Читать книгу Cowboy Courage - Judy Duarte, Judy Duarte - Страница 12

It had taken Laurie nearly forever to fall asleep last night. Confusion reigned in her mind while desire for Cole McAdams threatened her resolve.

Blaming too much wine and soft music for last night’s magic, she decided she’d have to avoid both today, or she might do something she’d later regret. By the time she finally climbed from bed, the sun had peeked through silver-gray clouds in the east. The rain had stopped. And, her conscience reminded her, she couldn’t stay here forever.

Laurie stood in the kitchen, bare feet upon the cool, pink-and-white checkered linoleum floor, eyes taking in the dark-stained pine cabinets and pink appliances. This room wasn’t at all as modern and impressive as the rest of the house. Apparently, Cole hadn’t begun to remodel in here. She wondered what plans he had to modernize this room and make it as wide-open as the others. A large picture window, she assumed, like those he had in the rest of the house, using the outdoors as a work of art.

She reached for the light switch on the wall and gasped softly when the room lit up. The electricity worked. She glanced quickly at the black, wall-mounted telephone, quickly assuming everything was in working order.

She’d be on her way, wherever that might be. Farther east or back to the west, she hadn’t yet decided, but she needed to go. No telling what she might do if she remained in Cole McAdams’s presence, if she stepped back into his arms, allowed herself one more magical, mind-altering kiss.

Good heavens, she’d been engaged to a man whose kiss had never affected her like that, whose touch had never weakened her knees or driven her senses wild. But Laurie couldn’t stay, couldn’t pursue a relationship with a man who was little more than a stranger, a man who would be a part of her life for a brief moment. Even if he would give her a glimpse of something wonderful, something she might never experience again.

A strange twist in her heart implied she’d miss the handsome, blue-eyed cowboy she’d just met. She quickly brushed off a wave of sadness. Sleep deprivation had surely done a number on her.

She opened and closed cupboards until she found a can of ground coffee in the pantry, then began to prepare a pot in the usual way—with water from the tap and the flip of a switch on the electric coffeemaker.

While the aromatic, dark brown brew dripped into the pot, Laurie returned to the room in which she’d slept and retrieved the gym bag that held the yellow envelope addressed to Daniel. It was time she faced reality. Her days of Texas magic and dreams were coming to an end.

Sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of her, Laurie slowly withdrew the envelope from the canvas bag. She held it and struggled with her conscience about opening something not addressed to her.

Yet Denise’s artistic script mocked her, taunted her. Laurie grabbed a table knife, slipped it under the sealed flap and slit the envelope open. She peeked inside, then withdrew the contents.

Three canceled checks lay before her, each from Dr. Michael Harper’s business account to Daniel Walker’s campaign fund, all signed by Denise, the doctor’s wife and office manager. Something struck her as odd.

For a man who didn’t seem to have any more political interest than the norm, why would Michael contribute so much money to Daniel’s campaign? And why in three large increments? Before Laurie could find any reasonable explanation, Cole’s red vintage truck pulled into the drive.

She slipped the checks back into the envelope and braced herself for the morning after.

The morning after what? They certainly hadn’t slept together, although her mind had played and replayed the possibility all night long. They’d only danced.

But they’d held each other close, and the memory of the deep, hungry kiss they’d shared the night before had haunted her sleep. Just the thought of that kiss caused her cheeks to warm as though they’d committed an intimate act.

The knob turned, the back door swung open and a pretty blond child entered the kitchen. Round, blue-rimmed glasses framed expressive blue eyes. A splattering of freckles covered a turned-up nose.

Cole’s daughter, Laurie assumed. She smiled at the little girl.

When she spotted Laurie, she stopped in midstep. Her eyes brightened, and her mouth opened. “Who are you?”

“Hello,” Laurie said, unsure of what else to tell the child. Her eyes instantly sought Cole’s.

“This is my daughter, Beth,” Cole said to Laurie. Then he turned to the child. “This is Laurie. She’s a friend of Aunt Kerri-Leigh.”

And what am I to you? Laurie wanted to ask. Instead, she faced the child and extended her hand in greeting, offering the little girl the same respect and formality Laurie had always received when she’d been introduced to Aunt Caroline’s friends. “I’m happy to meet you, Beth.”

The child took Laurie’s hand and giggled. “I’m glad to meet you, too.”

“Why don’t you unpack your bags and put the laundry in the hamper,” Cole told Beth. “Consuela will be here tomorrow afternoon, and she’ll start the laundry.”

Consuela? Laurie couldn’t hide a grin of her own. So, Cole had a housekeeper. She’d guessed a woman had been responsible for the tidy home, but she just hadn’t known who.

Beth skipped off, long blond curls bouncing along behind her, and left Laurie and Cole alone in the kitchen.

Laurie faced him awkwardly. “I suppose I’d better think about heading back to town.”

“With or without your car?”

For a moment she’d forgotten Kerri-Leigh had the Expedition. “Can you give me a ride to the nearest bus depot? That’s where your sister said she’d park my car.”

“Sure,” Cole said. “But that’s in Clayton, twenty miles from here. I’ve got an appointment I need to take care of in Tannen. Can we make it later this evening?”

“I’m in no hurry to get my car. But if you don’t mind taking me with you to Tannen, I have a few things to do myself.” She didn’t tell him about her plan to find Carla’s Crazy Curl. Or her intent to change her hairstyle.

“Sure, you can ride with me. I’ll be a few hours, though. Do you think you can keep yourself busy in a backwoods community that long?”

Laurie hid a grin and shrugged. “I’ll think of it as an adventure.”

Cole chuckled. “I’ve got some chores to do around here. How about if we leave about noon?”

“All right.” Laurie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and wondered what Cole would say when he saw what she planned to have done to her hair. But she supposed it really didn’t matter. It wasn’t as though she and Cole had any kind of real friendship. Besides, she wouldn’t be around much longer.

She felt a brief moment of sadness, and tried to understand why. Did she mourn leaving a life of obscurity, or did she dread returning to face the problems of her past?

“Beth!” Cole called. “Do you want to go out in the pasture with me?”

The little girl came bounding back into the kitchen. “Is the lady going, too?”

“Not into the pasture,” Cole said. “It’s muddy. But you can put on some old clothes and—”

Beth slid up next to Laurie. “I’ll stay with the lady.”

“Not without asking her permission,” he said.

Big blue eyes, appearing larger through round lenses, pleaded for permission. “Can I stay with you, Laurie?”

“Certainly.” Laurie glanced at Cole. “If it’s all right with your dad.”

“It’s okay with me,” he said.

Beth clapped her hands in excitement. “Maybe we can make cookies. I like to make cookies!”

“Beth,” Cole admonished. “She doesn’t have to entertain you.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” Laurie said with a broad smile. “I think Beth will do the entertaining.”

“All right, then.” Cole turned toward the door. “I’ll be back in the time it takes to make a dozen cookies or answer a hundred questions—whichever comes first.”

Laurie laughed. “Either option is fine with me.”

“Or we can play,” Beth suggested. “I’ll get some toys.”

Cole shook his head while reaching for the back-door knob. “I hope she doesn’t drive you crazy. She can play and talk for hours on end.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Laurie said. All she needed to do was make a quick phone call to Aunt Caroline. Then she’d be happy to do whatever Beth wanted to do: play house, bake cookies or chat away for hours. She actually looked forward to spending time with the little girl.

When Cole had gone outside, and Beth into her room for some dolls to help make cookies, Laurie picked up the telephone and dialed her aunt’s number.

The maid answered the phone. “No, Mrs. Taylor isn’t at home. May I tell her who’s calling?”

“It’s Lauren,” she said, a bit surprised the older woman hadn’t recognized her voice. “Tell her not to worry about me. I’m spending some time alone, and I’ll call her later.”

Before the woman could answer, the phone line crackled with static.

“Goodbye,” Laurie said, assuming her message had gone through. She hung up the telephone, just as Beth raced back into the room with an armload of baby dolls.

“This is Mary,” Beth said, propping a dolly on the table. “And this is Susan. She has a cold.” Beth introduced each one. “Josie, Christie. And this one is Margo. She’s my favorite because Pammy gave her to me for my birthday.”

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Laurie said, taking each small hand into hers.

“Let’s play house,” Beth said. “I’ll be the mother.” Then she paused, eyes wide and enthusiastic. “Or do you want to be the mother? I’ll let you be her, if you want. Pammy lets me be the mommy a lot, so you can have the first turn, if you want. It’s okay, as long as one of us is. All dollies need a mommy.”

“You can be the mother,” Laurie said, her voice catching. She swiped at her eye with the back of a hand. Dollies weren’t the only ones who needed a mommy.

The morning passed in record time, with Beth enchanting Laurie with her precocious wit and insights.

As they used forks to press peanut-butter-cookie dough onto a cookie sheet, Beth paused and grimaced. “My head hurts again.”

Laurie glanced up. Tears welling in the little girl’s eyes convinced her the child’s complaint was real. “Again?”

Beth nodded. “It hurts bad.”

“Did you bump it?”

Beth shook her head. “It just hurts sometimes.”

Laurie glanced out the window. Cole wasn’t around to ask, but she wanted to give the child some relief. “Does your daddy know about the headaches?”

Beth nodded, her lip quivering. “He gives me medicine, but it tastes yucky.”

“What kind of medicine?”

“The purple stuff.” Beth pointed toward the top of the refrigerator. “It’s up there.”

When Laurie reached for the half-empty bottle, she read the label. Grape-flavored children’s non-aspirin pain reliever. As Beth began to whimper, Laurie checked the dosage. What would it hurt? She hated to see the girl in such obvious pain.

Taking the small, plastic measuring cup that had been placed beside the bottle, Laurie poured the proper amount and gave it to Beth. For a moment, she worried that she might have overstepped her boundaries, but when Beth continued to whine, Laurie decided she hadn’t.