The Great Texas Wedding Bargain. Judy Christenberry
Читать онлайн книгу.
Four
Megan watched Rick from the kitchen window. The dishes were all rinsed and put in the dishwasher, but she hadn’t started it. It only had a few things in it.
What was she supposed to do now? Rick was bent over her motor, like he knew what was wrong. She could offer to help, but she knew almost nothing about cars. She’d been raised in a female household since her father had died when she was a little girl.
Maybe she should see if Rick had left his dirty clothes upstairs. She could put them in the washer. Running up the stairs, she found the clothes he’d been wearing when he came in just where she’d expected to find them. In a pile on the floor of the bathroom.
Men! But maybe picking up his clothes was worth it if he fixed her car. She went to the downstairs bedroom to collect the towel he’d used.
She sighed as she looked around the room. He was really going to be crowded in here, with all the computer equipment. He had several computers, a fax machine, two printers, and some other things she couldn’t identify. It did seem excessive for a rancher.
If all this equipment was in his master bedroom, he’d have more room. It was the largest bedroom in the house. Her mother had insisted she take the master bedroom, even though she’d protested. Maybe she should offer to trade with Rick. He could—
“Megan?”
She returned to the kitchen, clutching her armful of dirty clothes. “Yes? Did you fix it?”
“Yeah, I did.” Then he frowned. “What are you doing with those smelly clothes?”
“I thought I’d put them in the washer.”
“I can pick up after myself.”
His voice was hard, unfriendly, which puzzled her.
“I’m just trying to keep the house clean. Remember, that was our agreement.”
“I didn’t mean for you to pick up after me constantly. I can take care of that.” His face turned red. “I know it didn’t look like it the other night, but—”
“Rick, it’s okay. You fixed my car. I’m grateful. I wash your clothes, you’re grateful. Okay?”
“You make things sound simple.”
Some of the tension had left his voice and Megan breathed a sigh of relief. “I think it is. Even if you hadn’t fixed my car, you’re doing a wonderful thing for us.”
“Uh, about the car. I fixed it.”
She beamed at him. “Yes, I can’t thank you enough. It would’ve been expensive to have the mechanic come out in the morning.”
“Uh, yeah. Did you tell your mother the car wouldn’t start?”
“No, I haven’t said anything yet. Why? Shouldn’t I tell her?” There had been something in his voice that told her everything wasn’t right.
“Well, I’m not sure, but I think someone sabotaged your car.”
“Someone what? You think someone actually broke my car on purpose? That’s ridiculous, Rick. The only people here today were the ladies and me and Mom.”
“I know, Megan, but—”
“Why, even if they wanted to, and I can’t think of a single reason they would, they’re women. They wouldn’t know how to do anything to the car.”
Rick laughed. “You have a lot to learn.”
She stiffened. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because the only one of those ladies who hasn’t lived on a ranch most of her life is Florence. And I suspect she could manage as well as any of them. Mabel, Edith and Ruth could probably take a tractor apart and rebuild it before you could blink an eye.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because a rancher’s wife is his partner, his helpmate, his—his wife.”
Megan waved away his words. “No, I mean why would they want to mess up my car? They’re our friends.”
“Ask their sons.”
His cryptic words didn’t make any sense to Megan. She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
Rick rubbed the back of his neck again, a movement Megan was beginning to realize meant he wasn’t sure what to say. When he did speak, it wasn’t to explain his words.
“You’d better go put those clothes in the washing machine before you need a bath yourself.”
She hadn’t even realized she still held the stinky clothes. With a huff of frustration, she charged down the hall to the utility room and dumped the clothes into the washing machine. Quickly adding soap, she twirled the dial and started the washer. Then she returned to the kitchen.
“Well? Are you ready to explain?”
“Is there any coffee?”
With another frustrated sigh, she prepared his percolator and plugged it in.
“We can talk while it’s perking,” she suggested, waving him to the table.
He didn’t look happy, but he accepted her invitation, settling himself in the same seat he’d used when he ate dinner. “Look, Megan, you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I think the ladies were matchmaking.”
She did think he was crazy. Obviously, he hadn’t thought things through. With a patient smile, she said, “You’re wrong, Rick. They have no need to matchmake. We’re getting married, remember? They were kind enough to suggest you when we explained our problem. But we’ve come to an agreement, so there’s no difficulty.”
He rubbed the back of his neck again.
Which was beginning to drive her crazy. “Well? I’m right, aren’t I?”
After a minute, he said, “Sure. Yeah, sure. Um, do you want me to follow you back into Cactus? To make sure you get home all right?”
“No. You’re just saying that, aren’t you? You don’t think I’m right.” She leaned forward, determination in every bone. “Explain, please.”
He looked like a cornered bear, big, powerful and irritated. “I agreed with you.”
“But you didn’t mean it.”
“How do you know? We just met Saturday. You don’t know me that well.”
Strangely enough, she wondered if his words were true. She thought she was beginning to know him, to feel comfortable with him. At least most of the time. Not when he was naked, of course, but that wasn’t even a consideration. Just an accident.
“Maybe I know you better than you think.”
“I don’t think so.”
“So,” she said, drawing the word out slowly, “I should believe you’re upset that I thought logically and you didn’t?”
The immediate spark of irritation in his eyes brought a smile to her lips. Yes, she was getting to know him.
“What are you smiling about?”
Her smile widened. “I’m trying to be a pleasant companion, Rick. Hadn’t you rather I smile than be an old sourpuss?”
He ignored her teasing. Leaning forward, he covered her clasped hands, resting on the table in front of her, with his. Immediately, her hands were surrounded with warm flesh, reminding her of when she’d fallen against him in the hallway.
“It’s not a question of logic. These ladies are romantics,” he explained.
“So they should be happy. We’re getting married.” She was beginning to get an inkling of what he was trying to explain and she wanted to deny it.
“We’re