Читать книгу The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Aimee Carson - Страница 48

Chapter Seven

Betsy felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She hadn’t seen that one coming. Still, she didn’t think Ryan noticed her surprise. Because of her mother’s shocking behavior, she’d had years of practice schooling her features.

“What a good idea,” she said brightly. “I’ll give Adrianna a call right now.”

Pushing the sheets and comforter aside, Betsy hopped out of bed, not even minding the coolness of the air. All she knew was she had to put some distance between her and Ryan. Give herself a few seconds to compose her thoughts and her emotions.

This is what you agreed to, she told herself as she scurried from the room to get her phone. You’re supposed to be fixing him up with her. Last night they were two buddies hanging out. When he’d slid into bed with her this morning, her hopes had risen, but he’d only wanted to stay warm. He hadn’t given her a second thought. How could he when his thoughts were so firmly focused on Adrianna?

Betsy located her phone in its usual spot, next to the coffeepot on the counter. She took several deep breaths while she unplugged it from the charger, then speed-dialed Adrianna.

Her friend answered on the first ring. They chatted for a few minutes before the conversation ended.

“Did you reach Adrianna?” Ryan asked from the kitchen doorway, Puffy standing beside him.

“She can’t come.” Betsy tried not to let her relief show. She wasn’t surprised. Adrianna hated driving on snow-packed roads. If a baby was on the way, she went out. Otherwise, she stayed at home. “She has the day off and wants to relax and enjoy it, not play in the white stuff.”

A startled look crossed Ryan’s face. “She said that?”

“Those were her exact words.” Betsy grabbed a sack of coffee from the cupboard and held it up. “Care for a jump start? I have to warn you, I drink the extra-strong cowboy blend.”

Ryan grinned. “A woman after my own heart. Bring it on, baby.”

For someone supposedly in love, the attorney didn’t seem all that upset that Adrianna wasn’t joining them. He whistled as he crossed the room with Puffy trotting alongside him. But when he reached the table, he paused. “Should I get dressed first?”

Betsy dumped some dry dog food into a bowl with tiny bones around the perimeter. Not until she’d placed it on the floor did she realize she’d already fed Puffy. Flustered, she glanced at Ryan. “What do you mean?”

“My mother. She was very strict with us boys.” Ryan’s lips lifted in a rueful smile. “No food until we were fully dressed.”

Betsy thought of her own mom. It had been the same in her house, except she and Keenan didn’t get food unless they made it themselves. “Well, I’m not your mother—”

“Thank God—”

“And I’ve been known to spend the whole day in my pj’s.

His eyes lit up. “Watching football?”

“When the Broncos are playing.” Betsy started the coffee and almost instantly a rich aroma filled the air. “Usually I read.”

“Do you have any big plans for today?”

“Not until later.” She held up a mug. “Black or with cream or sugar?”

“Black, please.”

She filled the cup, then placed it before him. “With all the sales, I probably should be shopping, but it’s not like I have anyone to buy for. Except Adrianna and I already know what I’m getting her.”

“What about me?” He took a sip of the steaming brew.

Betsy added a dollop of cream to her coffee, then took a seat at the table across from him. “Are you asking if you should get Adrianna a gift?”

“Actually I was asking if you were going to get me a gift.”

“Dream on, boss man. You make a heck of a lot more money than I do.”

Ryan grinned and wrapped his hands around the mug. “Can’t blame a guy for wanting something under the tree.”

Betsy laughed. Ryan had parents, brothers and a boatload of friends. She seriously doubted the guy had to worry about not getting any presents. “Well, if you end up with no gifts, I’ll bring one to put under your tree.”

“First I have to have one.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“A tree.” He straightened in his chair so quickly that coffee spilled over the top of his cup. “That’s what we should do today. Pick out a Christmas tree. One for your place and one for mine.”

She handed him a napkin. “I don’t put up a tree.”

“Why not?” He looked up from the spill, his eyes wide, as if she’d said something horrifying like she didn’t eat meat or didn’t know how to ski.

The truth was, Betsy didn’t feel like telling him the holidays had never been a particularly happy time for her. The last time they’d had a tree, she’d been seven. Her mother had come home drunk and fallen into it. “Who’d see it?”

Ryan sat back in his chair, an expression of faux shock on his face. “A scrooge. That’s what you are, Betsy McGregor. A modern-day scroogette.”

Even though he was clearly teasing, something in his tone must have hit Puffy wrong. The Pomeranian lifted her head from the food bowl and growled.

“It’s okay, Puffball,” Ryan said. “Just keeping it real.”

After a moment the dog resumed eating.

“You call me a scrooge simply because I don’t put up a Christmas tree?” Betsy laughed. “That’s reaching, Harcourt.”

“There was a distinct scroogelike quality to your voice,” Ryan insisted, all serious. It was the twinkle in his eyes that gave him away.

“Hey, I’m a romantic. A woman who loves doggies and kitties and small children. I even carry around a coin with hearts on it in my purse.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. “You’re bluffing.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” She grabbed her bag from beside the counter and reached inside. Her fingers quickly located the medallion in the small inner pocket where she’d put it for safekeeping. She pulled it out and tossed it to him.

He caught it easily, flipping it over, then holding it up to the light. “This is a love token.”

“You’re making that up.”

“I’m not. My father found one in an antiques store and bought it for my mother for Valentine’s Day a couple years back.”

“What’s a love token?”

“They were popular in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It was a coin a man personalized for the woman he loved.”

“This one has writing on it, too,” Betsy pointed out. “But it’s not English.”

“It’s French,” he said. “If those years of college French were worth anything, I should be able to translate.”

Betsy got up and rounded the table, peering over his shoulder. “What does it say?”

“Vous et nul Autre,” he murmured. “You and No Other.”

“What?”

“That’s what it says, ‘You and No Other.’” His eyes softened. “Whoever had this engraved was obviously very much in love.”

Betsy loved the sentiment. “You think it’s stupid.”

To her surprise the smile left his lips. He shook his head, suddenly serious. “Not at all. Actually I hope to feel that way about my wife. And I hope she’ll feel that same way about me.”

Even though he didn’t say her name, from the look in his eyes Betsy knew Ryan was thinking about Adrianna.

That feeling of closeness that had begun to build, disappeared. “Ready for breakfast?”

“You still need a tree.”

“So you say.”

Ryan met her gaze. “I’m not giving up.”

Betsy steeled her resolve. “I’m not either.”

But as she got out the skillet, Betsy knew she wasn’t talking about a tree. Rather, she was talking about the man sitting across the table, the one she loved.

You and no other.

Give up? Not on her life. Not as long as there was a chance he could love her, too.

* * *

Ryan had known a lot of women over the past fifteen years. None of them like Betsy. Most of them barely knew what a kitchen was, much less their way around it. Adrianna had been right, Betsy was a fabulous cook. The breakfast she’d made had been the best he’d ever tasted.

Each egg had been a perfect sunny-side up, the bacon crisp without being brittle and the brioche French toast, well, even though he was full, his mouth watered just thinking of it now. But her talents didn’t end in the kitchen.

She had a keen eye. After she’d showered and he’d cleaned up the kitchen, they’d driven to a Christmas-tree farm not far from Jackson. With it being Black Friday, there weren’t many searching for a tree.

Ryan found one almost immediately, but Betsy had shaken her head and pronounced it too tall. Then he’d found a tree that was beautifully shaped, wide and full. She’d dismissed it as too short.

For someone who hadn’t even wanted a tree, she was being awfully picky.

“I’ve found it,” he heard her call out.

He quickened his steps, which wasn’t easy because of the snow on the ground. Yet it was beautiful outside. The day was clear and the breeze, while cool, had that crisp bite he’d always liked. Overhead the sun shone brightly in a blue sky.

Ryan followed the sound of her voice, grabbing on to a tree branch to help him make his way up a steep slope, wondering how she’d made it. Ryan could see by her tracks that she’d slipped and inched her way up the incline while he was checking out trees farther down. But she hadn’t complained or called to him for help.

He finally made it close enough to get a good view of the tree that had met with her approval. It was a Douglas fir, thick without being stubby, tall but not straggly. A perfect specimen. Sort of like the woman who stood beside it with her head cocked.

“This one has it all,” she said with a decisive nod.

“It will do.”

Betsy nodded again. “Now we have to find one for you.”

Ryan frowned. “I thought this would be mine.”

Betsy’s lips twitched. “Nope.”

She looked a bit too self-satisfied for his liking.

“Because it’s yours...” Ryan grabbed a handful of snow, packed it slightly, then let it fly.

It sailed past Betsy’s head and splatted against the tree.

Betsy whirled. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Testing how your perfect tree handles snow load.”

“Well, stop it.”

“Not yet.” Without pausing, Ryan quickly made another snowball. This one clipped the top of the tree.

He smiled. How long had it been since he’d made a snowball, much less thrown one? He really should get—

Snow hit his chest.

Giggles filled the air.

He fixed his gaze on Betsy. “Did you deliberately hit me with that snowball?”

She shook her head, while doubling over with laughter.

“You know what that means....” He scooped another handful of snow and carefully packed it, his gaze never leaving hers.

Her laughter ceased. She straightened and her eyes flashed a warning. “You wouldn’t dare.”

His smile widened. “You started it.”

He released his snowball the instant she released hers. He aimed for her chest. Hers hit him right in the face.

From that second it was game on. The balls flew fast and furious. Ryan bobbed and weaved, but Betsy had a deadly aim. After several minutes, even with gloves, his hands felt frozen and his cheeks stung from where she’d nailed him. Three times. But he was having so much fun he didn’t want it to end.

“Stop this right now.” The portly owner of the Christmas tree farm huffed and puffed his way up the hill, giving a little yelp as Betsy’s last snowball barely missed him. “What the heck is going on here?”

“She’s got a wicked arm,” Ryan said, only half joking. Because he had the snowball in his hand, it seemed a shame to waste it. He let it fly.

“That was unfair, Harcourt,” Betsy called out. “He’d said to stop.”

“Good to know you’re a woman who follows the rules.” He knew he shouldn’t push his luck, but he couldn’t help it.

“I’m going to—” She reached over to grab some snow, but the owner held up his hand.

“If I see one more snowball flying through the air, I’m not letting either of you have a tree.”

Ryan thought of how long it had taken them to find even one acceptable specimen. “Truce.”

“I’m the winner,” Betsy announced.

“You two can discuss that later,” the owner said. “Did you find a tree you wanted? Or were you too busy hitting each other with snowballs?”

Betsy caught Ryan’s eye and they burst out laughing.

The old man looked at them as if they’d lost their mind.

Twenty minutes later, the tree had been cut and placed in the back of Ryan’s pickup. When he saw Betsy shivering, Ryan nixed looking for a second tree.

“One’s enough,” he told her. “For today. Besides I’d like to get out of these wet clothes. I imagine you would, too.”

“I am a bit chilled.” Betsy hunched her shoulders against the wind.

“I’ll drop you and the tree off at your place, then I’ll go home, shower and come back. We can hang the ornaments tonight.”

“Uh, actually, Adrianna and I are getting together this evening.” Betsy glanced at the blue sky. “Because the weather is better, I’m sure she’ll be coming over.”

Ryan thought about suggesting that the three of them put up the tree, but he decided not to force the issue. “Do you two have big plans for the evening?”

Betsy lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “I’m not sure.”

“Because it’s Friday night, I’ll be at Wally’s Place. At least for a little while.” Ryan kept his tone casual and off-hand. “If you’re out you should stop by.”

Betsy made a noncommittal noise and changed the subject. They chatted easily on the way to her house. He hadn’t realized she was such a rodeo fan.

“Do you miss it?” Betsy asked.

“I miss the adrenaline rush,” he admitted. “There’s nothing like being on the back of a two-thousand-pound bull and making it a full eight seconds.”

“Why did you quit?” From the look in her eye, she was truly interested.

“It’s hard on your body,” he conceded. “I was fortunate that I’d never been seriously injured. But it was only a matter of time. Besides, I was ready to move on to something else, to the next phase of my life.”

“You’re a good attorney,” Betsy said. “You care about your clients and about seeing justice served.”

“My professional life is solid.”

“So what’s next?”

“Hopefully marriage and a family,” Ryan said.

“That’s what I want, too.”

“That’s why we’re working together,” he reminded her. “To help each other get that special person.”

“Adrianna.”

“Don’t forget Tripp,” Ryan said. “On that front, I have some good news.”

She glanced out the window.

“I got a text from him while we were looking for a tree. He should be back in Jackson Hole any day. Good news, huh?”

“I guess.”

Was that a sigh? “You don’t sound very excited.”

“I’m realistic,” Betsy said. “He won’t like me.”

Up ahead the light changed to red and Ryan pulled the truck to a stop. “What are you saying? He’s going to love you. You’re the kind of woman any man would want.”

“I’m not that kind of woman,” Betsy said, almost sounding angry. “I’m a buddy. A friend. Someone they can tell their troubles to and then go back to their girlfriend feeling better.”

Ryan thought how enticing she’d looked on that hill with her cheeks red with the cold, her eyes as blue as the sky. He wasn’t even her boyfriend and it had been all he could do to keep from kissing her.

“Trust me,” he said, “Tripp is going to take one look at you...and it’ll be all over.”

And if Tripp couldn’t see what a gem Betsy was, well, he didn’t deserve her.