Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set) - Page 198

I rolled my eyes back. “Hardly. And by looking real, you mean it just has to make a lawyer happy, right?”

He sat back, steepling his fingers as he thought. My stomach had a flock of butterflies—or whatever a group of butterflies is called—because he seemed to be rethinking this idea.

“No one else would need to know,” he said.

“Right.”

Immediately, he shook his head. “No. It’s crazy.”

I wanted to argue, but the more I pushed, the more he’d probably retreat. I decided to try another tactic. “You’re right. When are you going to tell my father? He’ll need to make plans.”

Mo ran his hands over his face. He let out a breath and stood. “I guess I’ll do it now.”

“Can I come with you? I want to be there for him, and we’ll need to start thinking about our next step.”

He looked at me with sorrowful hazel eyes. “I’m sorry, Brooke. I really am.”

I managed a smile. “I know. I appreciate how much you were willing to do.”

He studied me a minute longer but then grabbed his coat, and we headed out. I followed him in my car to my house and wondered how my father would take the news. I had the feeling he felt the sale of the ranch to Stark was a done deal, so the news wouldn’t be a shock, but still, he’d be disappointed, I was sure.

“Why does this feel like bad news?” my father asked as we all sat at the kitchen table.

“I’m sorry, Frank, I really am. I have this trust, but I can’t get it.”

He wasn’t going to tell my father about the conditions.

“Listen, I appreciate you even inquiring.” My father flipped through papers on the table. “Stark’s offer seems fair enough.”

Mo grimaced. “Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Can I look at it?”

My father shrugged and pushed the papers to Mo.

He looked them over with a shake of his head. “Your place is worth more than this.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Dad,” I said, putting my hand over his. “We’re not beggars. Maybe we can sell it to someone else.”

Both he and Mo had expressions that suggested that it was unlikely.

“We’re out of time, baby. I’m sorry,” my dad said. “Mo, you’ve done everything you could, and I appreciate it.”

“Not everything,” he said with a look at me.

My heart rate sped up.

“Oh?” My father asked, looking at me as Mo had, and then back to Mo.

Mo tapped his fingers on the paperwork. “The condition of getting the trust is that I need to be married.”

My father frowned. “You were married.”

Mo nodded. “This was done after that. My aunt apparently wanted me to find a good woman.”

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