The Wedding Wager. Sara Orwig

with her decision. Because of her fury at Jared, and her father’s memory, she didn’t want to sell. Keeping the ranch when Jared wanted it would give her immense satisfaction and a bit of revenge.

      At the same time, the argument to sell couldn’t be dismissed lightly.

      She fell asleep in the chair, and woke undecided in the morning. Gathering her things, she headed to the bathroom to shower and dress in what she had worn the evening before. After combing her hair, she went to the kitchen, where she found Jared with a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. Dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved, gray Western shirt and boots, he looked irresistible.

      “Good morning,” he said easily, walking over to her, his gaze roaming over her appreciatively. “You’re gorgeous—as you were last night,” he said, curling a lock of her hair around his fingers. “This is the way I like your hair best.” Catching the scent of his masculine aftershave, she felt her pulse kick up.

      “Thank you for your compliment,” she replied, wishing she had done something else with her hair. She didn’t care to wear it in the style he liked best. “I’m a little overdressed for breakfast, but so be it.”

      “I could loan you my jeans,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

      “No, thanks,” she answered quickly.

      “I didn’t think you’d accept, but they wouldn’t fit you anyway. I cooked breakfast—help yourself to whatever you like,” he said, waving his hand toward covered dishes and pans on a stove. “Fruit is on the table. Would you like orange juice or tomato juice, milk, coffee—you can have all if you’d like.”

      “Orange juice and coffee please,” she said, picking up a plate and looking at the many dishes. She helped herself to scrambled eggs, slices of kiwi and a bowl of blackberries. She had lost her appetite. As she watched him serve her juice and coffee, she knew she couldn’t bear to sell him the ranch, no matter how much refusing him cost her. She would get a bit of satisfying retaliation here.

      “This is a huge breakfast. Do you cook often?”

      “Not unless there’s no alternative. This morning we’re cut off from my kitchen help.”

      “Looks like I’m here longer.” She carried her plate to the table where he sat facing her.

      “There are all sorts of things we could do to fill the day,” he stated, causing her to look up sharply. When he gave her a disarming smile, she shook her head, smiling in return.

      “I think simple conversation is the most likely. Or if you have business you can transact, you go right ahead.”

      “I wouldn’t dream of it. If you don’t sell your ranch to me, we’ll be neighbors, so we might as well get reacquainted.”

      “I see no point in that,” she said quickly.

      “You surely don’t plan for us to go through the future fighting, the way our fathers did.”

      “No … but reacquainted—I don’t think so.”

      “So what’s it going to be? To sell or not to sell?” he asked.

       Three

      Jared’s pulse drummed as she faced him. Intuition hinted she would refuse him. Using logic, he couldn’t imagine her rejecting his money.

      “You made me a generous offer. One that kept me up almost all night,” she said.

      “A shame. I can think of other ways we could have spent the time,” he said, unable to avoid flirting in spite of the tension between them. She was breathtaking, and he wanted to reach for her. Sunlight spilled through the windows and highlighted strands in her cascade of black hair. Her eyelashes were a thick, dark fringe that were a startling contrast with the crystal turquoise of her eyes. He waited in silence until she shook her head, dismissing his remark.

      “I won’t sell the Sorenson ranch to you,” she answered.

      His insides knotted and he curbed the urge to swear, instead remaining impassive, smiling at her as he shrugged. “That’s what you want to do. You’re turning down an extra one million.”

      “You received that well, Jared. Too well. I pulled the ranch off the market and decided to keep it.”

      “Even with your son to consider?”

      Her face flushed and something flickered in her eyes and he knew he’d hit a nerve. “Yes, Ethan and I will get along without your money. We have thus far.”

      He was disappointed, but the world held countless opportunities. “Win some, lose some,” he repeated the old saying. “Maybe you’ll change your mind about selling after you spend a few years going back and forth and maintaining the ranch and your Santa Fe home.”

      “I’ll manage, Jared.”

      “Well, I’m disappointed, but if you’re not going to sell to me and go hurrying back to New Mexico,” he said, approaching, “there’s a bright side.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, sliding one hand under the large bow that fastened her dress over her shoulder. “We’ll be neighbors,” he said in a warm voice. Undeniably, he wanted her more than her ranch. “You’ll have to come home more often … I’ll certainly spend more time here.”

      Drawing a deep breath, she frowned. “We’ll be neighbors, not seeing each other.”

      “You opposed anything concerning me, Meg,” he said in a husky voice. “We’re bound to see each other, and why not? Why cling to the past? I told you I was sorry. Your refusal to sell guarantees I’ll be around,” he said.

      “That wasn’t my intention,” she said. Her words were unfriendly but her tone wasn’t. Her protests were light, almost halting, and contradictory to what she was saying—an unspoken invitation to him. “Not at all, Jared.”

      “Well, that’s the result you’ve achieved. You’ve put me back into your life. I’m looking forward to being your neighbor.”

      “Go back to Texas, Jared. You know this is going nowhere.”

      “If you really want me out of your life so badly, maybe you should think some more about this answer you’ve given me. I can’t help but feel that there’s some part of you that wants to keep me here.”

      She twisted out of his grasp as his cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket. “Excuse me, Megan,” he said, answering his phone and talking briefly.

      “That was one of the hands,” he said when he was finished. “The river is still as the bridge level—some water washing over, but you can get through.”

      “Great!” she cried. “I’m going home.”

      She was clearly combating the physical attraction with all her being, a battle he felt she would eventually lose. He knew how to be patient, and the bet had been the most exciting thing he had going. Until she came along.

      “I’ll go first, Megan,” he said as they walked to the door. He took a wide-brimmed, black Stetson off a hat rack and put it on. They stepped out into warm sunshine and a day that was crisp and clear, with a deep blue sky. A vast difference from the stormy night.

      At her SUV door, he paused. “Wait and let me go ahead. I’ll cross the bridge to make sure it’ll hold. After I get to the other side, you can cross.”

      “I know I’m wasting my breath when I say you don’t have to accompany me.”

      “Stop cutting off your nose to spite your pretty face, Megan.”

      “I’ll try, Jared,” she said with sarcasm lacing her voice.

      “Keep your SUV doors unlocked so you can get out or I can get in to help you. Let me clear the bridge before you follow.