Читать книгу Tall, Dark & Western - Anne Marie Winston - Страница 10

On Sunday morning Marty drew straws with his brother to see who got the unenviable task of replacing some rotting H-braces along one fence line in the larger winter pasture. It had warmed up after the five inches of snow they’d had last week and they were going to get as much done as they could before it snowed again.

Even when he came up holding the shorter piece of hay, his good mood couldn’t be banished.

Deck eyed him with suspicion as he handed Marty the post-hole digger. “You look like the village idiot. Something you want to tell me?”

“Nope.” Marty lifted tools into the back of his pickup as Deck laid a coil of barbwire beside them.

“Only thing I can think of that makes a man smile like that is a woman. Just what’d you do in Rapid City last night?”

“None of your business.”

Deck chuckled. “I knew it! You were with a woman.”

He sure had been, but he didn’t intend to tell his brother about it yet. It was still too new, too…special to share.

He hummed under his breath the whole way out to the pasture, eyeing the brilliant color of the wide-open sky and seeing no signs of storms.

No question about it—last night had been the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. He knew in his bones that he could convince Juliette to marry him on Friday. He was as excited as a little kid, thinking about the coming weekend.

No, he took that back. He was excited, all right, but no little kid ever felt the way he was feeling every time he thought about her slender frame, her soft lips and wide, blue eyes. All the signs pointed to a high-pressure system that wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.

Well, he could wait. Just barely, but he could wait until Friday to make love to Juliette.

His hands stilled on the post he was setting into the hole he’d dug as he allowed himself to consider what he was thinking. This was the first time since Lora’s death that he’d thought seriously of a woman. He’d thought about marriage on a purely objective level, and the steady sex that would come with it had been an abstract until now. Oh, he’d had sex a few times—a very few times—in the two years since he’d buried his wife, but he’d never planned it and the women hadn’t been important, just interested in a good time.

Making love. That was a troublesome phrase.

He’d made love with Lora. Made love to her. Well and often, during the nine and a half years of their marriage. She’d been the first and only girl he’d ever had, and he’d loved her. Oh, how he’d loved her. He’d thought he couldn’t get any happier when they’d married, a week after graduating from high school, but he’d been wrong. When Cheyenne had been born, his happiness had doubled.

His spirits dimmed as he thought of Lora’s pregnancies. He’d wanted a houseful of kids—his and Lora’s. But it wasn’t to be. She’d had three miscarriages before Cheyenne came along.

And then…then she’d gotten pregnant again. She’d had a little spotting early on, and the doctor had cautioned her against any strenuous activity. They’d both been afraid of losing this baby the way they’d lost the earlier ones, so Marty had made her stay in Rapid with a friend of theirs for a few weeks. But things had gone so well that she’d soon come home again, and as she’d grown bigger, they forgot they’d been concerned.

When the unthinkable happened, it couldn’t have been at a worse time. Lora had gone into labor two months early with no warning. He was out rounding up stock at a pasture much farther from the house than he usually worked. She’d come bouncing across the pasture in his old truck to find him, which couldn’t have been good, and they’d raced for the hospital.

But they hadn’t made it. Her labor had been fast and frightening. Three-quarters of the way to Rapid City, Marty had to stop on the shoulder of I-90 and deliver the baby himself, a son so small and fragile it seemed a miracle he was even breathing. Lora had bled and bled…and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing except wrap his too-tiny son in his jacket and race for the hospital.

He’d never forget the final moments of that frantic trip, when her increasingly thready voice had finally quit answering his desperate pleas for her to stay with him, to keep talking to him….

He couldn’t bear to dwell on the wrenching hours of the days that had followed, days in which he’d rarely left the hospital, so he returned to thoughts of Juliette.

She was so unlike Lora, who’d been tall and sturdy, with generous breasts and wide hips that should have been able to birth a dozen babies easily. No, Juliette was nothing like Lora. She was small all over, slender and fragile and so fine-boned that he was afraid one incautious movement might snap her right in two.

What would sex be like with her? It wouldn’t be making love. Couldn’t be, unless he loved her, which he couldn’t possibly. Could he? It troubled him to realize that with Juliette, he wouldn’t simply be having sex.

No, when he had her soft body beneath his, had her responding to the touch of his hand, let himself drown in the pleasures he knew she offered, he wouldn’t be thinking of Lora.

The whole train of thought was so disturbing he abandoned it.

He’d thought about calling Juliette last night when he’d gotten home but he’d been afraid it might make him look too desperate. As he wrestled the post-hole digger into place for another attack on the gummy prairie sod, he knew good and well he wasn’t going to wait another night.

He barely waited until the clock said one minute after nine that evening before he dialed the number she’d given him. It rang twice, and then a breathless female voice said, “Hello?”

“Juliette.”

“Marty?”

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Hi.”

If he’d harbored any doubts about her, they vanished the second her soft voice uttered his name. He closed his eyes and said the first thing that came into his head. “I wish I were there with you right now.”

There was a beat of silence, and he kicked himself for being too presumptuous. Just because he felt…connected to her didn’t mean she felt the same way.

Then she said, “I wish you were, too.”

The soft note of genuine regret in her tone pleased him. “I miss you.”

“That’s crazy. You don’t know me well enough to miss me.” There was another small silence, and then she confessed, “I miss you, too.”

He took a deep breath as his pulse increased; he had to clamp down hard on the urge to tell her he was going to drive into Rapid City right now. If he hadn’t had Cheyenne to think of, he just might have done it. “So how does one o’clock Friday sound?”

“One o’clock?” Her voice was a squeak. “You’re serious? You really want to go and get married at one o’clock on Friday?”

“Yep. If you’ll have me.” He knew he was pushing but suddenly he realized he had to hear a commitment from her, had to know she was going to be his.

He wasn’t aware that he was unconsciously holding his breath until she said, “I guess there’s no reason to wait,” in a timid little tone.

“Great.” He was pretty damned tickled that this whole thing seemed to be working out so well.

They talked for over an hour, mostly general getting-to-know-you conversation. He shared everything he could think of about Cheyenne with her. He also began to talk to Cheyenne about Juliette the following day, encouraged when she seemed receptive to the idea of a new mother living in their house.

On Monday he told his brother he was getting married on Friday, and while Deck was still reeling from the shock, he got a promise that Cheyenne could stay with Silver, his sister-in-law, during the day. And he called his bride-to-be again Monday night and Tuesday night.

He told her about his family, his newly married brother and sister-in-law and the closest neighbors, also newly married.

“It was funny,” he said. “I was the one who wanted to get married, and it seemed like everybody else except me was saying ‘I do.”’

“They’re all going to think we’re crazy,” she said.

“I don’t care what they think,” he said. “As long as I get to share a bed with you from dusk to dawn every night.”

He had intended to tease her, but his words back-fired as a heavy rush of desire filled him. He’d been mildly turned on since he’d heard her voice; now he had a serious case of circuit overload threatening.

There was silence on her end of the line. Oh, hell. Had he offended her? He had a big mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Can you just pretend I never said that?”

She laughed, a sweet, musical sound that tiptoed along his nerve endings and snuggled into his bones like an old friend. “Not a chance. I’m going to hold you to it. Dusk to dawn, buddy.”

Now it was his turn to laugh, and it was as much relief that he hadn’t angered her as it was delight. “You little tease. Just wait till I get my hands on you.”

“Okay.”

He groaned.

She said, “Maybe we’d better change the topic,” and he could hear the shy smile in her voice.

“Not a bad plan,” he said. He cast around for something to talk about, but drew a blank.

There was a beat of silence.

“Tell me more about your ranch,” she requested.

“My ranch. All right.” He forced himself to concentrate on the conversation. “I already told you my brother and I own it. We work it together. It’s a good-size operation, about thirty thousand acres.”

“Do you and your brother live together?”

“Not anymore. He and his wife, Silver, live in a cabin that my father built my mother when they were first married but they’re building their own place.”

“I don’t know very much about ranches or cows,” she said.

“That’s okay. I don’t know much about women’s underwear, either.”

She laughed, and there was a short pause. “Have you lived all your life on your ranch?”

“All my life,” he said. “I would never have made it through college. I can’t stand being shut up indoors.”

There was another silence. “I enjoy learning,” she said. “I want to go back to school someday.”

“What do you want to study?”

“Literature,” she said. Then she laughed. “When I said I liked to read, I wasn’t kidding.”

“Were you one of those kids who took a book out on the playground at school recess?” he teased.

“Guilty. My friends used to get so furious with me because they’d ask me a question three times, and if I was reading, I never even heard them.”

“Remind me not to talk to you when you have a book in your hand,” he said.

She chuckled. The sound was soft and musical and it made his blood pressure rise, along with other, more noticeable parts of him. “What was your day like today?” she asked. “I’m trying to get a picture of what your life is like.”

“It was pretty normal for this time of year,” he said. “I spent most of the day in the neighbors’ pasture hunting for three bulls that didn’t come in last time we fed. We finally found them. Two were more than happy to come along home, but the third one wasn’t so cooperative.”

“So what did you do?” His life was as alien to her as if he came from another planet. She’d lived in or near a city all her life; Rapid City, which barely qualified compared to L.A. or San Diego, was by far the smallest metropolis in which she’d ever lived. And a real-live ranch…it certainly was going to be a new experience!

He was laughing as he answered her. “Outsmarted him. He wasn’t about to do what we wanted, so we just kept deviling him until he was so tired he finally gave up. After that, he decided maybe going home wasn’t such a bad idea.”

A noise from the second floor caught his attention, and he stilled. Sounded like Cheyenne was having a nightmare. “I hate to cut this short but I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow night, all right?”

“All right.” Her voice was soft and sweet, and he hated breaking the connection.

“See you Friday,” he promised.

“All right. Goodbye, Marty.”

Her voice still vibrated along his nerve endings as he raced up the stairs and headed into Cheyenne’s room. God, he couldn’t wait to see her again!

He called her every night during the rest of the week.

It was silly, she told herself, to be getting so dependent on a little thing like the ring of a telephone at a certain time. Still, she caught herself checking her watch every few minutes, anticipation burgeoning within her as the big hand dragged closer and closer to ten.

They talked and talked, until she winced at the thought of the long-distance bill.

“But soon we can do this in person whenever we want,” Marty pointed out.

He told her about his daughter, and she realized the little girl was going to be a challenge. She was four years old and apparently far too good at getting her own way. Well, that would be all right. She enjoyed challenges. And she was looking forward to mothering a daughter. Cheyenne clearly needed her.

They talked about other things, as well. Their childhoods, their families. He knew she had been the only child of a career military man, stopping nowhere long enough to gather moss. In contrast, he told her, he had moss all over him. He talked about his parents and she learned his father was dead and his mother lived in Florida now with a second husband. He told her about his twin sister and brother and all the scrapes they’d gotten into as kids. He told her, too, about the accident that had taken his sister’s life, and the misunderstandings and hard feelings that had resulted from it and which only recently had been resolved.

But she still didn’t tell him about Bobby.

She didn’t know why she was hesitating. After all, he already had a child so she knew he must like kids.

But this one isn’t his, whispered an insidious little voice inside her.

She dismissed the unworthy thought immediately. Marty was a kind man, a gentle man. A wonderful man. He needed to know he was going to be a stepfather. But still…

Wednesday night was New Year’s Eve. She hadn’t made any plans, and Marty hadn’t, either. He called at ten, and they were still on the phone at midnight when the new year came in.

“Next year this time, we’ll be celebrating our one-year anniversary,” he said.

She hoped so. But she really had to tell him about Bobby. But…Inky, her black Pomeranian, lay curled against her side as she lay on her bed talking to Marty. She had yet to tell him about the dog, either. Maybe she should start small and work up to the child.

“Um, Marty?” She worked the words in between a long stream of information about weather patterns on the prairie. “I have something I need to tell you.”

“And what would that be?” His voice was indulgent.

“I have a dog.” She held her breath, waiting for a reaction, her pulse racing and her heart pounding all out of proportion to the simple statement.

“You do?” He sounded a little taken aback. “I didn’t know you were allowed to have dogs in apartments.”

“This place allows small animals.” Her tension began to dissipate.

“Well, I guess it won’t be a problem. He can hang out with the other dogs around here. How old is he? Maybe I can train him to work stock.” His voice was beginning to warm.

She laughed uncertainly. “I don’t think so. He’s um, probably a bit too small for that.”

Now his voice sounded cautious. “Exactly how small is too small?”

She took a deep breath. “Eight pounds. He’s a Pomeranian. Eight pounds is a very sturdy size for a Pom.”

“Eight pounds?” His voice was incredulous. “Good grief. The other dogs’ll think he’s a meal. He’ll make the horses nervous and then they’re liable to step on him. No—” his voice was decisive “—that’s too small. You’ll have to find a home for him in town where he can be somebody’s pet.”

“But…but I can’t just give him away!” Her voice began to quaver despite her best efforts to stay calm. Give Inky away? He’d been her best friend all during her pregnancy and the sad days after Rob’s death. Marty didn’t understand. He’d been so…so dismissive. “He was a wedding gift from my husband.”

Dead silence was the only response from the other end of the phone.

Gathering her resolve, she began to list Inky’s attributes. “Besides, he’s not an outside dog, anyway. He stays indoors. He rarely barks and he’s even paper trained if I can’t take him out. He’s big enough to go up and down the steps and jump on and off the furniture without help—”

“You let him get up on the furniture?” If he could sound more shocked, she couldn’t imagine it. “We’ve never let our dogs in the house. They sleep in the barn when it’s cold.” His voice was adamant. “You can’t have a dog in the house.”

Suddenly he didn’t sound like the warm and easy-going man she’d spent last Saturday night with, the man she’d been talking with just a few minutes ago. Tears welled up and she swallowed, hurt stinging her heart. He hadn’t even listened to her!

If he were like this about Inky, how would he react when she told him about Bobby? The idea was daunting. Maybe this whole notion of marriage was ridiculous. She wanted to marry him, wanted it badly, but maybe—

“Juliette?” His voice was so hushed she nearly didn’t hear him for the thoughts clanging around in her head.

Finally she realized he’d spoken her name aloud. “Yes?” The tears overflowed and made cold tracks down her cheek. She placed a hand on Inky’s tiny head, gently massaging behind his ears, and he heaved a happy doggy sigh as he snuggled deeper against her.

“Are you crying?”

“No.” She gulped and tried to breathe evenly.

“Yes, you are.” His voice registered cautious concern. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t handle that very well. Can I have another try?”

He sounded endearingly humble, and she could imagine the look in his blue eyes, earnest and penitent. “Of course. I’m sorry, too.”

“I guess one little dog in the house isn’t such a big deal,” he said, and she could almost hear him trying to talk himself into the idea. “Just because I’ve never kept a dog in the house doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I know lots of people who do.”

She had to chuckle despite herself. “Oh, Marty, maybe getting married without knowing each other better isn’t such a good idea after all. I mean, what if—”

But he didn’t let her finish. “Hey, sweet thing, one little almost-disagreement doesn’t mean we should give up. Don’t get yourself all worked up about this, okay?”

“I’m not. Not really. But—”

“But you’re still marrying me on Friday,” he pressed.

When she didn’t respond immediately, his voice lowered, going warm and intimate. “Angel, we’re going to be good together. In a lot of ways. I can’t wait for Friday to get here so I can hold you again.”

“I can’t wait, either.” And she couldn’t. She needed Marty’s arms around her, his kisses that made her forget about all her worries.

It wasn’t until she hung up that she remembered she still needed to tell him about Bobby. But…he’d had an awfully strong reaction to the dog. What if he decided he didn’t want to marry her?

Her stomach trembled. She wasn’t sure marrying so quickly was wise, but she was sure of one thing. She loved Marty Stryker. Against all common sense, she’d given her heart to a man she barely knew, and if he walked away she’d never be able to forget him. If she told him about Bobby, she risked driving him away.

On the other hand, she reminded herself with forced cheer, the odds were at least as good that he’d be thrilled to have a baby boy to raise. Why shouldn’t he? She fell into a troubled sleep still undecided about what to tell Marty about her son. And when to tell him.

Despite the nightly phone marathons, the week seemed to last forever. Juliette’s hours at work moved like cold molasses, though her schedule remained unchanged. At home she packed her things into boxes to go with her out to the ranch and separated her few things from the furnishings that had come with the apartment. She gave notice and apologized to her boss for the short time frame. She decided that Friday would never arrive, but finally it was Friday morning. She worked her last few hours and then went home to wait. Marty would be arriving in another hour.