The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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met Ryan’s gaze. “Is that true?”
A trickle of sweat trailed down Ryan’s back. Asking that question hadn’t been one of his finer moments, but lying would only make it worse. “Marstand, er Mr. Marstand, implied I’d spent the night. I knew I hadn’t, so I asked him if there’d been a car parked here overnight.”
Betsy shifted her gaze to the old man.
The white-haired man shrugged. “Could have happened that way.”
To Ryan’s surprise, Betsy laughed. “What am I going to do with you two?”
“Tell us about your date last night,” the old man said.
Ryan sloshed a bit of tea onto his hand. Just when he was starting to think the geezer wasn’t so bad, he went and did this. But then Ryan realized perhaps the man had done him a favor. After all, it would have been tacky for him to pump Betsy about details of her date with Tripp. This way he wouldn’t have to; the old guy would do it for him.
He shot Mr. Marstand an encouraging smile.
Betsy picked up her cup of tea. “His name is Tripp Randall,” she said, taking a sip. “Like Ryan, he was a high school friend of my brother.”
“Randall?” Mr. Marstand rubbed the gray stubble on his chin. “Is he related to Franklin Randall who owns Spring Gulch Land and Cattle?”
“Isn’t that the big cutting horse and cattle ranch south of Jackson?” Betsy asked.
“That’s his dad’s place,” Ryan confirmed.
Betsy pulled her brows together as if trying to sort everything out. “Tripp is rich?”
A lump the size of a large boulder settled in the pit of Ryan’s stomach. To someone from Betsy’s background, heck to almost anyone, Tripp’s wealth would be very appealing.
“You don’t look very happy, punkin’.” Mr. Marstand’s worried gaze settled on Betsy. “Something troubling you?”
“Yes, something’s wrong,” Betsy said. “I paid for Tripp’s drink at the bar last weekend because I thought he was in dire straits. I chastised him for buying a bottle of wine last night. I feel like a fool. That man definitely owes me an explanation.”
* * *
The minute she arrived with Ryan at Joel and Kate’s new home in the mountains surrounding Jackson, Betsy knew her day was going to get even more interesting. Standing inside the foyer, nursing a tall glass of hot apple cider was Tripp Randall.
He lifted a hand in a semblance of a greeting and cast a pointed glance at her head.
Betsy held up her aviator hat, but when he motioned for her to put it on, she shook her head. She was still angry about his deception.
“We have a buffet table set up in the great room,” Kate said with a welcoming smile. “Help yourself.”
Joel held out his hand and Betsy couldn’t think of any reason not to give him her coat. Except she had on pants with flannel lining that made her butt look big, and her ski sweater had a stripe across the chest—’nuff said.
With Ryan’s help, she shrugged out of her bulky parka, placing it in Joel’s outstretched hands. The second Ryan handed Joel his coat, he placed his hand against the small of Betsy’s back.
“Tripp.” Ryan’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
Betsy had forgotten that Ryan thought she had the hots for the rich hospital administrator. Had he made sure Tripp was invited today? But was that before or after he’d kissed her so ardently?
Tripp’s gaze settled on Betsy and his lips lifted in a slight smile. “I heard there was a party and invited myself.”
“Don’t let him feed you a line,” Joel said after hanging up the coats. “Any son of Franklin Randall is always welcome in my home.”
“You know Frank?” Ryan asked.
It seemed a valid question to Betsy, because Joel had moved to Jackson Hole only several years earlier from Montana.
“Building another guesthouse on his property was my first big job when I expanded my business to Jackson Hole,” Joel said as they walked down the hall to the great room at the back of the large log home.
Joel glanced at Betsy and Ryan. “I understand you’re all old friends.”
“Ryan and I go back to high school days,” Tripp said. “Betsy and I are relatively new friends. Of course, I’ve known her brother, Keenan, all my life.”
“Does your brother live in Jackson Hole?” Joel asked.
“He lives in Rawlins.” It wasn’t as if it was a big secret that Keenan was in prison, but Betsy didn’t feel like answering a lot of questions right now.
“Betsy and I went to the Spring Gulch Country Club for dinner last night,” Tripp said. “I’d forgotten how good the food is there.”
She breathed a sigh of relief when the conversation moved to the newly revised menu at the country club and off her brother. She didn’t have much to add. Last night had been her first visit to the country club. Before her eyes had been opened to the possibilities, she’d considered upscale dining to be dinner at Perfect Pizza, where you ordered at the counter but they brought the food to your table.
The doorbell rang and Joel smiled. “Help yourselves to some food,” he said. “I think you probably know almost everyone here. If not, introduce yourselves. Once everyone has eaten, we’ll head outside.”
Betsy stared at the group of people, many the same as she’d met in church. Some familiar. Some not at all. Children were everywhere, preteens to toddlers. The room buzzed with conversation and laughter.
Even though Betsy considered herself to be fairly outgoing, she was suddenly overcome with the realization that she didn’t belong here. These were the beautiful people of Jackson Hole, the doctors, the lawyers, the elite. She was a legal assistant. A woman whose mother had been a showgirl in Las Vegas before turning to the bottle.
Her breath came short and shallow as panic edged its fingers up her spine. “I’m going to run to the restroom and wash my hands,” she said to no one in particular, although both Ryan and Tripp were nearby. “I’ll be back.”
She asked directions from a friendly blonde woman who introduced herself as Rachel Rossi and the curly-haired adolescent beside her as her daughter Mickie, then headed off the way they pointed.
Betsy hadn’t gone far when she ran into Kate, looking as though she could have stepped off a cover of an outdoor-fun spread in a magazine. Her classic black ski pants looked like they had been made for her and the cable-knit sweater in a burned-orange didn’t look at all bulky.
“It’s good to see you again,” Kate said with a warmth that surprised her.
Betsy shifted from one foot to the other as a large peal of laughter sounded from the other room.
“If my ears aren’t deceiving me that’s Mary Karen Fisher.” Kate smiled. “I swear the woman has never met a stranger. I wish I were more like her.”
Betsy tilted her head, not sure she’d heard correctly. “But you’re very social.”
“Thank you for that,” Kate said. “But the truth is I’m actually quite shy. The first time I went for breakfast with Joel at The Coffeepot and saw everyone sitting there, I wanted to turn on my heel and walk the other way...quickly.”
Remarkably, Betsy felt some of the tenseness in her shoulders ease. She chuckled. “I had the same feeling when I walked into your living room. I told Ryan and Tripp that I wanted to go wash my hands, but it was an excuse. I needed to collect my thoughts.”
“A few deep breaths doesn’t hurt either.” Kate smiled. “How about