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His Marriage to Remember
Kathie DeNosky
“Is something wrong, Sam?” she asked.
“You tell me, Bria,” he answered. His eyes held hers, and until that moment she hadn’t really understood what it meant to feel as if someone’s piercing gaze went all the way to her soul.
She caught her breath. Had he remembered something? Maybe a fragment about their marriage being in trouble?
“There used to be a time when you loved for me to let you feel how much I want you,” he said. He shook his head. “Now you get jumpy as hell if I get within ten feet of you and try to put as much distance between us as you possibly can.”
She should have known that he would start questioning why she kept sidestepping his advances. “Sam, I …”
He gave her a kiss so tender it brought tears to her eyes. “When we go upstairs to bed, I’m going to hold you until all your worries melt away.”
“I don’t think … that would be a good idea,” she said haltingly.
“I do.”
Dear Reader,
This month I’m thrilled to tell you about my new miniseries, THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE TEXAN. When the foster care system gave up on them as lost causes, six troubled teenage boys were sent to the Last Chance Ranch and the mentoring of rodeo champion Hank Calvert. Using ranch work and rodeo to help them work through their problems, Hank assisted them in overcoming their troubles with the law to grow up to be good, honest, successful men.
In His Marriage to Remember, you’ll meet rodeo stock contractor Sam Rafferty and his wife, Brianna. They are one signature away from being divorced when the dissolution of their marriage has to be put on hold when Sam is injured in a rodeo accident. While Sam recuperates, he and Brianna have the opportunity to examine the problems behind their breakup and decide if a second chance at making their marriage work is worth the risk to their hearts.
So please, hang on and enjoy getting to know the men raised at the Last Chance Ranch. Running with these billionaires will be one wild ride.
All the best,
Kathie DeNosky
About the Author
KATHIE DENOSKY lives in her native southern Illinois on the land her family settled in 1839. She writes highly sensual stories with a generous amount of humor; her books have appeared on the USA TODAY bestseller list and received numerous awards, including two National Reader’s Choice Awards. Kathie enjoys going to rodeos, traveling to research settings for her books and listening to country music. Readers may contact her by e-mailing kathie@kathiedenosky.com. They can also visit her website, www.kathiedenosky.com, or find her on Facebook, www.facebook.com/pages/Kathie-deNosky-Author/278166445536145.
His Marriage
to Remember
Kathie DeNosky
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A special thank-you to Kathie Brush
for letting me bounce ideas off her and
for making some very interesting cups of coffee.
And to my editor, Stacy Boyd. Thanks for everything.
I look forward to working on many more books
with you.
Prologue
“Hey, Sam! You want to stop gatherin’ daisies over there like some little girl and open that gate?” someone called from the platform behind the chutes.
Cursing himself for letting his mind wander, rodeo-stock contractor Sam Rafferty pulled the gate open to guide the next bull down the channel of steel fence panels into the bucking chutes. He needed to keep his mind on what he was doing and forget about the things in his life he couldn’t control. Otherwise, somebody would end up getting hurt.
His younger brother, Nate, came to stand beside him as they both watched a bull rider climb over the side of one of the chutes and onto the broad back of Bumblebee, the biggest, meanest Brahma in Sam’s string of bucking bulls. Nate’s eyes never left the bull, but Sam could tell his younger brother was gauging his mood and how much he should say.
“Bria going to be here today?” Nate finally asked.
“Yup.”
Neither man’s gaze wavered from the bull and rider.
“You want to talk about it?”
“Nope.” Sam clenched his jaw so hard it wouldn’t have surprised him if he ended up with a couple of cracked teeth as he waited for Nate to question him further.
Apparently sensing that he was treading on thin ice, Nate wisely nodded as he sauntered away. “Good talk, Sam.”
Beyond telling his brothers that he and his wife were getting a divorce, Sam hadn’t talked to anyone about the breakup of his marriage and he wasn’t about to start now. Bria had her reasons for wanting out. He sure as hell didn’t agree with them, but they were important enough to her to walk away from five years of their being together—three of those years being his wife.
When he got the signal from the chute boss, Sam automatically opened the gate again to guide the next bull into the bucking channel. He realized Bria wanted to get the divorce over with so that she could move on with her life, and even if he didn’t agree that ending their marriage was the only answer to their problems, he could respect that. But why did she have to choose this particular weekend to bring the papers by for his signature? She knew this was the one time of year that he and his brothers got together to put on the annual Hank Calvert Memorial Rodeo, honoring the foster father who had taken them in and straightened them out when the system had given up on all of them as lost causes.
Allowing another bull to enter the channel, Sam thought about the man who had taken in six troubled teenage boys and saved them from a life behind bars, or worse yet, an early death. A Champion All-Around Rodeo Cowboy, Hank had ridden in all the rough-stock events and amassed a sizable fortune by the time he retired at the ripe old age of thirty-eight. But instead of spending his winnings on pleasurable pursuits, Hank had started the Last Chance Ranch for troubled boys, because as he had told them time and again, there was no such thing as a lost cause when it came to people. They had the free will to change—to rise above their circumstances and make something better of themselves.
Sam took a deep breath as he thought about the man whose life was cut short way too soon by a massive heart attack. Hank had wisely used ranch work and rodeo to help him and his brothers work through the anger and aggression they felt over the injustices they had suffered in their young lives. He had counseled them, been their mentor and taught them how to be honorable upstanding members of society. He’d encouraged them to stay in school, tutored them when he could, hired someone to do it when it was a subject he knew little about and set up trust funds to help them get a college education. Hank Calvert was directly responsible for making them the men they were today, and they owed the man and his memory more than any of them could ever repay.
That’s why it irritated the hell out of him that Bria had insisted that the divorce papers couldn’t wait one more day. She knew how important this particular rodeo was to him—to all of them. Why did she have to be so damn eager to be rid of him?
Scanning the crowd in the grandstand, his gaze went to the end of the bleachers, then came back to zero in on the auburn-haired woman climbing the steps to the section of seats reserved for the wives and girlfriends of the riders and rodeo personnel. Even with everything that had happened between them—all the angry accusations and painful disappointments—Bria Stanton-Rafferty still took his breath away, still made his heart beat a little faster whenever he saw her. He had a feeling she probably always would.
When their gazes met, his chest tightened and a knot twisted in his gut. They had reached an impasse and he wasn’t going to stand in her way, if ending their marriage was what she really wanted. He cared too much about her to try forcing her to stay in a situation that caused her so much unhappiness.
“Sam!”
“Watch out!”
“Get out of the way, Rafferty!”
The urgent shouts of his brothers and the personnel behind the bucking chutes suddenly broke through his disturbing introspection.
Turning to see why they were so intent on trying to gain his attention, Sam heard the angry bellow at the same time he caught sight of two thousand pounds of pissed-off beef coming at him like a runaway freight train. A big brindle bull had somehow escaped the channel of fence panels and was loose behind the bucking chutes.
With no time to scramble to the top of the fence and nowhere else to go, Sam knew his best hope of avoiding disaster would be to use his hands to try to push off the animal’s head and launch himself to the side. Doing just that, he might have been successful had there been more room. But the close quarters in the section of fence panels prevented him from completely avoiding the bull’s pass and he felt his head collide with the steel gate at the same time he heard a woman’s terrified scream.
Pain shot through his skull with the intensity of a lightning bolt a moment before a dark curtain descended around him. He tried to fight it, tried to keep his eyes open. He needed to reassure Bria, needed to tell her that no matter what happened to him, he wanted nothing but the best for her and for her to be happy. But the throbbing ache in his head was excruciating and closing his eyes, Sam had no choice but to give in and allow himself to sink into the peaceful black abyss of unconsciousness.
One
Standing in the hospital waiting room, Bria wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to chase away the chills. It did no good. In spite of the fact that it was early June in Texas and already extremely warm, she couldn’t seem to stop shivering.
Terror like nothing she had ever known had clawed at her insides as she’d helplessly watched the angry bull slam Sam into the fence, then pummel his limp body repeatedly with its large head. Thankfully, the bull didn’t have horns and therefore Sam hadn’t sustained any puncture wounds, nor had he been stepped on by the massive animal. Nate and Sam’s foster brothers had immediately jumped into action and diverted the bull’s attention as quickly as they could. But it seemed as if they’d all moved in slow motion and took forever to get the beast away from him so the emergency medical crew could move in and take over.
She drew in a shuddering breath. There was no getting around it, she was responsible for Sam’s accident. If she had only waited for another day, another time to bring the divorce papers for him to sign or if he hadn’t seen her and been distracted, she wouldn’t be standing in the waiting room while he underwent tests to see just how badly he was injured.
But the rodeo was only a two-hour drive from her new home in Dallas and she had wanted to get the papers signed and everything finalized before she started her new job as a marketing consultant for one of the major department stores. If she hadn’t run into a traffic jam on the interstate, she would have arrived with plenty of time to get things taken care of and left before the dangerous bull-riding event even started.
Her breath caught on a sob. It didn’t matter why she had been running late or that she had wanted to get on with her life. Sam was the one having to pay the price for her impatience.
“Have you heard anything, Bria?” Nate called from somewhere behind her.
Turning around, she watched Nate and his brothers hurrying down the hall toward the waiting-room entrance. Tall and ruggedly handsome, all five men were cowboys from the top of their wide-brimmed Resistol hats to their scuffed Justin boots. All six of the boys Hank Calvert had fostered had grown up to be extremely wealthy men, but to the outward eye, they were down to earth, hardworking cowboys who passed up designer clothing in favor of chambray shirts and jeans. Nate was Sam’s only biological sibling, but the other four men they called brothers couldn’t have meant more to them if they’d had the same blood flowing through their veins.
“Th-They just took him … to the imaging department … for X-rays and a scan of his head,” she said, unable to keep her voice from cracking.
Nate stepped forward and, putting his arms around her, pulled her to his broad chest. “He’s going to be all right, Bria.”
“Sam’s as tough as nails,” Lane Donaldson added. The same age as Sam, Lane had a master’s degree in psychology that he used quite successfully as a professional poker player. Bria didn’t think she had ever seen the man look less confident.
Ryder McClain, the most easygoing of the group, nodded. “Sam’s probably already being a pain in the butt about getting out of here.”
“I hope all of you are right,” she said, feeling helpless.
“Can I get you something, Bria? A cup of coffee or some water?” T. J. Malloy asked solicitously. He was the most thoughtful of the brothers, so she wasn’t the least bit surprised that T.J.’s concern extended to her.
“Get some coffee for all of us, T.J.,” Nate commanded, without waiting for her to respond.
“I’ll go with you to help carry everything,” Jaron Lambert offered, turning to follow T.J. Stopping, he turned back to ask, “Do you want anything else, Bria. Maybe something to eat?”
“Thanks, Jaron, but I’m not hungry. I doubt that I could eat anything even if I was,” she said, thankful to have Sam’s brothers with her. They treated her like a sister and she was going to miss them terribly once the divorce was final and she was no longer part of their family.
“Come on and sit down,” Nate said, guiding her over to a bank of chairs along the far wall. When she sat, he asked, “Did Sam regain consciousness in the ambulance on the way over here?”
She shook her head. “I think he was starting to come around when they took him back to the examination room, but they told me I couldn’t stay with him and that the doctor would come out and talk to me when he knew something.”
Unable to leave the rodeo they had coordinated to honor their late foster father, the men had sent her to the hospital with Sam, while they attended to dispatching the livestock Sam’s company had provided for the various events to the next rodeo on the schedule. She knew it had to be extremely hard for them not to have dropped everything to go with their brother to the hospital, but they had done their duty and seen to Sam’s interests when he couldn’t.
“Is everything over with for this year’s memorial rodeo?” she asked, knowing the bull riding was usually the last scheduled event.
“Yup, we got everything taken care of,” Lane said, lowering his lanky frame into one of the chairs. “There’s nothing for you to worry about right now, except being here for Sam.”
“I wish they would come out and tell us something,” Bria said, unable to sit still any longer. She walked over to look down the hall toward the room where they had taken Sam.
What could be taking so long? she wondered as she spotted T.J. and Jaron returning with several cups of coffee. The longer it took to hear something, the more worried she became.
“Still no word?” T.J. asked as he stopped to hand her a cup. He had no sooner gotten the words out, when a man in blue scrubs and a white lab coat entered the waiting area.
“Mrs. Rafferty?” he asked, walking over to her.
As she braced herself for whatever news he came to deliver, Sam’s brothers rose to stand with her. “I’m Brianna Rafferty,” she said, surprised that her voice sounded strong when her nerves were anything but steady. “Is my hus … is Sam going to be all right?”
“I’m Dr. Bailey, the neurologist on call this evening.” His expression gave no indication of what kind of news he had to tell them. “Let’s sit down and I’ll explain what’s going on with your husband.” Once they were all seated, he pulled up a chair to sit across from them. “Sam regained consciousness just before we took him to Imaging for the CT scan and X-rays, which is a good sign. And there was no evidence of broken bones.”
Apparently sensing she needed support, Nate took her hand in his and asked the question that she couldn’t. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ in your voice, Doc?”
“The scan showed that Sam suffered a severe concussion, but there were no signs of bleeding in his brain, which is good,” Dr. Bailey explained. “There is, however, some swelling.”
“What does that mean?” Jaron demanded. With his raven hair and dark demeanor, Jaron was the type of man other men rarely had the nerve to cross.
“There may or may not be complications.” Dr. Bailey met their worried gazes as he continued, “The next twenty-four hours should tell us if the cerebral edema will get worse. If that happens, we may have to take him into surgery to remove a section of his scull to relieve the pressure.”
Bria covered her horrified gasp with her hand.
“I really don’t think that’s something we’ll have to do, Mrs. Rafferty,” Dr. Bailey hastily added. “I’ve been monitoring his condition since he was brought into the E.R. and the swelling doesn’t show signs of worsening. But even if that isn’t an issue, we’ll have to watch for other neurological problems that wouldn’t show up on a scan.”
“What kinds of problems are we talking about here?” Ryder asked, looking as if he would like to punch something. A rodeo bull rider, normally the man was absolutely fearless. But Bria knew his frustration was a mask for the fear they all felt for Sam.
“With brain injuries there’s always the possibility of memory loss, problems with reasoning abilities or a personality change,” the doctor answered. “I’m not saying any of those things are inevitable or that they would be permanent if they do present, just that there are those possibilities.”
“Dear God, this can’t be happening,” she said as tears spilled down her cheeks. Sam was so strong, so self-assured, it was impossible to think that he might end up having problems. That she had played a part in his being injured in any way was almost more than she could bear. But she couldn’t live with herself if he had long-lasting problems because she’d chosen today to end their marriage.
Nate protectively put his arm around her shoulders. “When will we be able to see him, Doc?”
“We’ve put him in the Intensive Care Unit for closer observation and he’s resting comfortably. But two of you can go in to see him for a few minutes now, then again every two hours or so.” The doctor stood up and shook their hands. “I’ll let you know more after I assess his condition in the morning. For now, I’ll have one of the nurses direct you to the ICU waiting room upstairs.”
As the man walked away, Jaron patted her arm. “It’s going to be okay, Bria. Sam will get through this without any of those problems.”
“Sam’s tougher than anyone I’ve ever seen,” T.J. added. “I have no doubt he’ll be up and around in no time.”
Lane took a deep breath. “Why don’t you and Nate go on up to see him, while the rest of us stake a claim on some space in the ICU waiting area.”
On the elevator ride to the third floor, Bria couldn’t help wondering how much Sam had told his brothers about their divorce. Knowing him the way she did, he probably hadn’t told them any more than he had to.
Bria sighed. She might have decided that she couldn’t be his wife anymore, but she wanted to be with him tonight, wanted to help see him through whatever he was facing. But she wasn’t entirely certain she should stay either. After all, they were so close to being divorced, she wasn’t sure she had the right.
“Nate, maybe I shouldn’t be here,” she said uncertainly.
Her brother-in-law looked at her as if she might be losing her mind. “Why the hell would you say something like that, Bria?”
“Sam and I are one signature away from being divorced,” she said, hating the word. “I’m not sure he will even want me to be here.”
Nate shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have that signature yet and until you do, as far as I’m concerned, and I’m pretty sure the state of Texas is in agreement on this, the two of you are still married.”
“But—”
