Читать книгу The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers - Cynthia Thomason - Страница 10

PROLOGUE

Eight years ago

“AN OLD SOUL with a fighting spirit.” That was how Jude Foster’s mother often referred to her. Well, if caring about people and creatures and causes made her an old soul, then Jude was happy to have earned the title. Just because she didn’t go out with friends a lot and chase guys...just because she didn’t care a bit for the community college courses her father had encouraged her to enroll in—none of that meant she didn’t have a fulfilling life.

True, she was twenty-three years old and had never been in love. So what? Her mother also told her that her heart would find its match eventually, and in the meantime she didn’t mind avoiding all the angst and heartache her sisters constantly talked about.

If she could just convince her dad that she wasn’t college material, that she truly hated the idea of cleaning teeth for the rest of her life. All she needed was a new goal, one she could present to her father as a viable alternative to scraping molars.

Jude left the medical associate’s degree building of Munson Community College and released her usual sigh of relief. Somehow she’d managed to muddle through nearly three semesters of training in the dental hygienist school, doing just well enough to keep from flunking out.

She certainly couldn’t attribute her modest success in college to her own drive and purpose. Jude simply wasn’t a student, never would be. No, she was doing this for her father, who’d spent the first two years after Jude graduated from high school trying to interest her in a field that required higher education, while she worked the cash register at Winnie’s Western Wear. They’d settled on this path, or more accurately Martin Foster had settled on it, and the rest had been a history just short of drudgery. If she finished this semester and got through one more, she could clean teeth. Wow, the prospect excited her not at all.

She came around the corner of the student union building and decided to skip lunch today. She could be home in thirty minutes and spend her afternoon at the barn with her docile and delightful mare, Honey. Maybe they’d ride on the property. Maybe they’d go all the way to Bees Creek. Either way, the thought of a gallop through the countryside made Jude forget uppers and lowers that hadn’t been flossed in months.

She was about to cross the paved road that ran between the union and the students’ parking lot when she noticed an old pickup truck broken down on the side of the asphalt. The hood was up, and a frantic hand waved the air where smoke was billowing from the engine. She couldn’t see the man’s face, but he was dressed in old jeans, work boots and a long-sleeved T-shirt that showed off admirable muscles.

Never one to pass by a trouble spot if she thought she could lend a hand, Jude went up to the truck. “Can I help?” she asked.

The man rose from the hood, wiped steam from his forehead and grimaced.

Jude’s mouth almost watered, probably from a lack of lunch, she told herself.

He was gorgeous. Long, dark hair that reached nearly to his shoulders. A strong face with storybook masculine features that included a square jaw, high cheekbones, a slightly crooked nose. The only part of that face that didn’t blend well with the other features were dark, curling lashes that immediately captured Jude’s attention.

“Have you got a cell phone?” the man asked. “I need to make a phone call.”

The guy didn’t have a cell phone? Wow, maybe she’d entered a time warp and had been transported back a few decades. The truck, at best a relic of the eighties, fit the scenario in her mind. She fished her phone out of her backpack and handed it to him. “Do you know how to use this?”

He gave her a questioning look. “Of course. I just forgot mine when I left the house this morning.”

He punched in a number. “Richie, it’s me. Tell Pop the truck broke down again. I’m going to need a tow.” He paused, listening. “I know. I tried that.” Another pause. “Yes, I made it to the college, but I’m going to have to unload all this produce by myself and carry it into the kitchen.”

For the first time Jude noticed a plastic tarp covering the cargo area of the truck. Between the rope tie-downs she could see assorted vegetables and fruits.

“Don’t bother,” he said to the person on the phone. “By the time you could get here, I would already have it mostly delivered. Just tell a tow to be here in an hour.”

He handed Jude her phone. “Thanks. Can’t believe I left my phone at home.” Glaring at the truck, he added, “I should know to keep it handy when I’m forced to drive this piece of...” He stopped, looked at Jude. “Sorry.”

She’d noticed his left hand when he gave her the phone. No ring.

“No problem,” she said. “I heard you tell that other guy...”

“My brother, Richie.”

“Okay, Richie, that you would unload this produce. I assume it’s going into the building next door to us here.”

“That’s right. My family farm furnishes fresh vegetables to the cafeteria. Usually I drop it off at the loading door in the back. Looks like I won’t be doing that today.” He frowned at the truck. “She conked out on me and won’t go another inch. Can’t let the stuff sit in the truck and spoil.”

“No, you wouldn’t want to do that.” She dropped the backpack from her shoulder and tossed it into the truck cab. “This should be safe here.” And if it wasn’t, she really didn’t care.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help you carry this produce to the union. Me and anyone else I can draft to give us a hand.”

“You?” His facial expression was less than confident. “I can do it, really. I don’t want you straining anything.”

She knew her slight figure belied her strength. And she also knew her strength. A girl didn’t haul hay bales and water buckets without building up some muscle tone. She began untying the knots in his tie-downs. When she’d cleared a bushel basket of tomatoes, she hoisted it easily from the truck. Staring at the man’s shocked expression, she smiled and said, “Come on, let’s go.”

Jude succeeded in nabbing a half dozen volunteers she knew from hygiene classes. The entire truck was emptied in a half hour.

“Wow, thanks everyone,” Mr. Gorgeous said when the job was done. The other students left, but Jude, gratefully accepting an apple, munched and waited for the tow to arrive. When it did, she asked the man what he intended to do to get back to his farm.

“I’ll ride in with the tow driver. My brother will pick me up.”

“I might be able to take you,” she said. “Where is your farm?”

“Bees Creek Township,” he said.

“Amazing,” she said. “I’m going right by there.” Never had a lie come so easily.

“Well, then, I appreciate the lift. You’ll really save me some time.” He stuck out his hand. “I don’t think a young lady should offer a ride to a stranger, though. My name’s Paul O’Leary.”

“Jude Foster. Nice to meet you.”

They rode to Bees Creek in Jude’s trusty Volkswagen with its ragtop and five-speed transmission. By the time they pulled into the driveway of an old farmhouse, which bore the signs of many coats of paint, Jude was in love.