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“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my two favorite ranch hands in one place.” A familiar barb, but one that never failed to incite Dean to roll his eyes in response.
Correcting Wyatt was futile and would likely only make his brother continue the prodding. He knew that deep down, Wyatt loved the unique dynamic that Mat and Dean’s project, their baby, brought to the ranch. He proved that when he let the two take the chance of starting it at RA Ranch, the dream Wyatt had long held that he finally brought to fruition a few years earlier.
Of course, having Georgia strongly on their side and more than happy to push her husband to agree to the plan didn’t hurt either.
But his older brother could still be useful. And, dammit all to hell he hated to admit it, but he needed Wyatt’s advice. “Hey Wy, got a second?”
Wyatt turned down the corners of his mouth and drew his brows together. “Everything okay?”
Mat pulled a slightly dusty baseball cap from his back pocket and adjusted the brim before plopping it on his head. He gestured to the horse Chase had been working with and took a few steps in that direction. “I’m gonna take Ginger back in and give her a few apples for being so good today.”
As soon as their cousin was on the other side of the pen and had the horse’s reins in his hands, Wyatt rested a booted foot on the bottom rail and his forearms on the top one. He stared at Dean for several long moments in silence, the shadow from the brim of his cowboy hat doing nothing to lessen the intensity of his gaze.
“I need…” the word lodged in Dean’s throat and he swallowed several times before saying it out loud, “…advice.” Well used to all three of his older brothers dispensing unwanted opinions on everything from his career to his love life and even his wardrobe, Dean was fairly certain this was the first time he’d actually requested input.
In nearly any other circumstance he’d be turning to Connor. The two youngest members of the Carlisle clan had a unique bond that was forged from battling against their two older brothers as kids. But Wyatt was here and he had certainly screwed up enough in his own relationship to be experienced enough to offer the insight Dean needed.
Wyatt snorted lightly. “That isn’t very reassuring there, little brother. You basically never give a shit what anyone thinks. This has to be big.”
Pulling the baseball cap off his head, Dean carded his fingers through his hair before putting the hat firmly back in place. “I’m just gonna rip the Band-Aid off here.” He pointed at his brother with a firm note in his voice. “And this is top secret information here, Wy. Mom and Dad don’t know. Tanner and Connor don’t know. Hell, no one other than Jillian, her parents, myself, and probably some lawyer somewhere know this little tidbit and I want to keep it that way, got it?”
“Listen, whatever the hell it is isn’t going anywhere beyond you and me, but you need to spill the beans after that disclaimer.” He tilted his head to the side. “Are Jillian’s parents pushing some kind of prenup or something?”
Dean gave a half huff, half laugh. “A prenup would be a gift compared to reality.” He squared his shoulders and sucked in a deep lungful of air, hoping he chose the right brother to be his ally in what was possibly the most ridiculous scenario he could ever imagine. “Jillian and I, the engagement, the wedding, the whole damn thing it’s…it’s not real.”
Wyatt squinted his blue eyes, identical to Dean’s, disbelief etched on his face. “It looks pretty damn real to me. I’ve had lots of scans on damn near every part of my body including my head thanks to more throws from bulls than I care to remember and they’ve yet to find any brain trauma so unless this is some weird voodoo bullshit, this is most definitely real.”
Dean kicked his boots in the dusty ground. “I mean the actual relationship. Me and Jillian, being in love…the whole thing is fake.” He swallowed down the boulder in his throat. “For her at least.”
“You’re gonna have to back up about a thousand paces and fill in the blanks. How the hell is this not real?”
Dean ran his tongue along the back of his teeth. “Jillian’s in a tough spot. Hell, she hasn’t really even told me why, which is pretty damn annoying, but she needed my help and that help happened to come in the form of an inheritance her grandfather left her.” He took a deep breath. “And it can only be accessed after she gets married andstaysmarried for eighteen months.”
“But Jillian’s family is loaded, why the hell would she need money?” Wyatt kicked a chunk of mud off his boot, shaking his head. “And is that kind of a requirement even legal? I mean, I could see that happening a few hundred years ago, but today?”
“Listen, I have no idea.” Dean held both hands up, palms out toward his brother. “All I know is what she’s willing to tell me and that hasn’t been a hell of a lot. I’m the only person she says she could trust with this, which should make me feel as good as I can, given the circumstances.”
“But?”
Dean quirked his lips to the side and glared at his brother. “But you assholes are right. Somehow I wound up falling in love with my best friend and pretending to be okay with this being some fake bullshit when…” He trailed off into a string of curses as Wyatt chuckled beside him. “It isn’t funny.”
His obnoxious older brother wiped a probably fictitious tear from his eye. “No, you’re right. It isn’t funny, it’s frickin’ hysterical.”
He delivered a punch to Wyatt’s bicep that was slightly more than playful. “Shut up. I need,” the word burned his tongue even just thinking of it, “help.”
A wide grin curled his brother’s lips. “You’ve come to the right place, brother.”
***
Jillian
Present Day
The seamstress made a final tuck near her feet and Jillian gratefully stepped from the elevated platform. The silence in the shop at her final fitting was like a gift and she reveled in changing back into her white capris and paisley top in peace. Her mother was far too consumed with floral arrangements, place settings, and a dozen other things Jillian couldn’t care less about.
If this were her real wedding, her mother would be as far removed from it as Jillian could get her. But it wasn’t. It was a legal contract only occurring to fulfill the requirements of another legal contract.
When her mother even so much as breathed the suggestion of implementing a prenup, Jillian had firmly and decisively planted her size six in the ground and refused to bring it up to Dean. She was already sinking beneath the weight of the guilt not only from simply asking him for this monumental favor, but for keeping the actual reason why it was so important from him as well.
