The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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The next morning, while making a sweet-potato casserole, Betsy made her own pro-con list in her head. She still hadn’t told Adrianna that Ryan was coming because she wasn’t sure she was going through with their agreement. Food wouldn’t be a problem if she did decide to go along with his scheme and let him come. There was plenty to eat.
Even after she’d finished with the food preparation, she still wasn’t certain the pros outweighed the cons. But later that afternoon, she realized she had no choice. Not unless she wanted Ryan to know it was him she liked, not Tripp.
She called Adrianna and told her she’d like to bring Ryan with her. Just as she thought, Adrianna hadn’t minded. In fact she’d been rather enthusiastic. Even though Betsy had stressed that Ryan was simply a friend, she got the feeling Adrianna didn’t believe her. It was at that point Betsy thought about coming clean and telling her friend about the crazy scheme Ryan had concocted.
Several things stopped her. She’d given Ryan her word to keep this arrangement just between them. In this day of easy promises, she liked to think that her word meant something. And then there was a more practical matter. If she went back on her promise, what would stop Ryan from going back on his word? If he told Tripp Randall that she was interested in him, she’d be mortified.
And—she glanced at the medallion lying on the dresser—this would be her chance to get to know Ryan better and for him to get to know her in a nonwork setting. Perhaps she’d discover he wasn’t her one true love. Then she could move on with her life. Find the man she was meant to be with.
But say she didn’t get tired of him. She’d give this odd arrangement until the holidays were over. If he hadn’t fallen for her by then, he never would. Then she would make every effort to do as she’d promised and steer Adrianna his way. Until then, she was giving herself the best shot.
The ringing of her doorbell pulled her from her reverie. She glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to find it was time. Taking one last quick look in the mirror, she was pleased to see that for an average person, she looked a little above average today.
She paired a soft red sweater with a black tweed skirt and boots. Even if she had to say it herself, she looked pretty darn good.
The doorbell rang again, and Betsy swiped on another layer of lip gloss. She shut Puffy, her Pomeranian, in the bedroom before hurrying to the door.
Betsy’s breath caught in her throat as the door swung open. Above average was today’s ugly duckling. Next to Ryan she was a brown moth with nothing to recommend her.
For the casual dinner this evening Ryan was once again dressed all in black. Black sweater. Black pants. Black boots. Few guys could pull off such a look, but on him, with his broad shoulders, lean hips and classically handsome features, it worked. His hair was tousled and still slightly damp from the shower. He looked, well, way out of her league.
“Happy Thanksgiving.” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her cheek.
Betsy went absolutely still, resisting—but barely—the urge to touch the tingling spot where his lips had just been.
“What—what was that for?”
His eyes widened ever so slightly. “It’s a holiday and you looked so nice.” Concern filled his eyes. “Was I out of line?”
Mutely, she shook her head.
“Really, if you think I was even the least little bit, just slug me.” He leaned over, sticking out his chin.
Betsy raised her hand, but instead of clenching it into a fist, she cupped his face and kissed him right on the lips, like she’d been longing to do for years.
For a second he responded. His lips were warm and firm, and he tasted faintly like chewing gum. When she pulled back, a tiny smile tugged at his lips. “What was that for?”
Betsy shrugged and reached for her coat. “You looked so nice,” she said mimicking his response to her, “and it is, after all, a holiday.”
The rest of the tension left his face. He grinned. “And I’m starving.”
“You and me both, buckeroo.”
He helped her on with her parka. His fingers brushed her neck, and a curious thrumming filled her veins. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, but she was happy she’d taken advantage of the opportunity. Because when this was all over, she didn’t want to have any regrets. And right now she didn’t have a one.
* * *
Somehow Betsy ended up across the table from Ryan at dinner while Adrianna sat directly to his right. He wasn’t sure how much Betsy had to do with the seating arrangement, but he owed her big time for this.
The beautiful brunette had smiled a welcome when he’d walked through the door with Betsy, thanking him warmly when he’d handed her a bottle of wine. It had to be the fact that he was here as a guest of her best friend that made the difference. Whatever it was, he appreciated Betsy’s efforts. And once Tripp was in town and settled, he would definitely return the favor.
Betsy was telling a hilarious story about the time she and her brother had gotten lost at Yellowstone. He wondered if she knew how pretty she looked when she smiled. He had the feeling he wouldn’t have to do much pushing to get Tripp to notice her.
Although Ryan liked Tripp, he was surprised Betsy had a thing for him. He just didn’t seem her type. Ryan pulled his brows together and stabbed a piece of, ugh, purple asparagus.
“Does the asparagus taste okay?” Adrianna whispered to him. “I made it myself.”
Her perfume was sultry, a sexy fragrance he usually loved. But tonight he found himself wondering if she’d ever considered wearing something different, lighter, say a vanilla scent. For some reason that fragrance held more appeal.
“Everything is...wonderful,” he said, looking into her beautiful green eyes. Had he ever known a more beautiful woman? He didn’t think so. “My favorite is the sweet-potato casserole.”
“Betsy made it.” Adrianna smiled proudly.
“How?” he asked. “We didn’t bring any food with us.”
We? Us? Using words like that made it seem that he and Betsy were a couple. Hardly the impression he wanted to give to Adrianna. Thankfully she didn’t appear to notice.
“Betsy is a fabulous cook.” Adrianna’s long slender fingers curved around the wineglass as she lifted it to her full lips and took a sip. “She came over this morning and helped me get the dinner together. Left to my own talents, this feast would not have been nearly so delightful.”
Ryan’s admiration for Adrianna inched up another notch. Not many women would be so generous with their praise. He had the feeling she cooked much better than she was admitting.
“Betsy is a special woman.” Adrianna smiled in her friend’s direction.
“She’s a good friend.” Ryan put extra emphasis on the last word, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding.
“It’s been hard on her, being estranged from her mother and having Keenan...gone.” The corners of Adrianna’s lips lifted when Betsy laughed at something Benedict Campbell said. “I like seeing her happy.”
Ryan absently nodded, his entire attention suddenly drawn to Betsy. He didn’t like the way Ben was looking at her. The prominent Jackson Hole orthopedic surgeon was known for being a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. He wondered if Betsy was aware of that fact. Perhaps he’d have to find a way to bring it to her attention on the drive home. It was a good thing she was interested in Tripp. He wouldn’t want her falling for Benedict.
“When Betsy called, I sensed she was concerned that I might not want you here.”
Ryan reluctantly jerked his attention back to Adrianna. It almost looked as if Ben had placed his hand on Betsy’s knee. But that wasn’t his concern.