nick would have offered to do the same for any female, but he’d be willing to bet money that most men wouldn’t have asked the very capable and self-sufficient Corrie Davis. But women were women, and he sensed she was pleased with the offer. He sensed just as strongly that she’d decline.

“Thanks, but that was the last of it.”

He could tell she felt awkward with the silence that came next, but he waited her out. Better to keep her a little on edge so she’d get the idea that he wasn’t someone she wanted to tangle with.

And yet during that scattering of seconds as he looked over at her, something shifted in his attitude. His brother could do worse than Corrie Davis, far worse. What was actually wrong with the woman herself? She was decent, hardworking, and honest.

As he allowed those first inklings of change, he tried to tell himself that it had nothing to do with seeing Corrie like this. It took a few moments more to make himself remember what he’d come here for. And why.

Corrie Davis might be decent and hardworking and honest, but she had the potential to sidetrack his brother again. Maybe more than ever now that he’d got a close up look at exactly what she had to offer.

If Shane married her, the idea of perhaps combining her little ranch with his plan to buy the ranch for sale down the road, might fuel Shane’s latest bullheaded bid for independence. And Nick knew for a fact that another small ranch would soon be coming onto the market, and Shane might also want to snap it up. His kid brother had managed to put together enough winnings in the past three years to be able to strap himself to a hell of a mortgage.

It’s what he’d do if he were Shane’s age and he hadn’t already become permanently addicted to the even riskier challenge of running Merrick Ranch. If his brother had his kind of drive, then starting from scratch under his own power with his own earnings would be an irresistible challenge that would more than prove his Merrick heritage.

That challenge would test everything Shane had ever learned about ranching, and put his mind and body and will to the test of a lifetime. A woman like Corrie Davis would share the work and the worry. And, from the look of her now, provide a hefty share of the reward.

The idea that suddenly came to him then was about strategy, though he had to admit that it had been inspired by the feminine loveliness he was staring at.

Was it possible to make Corrie an ally?

First he’d have to find out exactly what was between her and his brother. And since the quickest way to find out was to put the two of them together in the same room so he could see it for himself, Nick decided he might as well arrange it now. He gave a slight smile to banish some of the tension he’d hoped to build in her. He regretted doing that now.

“I was thinking it might be a nice surprise for Shane if I asked you to supper tonight. I know it’s short notice, so we could do it tomorrow if you’d rather. I’m not much for dressing up after the day I put in, so I’m hoping you wouldn’t mind if we kept things casual tonight. Maybe we could save something more formal for another time.”

It was amazing how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. He’d spent the day indoors doing paperwork. But the goal was to make Corrie feel comfortable coming to the ranch. Folks tended to be overawed, and Corrie was about as country as they came. He knew for a fact that she’d turned down Shane’s invitations to dinner at Merrick Ranch every time he’d made one, so it made sense that she’d heard about the family’s tradition of dressing for dinner. And, going by the times he’d seen her, Nick had to wonder if she even owned a dress.

A slight flush came into her cheeks, but he watched her gaze spark with interest and faint surprise. Her voice was a soft, quiet drawl.

“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Merrick. Are you…sure?”

He knew right away she was asking if they were still foes, so he smiled to reassure her. “Times change. People change. You’re close to Shane. We’ve been neighbors all your life. Might be time to be a little more neighborly…Corrie. I’d appreciate if you could call me Nick.”

He saw the flicker of doubt and thought for a moment he’d overplayed it. But then she apparently bought into the idea of neighborliness and quickly made up her mind.

“I’m obliged. What time should I be there?”

“Seven o’clock’s the time we usually set for company.”

“All right, seven.”

He reached up to tug a pinch of hat brim. “Until then.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE moment Nick turned away to walk to his pickup, Corrie dashed to the back of the house and the privacy of the back porch. She left the bucket by the door and let herself in to sprint through the kitchen and the house to peek out the front windows.

Times change…People change…

As the stunning words replayed in her head, she watched Nick open the driver’s side door and climb in. She couldn’t quite believe the past few minutes had happened. Or that Nick Merrick had invited her over for supper.

She couldn’t believe she’d accepted! Why had she done that? Because of Shane, she told herself quickly, not certain she wanted to look beyond that. As she watched Nick turn the pickup in the drive and head for the highway, she tried to slow her racing heart.

First Shane had come over and now Nick. Neither had acted the way she’d come to expect. Had she imagined it?

I was thinking it might be a nice surprise for Shane if I asked you to supper tonight…

Had Shane said something to prompt Nick to show such a remarkable sign of acceptance? Not only acceptance of her, but of whatever Shane’s feelings for her might be? Granted, she’d expected nothing more than friendship from Shane. Until today. Today the things Shane had done, the things he’d said, were something more than friendship. How much more?

How much more than friendship did she want?

If she’d been confused and excited over Shane’s visit, it was nothing compared to the tizzy she was in for the next two hours. She raced through her chores and hurried upstairs to her room to rummage through her closet and drag out the things she’d bought six years ago.

Most were too formal for a “casual” supper, and that was good because she wasn’t sure she had the nerve to suddenly show up anywhere wearing them. Corrie Davis couldn’t go from cowhand to debutante in two hours without knocking the world a little off its axis. Nevertheless, she tried everything on to be sure of that, finally putting most of it away.

Feeling desperate and a little anxious, she went through everything else she owned, which wasn’t a lot besides work clothes, searching for something better than blue jeans but less dressy than the yellow sundress she’d hung on the closet door to think about. She had a denim skirt, but she rejected it too because it was a skirt.

She hoped the pair of white jeans she’d pulled out and the plain, pastel pink blouse were informal enough to qualify as casual, yet were feminine enough to show her in a little less “mannish” light. At least they wouldn’t look radically different from the shirts and jeans she usually wore.

She’d never worn the jeans and once she’d put them on, she wasn’t exactly happy that they were stiff and much snugger than her regular ones. The pink blouse was a simple, long-sleeved tailored shirt, and she carefully folded back the sleeves, then fussed with them to make both sleeves even before she remembered to add a belt with a plain gold buckle.

The few pieces of jewelry she’d bought were only costume quality, but the gold chain necklace and the gold clip-on earrings supplied a hint of sparkle that she liked.

As she looked into the mirror to consider the uncommon notion of maybe having her ears pierced, Corrie was reminded that she’d thrown away whatever makeup she’d had a couple years ago. Aggravated because she had no time left now to rush to town to buy some, she ran a brush through her hair and decided to pull a little of it back from the sides into a barrette, but leave the rest of it loose. She experimented with rolling her lips together to redden them before she gave her cheeks a little pinch and paused to inspect the results in the mirror. It would have to do.

Once she found the shoebox that held a pair of brown leather sandals she’d never worn, she put them on and got out the small brown leather handbag she’d hung on a hook in her closet. It was just as plain as the sandals and had also never been used, so she pulled out the wad of paper and tossed it to the dresser before she slipped her brush inside and added her wallet. She closed the catch on the handbag, lifted the long strap to her shoulder, then stood in front of the mirror for a final inspection.

It was as good as she could manage, and it shocked her a little to realize she’d been at this for close to two hours. Usually, she could be ready for anything in the time it took to brush out and braid, put on her clothes and grab her boots. It was a small consolation that she at least looked as if she’d done more than she usually did. A lot more.

She looked like she was out to catch a man.

The horrifying impression jolted her. The last thing she could stand was for anyone to think she was desperate to get a man.

Appalled, she pulled the strap off her shoulder and laid the handbag on the dresser top. She pulled off the earrings, about to toss them back into the old cigar box that held her meager collection of jewelry, when pride reared up.

She worked hard. Damned hard. Never in her life had she pushed herself on any man or chased one, and she never would. She’d never done anything to draw attention to herself, and even if she had, it was hardly a moral failure. She’d barely been kissed, because the only kiss she’d ever had had been a hilarious accident.

The glitter of anger in the gaze that met hers in the mirror made her eyes look jewel bright. However she normally dressed, she was a female. At twenty-four she was a woman. It was no one’s business but hers that she qualified for womanhood on account of gender and age rather than some notion of sexual experience.

Why wasn’t she entitled to wear pink, put on a little jewelry and carry a purse? Why would anyone be rude enough or cruel enough to challenge her or poke fun? If she’d had any makeup in the bathroom, she’d have every right to use as much of it as she pleased.

So what if she wanted to use this occasion to dress and act and be more feminine? And maybe even set out to attract a man? Why should she be denied the full right to express a bit of her biological and emotional nature just because she’d waited until some man had finally flirted with her a little before she’d again decided to change something about herself?

Most females had been doing far more than this little bit since before high school. She was long overdue to do likewise. And so what if she wanted to attract a man, marry and have a family? All she’d had of family had been a remote and rarely affectionate father old enough to be her grandfather, who’d barely paid attention and had seldom talked to her about anything besides ranching and markets and the weather.

Having a family one day was her highest and fondest hope, though most of the time she was forced to put it out of her mind. No sense pining for something that didn’t look likely to happen soon, if ever.

Her modest effort just now to make up for a little lost time surely wouldn’t register with either brother as a scheme to nab one of them. If they even noticed the difference.

And even if they took one look at her and decided she was manhunting, why would that be so unnatural and repulsive? There wasn’t an unmarried female under thirty-five in their part of Texas, or anyplace else the Merrick brothers had ever been seen, who hadn’t tried at one time or another to attract them. And probably more than a handful of those women had been much older than thirty-five.

Feeling better about this, Corrie refastened the earrings, fussed with her hair a little more, then snatched up her handbag before she started downstairs.

She was more than halfway to the Merrick Ranch before her tension began to ebb into a heady feeling of excitement. Not too long after that, the most unexpected question of her life popped into her head…

Which brother was she most excited to see?

She slowed the old pickup to make the turn off the highway onto the Merrick Ranch’s main road as she mentally raced to weigh the answer. Which brother?

The one she was comfortable with, who’d flirted and given her a sliver of hope for at least the possibility that he—or some other man—might one day fall for her a little?

Or was it the unattainable brother who’d shown up that afternoon to invite her to supper?

As she completed the turn and began to accelerate, nerves and indecision kept the question going around and around…

Was she more excited to see the brother who’d hugged her and taken her boots off, who’d spoken to her more as a female than a pal…the old friend whose blue gaze had shown a hint of the naughty thoughts he’d claimed other men thought about her?

Or was she more excited to see the brother who didn’t know—and probably wouldn’t care—that he could still make her feel as shaky and breathless around him as he’d made her feel at eighteen…the one who hadn’t needed to lay a finger on her to do that?

The novelty of the question and the way her mind shifted from one brother to the other and back, magnified her excitement so much that she suddenly realized how pathetic it was to get so worked up over so little.

Maybe she was desperate for a man, any man. Proof of that was how much she was making of all this. What if Shane had been teasing today? The idea that she could have mistaken being teased for being flirted with made her a little sick.

And she’d always been hopelessly infatuated with Nick. He hadn’t needed to invite her to supper for the first time in twenty-four years to achieve that. But his out-of-the-blue invitation had made her irrationally jump to the conclusion that the world—and him in particular—was overdue for her pink blouse and earrings debut.

Shame roared up and beat her down until she felt about two inches tall and unspeakably foolish. And pitiful.

If she hadn’t driven close enough by then to see Nick Merrick standing on his front porch as if he’d been watching for her, Corrie might have turned around and hightailed it back home while she thought up some lie to cancel supper.