The Family Feud: The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?!. Carol Finch
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there’s a lot of crying going on here, but I can handle it.”
Jan switched off the phone to prevent another interruption. When she strode from the back office, mother and younger daughter were still sprawled in the middle of the shop, clutching at each other like the last two survivors of a catastrophic disaster.
“Men are pond scum,” Kendra said on a shuddering sob. “Lower than pond scum, in fact. They’re the bottom feeders in the cesspool of life.”
“You can say that again,” Sylvia howled. “You devote your life to your children and your husband and then he bails out on you, refuses to support your career and your dreams. I gave that man the best years of my life and this is the thanks I get! He leaves me for a floozy!”
Jan glanced at Lorna who was all eyes and ears. “Lorna, why don’t you go on home. You’ll receive full pay, of course.”
“My, you Mitchells sure are having a run of bad luck, aren’t you?” Lorna murmured. She cast one last pitying glance over her shoulder at the twosome huddled together on the floor. “First your dad walks out and ends up in Georgina Price’s open arms. Now Kendra’s fiancé fools around on her. Good thing you showed up when you did, Janna. Everyone knows you’re the anchor of the family and they always call on you for help.”
She was the anchor all right…on a sinking ship. She was beginning to think Morgan Price was right. She couldn’t waltz into Oz, wave her wand and work magic overnight. She definitely had her work cut out for her.
DESPITE THE King Kong-size headache hammering at her skull, Jan closed the boutique and transported her hysterical mother and sister home for a rousing pep talk—that had no effect whatsoever. Sylvia and Kendra broke open a bottle of wine and began another self-pitying tissue-fest that would probably last all night.
Jan’s pounding headache couldn’t tolerate another round of shrill, high-pitched wails so she piled into her car and headed to Morgan Price’s farm where her father had parked his Winnebago camper during the separation. Driving past the wide expanse of peanut fields eased the tension roiling through Jan. The countryside was peaceful and serene, unlike the turmoil at home that triggered her high-level stress.
Jan parked beside the motor home that was hooked to an electrical extension cord running from Morgan Price’s garage. Mr. Nuts and Bolts had apparently done well for himself, she mused as she surveyed the spacious ranch-style brick home. Obviously his ability to manage the hardware store and tractor supply shop in Oz gained him financial success.
Her gaze drifted to the older compact brick home that sat two hundred yards farther down the graveled road. According to Sylvia, Georgina Price lived near her son, and it was there that John Mitchell was working part-time to renovate the kitchen. Also according to Sylvia, there was a little hanky-panky going on. The mere thought of her father having sex with anyone, even her mother, was enough to make Jan shudder. Her headache intensified and she absently massaged her throbbing temples. She didn’t want to consider the physical aspect of her parents’ relationship.
Jan dragged in a steadying breath, noted her dad’s truck and headed toward the Winnebago. Although her dad informed her that he had a date, Jan hoped to catch him before he trotted over to Georgina’s to do whatever it was that a fifty-eight-year-old man did when he was on the make and purposely tormenting his estranged wife—who was at home, consuming wine like it was going out of style and bawling in unison with their youngest daughter.
While Jan rapped on the door she asked herself why she didn’t grab a bottle of booze and get soused. Certainly, this fiasco with her family was enough to drive a teetotaler like herself to drink.
When no one answered the knock, Jan hammered on the door again, then waited another impatient moment. “Be here, damn it.”
“He’s not there.”
Startled by the husky baritone voice, Jan wheeled around on the narrow metal landing. The heel of her navy blue pump dropped off the edge, hurtling her off balance. She flapped her arms like a duck going airborne in an attempt to upright herself, but it was a wasted effort. Shrieking in alarm, she tumbled, pellmell, down the steps, scraped her leg against the metal and landed in an undignified heap in the grass.
“Janna, are you all right?” Morgan asked as he sprinted toward her.
“No, I’m not all right,” she muttered as she levered herself into a sitting position to survey the damage. What could be worse than coming off looking like a world-class klutz in front of a man you wanted to impress for only God knew what insane reason? “I’ve got a Godzilla-size headache from listening to my mother and sister bawling for three steady hours. I snagged my hose, ripped the heel off one shoe and twisted my wrist.” She heaved a defeated sigh. “My family’s falling apart right in front of my eyes and I can’t seem to do anything about it.”
Morgan hunkered down in front of her and flashed her a compassionate smile. “Definitely a rough day out here in peanut country.” Effortlessly, he hoisted her to her feet. “I’ve got just the thing for you.”
“What? A bottle of wine like the one Mother and Kendra are sharing? I don’t drink. Or at least I usually don’t drink,” she amended as she took inventory of the gaping hole in the knee of her panty hose, her scraped shin and her aching wrist. “I’m thinking of making an exception.”
Morgan chuckled as he plucked up Jan’s de-heeled shoe. “I have wine in the house, but I had another kind of tension-reliever in mind.”
Jan eyed him dubiously. “What? Forget-all-your-troubles sex? I’m not interested in that, either, thanks all the same.”
Morgan snickered again, then scooped her effortlessly into his arms and carried her across the driveway. “Not sex, either,” he assured her. “I’m not so egotistical to believe you like me enough for that.”
Jan was surprised by his modesty. She’d pegged him as the Don Juan of Oz because women had fallen all over themselves to capture his interest since high school. If anything, Morgan’s darkly handsome good looks had enhanced with age. A woman would have to be dead at least two weeks not to react to his masculine charm and sex appeal.
Even so, she scolded herself for finding comfort in his muscular arms. She wasn’t accustomed to leaning on a man. She, after all, was the anchor for her family, the troubleshooter for her associates at work. People looked to her for solutions and encouragement. But, after the day she’d had, leaning on Morgan—even if he was the enemy—felt good, necessary even.
To Jan’s surprise, Morgan deposited her on the seat of his hunter-green pickup, then strode around to the driver’s side. “Where are we going?” she questioned. “I need to talk to Dad.”
“John hitched a ride with me when I helped him secure the upper and lower cabinets in Mom’s kitchen. She invited him to supper.”
“Great, and you didn’t stay to chaperone them?” she muttered, trying very hard not to notice how sexy Morgan looked in a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans that hugged his muscled thighs and lean hips like gloves.
He tossed her a wry smile. “I wasn’t invited.”
Jan sighed in frustration, but her gaze instinctively slid back to Morgan. She wondered if she’d ever get past the fact that she’d been wildly attracted to him as a teenager and was unwillingly attracted to him now. Damn, that’s the last thing she needed, while in the middle of the family feud. Morgan was quartered out here in the enemy camp. Hell, he owned the enemy camp. Mr. Nuts and Bolts of the hardware world was aiding and abetting her father and making it easy for Daddy to dally with Georgina who had a reputation as a femme fatale.
Her headache roared back in full force.
Her sullen thoughts evaporated when Morgan drove over the metal cattle guard that led to a scenic pasture, complete with a tree-lined creek and herd of Black Angus cattle.
“This is where I come to escape the hassles and frustrations of the world,” he confided as he climbed down from the truck. “Sit tight while I lower