Читать книгу A Husband of Her Own - Brenda Novak - Страница 11

“WHY WOULD I WANT to see Booker Robinson?” Delaney asked.

Rebecca propped the telephone against her shoulder and turned sideways to contemplate her reflection in the mirror behind her bedroom door. She wanted to look good tonight; she needed to look good. After the past few days, it was time for an emotional comeback.

“Because he’s an old friend.”

“He’s not an old friend of mine.”

Rebecca rotated to the back, checking her behind. Did her butt look big in these jeans? Maybe she should go for the tight black slacks, the ones that rode low on her hips and showed the tattoo she’d gotten to mark her thirtieth birthday. Though she had no romantic designs on Booker, he was just the type of man to appreciate a purple butterfly near her navel. “He’s been gone twelve years. He might have changed,” she said.

“You saw him today. Has he?”

She peeled off the jeans and wiggled into the black slacks. “No. Not a bit.”

“So why are you hanging out with him?” Delaney asked with a chuckle.

Because Buddy had just postponed the wedding again, her own parents didn’t want her to come to their anniversary party, and Josh…Well, Josh was partly to blame as well. She just couldn’t figure out why. “Beats the hell out of sitting home, doesn’t it?”

“Not when you’re seven months pregnant.”

“Come on, Laney. You haven’t been anywhere with me in ages. Bring Conner to the Honky Tonk and have a soda. You can still be in bed by midnight.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, but her words slurred at the end as if she was yawning. “How’d it go with Josh this morning?”

“Fine.”

“That’s a pretty mellow reaction. Are you on some type of sedative?”

“You know I don’t do drugs.”

“Then he must not have shown.”

“He came, I cut his hair, my father stopped by to make me feel like crap, and that was it.”

“And?”

Rebecca sucked in her stomach and reconsidered her reflection. Better. “What more do you want to hear?”

“I want to hear about this supposed truce. Is it real?”

“Who knows? If you ask me, the only thing that’s changed is Josh’s haircut.”

Covering the phone, Delaney spoke to someone in the background, probably her husband. When she came back on, she said, “Well, you won’t even remember Josh Hill in a few weeks. You and Buddy will be getting married and moving on to bigger and better things.”

“Um, not exactly…Just a sec.” Rebecca held the phone away from her ear long enough to pull a tight-fitting sweater over her head. It was black, too, with three-quarter-length sleeves, and hit her midriff in just the right place to make the most of her low-riding pants. Not bad, she thought. “Actually I won’t be getting married in a few weeks,” she said, returning to the conversation.

“What?”

“Buddy wants his great-aunt to attend.”

“Did you say great-aunt?”

“I did. And she can’t come until January.” She turned her attention to her hair. She liked the blond highlights she’d put in it much better than her natural dishwater color or the fluorescent auburn it had been a few months ago. But she’d had Katie give her a pretty short cut, which didn’t leave her a lot of styling options. Grabbing a bottle of mousse from her dresser, she settled for putting some life into it.

“But you were going to celebrate your birthday in Cancun while you were on your honeymoon.”

“Guess I’ll be doing something else for my birthday.”

“Are you okay with waiting?” Delaney asked.

“I’m excited to think that now I might be here when you have your baby, but other than that, I’m not happy about it.” Rebecca wandered into the bathroom, leaned close to the mirror above the vanity and started applying mascara to her lashes. “But I can’t make him marry me on my birthday, you know?”

“You could give him an ultimatum,” Delaney pointed out.

“Believe me, I’ve thought about that.”

“And?”

“He might tell me to take a hike. Then I’d have to spend the rest of my life living right here in Dundee.”

“That’s not necessarily true. You could meet someone else. Or strike out on your own in a big city somewhere. If Buddy’s not as committed as he should be, maybe it’d be better to find out now.”

“No, thanks. I think I’d rather go out with Booker.”

“Why? That’s only avoiding the issue.”

“So I’m avoiding it. I need to get out of the house. I’ve been spending all my weekends sitting on the couch, talking to Buddy on the phone. Or at the computer, communicating through e-mail and instant messaging. I can’t face another four months of this.”

There was a slight hesitation. “You’d never allow yourself to get involved with Booker, though, would you?”

“No way. I’m still engaged. Besides, it wouldn’t be right to sleep with someone just because your father would hate it.” Rebecca dug through her cosmetics case and came up with some jewelry. Holding a pearl earring to one ear and a large silver hoop to the other, she tried to decide which one looked best. “Anyway, Booker and I are just friends. It was you he always liked, remember?”

“He tried to corrupt me. That doesn’t necessarily mean he liked me.”

The hoops. Much sexier. “Come on,” Rebecca said. “He wouldn’t corrupt just anybody.” She abandoned the bathroom in favor of digging through the shoes in her closet. “You think I should wear flats or something with a heel?”

“How tall is Booker?”

“About my height.”

“Perfect. Wear the dominatrix boots with the six-inch heels. That’ll let him know who’s in control.”

Rebecca came up with a pair of flats. “I don’t think he’d be intimidated by the dominatrix look. I think he’d probably like it. But I’d rather not feel like the Jolly Green Giant tonight.”

“Your height’s never bothered you before.”

“It doesn’t bother me now. I’m creating a different look.”

“If you’re not getting married until January, what are you going to do about the house?” Delaney asked. “Isn’t your lease up soon?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to call Mr. Williams and see if he’ll give me an extension.”

“I don’t think he will, Beck. His son and daughter-in-law and their two little monsters have been living with him for the past couple of weeks. I think he’s promised them the house when you move.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. I heard him say something to Lisa down at the bank about how happy he was going to be to have his space back once Peter and Carla move out.”

“That means I’ll have to find another place,” Rebecca said, sinking down on the bed.

“I’m sure Aunt Millie would let you move in with her and Uncle Ralph for a few months,” Delaney said.

Aunt Millie and Uncle Ralph had adopted and raised Delaney. They were good folk, the best, but Rebecca had no illusions that she could live peaceably in the same house with them. She already had to visit Aunt Millie once a week to do her hair, which nearly caused her to have a claustrophobia attack inside the first ten minutes—usually when Aunt Millie told her she was too thin for the hundredth time. “Are you trying to cheer me up, or what? You know Aunt Millie would snoop through my things and try to hold me to a curfew.”

“I just want you to know you’ve always got somewhere to stay. You could even come out here to the ranch.”

“Wouldn’t Conner love that.” Rebecca retrieved the perfume from her dresser, squirted some into the air, then stepped into the shower of spray. She didn’t want to smell like a perfume factory; tonight she was aiming for subtle.

“He wouldn’t mind,” Delaney said.

“No, thanks. I’m not pathetic enough to move in with my newly married friend.”

“It’s just temporary—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.” Tomorrow. She’d figure something out tomorrow. Tonight she was going to forget all her troubles and go dancing for the first time in months. “Are you meeting me at the Honky Tonk or what?”

“You’re really going?”

“Of course.”

“Then I can’t let you go alone.”

“I’m not going alone. I’m going with Booker.”

“Exactly. I’ll be there in an hour or so.”

As soon as Rebecca hung up, the telephone rang. She eyed it with distrust. Ignoring a ringing phone went against her basic nature. She had sort of a “no run, no hide” policy; anything less smacked of cowardice. But she didn’t want to talk to Buddy or her father or one of her perfect sisters. Not right now. Tonight she was feeling good and going out.

She managed to keep herself from picking up but hurried into the kitchen to adjust the volume on the answering machine. She breathed a sigh of relief that she’d used some restraint when she heard Buddy’s voice.

“Beck? Where are you? Are you mad at me? What’s wrong? I haven’t heard from you. I thought we worked everything out, so what’s with the silent treatment? If you’re that upset about the wedding, maybe we could move it up a couple of weeks. I’ll talk to my aunt. Give me a call, okay?” Beep, click.

“A couple of weeks? Jeez, that’s nice of you, Buddy,” she grumbled and went for her coat.

When she had her purse as well, she called Booker. “I’m on my way.”

“I’ll meet you there,” he said and hung up.

“OH, MY GOD! Would you look at her?” Mary said, straining to see through the crowd. “She’s got a tattoo on her belly.”

“You’re kidding. A tattoo? Of what?” Across the table from Josh, Candace made her date, Leonard Green, move so she could see the dance floor.

“Seems to be a butterfly. She’s over there with Booker Robinson,” Mary answered. “You know he’s back in town, right? He drove past me on that motorcycle of his a few days ago.”

“You already told me,” Candace replied.

Mary watched for a few seconds in silence. “You think they’re sleeping together?”

Josh had been trying to ignore the conversation—just like he’d been trying to ignore Rebecca—ever since he’d arrived at the Honky Tonk. But he couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “No,” he said flatly. “She’s not.”

“How do you know?” Mary asked, her tone eager.

Candace pursed her lips in obvious skepticism. “They look like they’re sleeping together to me.”

“I thought she was engaged,” Leonard said. Until that moment, Josh hadn’t realized Candace’s date was even listening. He’d been too busy craning his neck to see over the half wall that separated their table from those playing darts.

“She’s engaged, all right,” Mary said. “But I wouldn’t put anything past Rebecca. She likes guys on motorcycles, remember? Besides, her fiancé isn’t from around here, so how would he know?”

Josh felt his jaw clench as he put his beer on the table. “She isn’t sleeping with Booker. She didn’t even know he was in town until this morning, okay? Can we cut her a little slack?”

Mary frowned at the impatience in his voice. “What’s wrong with you, Josh? I thought you didn’t like her.”

“I have better things to do than spend the whole evening gossiping about Rebecca’s every move,” he said.

A pouty expression claimed Mary’s face. “Boy, are you touchy tonight.”

“I’m just tired of talking about Rebecca as though she’s the devil incarnate. She’s not all bad, you know.”

Candace arched her brows. “She’s not?”

“No. For one, she has more grit than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Mary and Candace exchanged a look. “Whatever you say, Josh,” Mary told him.

“I’m serious. Do you remember when we were in the seventh grade and Buck Miller was teasing Howie Wilcox?”

“Candace and I weren’t in junior high then.”

“I was,” Leonard said, turning back to the table as the game of darts he’d been watching broke up and the participants sauntered over to the bar. “Buck was always teasing Howie.”

“He was always picking on someone,” Josh said. “And this day we’d had to run the mile for Phys Ed. Poor Howie was so overweight he could barely walk a mile, let alone run one, and Buck was all over him about it, saying the only person he knew with more rolls was the Michelin Tire Man, crap like that.”

Leonard nodded. “I remember.”

Josh focused on Mary and Candace. “Rebecca heard what Buck was saying to Howie and decided she’d had enough. She threw down her books, marched up to Buck and told him to keep his big fat mouth shut or she was going to shut it for him.”

“She did?” Candace said. “Buck was one of the strongest kids in school.”

“He went through puberty in the sixth grade, but she didn’t care,” Josh said. “She told him he’d better quit teasing Howie or she’d make him pay.”

Mary pulled her chair closer to the table. “What’d he do?”

“Started shoving her, telling her to mind her own business before he taught her how.”

“And she…”

“Shoved him right back. Pretty soon they started swinging at each other and all the kids gathered around.”

Mary laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. Did she come out of it okay?”

“No.” Josh took another drink of his beer. “She got her ass kicked. For Fat Howie.”

“Why?” Candace wanted to know. “Were they friends?”

“Not that I know of. Fat Howie didn’t have any friends.”

“Why didn’t she try to get away when she could see that Buck had the best of her?” Leonard asked. “All she had to do was go crying for the principal.”

“Rebecca wouldn’t give up. She just kept swinging.” Josh shook his head. “Damnedest thing I ever saw.”

“How’d it end?” Mary asked.

“The yard duty finally came and broke it up.”

“Did Buck get suspended?”

“They both did.” He sighed as he toyed with the condensation on his glass, watched a drop roll from the rim to the base. “I’ve always been ashamed of myself because of that day,” he admitted.

Mary’s brows gathered above her wide blue eyes. “Why? What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he said. “That’s just it. I stood by and let a girl defend Howie.”

“No one else jumped in,” Leonard said. “We were only twelve, just out of grade school, and pretty surprised by the whole thing.”

Josh had been more than surprised; he’d been shocked. And even though he remembered it in slow motion, it had actually happened very fast. Still, he should’ve done something. He’d felt worse when he realized that because of her reputation for being a difficult child, Rebecca was going to get into as much trouble as Buck.

Shoving away from the table, Josh left Mary and her friends and strode over to the jukebox. If he’d thought he had any chance of getting Mary to leave, he would’ve headed home at that moment. But she loved hanging out at the Honky Tonk, socializing with all her old friends, and generally insisted they stay until well after midnight. Sometimes he wondered if she realized they weren’t in high school anymore.

He stared down at the songs listed on the jukebox, forcing himself to focus on the titles in an effort to block out the mental picture of how Rebecca had looked after she’d fought Buck. Blouse torn and dirty, nose bleeding and hair mussed, she’d shaken her fist at Buck as the yard duty was dragging them both away, and shouted, “You leave him alone, you hear?”

There was no one like Rebecca, he decided. No one.

He glanced over at Mary, and suddenly saw her as rather plain. She liked tailored, conservative clothes, the same kind all her friends wore. Which had suited him just fine—until this moment. Now he wanted her to get a tattoo. Probably because he knew she’d never do it. But, if not that, something to prove she could step out of line and dare to be different, to be an individual, instead of a compilation of all the traits and beliefs that were patently approved by the masses. God, he was dating someone who was completely…homogenized.

He jammed his hands in his pockets. No, that wasn’t kind or fair. He was only reacting to this day, this moment. Because of Doyle Wilson and his little truce, Rebecca Wells had been tossed back into his orbit, and he hadn’t yet adjusted. After not seeing her for months, other than brushing elbows occasionally on the street, he’d sat in her chair at the salon for half an hour this morning, her breasts at eye level, while she ran her fingers through his hair. And now, here she was at the Honky Tonk, looking like a wet dream. The tattoo was daring, and sexy because it was daring, and made him remember a year ago last summer and wish he could finally have the satisfaction of making love to Rebecca.

But it was only a competitive thing, a desire to conquer at last. That was all. He wanted to win the one woman who’d gotten away.

Mary was petite and attractive and nice and…and a good parent to Ricky—although, like tonight, her mother often took care of him. He was a lucky man to have Mary, Josh reminded himself. He knew at least a dozen other guys who’d gladly take his place.

So why couldn’t he seem to stop staring at Rebecca?

REBECCA HAD BEEN RIGHT to get out. She felt better than she had in months—freer, more light-hearted. The music pounded in her ears, tempting her to move to the rhythm. Her margarita was taking the edge off the tension that had been dragging her down. And it no longer seemed terribly important that she marry and leave town right away. Buddy seemed distant and not likely to come any closer, and Booker was the perfect companion for her mood. He danced, he talked, he laughed; he looked at life simply. Before Delaney and Conner had arrived, she’d told him about Buddy postponing their wedding and he’d given her the same answer he gave for everything. “Tell him to go to hell.”

Well, tonight Rebecca was telling the whole world to go to hell, and she was having a great time doing it.

“Let’s dance again,” she said, pulling him to his feet.

He took a quick sip of his beer before leaving it on the table with Delaney and Conner and letting her lead him onto the dance floor. She could see Josh sitting with Mary and Mary’s friend Candace, along with some guy Delaney didn’t recognize, off to the left. But his presence didn’t bother her. At least, not the way it normally did. His hair looked damn good—she was pretty proud of that. But then, what else was new? Josh always looked good.

“In case you’re interested, Josh Hill is sitting over there,” she told Booker.

“Why would I be interested?”

“It’s been a while since you’ve seen him.”

He swung her around to take a look. “Hasn’t changed much.”

“I guess that makes three of us, huh?”

He chuckled. “Who’s the chick? His wife?”

“Which one?”

“The brunette.”

“That’s Mary. Don’t you recognize her?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “She used to be captain of the cheer squad for your high school, didn’t she?”

“That’s her. She and Josh have been dating for several months.”

“He’ll be sorry if he marries her.”

“Why?”

“I used to sit on the front row of the bleachers while the cheerleaders were practicing, so I could make a big deal about looking under Mary’s skirt when her stunt partner tossed her into the—”

“If this is supposed to impress me, you can save your breath,” Rebecca interrupted. “I already know you’re a pervert.”

“I wasn’t getting any kind of thrill out of it,” he said. “I just liked messing with her. Every few minutes, she’d march over to the fence and rattle off a lecture about school spirit and respect and how I’d never amount to anything.”

“What would you do?”

“Shrug and say, ‘You want me and you know it.”’

“Really?”

“That drove her nuts.”

“I’ll bet. So she’s probably thrilled to see you’re back in town, hmm?”

“I don’t care if she is. She can go to—”

“I know. She can go to hell. It’s a rather simplistic motto, but effective,” she said.

He turned and bent her over his arm in a dramatic dip. “Now you’re catching on, babe. What they think can only bother you if you let it.”

Rebecca certainly liked Booker’s philosophy. She just wasn’t sure he was the best person to emulate. Fortunately Delaney’s presence seemed to check her wilder tendencies. To Delaney, Booker was the big bad wolf. She wasn’t about to let Rebecca become his first little pig. Which was why she wouldn’t leave, even though she was exhausted and Conner was bored stiff.

“So if Josh is dating Mary, why does he keep looking over here?” Booker asked.

“What?” Rebecca replied.

“I want to know why Josh keeps staring at you.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t realize he was.”

“Anything ever happen between you two?”

“A lot’s happened between us.”

“I mean, did you ever get together, hook up?”

“No,” she lied, thinking a year ago last summer was such a small exception it wasn’t worth mentioning.

“Well, he wants you, babe. He wants you bad.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes and started laughing. “No, he doesn’t. He hates me. I used to put gum in his hair.”

“I’m just telling you what I see. You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to.”

Booker had to be wrong. He was confusing all the bad blood between her and Josh with something else. Or Josh wasn’t staring at her at all. More likely he was staring at Booker. Except for Rebecca, no one was particularly happy about his return.

“How do you like Conner?” she asked, catching sight of Delaney’s husband quietly conferring with her over at the table. He was probably begging her to give up her vigil and go home and, in a way, Rebecca wished she would. Having Delaney there grounded her, and she appreciated that. It was the whole reason she’d taken the precaution of inviting her. But Rebecca had discovered that she didn’t want to be grounded at this particular moment. Not when she was telling the whole world to go to hell.

“He’s okay, I guess,” Booker said. “Delaney’s still hot. Too bad she’s married.”

“Sometimes I think so, too,” Rebecca admitted. “I’m happy for her, but I miss having someone to live with. And now that my lease is up, I’m going to have to move into a new house alone, if I can find one. There aren’t a lot of rentals in Dundee.”

“Don’t move into a house alone,” he said. “Come out to Granny’s and live with us.”

Rebecca pulled back to see his face. “What? I can’t do that.”

“Why not? There’s plenty of room and Granny would love it because she’d have another pair of hands she could put to work.”

“Doing what?”

“Weeding the garden, washing her old Buick, making a meal or two.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping,” Rebecca said. “I think it’d be fun to be around people again. It’s been me and my phone for the past five months.”

“I’ll talk to Granny and give you a call.”

“Great.” Rebecca smiled at finding a possible solution. The Hatfield place seemed like the perfect stopgap. Maybe her luck had changed.