Shotgun Vows (10 page)

“What's wrong?” she asked, pulling the sheet up over them.

“Why didn't you tell me you're a virgin?”

“I'm not.”

“Don't be cute, Mattie. This isn't the time for cute. I suspected, but you told me about the jerk—when you were sixteen. I wasn't sure.”

“I was merely calling a spade a spade. I am not a virgin.”

“But you were until a couple of minutes ago.”

She grinned. “What a wonderful thing. The world's oldest living virgin is now…not.”

“This is serious,” he snapped.

“I don't see why. We're both over twenty-one.”

“One of us just barely,” he said. There was self-loathing in his tone.

She ignored his comment and went on. “I'm an adult. I know my own mind. What's your problem?”

“For starters, I would have done it differently.”

“Then I'm glad I didn't say anything, because I thought it was perfect.” She turned to her side to look at him. “But for argument's sake, what would you have done differently?”

“Not that you deserve a response, but I would have gone more slowly. I would have taken the time to get you ready.”

“I was ready. You don't get it, do you? I've been ready for years. Don't beat yourself up over it, Dawson.” She frowned. “But I'm being selfish. Maybe
you
needed more time to get ready.”

“Mattie, this is serious to me. Taking a woman's virginity is a responsibility. I guess I just wasn't prepared for exactly how inexperienced you are.”

“I don't see what my experience or lack thereof has to do with anything. Sooner or later it has to go.”

“Right. To the man you marry. Now—”

“What are you saying, Dawson?”

Just then Mattie heard the hall door to the bedroom next door open. The light went on in the bathroom, and she heard a soft knock.

“Mattie, you awake? I heard you talking.”

Griff!

Before she could even sit up, the door swung open and her brother stood there backlit by the bathroom light. She was grateful that she couldn't see his expression.

When he charged the bed, Mattie was glad that she was closest to him.

Griff loomed over her, but he glared at Dawson. “We had a deal. I told you to watch over my sister, not sleep with her yourself.”

“Hold on, Griff. This doesn't concern you,” Dawson said.

Deal?
Mattie went cold.

“The hell it doesn't concern me. Is this how you fulfill your responsibilities? When the cat's away…”

It was happening all over again, Mattie thought. It didn't matter that she was grown-up now. All the humiliation and pain she'd felt as a kid flooded her. She glanced at Dawson, who was watching her brother.

Griff glared at them for several moments, then said, “I plan to break you in two, Prescott.”

Mattie already felt broken in two. Dawson was watching over her at Griff's command? That explained a lot, like why he'd been underfoot. And why he'd taken her to dinner. But the pain and betrayal were grinding through her. It was just like the last time. She
had feelings for a guy. She acted on them. She got kicked in the teeth.

“You've got one minute, Prescott,” Griff said, then turned on his heel and disappeared through the connecting bathroom.

Dawson pulled on briefs and slacks in about ten seconds flat, and followed, leaving Mattie alone in the bed. Anger closed in on her. He had only paid attention to her because Griff had intimidated him into the job. In essence, he'd hired a baby-sitter. She'd thought nothing could be worse than her humbling teenage experience. But this beat it by a mile. And she knew why.

She actually cared for Dawson.

If she hadn't, she wouldn't have slept with him. After sharing the intimacy, she now knew there was no way she could have done something so personal and private with just anyone.

It hurt deeply to know that Dawson had no feelings for her. To him it was probably nothing more than guard duty. Undercover work, so to speak. But the double entendre held no humor for her. After her makeover, when the cowboys had begun to take an interest in her, he must have stepped up surveillance, she realized. Making love had just been an assignment to him.

Her eyes burned with tears she wanted badly to let fall. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She heard angry voices from the other room. She almost wished Griff would pop Dawson one. But no. Her brother was really furious. Dawson might actually get hurt.

Humiliated as she was, Mattie had no intention of being left out of this. Griff had no right to do anything.
He was out of bounds involving Dawson as bodyguard, and he had no business meting out punishment according to his own macho perception of right and wrong.

She threw the sheet back and jumped out of bed. After pulling on jeans and a shirt, she hurried through the connecting bath as the sound of male voices rose.

She walked into Griff's room, which was almost a duplicate of her own—double bed, distressed-wood dresser and nightstands, chair ottoman and table lamp in the corner and Western prints on the walls. Griff and Dawson stood at the foot of the bed. They were practically nose to nose, and were scowling at each other.

“This is all my fault,” Dawson was saying. “Mattie's not to blame.”

Anger pushed aside the pain she felt over his betrayal. “Why does anyone have to be blamed?” she asked. “We're consenting adults.”

Neither man looked at her.

“I ought to tear you limb from limb,” Griff ground out.

“Go ahead. It's no less than I deserve. But don't expect me to make it easy for you.”

Mattie put her hands on her hips. “There will be no limb tearing.”

They both ignored her.

“Dawson, what the hell were you thinking?” Griff poked his chest. “I guess the real question is which body part were you thinking
with?
”

Dawson smacked his hand away. “I take full responsibility for what happened.”

Griff lifted his fists. “Damn right you'll take responsibility. I believe in justice, swift and sure.”

“If you think it will solve something, I'm ready.” Dawson widened his stance and bent his knees slightly.

That does it,
Mattie thought.

She moved forward and insinuated herself between the two men. Size was on their side so she needed leverage. She rammed her shoulder into Griff and hit him somewhere in the chest area. He grunted as the wind was knocked out of him from the surprise attack. While she had him off balance, she put all her weight behind the move and drove him backwards a foot or so. When he regained his balance, he grabbed her shoulders. “Mattie, what the heck is wrong with you?”

“I'm getting sick and tired of people carrying on conversations about me right in front of me. As if I wasn't even here,” she added for good measure. Her chest rose and fell rapidly from the force of her emotions and the effort of moving a man the size of her brother.

“I'll handle this, Mattie,” Dawson said, putting his hands on her arms and gently moving her to the side, out of the way.

She rounded on him, glaring. Venting her rage felt wonderful. “Who do you think you are? You're a two-bit, low-down, underhanded, lying, scheming stuffed shirt!”

She looked at his bare chest and realized how wrong she was. He wasn't even
wearing
a shirt. It made her mad that she could notice the coarse dark hair across his muscular, masculine chest. She was madder still that he could affect her at all after what she'd found out.

“Mattie, calm down,” he said. “I'm going to do the honorable thing.”

“Damn right, you are,” Griff growled. He moved to stand beside Dawson.

“I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't much care,” she said. “Dawson and I did nothing wrong, Griff. You have no right to come in here like this. Like a—a Cro-Magnon man.”

Griff still looked angry. “Mattie, I'm your brother. I love you, and it's my job to look out for you.”

“Says who?”

“No one. But Reed is on his honeymoon and Brody is about to get married. That leaves me to take over. It's just understood.”

“Well, I don't understand,” she said. “And I've had enough. You've been butting into my love life ever since Frank Sinclair.”

“Who's he?” Dawson asked with unmistakable menace in his voice.

Griff glanced at him. “He worked on the ranch when she was a kid. She had a crush on him. She told him how she felt, and he came to us. We made sure no one got close again.” He glared at Dawson. “'Til now.”

There was so much more that couldn't even be put into words. But thanks to the brothers Fortune, no man had gotten close since that day.

And no man had been able to take the sting out of the experience. Until now, she thought, echoing Griff's words as she looked at Dawson. She saw the pity in his eyes, and hated it.

“As mad as I am at you, Griffin Fortune, I do appreciate the fact that you care about me. But I will handle this.”

“How?”

“What kind of a question is that?” she asked. “Just forget about it. What else is there to do?”

“Not damn likely we'll pretend it didn't happen,” Griff said, meeting Dawson's look.

When the two men nodded slightly, Mattie wondered if there was some unspoken testosterone-fueled method of communication that only men understood.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You're going to marry him,” Griff declared, just as Dawson said, “I'm going to marry you.”

“M
arry me? I've just discovered that you're the lying, cheating spawn of the devil—and you want to
marry
me?”

Dawson winced as the pitch in Mattie's voice escalated to a level that only he and dogs could hear. Not to mention the words
spawn of the devil.
How many times had he told himself he would never sink to the same level as his father? Before he could give that any more thought, she started to laugh. But there was a tinge of hysteria mixed in.

“I get it,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Dawson, you're too much. Your first practical joke worked so well, you decided to try another one.”

“What joke?” he asked.

“The one where you pretended to be interested in me while you were in cahoots with my brother to keep me from having any fun.”

He met her gaze and willed her to understand. “Mattie, let's get one thing straight, here and now. I never pretend.”

Especially about what had transpired between them tonight. He couldn't say for sure about her, but taking Mattie to bed had been the best thing he could remember in longer than he wanted to think about. Common sense told him that saying so in front of her brother would be a big mistake. He would lay money on the
fact that Griff was mentally scrolling through his repertoire of three hundred ways to kill a man with his bare hands as he calculated the merits of each—as in, which one would hurt the most for the second-and-a-half it took Dawson to die.

Griff wasn't someone he wanted to make an enemy of. Which made him grateful that they were on the same wavelength. They both agreed on the issue of changing Mattie's marital status based on Dawson's participation in tonight's events.

She shook her head. “Maybe your term for it is ‘play acting.' Whatever you want to call it, the fact is, it worked. Really well. But I guarantee you'll never sucker me again.”

“It was no joke, Mattie. Not to me. In fact, I started to tell you what was going on, but you sidetracked me. And the bottom line is that now none of that matters. I want you to marry me.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because it's the right thing to do.”

He winced for the second time in as many minutes. But this time it was because his words extinguished the light of expectation and hope in her eyes.

“Damn straight, it's right,” Griff said. “And the sooner, the better.” Obviously agitated, he ran a hand through his hair. “Since there's already a wedding in progress, maybe Brody and Jillian wouldn't mind making it a double—”

“Griff!” Mattie cried, glaring at him as if he were a wrestler asking to join a royal tea party. “This isn't a drink, and they aren't bartenders. Even if I wanted to—which I don't—I can't just walk up to Jillian and Brody and say ‘make it a double.'”

Dawson wasn't so sure. He thought Griff's idea had
some value. Preparations were definitely going on. People were already planning to attend. The guest lists would be almost identical. Because of Jillian's pregnancy, she and Brody had decided to keep it small—mostly family and very close friends. Just a couple of days away, the date wouldn't give Mattie a chance to think this to death and then back out.

Once he convinced her to go along in the first place, of course.

Unfortunately, his mother was away and there wouldn't be time to get her here. But he would make it up to her. For as long as he could remember, he'd been making it up to her for the fact that his father had used her, then turned his back when he wanted a younger woman. And that's exactly the reason he was determined to marry Mattie. No one would ever have to make up to her for anything he had done. Unlike his father, Dawson would take responsibility for his actions. Period.

“A double wedding.” Dawson nodded thoughtfully as he looked at the other man. “You may be on to something, Griff. I'll talk to Brody and see what he thinks. He and Jillian will be here in the morning for breakfast and a progress report on preparations for their wedding, anyway.”

Griff nodded approval. “Good idea.”

Mattie shook her head. “You guys are doing it again—talking as if I'm not here.” She took her brother by the shirt front and pulled him down so they were nose to nose. “Read my lips. I'm not marrying Dawson or anyone else.”

“Why not?” he asked. “I thought you wanted to get married and have a baby. Soon. Seems like it would be a good idea to make it legal.” His eyes
darkened and he never raised his voice, but there was no mistaking the threat there. “Since you already got a jump start on the baby part.”

Good Lord, Dawson thought, he hadn't even considered
that
possibility. He had never been that irresponsible about birth control. But somehow where Mattie Fortune was concerned, all the rules went out the window, right along with his self-control.

But Griff was right. What if there was a baby? Even if there wasn't, Dawson had taken Mattie's virginity. Conscience and his personal code of honor dictated that he make an honest woman of her. He realized, though, that if he phrased it that way to her, he would need to duck and run.

“He's right, Mattie,” Dawson said, taking the coward's way out and letting Griff's phrasing stand. “Like I said before, it's the right thing to do.”

“For who? You keep saying it's right, but this is
not
the way my fantasy went.”

“What fantasy?” Dawson asked.

She turned to him. “Ever since I was a little girl, I've dreamed of how it would be. Me. The man I love. A candlelight dinner. A proposal on bended knee accompanied by a declaration of undying love. When I pictured it, not even one of my brothers was there to spoil the moment. Siblings on deck sort of ruin the romance, if you know what I mean. This isn't even close to my daydream.” Misery and betrayal brimmed in her eyes. She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, look who I'm trying to reason with—Ugg and friend, the caveman conspiracy. I won't do it. You can't force me. Count me out. End of conversation,” she said, and stalked back into her room.

Dawson went after her. Griff was right behind him.

Before Dawson could say anything, her brother started in. “You can't run away from this, Mattie.”

“Says who?” She grabbed her denim jacket off the chair. “Watch me.”

Griff took her arm in a gentle grip, but she couldn't break his hold without a struggle and probably not even then. “Not so fast,” he said. “You're not going anywhere. Besides, I've got a question for you.”

“Oh, yeah? What?”

“When I left Texas you were hardly more than a girl. Now you look like a woman. Who are you and what have you done with my little sister?” His tone was quiet and gruff, but unmistakably affectionate.

Dawson remembered asking her the same thing after her transformation. It occurred to him that her brother was seeing her for the first time since she'd changed her look
and
lost her virginity. It was a lot to absorb, and Dawson knew that if this were about his own sister, he would probably behave the same way as Griff.

Not to mention that buttering her up with flattery was a stroke of genius. For a secret-agent guy, Griff was okay in the diplomacy department. The question was, would it work?

Dawson was encouraged by the gradual, grudging softening in Mattie's expression.

“What do you mean?” she asked Griff.

“Your hair…” He shrugged, his gaze taking her in from head to toe. “I don't know. You just look different.”

“Good or bad different?” There was skepticism in her tone.

“Good.” He studied her, then nodded emphatically. “Definitely good different.”

“Thank you.” She reached both arms out and gave
him a big hug. “And I was very worried about you. I'm awfully glad that you're home safe and sound.” She lowered her arms and stepped back. “Nice try, Griff. But it's not going to work. I still won't marry Dawson.”

“Why the hell not?” Griff jammed his hands on his hips. “He slept with you, and he's willing to do the manly thing and marry you.”

“I slept with him, too. I'm doing the womanly thing and saying no. I have that right because I take just as much responsibility as he does. And I'm exercising my female prerogative to turn him down. Flat,” she said, glaring first at her brother, then at Dawson.

Dawson scratched his head. Strike one for diplomacy. It was time for honesty. He looked at her brother. “Griff, could you give us a couple of minutes alone?”

“Why?” The other man looked like he would rather wrestle a five-hundred-pound alligator than leave any man alone with his little sister.

But at this point, it was sort of like closing the barn door after the horses got out. Judging by the scowl on the other man's face, Dawson decided, he'd better not point that out.

“I'd like to talk to her privately,” he said. “This is something that concerns the two of us and I think we need some time to discuss where we go from here.”

Glancing from Dawson to Mattie, Griff finally said warily, “Okay, but I'll be in the other room. Don't try to slip out the back, Prescott.”

“The thought never entered my mind.”

“If you need me, Mattie—”

“I won't,” she interrupted.

After the doors between the two rooms were closed, Dawson said, “I understand why you're upset—”

“No, you don't,” she said, shaking her head. “You don't have a clue what it feels like to be set up, then have the props knocked out from under you.”

“Okay. Let's table the patronizing. I'll skip to the groveling part. I apologize for deceiving you, Mattie.”

She sniffed. “From grovel to glib in the blink of an eye. You're good, Dawson.”

He hadn't expected this to be easy, but she was really being stubborn. Probably because she'd been hurt before. Again, he wanted five minutes alone with the jerk who'd done this to her.

Knowing anger was unproductive, he tamped it down, making way for the guilt. Someone had hurt her, yet she'd given him a chance. And he'd betrayed her trust. Maybe if he tried to explain…

“Griff thought it was best that you didn't know he'd asked me to keep an eye on you. I agreed—reluctantly.” He took in a deep breath. “In fact, I started to tell you tonight, before we—”

“Yeah,” she said. Her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. “I know what we did.” Her voice was filled with self-recrimination.

That wasn't his intent. He would never want her to regret an experience that he'd found more satisfying—more wonderful—than anything he'd experienced in a long time. And he wasn't even sure why it had blown him away. Certainly not because she was accomplished at it, he thought wryly. But maybe that was her charm: the fact that it was her first time. Her innocence captivated him, along with the earthiness around the edges that was so appealing. Her zest for life was genuine and profoundly seductive.

The only thing he regretted was putting her in this position. Her brothers had kept her pure for the man she would marry. Now he would be that man.

He shook his head, trying to clear away the mental image of pure Mattie without a stitch of clothing, soft and sweet in his arms. He watched her, watching him as if she didn't believe a word that came out of his mouth. He would prove to her that he always meant what he said.

He rammed his fingers through his hair. “Although you probably won't believe this, I really was going to confess.”

“Yeah, and next week I'm playing the harp for the San Antonio philharmonic.”

“Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Matilda,” he said.

She pointed at him. “I told you never to call me that.”

“I remember. Because life as I know it would cease to exist. Here's a news flash—it already has.”

“Well, there's a lot of that going around.”

“I tried to tell you, Mattie. But I seem to remember you putting your hand over my mouth and doing some other things that distracted me.” Her eyes widened slightly, and he was pretty sure she remembered the moment, too. “I don't expect you to admit it. The point is, I don't say anything I don't mean. And I mean to marry you. If you want a bended-knee proposal, I don't have a serious objection to that.”

“No objection? Well, why didn't you say so before?” She raised one eyebrow. “Be still, my heart. Why do I feel like a potential client you're attempting to dazzle?” She held up her hand. “But let's leave that for a moment. A bended-knee proposal is small
potatoes. What about the declaration of undying love?”

He squirmed. That was more complicated. “Like I said, I won't lie to you. Dishonesty is not my style, even if I didn't care about you. Which I do. If I didn't—care about you, that is—we wouldn't be in this fix in the first place.”

She smiled, her full lips wavery. “Be still, my heart,” she said again. But the sardonic look disappeared, opening a small window to her hurt. Her voice softened. “Somewhere in there I think I might have heard the world's smallest compliment.”

“But love—” He ran a hand through his hair again and let out a long breath. “I can tell you without hesitation that I respect you. I care about you. And after what I did, I refuse to walk away from you without making it right.”

“I'm mad as hell that you didn't tell me right away what Griff was up to.”

“You have every right to be,” he said.

“I thought we tabled patronizing.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. He would have to learn not to underestimate her.

She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “I appreciate the fact that you want to take responsibility. Truly I do. But don't you see, Dawson? I don't want to be anyone's responsibility. This should be the happiest day of my life. And it's not. Only that episode when I was sixteen takes a back seat to this.”