The Sheriff's Mail-Order Bride (The Watson Brothers #2) Read online

  Before she got a good view of the house, her car missed and hiccupped. “No, no, no!” The light on the gas gauge flashed at her and, with a final cough, the car died. With no option left to her, Gina scooped Fisher out of his car seat and slung her handbag over her shoulder before she started walking up the dusty road. They passed overgrown paddocks, the fences broken with twisted wires pulled down by weeds to lay useless on the ground. As she puffed up to the top of the rise, the cottage she glimpsed earlier came into full view. Overgrown and untidy, the garden was a mess of plants and weeds, its small fence almost laying back down on the overgrown lawn, partly held up with the rambling pink rose bush growing wild. The gate was the most upright part of the structure. She doubted it would withstand a strong wind.

  Gina caught her breath when she drew close enough to see the cottage properly. What had looked like brown paint was in fact bare timber. The old white paint had peeled from most of the wooden boards and lay blown over the porch like sad confetti flakes. She stood at the gate, anger building in her chest as reality set in.

  The trip over here had been a sham. There was no home to go to; nobody waiting to meet her. What had possessed her to take the timbre of a man’s voice as proof he would be someone she could trust? Desperate times had seemed like she needed to take desperate measures. She was no longer sure of anything. Now there was the question of what she was going to do. With a small child, and enough food to last them three or four days tops. Don’t forget that she had no money, no gas in her car, and nowhere to go; she was well and truly stuck.

  How dare he lie and have me driving half way across the country to arrive at…at this bloody run-down heap of a place that deserved no more than a match and a can of gasoline. I’d made a promise for this? Gina stamped her foot in fury, making Fisher start.

  “Sorry baby, but seriously, how low can you get? The damn mongrel, lying…” She bit her tongue, lest she swear in front of her child. He would pick up a new word in a second and as much as Rory might deserve to be railed at, it wouldn’t come from her boy.

  Right, get yourself out of this one then, Gina.

  She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. It was no better than what they’d left behind but in all truth it probably wasn’t any worse either. Funny how the impression she’d gotten of Rory didn’t lead her to believe they would live in anything like what she stood in front of now. “Welcome to our new home, Fisher.” Rory’s photo showed a different house, she knew it did but that might have been because he thought she wouldn’t come to this dump. Let’s see what you can salvage from this stuff up.

  There wasn’t a car in the driveway which probably meant he wasn’t home or they had the wrong house. She pulled her notebook from the handbag and checked the number on the letterbox against it. Yes, this—as much as she wanted to think otherwise—was the right house. With any luck Rory would be at work and she would have a chance to investigate before he arrived.

  Used to seeing the best in everything, she paused and looked around knowing she’d need all the enthusiasm she could rally for this blunder. The garden was a mess, overgrown plants that should have been pruned had pulled down the front fence, their winding tendrils holding it fast. That would hardly keep Fisher in the yard but still it was a big improvement on what she’d left behind. That garden was only a concrete slab. “Let’s go and have a look inside, my little man.”

  She held onto him and walked down the garden path, burrs clinging to her skirt as she passed. The first step on the veranda groaned when Gina placed a foot on it and she tested it out by pressing on it firmly before placing her trust in the old timber. “They could use replacing. And a decent lick of paint wouldn’t go astray.”

  A worn armchair sat outside, faded from the sun and covered in dust, the armrests frayed and tufted. She glanced at it, wishing it was clean enough for her to sink into. A cup of tea, a comfy chair, and a book sounded like the perfect way to watch the sun go down after that mammoth drive. Sadly, that wasn’t about to happen. Not without a major spruce up first.

  Gina knocked on the door. “Hello.” She reached for the handle, turned it and waited for someone to reef it out of her hands but nobody did. She pushed the door open and looked down the gloomy hallway. “Anyone home? Hello.”

  The only noise she could hear was the drip of a tap coming from a room at the other end of the house. The room to the right of the front door appeared to be a lounge. An old settee sat in front of a fireplace, old newspapers and magazines piled high leaving virtually no room for anyone to sit. Tattered curtains hung at the windows, shading out the afternoon sun. The cobwebs laced across the dirty glass and she shuddered.

  The stillness of the house made her feel braver, knowing she wasn’t going to suddenly come face to face with the man who’d brought her all this way. At least for now she would have time to investigate her new surroundings. If he was on day shift, Gina calculated she’d have about three hours before Rory arrived home. Plenty of time for her to settle in and formulate a plan.

  She turned to the other room that faced the road. The bedroom. Prickles ran up her skin but she pushed the sudden wave of panic down. An old wrought-iron bed sat in the middle of the room, its checkered blanket covered in dust. A yellowed pillow lay on the floor.

  “Just as well we brought our own bedding, Fisher. This is disgusting. I think I like ours better.” She chucked him under the chin and watched him chortle with laughter.

  A box sat on the end of the bed. When she peered inside, it was to find a pile of clothes folded and remarkably neat. Coat hangers where thrown in a heap on the bed. A wardrobe stood open, its shelves now bare apart from a dusty pair of boots lying in the bottom. Had he decided to clear out his clothing to give her space? How incredibly Christian of him.

  “Let’s go and see the rest of the house, shall we? Then we can start unloading the car.” That’s going to be fun, hiking everything up the hill on my own. Why oh why did I agree to this?

  Because you had no choice, that’s why. Stop moaning and get over it, Gina. Make the best of a filthy situation.

  “Oh my goodness.” She stood in front of the stove. Caked in baked-on grime, the ancient enamel monstrosity glared at her from its position in the avocado-green kitchen. She turned and took in the whole space. An old wooden table took up the middle of the room, its three mismatched chairs tucked under to give the owner room to move in the kitchen. Gina reached for the folded newspaper, her hand brushing against the empty soda can and a screwed-up lunch wrapper. Seems as though someone doesn’t know how to clean up after himself.

  Red pen caught her attention. In the corner of the front page, someone had drawn a heart with an arrow through it. Her name was inked inside the heart. So she did have the right place, the right person. That was good news at least. But what troubled her the most was the absence of Rory’s name along with hers. It would seem she was going to have to work harder than she thought to win this man over.

  The dripping grated on her nerves, distracting her from the childish doodling and she reached over to turn the tap off properly, only to find that it must have a worn washer and water continued to drip into the sink.

  “I could fix that—if I had a washer, that is.” The overhead cupboards held a mixed array of dishes that didn’t match. She reached for a cup, checked that it was clean, and put it under the dripping tap. “Waste not, want not.” The whole kitchen needed a good scrubbing down. It was a pity she didn’t have any ammonia in her car. She’d bleach every single surface. Typical bachelor’s home. Only the bare basics and none too clean.

  On the counter, a bucket of cleaning goods, scouring pads, and rags stood ready for use as if someone had decided today would be a great day for cleaning but thought better of it and walked off without putting it away. She looked for the fridge but could only find the dirty mark on the floor where it had once been. Maybe he was in the process of buying a new one. She could always hope.

  The house was certainly old and in bad repair but
still it didn’t seem to be the end of the world. What they’d left behind was probably worse. She lifted her head and looked at the ceiling. At least there were no water marks to show her it leaked like their previous home did every time it rained. Thank goodness for small mercies.

  “Okay, almost done with the tour. What’s this room then?” Gina pushed open a small bi-fold door and stepped into a bathroom. The same avocado green had been used in there as well. “Fashion statement, not.” Dirty towels were heaped on the floor in the corner of the room, musty with mold marks. They’d obviously been there for a long time. This man was going to need to learn a thing or two about cleaning up after himself. Gina didn’t mind working hard but there was no need for laziness. Rory was an adult after all.

  She shuddered when she spotted the dirty ring around the bath and the rusty stain from another dripping tap. You would have thought he’d have fixed the washers ages ago. How hard could it be?

  Chapter Two

  Rory looked at his watch. If Gina had her timing right, she would be at the ranch about now. He’d thought about getting her to meet him here in town and decided the gossip mill would have a field day. It was bad enough that he already caused a stir by coming back to the place of his birth without the wife the locals knew he’d left with. Telling the tale of her death was hard but a necessary conversation. The sympathy had been more than he wanted, and being in the position he was—the new deputy sheriff—it was impossible to be rude and brush their concerns for his feelings away. They were only trying to be kind after all.

  The last thing he needed was for the locals to find out he’d decided to follow in his brother’s footsteps and advertise for a wife rather than the old-fashioned way of picking her using emotions and calculations and the dating process. Rory didn’t have the heart to date girl after girl to find one who would appeal to him long after the heat of passion faded. Someone with family commitments and values the same as his was more important than that initial shot of lust that could quickly be snuffed out for any number of reasons. Taking a list of his wants and needs on a date and getting her to fill in a questionnaire didn’t seem the right thing to do either, but this way it all slotted together without the embarrassment of doing it face to face.

  Gina had sounded perfect for him. A little shy perhaps, in desperate need of a change of pace and scenery. She didn’t subscribe to the night clubs and restaurant scene, preferring to cook at home and create their own unique memories. Or so she’d said. Everything she filled in was in accordance with what he wanted for the rest of his life. Family and home were what he missed more than anything and he’d do whatever it took to get that back again.

  To test out her commitment, Rory had told her to meet him at the ranch. Her reaction to the old run down place would give him a good indication of whether or not she was telling him the truth. If she turned her nose up and ran, so be it. He’d admit he’d made a mistake and would have to look again. No loss except perhaps time and dreams. He had hoped to finish cleaning up a bit more but work had gotten in the way. The last week had been double shifts with no chance of time to himself. Never mind. She’d either like it or hate it. The garbage would hardly make much difference in the scheme of things.

  When Cindy had thought she was pregnant he’d been over the moon. Considering himself to now be on the outer edge of fatherhood age, he hadn’t wanted to wait any longer for his wife to conceive. Gina had expressed her intention of having children too, so that made her an ideal person for a partner. If it all turned out the way he wanted it to.

  Rory walked out of the sheriff’s office and climbed into his truck. His pulse started to race and he grinned to himself. He hadn’t felt this way for a long time—keen and excited to spend time with a woman. Hopeful this day would end on a happy note, Rory headed to the ranch he’d bought with the prospect of turning it into a family home.

  He whistled as he turned up the road and kept his eye out for her vehicle. Just before he came to the corner before the final rise, he spied a car sitting in the middle of the road and pulled over. He climbed out of his truck and walked up to it, wondering what caused the driver to stop in the middle of the road. There was an empty child’s car seat in the back and the driver’s door hung open, the keys hanging in the ignition. His senses were on high alert as he scoped the area for clues of a scuffle or forced removal.

  Rory walked back to his truck, climbed back in and drove past the car, taking a note of the registration plates so he could call it in if he didn’t come across the owner. When the old cottage came into view, he slowed. A woman in a flowing red skirt and white blouse stood in the garden with a child on her hip staring at his house, a bunch of wildflowers in her hand.

  *

  The sound of a truck pulling up startled her and she wiped a hand across her eyes before turning around. He’s here, of course he is. Today is the day we were supposed to meet.

  Gina squared her shoulders and held onto Fisher as she met the gaze of the man heading her way.

  “Ma’am, is that your car down the road?” The deputy sheriff walked up and stopped just in front of her. She had to look up to see his face when he was this close. The Stetson shaded his eyes, but she noticed the way her body stood to attention in his presence.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, I ran out of gas.” She lifted her chin, determined not to let her nerves get the better of her. She’d come a long way, worked her butt off cleaning his house already and there was no way she was going to let him run her out of town.

  “Are you by any chance Ms. Gina Taylor?”

  “Yes, that’s me.” Who else would do this for you? Here we go. Our first big hurdle, Fisher. Time to start playing nice.

  “I’m Deputy Sheriff Rory Watson. You didn’t tell me you had a child though, ma’am, when we agreed on this deal we have.”

  “You didn’t tell me you lived in a dump either, Deputy, so I guess that makes us about even, don’t you think?” Her patience had run out. After the long drive, running out of gas, and seeing the house she was supposed to live in, the days scrubbing and polishing, she no longer cared to be polite to this man who’d, in her mind, ripped her off by promising an easier life and instead delivered a crushing blow. Sure, she’d arrived earlier than what they’d planned but if she’d stayed in the city, that would have meant another week’s rent. Something Gina could ill afford. Instead she’d brought food to last them until today and hoped it would all work out. And just where had he been the last four days? Fancy leaving her here by herself wondering about her future.

  “Yes, well I can explain that, I’m not sure how you can explain away a child you failed to mention.”

  “Oh can you just? I doubt it.” The skin on the back of her neck prickled and her temper fired up a notch. “You know, if I had any choice I would have. But here’s the thing, I needed something and so did you, otherwise you wouldn’t have put that stupid ad in the paper. I answered it for better or for worse and now here I am. Ready and willing to be your wife and look what you have to offer me.” The tears welled in her eyes even as she tried to hold them back and she turned from him. This is the worst thing I’ve ever done in my whole life. If he turns us away, where the heck are we going to sleep tonight? How am I going to feed my baby? As reality hit home hard, Gina knew she had no choice. She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and calmed herself. “I came here to marry you. If I had the money to stay where I was, I would have done so, saving us both the embarrassment of lies and subterfuge.”

  “Now listen here, I haven’t lied to you.”

  Gina could hear the defensive tone rising in his voice. She didn’t care and turned on him, her tears forgotten. “Oh yes you did. You told me you had a home and it sure as hell wasn’t this one. It’s obvious we both lied and I’m sorry about that, but don’t you dare put all the blame on my shoulders.”

  He glanced at her, swallowed, and turned away. Don’t send us away just yet, please give us a chance. What do I have to do to make you keep your agreement? The ma
n appeared to be arguing with himself and Gina watched the muscles in his neck tighten and bunch around his collar. He turned back to her. “You’re right, ma’am. We both lied, but that doesn’t make it right. It’s something we will have to discuss later. Agreed?”

  Still furious but seeing no other way to move forward, Gina nodded her head, letting the tension ease from her shoulders as she swallowed her tears.

  “How about you come in and have a look around and tell me what you think? We can make a decision about what we’re going to do when you’ve had the guided tour.”

  “I’ve already looked at the house.”

  “Excuse me?” Rory glanced around, took in the cleared path to the door and met her gaze. “Just how long have you been here?” She hadn’t done much to the outside of the house but pulling a few weeds from the garden had made a big difference.

  “Four days.” She swallowed. “I decided to come early. There was no point in staying in the city and I wasn’t sure how long it would take us to get here.”

  He stared at her, his hands on his hips. “Let me get this straight, you’ve been staying here,” he chucked his chin toward the house, “in this dump for the last four days?”

  “Yes.”

  “But the place isn’t habitable yet.” He swallowed and refused to meet her gaze. “I haven’t had a chance to clean up yet.”

  “Do you mean to tell me you don’t even live here?” The embarrassed look on his face made her insides tighten. “I had hoped you were working when I arrived but when you didn’t come back at night, there was nothing I could do.”

  “No, I don’t. Not yet anyway.” He looked away from her accusing gaze and glanced at the house; his eyes roamed over the front porch she’d tidied, settled on the windows she’d cleaned. She really had worked hard to get the years of filth off the place and it showed.

  “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but I thought this would be the best place to meet up. Let you get a look at the house and…”