His Marriage Pact: The Rancher's Marriage Pact / The Rancher's One-Week Wife / Terms of a Texas Marriage. Kathie DeNosky
“I don’t know if I can make such a serious decision that soon.”
“That’s all the time I have since my birthday’s Saturday,” he said as he pushed off the desk. “When it comes right down to it, it makes sense to get it done the day before.”
If only she could be so sure. “I’m going to go home and think it over,” she told him as she stood. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve made up my mind.”
After leaving him behind in the barn, Paris managed to return to Dallas’s house, gather her things and sneak out without being detected. She drove the ninety miles home in a haze, ticking off a mental list of pros and cons. She entered her barren apartment and thought about how she’d hoped to settle in a loft downtown, with a view of the River Walk. Yet her budget had only allowed her to rent a one-bedroom in a cookie-cutter complex outside the magic of the city.
Her life had turned into an absolute mess, devoid of security and absent of even a shred of a sincere social life. She had a closet full of expensive shoes and nowhere to wear them, a large stack of unpaid bills, including one that if ignored could take away her freedom, and a solid sense of defeat. But she still had an option—accept Dallas’s proposal. What was the worst that could happen? Paris could think of one thing—she might lose her heart to a man who didn’t return the sentiment. Again.
Not this time. Not if she approached the proposal as strictly business. She married for love the first time, why not marry for financial gain the second? A lot of people did it. Unfortunately she’d never imagined herself fitting into that mercenary mold. But she’d never dreamed she would be caught in this dire position.
Damn her bad luck. Damn Peter Smith for his criminal acts and betrayal and leaving her to take the fall. Damn Dallas Calloway for putting her on the verge of accepting his offer.
Knowing she needed advice had her reaching for the cell phone, although she would have to be very, very careful.
On that thought, Paris dropped down onto the sofa and pounded out her parents’ number. After two rings, “Reynolds residence” filtered through the line in Sheila’s usual sing-song voice.
“Hey, Mom. It’s Paris.”
“Well I’ll be, it’s the prodigal daughter checking in and it’s not even a holiday.”
Her mom did have a tendency to make her kids feel guilty at times. “I know, Mother. It’s been a while since I called, but I’ve been rather busy.”
“Do you have a job?”
That depended on whether she took a husband. “Actually, I have a good prospect.” Now for adding that other little tidbit of information. “I also have a new man in my life.”
“Oh, Paris, are you sure that’s a good idea? The ink has barely dried on your divorce decree.”
“It’s been twenty-two months, Mom.” And four days.
“Oh. Time does fly, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does. Anyway, I think you and Dad would like him.”
“Does he have a job?”
“Yes, he does. He’s a rancher. An honest to goodness cowboy.”
“Interesting. Does he have a nice butt?”
Heavens, leave it to her matriarch to bring that up. “What difference does it make?”
“Believe me, it does. I married your father for his butt and we’re approaching forty years of marital bliss.”
Definitely too much information. “Yes, he has a nice butt and a nice house and a lucrative ranching operation. Are you happy now?”
“I’m happy if you’re happy, dear.”
Now for the moment of truth. A prelude to what possibly could be in the offing. “Good, because the M word has been mentioned.”
“Meatloaf? Manners? Mistake?”
“Very funny, Mom. Marriage.”
“Darn, I’d hoped that wasn’t it.”
“Nothing is set in stone yet, but I didn’t want you to be blindsided if it does happen.”
“I certainly hope we get to meet this one before you take that step.”
Not likely that would occur in two days. “I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity in the near future.”
“Paris, if this man treats you well, then you’ll have our blessing. Just make certain this time you’re doing the right thing.”
An obvious slam on her lack of judgment when it came to her former relationship. “Believe me, I’m going to be very certain before I end up at the altar. A part of me says I should go for it. Another part tells me maybe I’m not cut out for matrimony.”
“I don’t want to ever hear you say that again,” her mother said in a no nonsense tone. “You have the capacity to make a marriage work, as long as you can trust and love your mate for life.”
Therein lay the problem—love didn’t figure into the deal. “How do you ever really know that, Mother? Marriage doesn’t come with guarantees.”
“True, but it does come with certain risks if it’s not right. If you happen to be lucky enough to find your soul mate, then don’t be afraid to take the chance. One bad apple named Peter shouldn’t spoil the whole bunch. By the way, what is this man’s name?”
“Dallas.” And sadly he would never be her soul mate, though he could be her financial savior.
“How nice that he carries the moniker of your father’s favorite football team. That should earn him a few points.”
They shared in a laugh before Paris decided to end the conversation. “Thanks for listening, Mom. I’ll take all your advice to heart.”
“You’re welcome, dear. And don’t forget to follow that heart. If it feels right, do it. It’s high time to leave the past behind and look forward to a brighter future.”
“You know, Mom, you’re right. Love you bunches and tell Dad I love him, too.”
“We love you, dear. And don’t wait so long to call, okay?”
“I won’t.” And that next call could be a bombshell that might blow up in her face.
After Paris hung up, she mulled over her mother’s words and clung to one thing in particular—leaving the past behind and looking forward to a brighter future.
Maybe she should choose a different direction, journey down a new path, even an unorthodox one. Maybe marriage to Dallas Calloway could provide all of that, and more. Maybe his offer would be the best way to start over.
Too much to consider, and far too little time.
* * *
Right then, Dallas only wanted enough time to enjoy his lunch alone. But the two women hovering at the dinette where he now sat had no intention of giving him some peace. Maybe if he ignored them, they’d go away. And pigs would probably sprout wings first.
Jenny propped one hand on her hip and stared at him. “Well?”
He swallowed the last bite of the barbecue sandwich before he responded. “Well what?”
“Where is Paris?”
“She went home.”
Maria flipped her braid over one shoulder and folded her arms. “Are you gonna ask her out again, mijo?”
“Nope.”
Jenny sighed. “Sugar, you really should have given her another chance. A lot of women get drunk on a first date.”
He saw an opportunity to rattle their