Struck By The Texas Matchmakers. Judy Christenberry
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started leading Paul to her car.
“I can drive him,” Jeff called.
“No, I’ll drive,” Diane insisted.
He hurriedly gave her directions to his house, since she was determined to get Paul to bed at once.
Gabe, Margaret and Jack joined the group and Katie hastily explained the sleeping arrangements. Jack offered Jeff his hand in gratitude, and Margaret hurried after Diane and Paul to check on her son.
Susan approached with another girl, explaining her friend had invited her to spend the night with her. As soon as Margaret rejoined them and gave her approval, the youngest Peters child rushed away, seemingly unaffected by the night’s events.
“Jeff, are you sure about everyone staying with you?” Katie asked once more.
“I’m sure. The only problem I have is there’s not much food in the house. I usually eat out. But I’ll go shopping in the morning and—”
“Take the food we’ve got here,” Margaret said. “Jack, can you find a sack?”
Jeff started to protest, but Margaret shushed him. “It will go to waste here, and I doubt that Katie needs it. Gabe, can you—”
“Sure, Margaret,” Gabe assured her, turning to follow Jack.
They returned quickly with two grocery bags full. Jack put them in the front of Jeff’s truck. Gabe added another bag of clothes for Paul.
“There’s bacon and eggs and bread, plenty for breakfast, and other stuff,” Jack told Jeff.
“Thanks again. I’d better head on out or Paul and Diane will get there ahead of me.” He shook Gabe and Jack’s hands and nodded to the two ladies. Then he got in and backed out onto the road. Diane had already left, her brother beside her in her car.
When he reached his house, Diane and Paul were waiting in her car. He took his medical bag and unlocked the front door, ushering them in. “We’ll have to make up the beds,” he muttered. He really wasn’t much of a housekeeper. Once a week a lady came in to clean, so it shouldn’t be too bad, but he wasn’t used to guests. “I’ll be right back. I have to bring in the food your mom sent with us so you wouldn’t starve.”
Diane had made Paul sit down at the table. After patting his shoulder, she came after Jeff. “I’ll help.”
“I can get them,” he assured her, but she ignored him and took one of the bags away from him.
Once inside, she said, “I’ll put these away if you’ll find the linens for Paul’s bed.”
He knew she’d already had a long day, but she was emptying the two bags as she spoke. Paul gave him a ragged smile, as if recognizing his confusion. The boy needed to be in bed. With a pain pill, Jeff decided, as he noted the paleness of his face.
Jeff hurried upstairs to locate clean sheets. One bedroom had a king-size bed, like his own. Since he was six foot and Paul already topped him by an inch or two, he chose that bed for the boy. Before he’d gotten half the sheet on, Diane joined him and quickly pulled the other half into place.
“Aren’t you exhausted?” he asked, staring at her.
“I’m fine. Where’s the top sheet?”
He spread it out and Diane tucked in the corners.
“The pillow cases?”
He gave her one and took the other.
“If you’ll find a lightweight blanket, I’ll go down and get Paul.”
Jeff stood there, his hands on his hips as he watched her leave the room. He felt like saluting. Then he shrugged his shoulders. She was doing what had to be done. He shouldn’t complain.
He was spreading out the blanket when Paul and Diane returned. After pulling down the covers, he turned to help them.
Paul’s cheeks flushed, which alarmed him. Was he feverish? “Are you hot, Paul?”
“No, but—but I need to, uh, use the facilities,” the boy said awkwardly.
“Oh, I should’ve thought of that,” Diane exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll—”
“Sis!” Paul protested.
“What?” she asked, staring at him.
“As efficient as you are, Diane, I think Paul can manage on his own,” Jeff said quietly.
“I’m his sister!” she snapped. “I’m afraid he’ll pass out.”
“Di, please,” Paul begged.
“Oh, all right!” she said with a huff.
“Gabe put some of your things in my car,” Jeff added. “Go ahead to the bathroom while I run get them. I’ll find you some clean underwear and a T-shirt to wear to bed.”
Paul nodded, stealing a look at his sister.
Jeff looked, too, knowing Paul’s reluctance to let his sister help him had upset Diane.
She stared at both of them, her expression grim. Then she bent over to finish tugging the blanket into place.
“Where’s the bath?” Paul asked over his shoulder.
“Next door to the right,” Jeff said. Then he hurried downstairs.
When Paul was in bed, having swallowed the pain pill with no argument, Jeff and Diane left his room.
“If you’ll show me where the rest of the linen is, I’ll make my bed,” she said.
“I’ll help,” Jeff insisted. He could see the lines of weariness in her pale face.
“No! I don’t need you to take care of me. It’s enough that you’ve taken us in and doctored Paul.”
He recognized her stubborn pride and gave in to its demand. Opening the hall closet, he took out the sheets and a blanket and then escorted her to his third bedroom. It was smaller and had a full-size bed, a dresser and one bedside table. A bare room.
“Sorry it’s not very—” He shrugged his shoulders, unable to come up with a word to describe the room.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“If you need anything, let me know.”
“I won’t need anything.”
She shut the door, managing a small smile before it closed completely.
He stood there, thinking about Diane Peters. She appeared to be a woman in control, like his wife. Only Jeff’s wife had given all her time to her work, leaving little time or attention for their marriage. Is that how Diane would be—if she ever married?
He spun on his heel and strode to his bedroom. He needed to put Diane Peters out of his head. Her tired hazel eyes, her sagging shoulders, her mussed dress that so faithfully followed her trim figure, the blond hair that added to her beauty drew Jeff, but she was going to be a career woman.
The last thing he needed.
JEFF WASN’T SURPRISED when he awoke later than usual around eight the next morning—he’d gotten up several times to check on Paul. What awakened him, however, was a surprise. The scent of fresh coffee and crisp bacon wafted up the stairs. Half awake, he imagined a picture-perfect breakfast scene, a lovely blonde standing by the stove, a dainty white apron tied around her waist. The table was set, a small vase of flowers in the center, orange juice at every plate.
In his half dream, the woman turned around and he was staring at Diane Peters. Immediately, he came fully awake, lunging upright, his eyes popping open. What was he thinking?
Chapter Four
“Good morning,” Diane said, seeing Jeff enter the kitchen. He looked a bit