“Fine,” he repeats quietly, pouring another glass of water for himself.
The waiter brings us our meals and we eat in uncomfortable silence. I glance up at him more than once, and his face is carefully stoic.
After dinner, I order two large mugs of coffee and slices of rich chocolate cake. Stone politely declines his cake and I shrug, digging into his share as well as my own. I’m just swallowing the last mouthful when I hear a voice behind me.
“Shannon?” a woman calls.
I close my eyes and groan, the chocolate cake suddenly feeling very dry in my mouth. “Hi, Effie,” I say as politely as I can when she stops next to our table.
“Miss Harper,” Harold Kensington says. “A pleasure, as always. You disappeared so quickly tonight that I’m afraid we weren’t able to continue our little discussion about Saddles.”
I cast a glance over at Stone, who’s staring at me curiously. What’s going through his mind right now? I clear my throat and dab the crumbs away from my mouth with a white napkin. “Yes.” I smile up at Kensington. “I apologize for that, but I wasn’t feeling very well.”
“I trust you’re feeling better,” Harold says magnanimously, indicating the crutches propped against the wall beside us.
“Yes,” I confirm, nodding. “The bandage will come off in just a couple of weeks.”
“Wonderful,” Effie exclaims, her large smile both fake and annoying. “And Ethan,” she continues. “You look absolutely smashing in your suit. Harold, dear, doesn’t he look lovely?”
“Quite so,” Harold agrees, barely giving Stone more than a passing glance before turning his attention back to me. “I hope you’ve reconsidered my offer.”
“I’m afraid not,” I reply slowly, picking up my glass and swallowing a mouthful. “Saddles is not for sale.”
“Well then,” he says, shaking his head. “I hope you’re able to come up with the money your daddy owes me in the next two weeks.”
I gape at him, but Stone speaks before I do. “How much does her father owe you?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Two hundred thousand dollars,” Effie says, looking at him pointedly. “Plus interest.”
“And what if she doesn’t come up with the money?” Stone asks, raising his eyebrows at me.
“Oh, let’s not talk about such things,” Harold dismisses, offering his arm to Effie who clutches it with obvious delight. “I’ll leave you two alone to your dinner.”
I slump in my chair as they walk away to their own table. How the hell am I meant to come up with two hundred thousand dollars in the next two weeks?
Stone signals the waiter, who hurries over. “Could I get a glass of white wine?” he asks. My head shoots up and I pierce him with a narrow gaze.
“I thought you agreed not to drink.”
“It’s for you,” he says gently. “You look like you could use it.”
“I . . . oh,” I stammer, feeling myself flush. I don’t really know what to say, so I sit in silence until the waiter brings my drink, which I gulp halfway down greedily.
“Better?” Stone asks quietly when I put the glass down.
I nod. “Yes, thank you.”
“Good,” he says, looking at me thoughtfully.
He stares at me for so long I start to shift uncomfortably. “What?” I finally ask.
“You wouldn’t accept the money from me, would you?” he asks. It’s a rhetorical question.
“Of course not,” I respond proudly. “I work hard for my money, as did my—”
“As did your father,” Stone cuts in, holding up his hand. “I know.”
He continues to stare at me. Finally, he nods, as though coming to some sort of a conclusion. “Then there’s only one thing left to do,” he announces.
“What’s that?” I ask, not really liking the determination I see all over his face.
Stone offers a slow, lazy smile. I don’t like it one bit. “The way I see it, if you won’t accept the money from me, then I’ll just have to make sure you get the money another way.”
“And what way is that?”
He pauses, watching me. It’s like a scene from a play where you just know a big bombshell is about to hit and no one’s life will ever be the same. I’m not disappointed. “There’s only one way you’ll accept my money, and that’s if it’s yours.”
I give a short bark of laughter. “And how do you expect it to be mine?” I ask. He’s completely lost his mind. What the hell is he talking about?
“It’s easy,” Stone says, swallowing a mouthful of water and slowly placing the glass back on the table. “We’ll get married.”
Shannon’s staring at me as though I’ve grown two heads, and I may very well have. This morning I signed the divorce papers. As Grace and I had been separated for so long it was a simple process, and the standard waiting period to re-marry had been waived.
What the hell am I thinking? I don’t want to get married again. Although, I can’t deny the idea has a certain appeal.
“You can’t be fucking serious,” Shannon gasps, letting out a short laugh.
“I am.” I nod, realizing I really am. “Think about it. You need money. If we’re married, my money becomes our money. Your money.”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “You’re crazy.”
“Maybe I am,” I concede. “But can you think of any other ideas?”
“I can think of ten!”
“Let’s hear them then.” I sit back and cross my arms, looking at her expectantly.
She opens her mouth to say something then snaps it shut and looks away.
“You’ve got nothing,” I say smugly.
“I’m still thinking,” she retorts, but I can see the defeated slump of her shoulders. I push the half-empty wine glass over to her and she grabs it without looking at me, draining the last of it.
I discretely signal to the waiter for the check and take my wallet out of my jacket pocket, flicking my credit card onto the table. I focus back on Shannon, who looks much too pale. “Are you okay?” I ask quietly, touching her hand.
“Don’t touch me,” she snaps, snatching her hand back and grabbing the crutches that still lean against the wall. I try to hide my smile as she struggles to her feet.
This is no laughing matter. Not really. “Do you need a hand?” I ask, getting to my feet.
“No, I don’t need a hand,” she replies sarcastically. “I can manage just fine without you.” She stiffly hobbles out of the restaurant.
I sit there impatiently, drumming my fingers as I wait to get my credit card back. I have to catch up to her; who knows what she might try to do if I don’t? She’s so stubborn, she’d likely try to hobble home on those damn crutches.
The waiter finally returns with my card, and I don’t bother taking the time to put it back in my wallet. I shove it in the pocket of my slacks as I race out of the restaurant, dodging the tables full of couples.
I glance up and down the street, but I needn’t look far. She’s about a hundred yards down the road, her back to me. I cup my hands around my mouth. “Shannon!”
She glances over her shoulder, but doesn’t stop walking. Passing under a street light, she disappears from view.
Cursing savagely under my breath, I pull the keys from my pocket and jog to my truck, yanking the door open with one hand as I loosen my red tie with the other.
Sliding behind the wheel, I turn on the ignition, pulling out of the parking lot. I drive slowly, using the truck’s headlights to look into the darkness. I finally see her up ahead and pull up, rolling slowly along beside her. “Shannon,” I call through the open passenger window. She glances at me but doesn’t say anything. “Damnit,” I curse, putting the brakes on and jumping out. I jog around the side of the truck and stop directly in front of her. “Will you fucking listen to me?”
“What?” she yells, finally stopping. She shoots me a glare that’s cold enough to freeze Hell over.