Do You Take This Enemy?. Sara Orwig
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she reminded him, feeling as if she were arguing with herself instead of her father.
“Ashley, to be caught up in a marriage—any marriage—would still be hellish. That means dealing every day with someone you can’t stand to be around.”
“I might manage to stand to be around him,” she answered quietly, thinking how sparks flew between them when they were together.
Her father swore softly and she felt torn between conflicting needs. “I can’t stop you,” he admitted.
“It’s just a dinner. Only a few hours and I’ll be back home.”
Her father stared beyond her and shook his head. He tossed down his napkin. “I have to get outside and walk around while I think about this.”
“Please don’t worry. Forty-eight hours from now the time with him will be history.”
As Quinn left the room, Ashley rubbed her pounding head. She was half tempted to cancel the dinner date, but then she thought about her dad’s health, the debt that was accumulating, and she knew she had to go out with Gabe.
After breakfast the next morning she went to her room and looked at her clothes. She waded through her dresses and finally decided on a dark blue, high-waisted sheath dress. Something simple and dark. She wanted to wear a hood over her head. The world grew smaller daily and the chances of running into someone they knew loomed large to her.
She was on edge most of the day, and her nerves still jangled when she finally went to her bedroom to get ready for her date. Closing the door behind her, she looked at the room where she had grown up. It still held her maple four-poster bed, maple furniture with a rocker covered in blue cushions. An oriental rug covered the floor. As a girl, how many nights had she slept in that bed and dreamed of Gabe Brant, fantasizing about a date with him? Well, she finally was going on that date.
He had lost his parents and wife all within the past few years. She knew he had to hurt over those losses. Whether he grieved or not, Gabe was tough and ruthless.
She kept thinking about Julian. The little boy was adorable. Marry the father and she would have a son. She drew a deep breath. She shouldn’t marry him because of his little boy.
Was she setting herself up, too, for another heartache like Lars? Trusting a man again when she shouldn’t?
She bathed and pulled on the simple, dark-blue sleeveless cotton dress. With care she pinned her hair behind her head. She put on her diamond stud earrings and watch. She studied herself in the mirror, turning first one way and then another. She was seven months pregnant and that was that. She couldn’t change her shape.
With one last glance at the mirror, she prayed to herself that her father didn’t come home until after she was gone. He had argued with her about the dinner date, but had finally accepted that she wanted to go.
To her dismay, when she entered the family room, her father sat in his leather recliner, reading a magazine. She saw he had cleaned up for the occasion. He wore a fresh blue shirt and jeans. His hair was damp and recently combed and he scowled slightly as he read. When she stepped into the room, he looked up.
“Don’t you look nice,” he said.
“I look big.”
“Well, that’s the way you should be and you really aren’t very big to be ready to deliver in two months,” he said reassuringly. “Sure you don’t want to change your mind about tonight? I can go out and run Brant off when he gets here.”
“I want to hear what he has to say. You know I’m not going to do anything to hurt the ranch or you.”
“That’s what’s worrying me. I think you’re doing this for me and for the ranch. All the wrong reasons.”
The doorbell interrupted their conversation. “He’s at the front door,” she said. “I’ll bring him in and introduce you.”
“We’ve met. I’d still like to get my shotgun and run him off.”
“Just hang on to your temper.” She headed to the door, feeling butterflies in her stomach that didn’t have a thing to do with her pregnancy or her father’s anger.
She swung open the door to face Gabe Brant.
Three
Gabe looked handsome in his dark-blue suit, a white shirt and dark-blue tie. “I’m here,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her, sending tingles racing over her nerves.
“Great. I told Dad I’d bring you back to say hello. He isn’t looking forward to it, and I’m sure neither are you.”
Gabe entered and closed the door behind him. “Maybe it’s time for the Brants and the Ryders to bury the hatchet.”
“I rather agree, but when it’s a more-than-a-hundred-year-old family history, you can’t switch feelings off like turning off a light,” she said.
“I don’t know,” he drawled. “You’re going to make it easy for me to forget the feud.”
Ashley looked up at him and was caught in another intense, solemn gaze that made her heart skip a beat. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it easy for you to do that.”
“Oh, yes, you do, but we’ll pursue that later. Let me see your dad.”
She led the way to the family room. “Dad, you know Gabe Brant.”
“Evening, sir,” Gabe said, extending his hand. Both men looked as if they were ready to fight, and she wanted to hurry things along and get out of the house.
“This is a bunch of damn foolishness, Mr. Brant,” her father snapped, refusing to shake hands. Gabe’s eyes narrowed, and she could feel the animosity sizzling between them.
“I hope not. I have a proposition, actually a business offer. If you want to meet with me and let me talk to you about it, too, I’ll be glad to anytime.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t know why Ashley is going with you now. It’s by the grace of her arguments that I’m not running you off our property.”
Gabriel Brant was withstanding her father’s wrath without a flinch. She just wanted to get the two separated.
“Can we go now and get this over with?” she asked.
“Fine,” Gabe replied. “We’ll be back early.”
“You better be. My daughter is seven months pregnant.”
“I know that, sir. I’ll take good care of her.”
Ashley wanted to shake her fist at him. “You don’t have to take care of me,” she snapped under her breath.
He shot her a glance before he nodded to her father. “Good night, Mr. Ryder. I appreciate the time Ashley is giving me.”
As they went out the front door, she knew her father was trailing after them. He stood in the doorway watching them as they drove away in Gabe’s black car.
Gabe glanced at her. “Well, we got through that without anyone being any worse for the exchange. Your dad held his temper mighty well. And I held mine.”
“You’ll hold your temper because you’re the one after something.”
“True.” He glanced at her. “You look pretty.”
“Thank you, but you can skip the compliments,” she replied coolly.
“Don’t sound so huffy. I’m still amazed how much you’ve changed since you were a kid.”
“You told me how you remember me—skinny, braces,” she remarked dryly.
“I’ll bet you remember me the same way.”
She cocked her head. “No, actually, I had a crush on you for a few years there. Does that surprise you?”