Chapter 6
Riley was aware that his coming to the D ranch had to be akin to the enemy at the gate. No one actually knew what had happened all those years before when Donna and Alan had married and Gerald struck oil on his own. But the bitterness, the anger, that Gerald and Alan had filtered to Jeff Hayes, was being carried on with all the delicious enmity that Jeff seemed to enjoy as much as Riley's father. Riley didn't hold the old grudges and couldn't really see why he should. It had all happened long ago and was nothing for him to worry about. Still, if he could use it against his dad, then that was a good thing, however he managed it.
As Riley's low car bumped and scraped over the rutted and potholed track, he cursed that he hadn't thought to drive one of his off-roaders instead. The damage he was surely doing to the red sports car as each hole shook the frame didn't bear thinking about. He felt like a fish out of water, seeing the rough edges of this growing horse operation, and he wondered at the customers who had to traverse the way to get to their horseflesh without damaging their cars.
He would need to talk to Jack about that one. Maybe they should improve the road. No wonder the Campbells were struggling if this was how prospective buyers were introduced to the ranch.
He finally reached the main house, a modest two-story L-shaped spread. It curved around a dusty courtyard where several beaten vehicles stood their ground. He switched off the engine, grabbed the folder and climbed out of the car, looking around with a cautious eye. He could see disuse and disrepair juxtaposed with tidy and clean. The house itself was tired and worn, but the windows were bright and clean. The road behind him may well have been pitted and stoned, but the fencing around the paddocks was pristine and white. The horses grazing there were sleek and glossy in the sun. The two barns to one side looked old, but the corral for the training was a match for the paddocks. There were strong contrasts, and it was easy to see that the Campbell money was being ploughed into the horses where it mattered. It smelled of hard work and cut grass, of Texan heat and stubborn courage. Unbidden and unlooked for, the thought suddenly arrived— it was like Jack. Just like Jack.
* * * *
With a bottle of beer in his fingers, Jack watched from a kitchen window as the sports car drew up in front of the main house. His eyes narrowed as he saw the tall man leave the car and stare unabashed at the ranch about him. Jack knew what he saw —disrepair, lack of funds, miles of untended land— and he could almost sense Hayes's contempt from here. Jack knew what the Hayes spread was like. He'd seen photos of the mansion, for want of another word, spread low and white on acres of land, knew what he had here was nothing compared to that.
Jack steeled himself. The Jack that Hayes was meeting now was the Jack he was going to have to live with, and this Jack… Well, this Jack wasn't gonna make it easy.
If he was going down and doing this thing, it was going to be on his terms. He was sick of the Campbells being played like pawns in these little Hayes power trips; first his dad, then his mom, who he'd held as she cried her tears of loss when his father died, and now his sister.
He blinked as Riley turned to face the house, and he was forced to admit to himself that the man was one piece of prime Texas flesh. If he wasn't… If he hadn't… Jack sighed, pulling himself together. Riley Hayes might be gorgeous, might be everything Jack normally looked for in a man physically, but all that lay at the center of him was a black, dead heart, and that was far from appealing.
Jack might be agreeing to this for his sister, but if Riley was expecting Jack to bend over and give him an easy ride then he was surely mistaken. It was time a Hayes learned exactly what a Campbell was made of.
The lesson started here.
Chapter 7
Jack opened the main door, looming large into the day from the cool interior of the ranch. "Hayes," he said simply, hesitating momentarily and then finally moving to one side to let Riley into his house.
"Jack," Riley replied, nodding, his eyes intent on discerning Jack's facial expression and his body language. He sighed inwardly. If he wasn't mistaken, it was a very different man who stood in front of him now from the one who'd left his office a few hours ago. This man was rigid, angry, focused, someone who was not going to roll over without a fight. As Riley followed him to the large airy kitchen, he could see iron in his spine in the way he held himself. Jack stopped, holding out his hand for the papers in the folder Riley held, and Riley handed them over without a word.
"There's coffee. Stay here," Jack said, his southern hospitality forcing its way through his icy demeanor. Riley nodded and moved to the counter, exploring the years of scratches and ridges under his soft fingers, his back to Jack. He didn't hear Jack leave, but when he turned to face the man, he was no longer there.
Jack sat in the sunroom, staring at the pages in his hand, twelve carefully drawn forthwiths and herewiths, all in a different language. He knew it was just a bargain as far as Hayes was concerned to get what he wanted. Money. It was the schedule attached that was the interesting part. Simple sentences, like someone else, not a lawyer, had written them. Perhaps even Riley?
The schedule was entitled
Riley Nathaniel Hayes and __________________; clauses
. He had to smile. Whoever had prepared the draft contract had left the space clear. Jack guessed Riley had a list of people he was going to ask, and he wondered how far down the list he had been. He scanned the list of clauses. Most of it seemed straightforward.
No partner shall give cause to make other people think that the marriage was not entered into for anything other than love.
Both parties to act like a married couple in public.
New partner entering into marriage to have no sexual or physical encounters outside of this marriage.
Partner to reside at the Hayes home.
Partner to attend all functions where needed, suitably attired, and with reference to previous clauses on appropriate behavior.
Partner to change surname to Hayes.
Partner to sign a pre-nuptial contract as stated in main contract.
In return, there was a
not specified at this time
financial settlement on this new partner and space for details. Jack wondered what it would finally say, and there was a sudden sorrow, tight and constricting in his chest. He imagined the words there— a promise to save his sister, to give the Campbell family a chance to stay whole.
He stood, stretching tall, the papers creased in his hands. Drawing in a deep breath, he went back into the kitchen, his own terms and clauses in his head. When he walked into the room, he found his nemesis facing the window, staring out over the ranch.
"For a start…" he began. Riley spun on his heel, coffee splashing on his expensive suit. "It will be Campbell-Hayes, not just Hayes."
Jack didn't move, his jaw set. He could almost see the thought processes in Riley's head, and the moment when the other man obviously realized it was a small battle he could afford to lose.
"Okay," Riley finally accepted.
"The money for Beth's care is signed over in trust so there is no backing out. It's set up so that Beth doesn't find out where the money is coming from. In addition to this, no one, and I mean
no one
, ever finds out about the contract or its implications for the year. There will be no big wedding, just a quick ceremony in Canada, well away from here, and back, simple rings, quiet."
Jack paused.
So far so good
.
"I need an even six million for the ranch, and you will at all times respect my day-to-day work here. It is, and will remain, my family's legacy. The contract will be written so it is out of your reach. End of story."
Riley nodded. "Agreed."
"I will move to your home. I will stay there for the one year, on two provisos."
"Which are?"
"There'll be occasions when I am needed here overnight for days at a time on ranch business. You will not give cause for me to be unable to fulfill those obligations."
"Why do you need to be here? Don't you have people to cover you?"
Temper rose in Jack in an instant. Fucking playboy thought he had
people
to take over the ranch if he wasn't here?
"When the mares are foaling, I could be needed here three, maybe four days and nights. At those times you will come here and live at the D with me."
"Within reason," Riley tossed out quickly. Jack chose to ignore that hasty defense.
"Secondly, I have contracts to honor, horses to train, and my mom can't run the place on her own. So while you're doing your thing at Hayes Oil every day," and he couldn't keep the sneer away, "I'll be here." He could almost hear Riley's brain working. "Not only that," he continued, on a roll now, "as part of this contract, I want you working on the ranch for exactly…" He paused, throwing together quick calculations in his brain and then doubling the number, just because he could. "Twenty-four days out of the three hundred and sixty-five of the contract." Riley's mouth fell open, his shock almost comical. "It can be weekends, Sundays, whatever. I don't imagine it will interfere in whatever you do or don't do at Hayes Oil, but your working with me will add authenticity to the whole shitfest. Agreed?"
"Say again?" Riley's voice dripped with disbelief as he cast a quick look around the kitchen, and that there, that disbelief coupled with the wrinkle of Riley's nose in disgust, was enough for Jack's temper to start to rise.
Riley finally nodded clearly deciding this was a battle he couldn't win. It was all he could apparently do, obviously not trusting himself to use actual words.
"So, there is a no-sex-outside-the-marriage rule for your new partner." Jack was starting to feel tired. He had been up since four a.m., and this was pushing even his levels of alertness.
"Of course there is, it needs to…" Riley paused, clearly sorting out the right words. "No, em, for you no… men." He stumbled over the words, plainly not sure of the etiquette in situations describing what Jack had with other men.
"You, too," Jack said simply, leaning back on the scarred wooden counter and crossing his arms. He had a great deal of satisfaction hearing Riley so screwed at placing the boundaries so firmly around his concept of gay sex. "'Cos you know, man, if I believe everything I read, you get way more than me, and I'm not gonna be taking that in this convoluted idea of a marriage."
"Taking it?"
"You horn-dogging around on me behind my back. You will agree to abstain for the year too. I won't be made to look a fool. We'll be married. I know what you're like, I've heard the shit you pull. So there will be no affairs, nothing, no girls and no boys. Agreed?"
"Nothing?" Riley sounded almost lost.
"Nothing."
Riley frowned. "Do you think I can't go for a year without getting off using nothing but my right hand?"
"Evidence suggests otherwise."
"Fuck you."
"Not likely."
"Shit. Okay." Jack watched as Riley raised a single eyebrow. "Is that it?" He was clearly aiming for sounding bored, and Jack really wished he could think of more terms and conditions to screw with the younger man. Just out of sheer spite. He watched as Riley's expression changed from one of consternation to one of relief and then quickly to one of satisfaction. It was interesting how easily Jack could read his prospective husband.
"You know something, Hayes? You're as cold as freaking ice. Do you have no emotion in you? You sign away your life like this… Do you feel anything?" Riley said nothing in reply. "I am doing this for my sister," Jack added, obviously getting back to what he had really meant to say. "And for my family. They mean everything to me. I don't give a rat's ass why you're doing this, but I swear if they ever find out—"
"I have just as many reasons for it to be a secret," Riley snapped.
Jack arched his back and stretched a yawn, smirking inwardly as Riley's gaze slid southward. Given the way his eyes seemed fixated around Jack's crotch area, he wondered if maybe Riley was a little more bi-curious than he even knew.
Chapter 8
Even as he stood at the private airport Jack knew it wasn't too late. He could tear up the contract. He had lawyers, the deal had been made under duress, and no court of law would uphold it, surely. His brother was a lawyer— he'd fight it for him. Images of Beth were at the front of his mind, tears on her pale cheeks, and her hand protective on his unborn niece. That pushed Jack's feet to move those final few yards.
He couldn't even tell her he was going, or what he was doing, but dammit he wanted to. As he held her close for a hug last night, a reassuring,
Don't worry, it will be fine
hug, the words to describe what he was doing were on the tip of his tongue. Instead he took the coward's way out, leaving a message on her cell.
Don't worry. I've just got a potential buyer, and I'm going to havta schmooze. Back day after tomorrow. Love ya, Beth. Look after yourself
. He left a similar one for his mother.
Jack put the cell in his pocket, hefted his backpack over his shoulder, and looked up at the red Hayes Oil logo emblazoned down the side of the jet parked up on one side of the runway. It figured Hayes would have his own plane. Jack seemed to remember Beth commenting on it when she was reading some glossy spread about Dallas pseudo-royalty. As he stood at the bottom of the steps, he realized the next footfall he took really would seal his fate. He'd be leaving the Texas he knew and entering the world of Riley Hayes.
Steeling himself, he climbed the steps and automatically ducked his head to enter the cool interior, stopping on the threshold as images assaulted his senses. Luxury. Leather. Carpet. Someone stood to take his carry-on and usher him to a seating area complete with large flat screen television and two different gaming machines. The Hayes Oil logo was embroidered on everything from belts to seats. Jack rolled his eyes and sat down. He fumbled with the seatbelt, glancing up when Riley slid into the seat opposite him.
This was the first time that they'd seen each other since the meeting two days before. The paperwork had been exchanged by courier. There'd been no phone calls, just one text to state that everything had been arranged, with simple instructions that Jack should make his way to the airport.
Riley was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt and a worn dark leather jacket across his broad shoulders. It was something of a shock to see him dressed so casually. He welcomed Jack aboard with a half-smile, and to Jack's eyes, he looked mostly tired but also nervous and restless.
They didn't talk until the jet was in the air and heading north.
"You can shower, freshen up, and take some time," Riley offered hesitantly, indicating two doors at the end of the large cabin.
"Shower?"
"You brought the suit?"
"I brought the suit."
* * * *
It was funny how the grand total of eighteen words lasted the whole seven hours in the air. Or maybe not funny at all. The flight to Canada was long enough, each man lost in thought for one reason or another. It was not a comfortable silence.
Riley kept focusing on the whole sex thing. It was all that filled his head. He had never even experimented with men. Well, apart from that time at the Christmas dance with Luke Evans— admittedly under the influence of alcohol. But that was nothing. It had meant nothing but a hurried hand job against the outside of the gym, a fumble touch between horny teenagers. He didn't have an issue with the whole gay thing, though. His daddy might, but Riley had hung around Steve long enough to appreciate the benefits Steve found in sleeping with men versus women.
You'd never have to worry about your height, Riley, or your muscles, or your strength. You find someone strong like you and you just fucking go for it.
The differences between men and women were never more obvious than with Jack freaking Campbell. He was naturally muscled, from his work Riley assumed, hard muscles that bunched and released when he moved to do even the smallest of things. Riley could see why men would want Jack. He wondered if Steve had been there— wondered what other men had been there. Added to that Jack had the clearest, deepest, sky blue eyes, the tightest ass and those
kiss me right the fuck now
lips, the lips Jack was biting on as he closed his eyes and laid his head back with his iPod buds in his ears.
Riley just stared, unable to concentrate, the last two days slipping past his contemplation of bitten lips. What his brother had said to him that morning spun in his head.
He had avoided Jeff all week, especially now with the whole wedding thing filling his waking hours, but today he had gone to the office. He had memos to pass on, reports to collate, and never trusted the details of what he did to his secretary.
"Lisa wants you to stay at home on Saturday."
Riley looked up. It wasn't often that his brother even came to this floor, let alone actually visited the map office itself.
"Saturday?" He blinked up at the only man he knew who was taller than him. Jeff was slick-sharp in a gray suit, even at six-thirty on a Monday morning. They had never been close, but gut-churning anger flew through Riley, just as it had every day he'd seen his brother since that fateful meeting with his dad.
"Alex's birthday. He says he wants his Uncle Riley there."
"I'll be there." Riley paused, climbing to his feet, brushing imaginary dust from his jeans. "Question is— will you?" Jeff didn't even begin to reply to that one. It was doubtful he would be there. He always had just the right excuse to be missing for one of Lisa's family parties.
"Why were you scrabbling on the floor?" Jeff finally asked, although he wasn't expecting a reply. He simply laughed softly as Riley sent him a look of disgust. Jeff knew Riley spread the maps on the floor, knew sitting cross-legged gave Riley the chance to look at the land layouts and the geo data that much easier. It was a constant source of amusement to Jeff that Riley spent so much time on the floor.
"Fuck you, Jeff."
"Whatever, little brother. I have things to do, people to fire, deals to finish… Later."
Deals to finish.
Those three words soured Riley's already grim mood. The deals sitting on Jeff's desk included geo searches and advised land purchases that Riley had sourced, from research and work that Riley had undertaken. All of that was to be signed off by a man who, by virtue of being freakin' married to the lush that was an ex-Miss Texas, was now holding the majority stock in the family firm. Well, he had a deal of his own, all signed and sealed and about to be delivered. But it wasn't his proudest moment.
Bile rose in Riley's throat as he sat back in the seat and closed his eyes, the drone of the jet engine annoying, not able to even look at Jack when he had these self-destructive thoughts in his head.
* * * *
Riley had promised him this whole marriage business would be quick. He already had the marriage license sorted in British Columbia, one of the places in Canada that didn't demand any kind of residency, and Jack was determined not to let this pass in a blur. He had never considered marriage, his life choices kind of precluding it, particularly in Texas. But he always imagined that one day he would find a life partner. He wanted a life partner, but only after the ranch was paid off, after his mom was happy, after Beth was well and safe— just after.
Still it was difficult to remember it all as they hurried from flight to rooms and back again. Jack remembered parts of the simple service, the words he'd exchanged, blinking down at the plain platinum band that sat on his ring finger, and up at the man beside him. Riley had looked alternatively calm and then solemn, and then just this side of panicked. Jack didn't have time to wonder what the emotions meant as they passed over his new husband's face as the taller man bent his head to place a chaste kiss on his lips. Then they moved out to a small park to pose for the necessary photos. Jack knew he probably looked shell-shocked in the pictures, and hoped that he acted the part convincingly enough to give the photos the authenticity they required for this charade. He had to keep up his end of the contract.
Riley wasn't making it easy. All through the car journey, the service and the photos, all Riley was capable of doing was providing a running commentary on the shit weather, the shit photographer, the shit venue. You name it, Riley had a problem with it. Jack, though, might as well have been invisible. It was just as well, he reflected bitterly, that there wasn't any love lost between them, or this marriage would be ending in divorce a whole lot sooner than Riley intended. As it was, he'd managed to force a smile for the pictures, digging his fingers as hard as he could into Riley's side whilst posing, just to let him know he was there. That worked. Riley pushed back equally hard as he wrapped an arm around Jack. When the photographer had finished, Riley handed over money, they signed what they needed to sign, took compliments when given, and left as quickly as they could.
All too soon they were back on the plane. Riley attached the camera to a laptop, and downloaded the twenty or so shots of their wedding as they sat waiting for clearance to take off. He turned the screen to Jack as he took his seat opposite.
Jack fastened his seat belt, loosened his tie and sighed. He didn't particularly want to look at the travesty, but he supposed he should. Reluctantly he scanned the pictures and was surprised. Some of them actually looked like genuine wedding photos. They were smiling, posing, and he had to grudgingly admit that, despite the almost childish anger he had felt at the time, they looked good together. There were some, though, where it was obvious there was irritation and distrust between them.
"The whole marriage thing, it's like some sick joke," Jack muttered. "We're fucked if anyone actually sees these."
"Well, they do need to be seen. We'll just select the best ones. It has to be irrefutable that we married for love and for no other reason. Agreed?" Riley was brisk and to the point, his eyes narrowing. He turned the laptop back and proceeded to delete at least half of the rushed photos, growling under his breath. "Jesus, would it hurt to have cracked a smile in these, Campbell?"
"What the fuck was there to smile about?" Jack instantly retorted. He wanted to say,
I said I'd marry you, and I did. I would be smiling, why?
But he didn't. This was for Beth and the ranch and for his family.
"The photos just don't look real." Riley worried his lower lip with his teeth as he scrolled through the photos.
"Then maybe you shoulda got married for real," Jack snapped. "Or maybe used some of your fucking money and hired a better fucking photographer, instead of using a shit camera and that Britney wannabe who was hanging around us."
Riley looked taken aback at the snarky comeback, his lips tight, and his fingers flexing on the edges of the laptop. His frown deepened with instant anger at the way Jack was talking to him. Jack guessed no one talked to Riley Hayes like that, especially not impoverished cowboys he now owned, lock, stock and barrel.
"We're both tired," Riley began with what was obviously hard-won patience. He sounded as if he was talking to a small child who needed a nap. "It's been a long day. When we get in the air, you should go an' get another shower or something, maybe calm down."
"Excuse me?" Jack was deceptively quiet, his fingers hovering over the fastened belt, just needing the excuse to release it and slap this guy down after his day from hell.
Riley scowled at him. "I just said—"
"I heard what you said. I'll have a shower when I want one, not when I'm told to."
"No one is going to believe we are married for real if you keep bitching back at me like some kind of—"
"Some kind of what? Husband?"
Score one for Jack
.
"Look, Campbell—" Riley started
"That's Campbell-Hayes," Jack snapped angrily. "At least get that in your head, because if I'm doing this, then you'd better be the fuck behind it."
"I won't forget the name again. I have as much to lose as you do if this goes south," Riley said, suddenly looking very tired of this whole mess.
"What? What do you stand to lose?"
"My share of what's rightfully mine."
"Money." He dismissed the reason instantly and out of hand. This was a tired and very old argument. "I've had enough honeymoon, thanks. Wake me when we get back." He pushed the earphones of his iPod into his ears and closed his eyes. As the music washed over him, he couldn't help but focus on what had happened today. Not for the first time he wondered what the hell he was doing.