Читать книгу The Wedding Party Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Aimee Carson - Страница 44

Chapter Four

“That pond-sucking scum.” Adrianna’s green eyes flashed and she placed the dress back on the rack with extra force.

Betsy had just finished telling her friend the same story she’d told Ryan last night. The way she figured, she couldn’t tell him about Chad and keep her best friend in the dark.

When Adrianna had called Saturday morning and mentioned doing some shopping, Betsy had been seriously tempted to beg off. After recounting the tale of that night in the boardroom with Chad, she’d had difficulty sleeping.

But she’d decided nothing would be accomplished by moping in her apartment. And she wasn’t in the mood to go over to Aunt Agatha’s home—with no heat—and clean.

“Let’s not talk about Chad anymore,” Betsy said. “He’s so not worth the time.”

Adrianna met her gaze. “You should file charges.”

“That’s what Ryan said,” Betsy said with a sigh.

“You told Ryan Harcourt the story?” Adrianna’s eyes widened with disbelief. “Before you told me?”

Betsy briefly explained about running into Chad at Wally’s Place. “I have to admit I felt better getting it off my chest.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?” Hurt underscored Adrianna’s words. “You had to know I’d be there for you.”

“I was embarrassed,” Betsy began, then paused when the clerk, who’d been hovering just out of earshot, moved closer.

“Is there anything I can help you ladies find?” the woman asked.

Adrianna flashed her trademark smile at the plump grandmotherly type. “Thank you, but we’re just looking.”

After making them promise to let her know if they needed anything, the woman bustled off to help a customer at the cash register.

“Let’s talk about something more pleasant,” Betsy said. “Delivered any babies lately?”

It was a question guaranteed to change the subject. Her friend loved her job as a nurse-midwife and could talk about it anytime, anywhere.

Adrianna laughed. “All I’m saying is that nine months ago must have been an extremely busy time. It’s been crazy lately.”

“Maybe one of these days it’ll be you or me having a little one.” The second the words left her lips, Betsy wished she could pull them back. With Adrianna being so commitment-phobic and her being so, well, it wasn’t as if men were beating down her door, the odds that either one of them would end up with a home and family of her own were decreasing every day.

“Perhaps.” Adrianna gave a little shrug, her eyes giving nothing away. “By the way, did I mention that I got a text from Tripp Randall the other day?”

Betsy thought for a moment. “Tall, sandy-haired guy? His dad had cattle?”

“That’s the one.”

“Does he still live in Jackson Hole?” She hadn’t heard the name since she moved back.

“His parents do, but he’s been living back East since he got out of college.”

Betsy wasn’t surprised. A lot of the people who grew up in Jackson Hole and left for college didn’t come back. But one thing did surprise her. “Why did he text you?”

“His wife, Gayle Doyle, and I were friends.” Adrianna put down the gold sweater she’d picked up only moments before. Her hands fluttered to her hair, nervously pushing a long strand of chestnut hair back from her face. “We played on the volleyball team together. She was a wing spiker. You could always count on Gayle to make the big play.”

If it were anyone else, Betsy would have labeled the talk nervous chatter. But Adrianna never chattered.

“You remember Gayle, Bets.” Adrianna’s eyes were a little too bright. “She was a senior when we were freshmen.”

Betsy thought harder and an image of a vivacious brunette came into focus. Betsy never realized she and Anna were friends.

Acquaintances, yes. But friends? Gayle had been so much older. Not to mention popular.

“So Gayle and Tripp married and now he’s texting you.” Betsy picked up a tan cardigan. Adrianna shook her head ever so slightly and Betsy dropped the sweater back on the stack. “My question is, what does Gayle think of his contacting you?”

Sudden sadness filled Adrianna’s eyes. “Gayle died during childbirth several years ago.”

Betsy gasped. “I didn’t think that kind of thing happened anymore.”

“It doesn’t. Not often anyway.” Adrianna expelled a heavy sigh. “It’s always so sad when it does.”

“What went wrong?”

“The placenta separated from the uterine wall. There was massive bleeding. Both she and the baby died.”

Betsy thought of Gayle with her laughing dark eyes and big smile. She’d always seemed so full of life. Now she was dead. “Did they have other children?”

Adrianna shook her head. “That baby was their first.”

“You still didn’t say why he contacted you.”

“I think he’s lonely. He texts me every now and again.”

Okay, so the guy was lonely. Betsy noticed her friend hadn’t really answered her question. “Sounds to me like he might be on the hunt for a new wife.”

Adrianna took extra time inspecting what looked to be a snag in a pair of silk pants. She spoke without lifting her gaze. “Tripp lived down the road from me growing up. He was like a big brother. Sort of like you and Ryan. Same kind of relationship.”

Betsy inhaled sharply. She’d often thought that Adrianna suspected she liked Ryan a whole lot more than she let on. Now she was unsure whether the comment meant that Adrianna liked Tripp, as in really liked him, or if they were simply friends. She put a hand to her head. This was getting so confusing.

Adrianna placed the pants back on the rack. “Tripp wanted to tell me he was—”

A shrill, pulsating sound filled the air, drowning out the rest of Adrianna’s words.

“I’m sorry, ladies.” The clerk reappeared, but this time her friendly smile seemed forced and there were lines of strain around her eyes. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the building.”

“Is there a fire?” Betsy sniffed the air. She didn’t smell smoke or see any flames.

“A fire hasn’t been identified.” The woman herded them in the direction of the front door as she spoke. “We’ve had some electrical problems the past few days. I’m sure this is part of that issue. Still, we can’t take any chances.”

“Of course not,” Adrianna murmured.

Once they were out on the sidewalk, Betsy turned toward her friend, eager to hear more. “Tell me—”

Adrianna raised a hand and slipped her cell phone out of her pocket. With the sirens of fire trucks filling the air, Betsy hadn’t even heard it ring.

Her friend listened for several seconds, asked a few questions, then told the person she was speaking with that she’d be right there.

“What’s up?” Betsy asked.

“Baby on the way.” Adrianna reached into her bag for her car keys. “Sorry to cut short our shopping trip.”

Betsy glanced at the firemen hustling into the boutique. It didn’t look as though she and Adrianna would have been returning to that store anytime soon. “No worries.”

“I’ll call you later and we’ll set up another time,” Adrianna said.

“Then you can tell me all about Tripp,” Betsy said pointedly.

“Nothing to tell,” Adrianna said over her shoulder as she started down the sidewalk. “Old friend. No big deal.”

Betsy opened her bag and took out her keys, pondering the words. Old friends. She thought about Ryan. Thought about Adrianna’s blasé attitude. Thankfully Tripp lived far away. If he lived close, Betsy might have to warn Adrianna that a girl needed to watch out for old friends. They could be dangerous, very dangerous, to a woman’s heart.

* * *

The next couple of weeks passed quickly. Betsy and Adrianna talked on the phone but never did find another time to get together. At work, Betsy settled into a comfortable relationship with Ryan.

He treated her like a good friend.

She fell more deeply in love.

Even though she tried to hide her feelings, she wondered if he was starting to see through her. Several times in the past few days she’d caught him eyeing her curiously when he didn’t think she was looking.

Today she’d made a concerted effort to keep her distance.

“In the mood for a cappuccino?” he asked unexpectedly as the end of the day loomed.

Betsy would die for a shot of espresso, but it wouldn’t be wise to encourage such closeness. Just say no, she told herself.

“Absolutely,” she said instead. “Do you want me to finish up these documents first?”

“They’ll still be here tomorrow.” He grabbed her parka from the closet and handed it to her. “You’ll need this. The temperature has dropped at least twenty degrees since this morning.”

“I haven’t been outside,” Betsy admitted, then swallowed a groan. Ryan had made it clear when she started working for him that she needed to take a lunch break.

But he didn’t appear to make the connection. Instead, his eyes took on a distant, faraway look.

“I met Cole for lunch,” Ryan murmured, his mind drifting back to their conversation. Talking with his friend about old football plays had gotten Ryan thinking that an offense-driven approach would be more productive than waiting around.

It was then that he’d begun to formulate his game plan. He wasn’t sure how Betsy would react to his declaration, but he certainly wasn’t making any progress with his current strategy. He could have said something to her in the office, but because it was a personal issue, he wanted to do it in a nonwork setting.

Because it was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and midafternoon, Hill of Beans should be fairly deserted. After helping Betsy on with her coat—obviously made to withstand a subarctic blast—he shrugged on his own jacket, then opened the door and waited for her to pass.

As she slipped out the door, he caught a whiff of vanilla and smiled. After almost two weeks he’d finally made the connection: Betsy smelled like his mother’s kitchen on baking day.

A pleasant scent for a pleasant coworker. Having Betsy in the office had worked out better than he ever imagined. She was prompt, efficient and managed to somehow anticipate his every need. They were like a well-oiled machine. He hoped today’s conversation wouldn’t affect that happy balance.

The wind was brisk, but thankfully the coffee shop sat just around the corner. Before long, they were inside the warm shop with cups of frothy cappuccino before them.

“Got big plans for the Thanksgiving weekend?” he asked.

“Adrianna is having a few people over on Thursday.” Betsy took a sip of her drink. “I’m helping.”

“I bet you’re an excellent cook.”

Red crept up her neck, although his comment seemed to please her. “I could be awful.”

“You’re too competent at everything you do to be awful.”

She frowned slightly and took a sip of her drink.

Even though he’d meant it as a compliment, for some reason that’s not how she’d appeared to have taken it. Since when wasn’t “competent” a good thing?

“You’re right,” she said, finally. “I’m very good in the kitchen. In fact, my pumpkin strudel pie is to die for.”

“I’d like to try it sometime.”

Betsy merely smiled and took another sip of her cappuccino. “What are you doing for the holiday?”

“My plans are up in the air.” In fact he’d deliberately turned down Cole and Meg’s invitation as well as a Thanksgiving invite from Travis and Mary Karen Fisher. All because he wanted to be available should this conversation go the way he’d hoped. “Betsy, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Her dusty blue eyes met his. For a second, all he could think of was how pretty she looked in her pink fluffy sweater. And how her lips looked like plump ripe strawberries. Ryan shook his head to clear the thoughts.

“You’re scaring me.” Two lines of worry furrowed her brow. “Is it something with my work? If I’m doing anything wrong, just tell me and I’ll correct it.”

“It’s nothing work-related.” He offered her a reassuring smile. “You’re doing an awesome job. In fact, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She expelled a breath. “Good.”

“This is something personal.”

Her fingers stilled on the large cup sitting in front of her. “Really?”

While Betsy hadn’t given him permission to stray into the personal realm, she hadn’t shut the door either. Ryan decided to plunge through the slight opening he’d been given. “I’ve never had any trouble getting dates. Or talking to women. But when the woman is special to you and she doesn’t know she is, finding the right words can be hard.”

Betsy simply stared.

“Do you know what it’s like to want someone but not be sure if they want you?”

Her eyes never left his face. She nodded slowly.

“To wonder if they only think of you as a friend or if their feelings run as deep as yours but they’re afraid to say anything for fear of looking foolish?”

“I—” Betsy cleared her throat before continuing “—I can relate.”

“Can you?” Ryan reached forward and took her hands. “It’s difficult having such intense feelings but having to keep them hidden.”

“A person shouldn’t keep feelings like that under wraps.” Her voice shook with emotion. “You should always say what you feel.”

“Even if I’m not sure the other person feels the same way?”

“How do you know unless you ask?” Two bright spots of pink dotted her cheeks.

Ryan wondered if she’d guessed his secret. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m going to just blurt it out.”

He realized with a start that he was still clutching Betsy’s hands as if he were a drowning sailor and they were a life raft. But when he started to pull away, she tightened her hold.

“Tell me, Ryan,” she urged. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m in love with Adrianna Lee, but I’m not sure how she feels about me.”

A shutter fell across Betsy’s eyes. Even when she blinked the shutters remained firmly closed, hiding her thoughts, her reaction from his view. She released his hands and sat back, which he took to be a very bad sign.

“You and Adrianna?” Betsy stumbled over the name. “I thought that you, that we—”

She clamped her mouth shut.

Ryan tilted his head. “Did you think I was talking about you and me?”

Was that pity in his eyes?

Betsy’s heart fluttered like a thousand tiny hummingbirds in her chest. Dear God, this was her worst nightmare come to life. Somehow she had to find a way to salvage this situation. And while she was doing that, save her pride.

“You and me?” She somehow managed a respectable-sounding laugh. “Pssh. We’re just friends.”

By the look in his eyes, Betsy knew she hadn’t quite allayed his suspicions. How uncomfortable would it be for them to work in the same office day after day if he thought she was pining over him? She had to make him think there was someone else. But who? They knew most of the same people.

“Actually, as long as we’re sharing confessions, I have my own secret crush. That’s why I could so easily relate to what you were saying.”

The muscles in his shoulders relaxed and the suspicion that had colored his gaze all but disappeared. “Who is he?”

If she refused to tell him, he’d think she was lying. But she couldn’t pick anyone currently living in Jackson Hole. That would be way too uncomfortable. And she wouldn’t put it past Ryan to spill the beans.

Think, she told herself, think of a name.

“Tripp Randall.”

“The Tripp Randall who used to live here?”

“He lives back East now.” Betsy relaxed against the chair, feeling comfortable enough to take a sip of her now-lukewarm drink. “He was married, but—”

“His wife died.”

At first Betsy was surprised. How did he know that Tripp’s wife had passed away? Then she reminded herself that this was Jackson Hole. It was hard to keep any kind of secret in this town.

“Even though he’s now single, I don’t think there’s any chance of our getting together,” Betsy said. “I mean, he’s in Connecticut and I’m here.”

“Not for much longer.”

“What do you mean? I don’t have any plans to move.”

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“I just got a call from him this morning,” Ryan said. “Tripp is moving back to Jackson Hole.”