Читать книгу The Wedding Party Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Aimee Carson - Страница 49

Chapter Nine

Across the room, Ryan’s gaze settled on Betsy laughing with Tripp at the bar. A knife twisted in his gut. It had been a long time since he’d felt the sensation flowing through his veins, but he recognized it immediately. Jealousy.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Adrianna engendering the response, but Betsy. Betsy. With her mile-a-minute mouth just made for kissing. With her snowball-throwing arm and fabulous cooking skills. With her kind heart and killer Monopoly instinct.

He’d watched Adrianna picking her way through the crowd. Seen the admiring glances sent her way. Until recently Ryan had been one of those guys. Even though she was a nice woman, he realized now that his attraction had been superficial, not deep. Certainly not the lasting kind.

When Betsy and Tripp returned to the table, he flashed an easy smile, settling his gaze on Betsy. “What kept you away so long, sweetheart?”

The endearment felt right on Ryan’s tongue.

Even in the dim light, he could see Betsy’s cheeks pink.

After staring curiously at Ryan, Tripp handed the drink to Adrianna with a flourish. “Your apple martini, ma’am.”

The smile that had been missing from the pretty brunette’s lips for most of the evening returned. “I’m not sure about the ma’am part, but thank you, Tripp.”

Ryan stood and gestured for Betsy to take his seat, then grabbed a chair from a nearby table and slid it next to hers. When she smiled her thanks, Ryan felt a surge of satisfaction. She hadn’t looked at Tripp once since she’d reached the table. Which made him wonder if Betsy liked Tripp as she’d said. No matter. When he got his friend alone, Ryan was going to have to make it clear that Betsy was off-limits.

Tripp would understand. A real friend never poached on another man’s woman.

“You’re up to something,” Betsy said in a low tone just loud enough for his ears. “I recognize that look in your eyes.”

“Ever thought of riding a bull?” Okay, so it wasn’t a great way to change the direction of the conversation, but it was the first thing that popped into his head.

Betsy knew it was noisy in the bar, but had he really asked if she’d ridden a bull? “Ah, no. I lead a rather boring life.”

“Our lives are only as boring as we make them.” Ryan jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “No time like the present to kick things up a notch.”

Betsy accepted his hand and slowly rose to her feet. “Kick what up a notch?”

“Life,” Ryan said. “I suspect we’ve both been sitting on the sidelines playing it safe. It’s time to reach out and grab what we want.”

Betsy cast a sideways glance at Adrianna, who appeared engrossed in a conversation with Tripp.

“This isn’t about her,” Ryan leaned close and whispered in her ear. “This is about you.”

He stood so near that it seemed a shame not to slide her arm around his waist. She looked into his eyes, not caring what he might see in hers.

Whatever he saw must have pleased him because a slow smile spread across his face. “Are you ready?”

She’d been ready for him for years, but she’d like to hear exactly what he had in mind. She trailed a finger down his shirtfront. If he wanted to live dangerously, she was definitely in the mood. “For what?”

“I’ll show you.”

Riding a mechanical bull wasn’t exactly what Betsy had in mind. In fact, simply sitting on the back of the black-and-white monstrosity scared her spitless.

“This isn’t what I thought living dangerously meant,” she muttered.

Ryan’s hand ran down her leg as he checked her seat. “What did you say, sweetheart?”

She didn’t know why he’d started calling her his sweetheart, but she liked it. It made her feel connected to him in a very personal way.

“Hey, Ryan.” Heidi—or whatever her name was—suddenly appeared holding a bottle of beer loosely between her fingers. “What’s up with this? You can’t possibly think she’s going to stay on.”

Betsy lifted her chin. “I can make it eight seconds.”

Heidi’s peal of laughter felt like a swift slap. “Honey bunny, I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t a real bull. Fifteen seconds is what most people do on this one. You’ll be lucky to make it two.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Ryan’s voice took on a hard edge and his gray eyes were cold as steel. “We’re a little busy here.”

The woman’s gaze drifted from Ryan to Betsy, then back to Ryan. “So that’s how it is.”

“Yes,” Ryan said firmly, “that’s how it is.”

Flipping a strand of long blond hair over her shoulder, Heidi flounced off.

“I’m going to embarrass you,” Betsy said, suddenly miserable.

Surprise flickered in Ryan’s eyes.

“Hey, Harcourt.” The bored voice of the ride operator interrupted. “This ain’t no pony ride. Let me turn it on or get ’er off.”

“Shut up, Hank.” Ryan didn’t even look in the burly man’s direction. Instead his gaze remained on Betsy. “Do you want to do this?”

Betsy didn’t want to be on the bull. Didn’t like having all these people staring at her. But what Ryan said had struck a chord. Our lives are only as boring as we make them.

It was as if her life flashed before her and she realized she’d been living in shades of brown. A careful, well-ordered life designed to not draw attention to herself lest anyone compare her with her mother.

But her mother was dead and she was alive. And Betsy suddenly realized she didn’t want to be brown. She wanted to be red and purple and the vibrant orange that sometimes colored the skies over the Tetons.

“Betsy—” Ryan’s hand closed over hers “—it’s your decision. What do you want to do?”

“Turn it on.”

* * *

Ryan started having second thoughts when he saw Betsy’s legs shaking. This was supposed to be fun. “Are you sure?”

“I’m ready.” Betsy gave a decisive nod.

The resolve in her voice reassured him. And her legs had almost stopped shaking. He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Let me give you a couple of pointers.”

Ryan went on to explain the importance of squeezing with her thighs, of using her leg muscles to “root” her to the bull. Then he checked her grip and nodded his approval.

“Try to relax your upper body.” Even as he said the words, a shiver of unease traveled up his spine. He knew that most riders got rolled off when the ride operator had the bull bow down in front and the rear tipped up. “When the bull leans forward you lean back. Use your free hand for balance. Move with the bull instead of against it.”

He almost made her get off. The fear that she would be hurt hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. But she looked so determined, so brave, he couldn’t take the chance away from her.

“I can do this,” Betsy vowed, tiny beads of perspiration dotting her brow.

“I know you can.” He leaned over and kissed her. Not a peck on the cheek either, but one designed to make her toes curl.

“What was that for?” she asked, her eyes wide and oh so beautiful.

“For luck.” He winked. “Turn ’er on, Hank.”

* * *

At first, being on the bull reminded Betsy of riding one of those horses they used to have sitting outside the supermarket. If you put in a quarter, it would go up and down with a gentle rocking motion.

For a second, she felt confident enough to smile. This isn’t so bad.

Then the front of the bull took a nosedive. Thankfully Betsy had her legs pressed tightly against the sides of the mechanical animal or she’d have been tossed onto the cushioned mat right then. She remembered what Ryan had said and leaned back, waving her hand in the air for balance.

Had that “Yeehaw” really come from her throat?

Just as quickly as the bull lunged forward it rocked back. Betsy kept her upper body fluid and her lower legs tightly gripped.

Calls of “Ride ’em, Betsy” filled the air. Exhilaration fought with fear as the bull gave it everything he had to buck her off.

It was the wildest ride she’d ever been on, but thanks to Ryan’s tips, she was prepared. When the fifteen seconds was up, Betsy was almost disappointed her time in the spotlight was over.

As the crowd roared its approval, a cowboy she didn’t recognize plopped his black Stetson on her head. “Congratulations, cowgirl.”

Betsy smiled, feeling as if she’d just been crowned Miss America.

Ryan pulled her into his arms and, with everyone watching, gave her a big kiss. “That’s my girl.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Betsy saw Heidi turn and meld into the crowd, a sour look on her face.

“You did good, babe.” Ryan’s eyes looked like liquid silver in the light. “Full fifteen seconds.”

“I had fun.” Betsy’s breath came in short puffs. “I can see why you liked riding bulls. What a rush.”

He slung an arm around her shoulders and the crowd parted before them.

Betsy couldn’t believe all the congratulations she received, most from people she’d never met. “Adrianna is going to tell me I was crazy to do it,” she said, her words running together in excitement. “She doesn’t like anything connected with rodeo.”

But when they reached the table, it was just Tripp waiting there, a worried expression on his face.

“Where’s Adrianna?” Betsy asked, glancing around.

“She didn’t feel well,” he said. “She ran to the restroom right after you left to ride the bull. She hasn’t come back.”

Betsy glanced at Ryan.

He smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“I’m going to check on her anyway.”

“If you need anything—” Ryan began, but Betsy had already disappeared.

As Ryan dropped into the chair, he realized his heart had finally settled into a normal rhythm. All those years he’d rode bulls, his mother had rarely come to watch. She’d told him it was too hard for her to sit there and worry. He’d never understood. Until tonight.

Watching Betsy on the back of the mechanical bull had been almost painful. Intellectually he knew if it tossed her she wouldn’t be hurt. Wally’s cushioned floor surrounding the bull would see to that. But it wasn’t his head that had been stressed seeing her rockin’ and a rollin’; it was his heart.

While he’d wanted her to stay on so she could experience that thrill, it had taken everything he had not to pull her off and hold her close, hating to take even the slightest chance that she could be hurt.

It hadn’t been his legal assistant on the back of that bull. It hadn’t been his childhood friend’s sister. It had been the woman he loved.

Ryan sat back as the realization washed over him. Even though it sounded corny, he knew Betsy was the one he’d been waiting for his whole life.

“You know, even if the hospital doesn’t offer me the job, meeting Betsy made coming back to Jackson worth the trip,” Tripp said.

His friend’s words and who Tripp was referring to suddenly registered. It almost sounded as if he was smitten with...Betsy. But that couldn’t be true.

“I understand you and Adrianna have kept in touch.”

“Adrianna and Gayle kept in touch through the years,” Tripp said in an offhand tone. “She’s merely a friend.”

“Well, Betsy is more than a friend to me.” Ryan met the other man’s gaze.

Ryan’s irritation soared when Tripp laughed. “Don’t tell me she’s your new flavor of the day? Last time we talked it was Adrianna. Make up your mind, man.”

“Betsy is the one—”

Ryan stopped as Betsy and Adrianna walked up. The tall brunette’s eyes were watery and her skin unusually pale.

“Adrianna isn’t feeling well,” Betsy began.

“The stomach flu has been going around the office,” Adrianna said with a weak smile. “I’m sorry if I exposed you.”

“Do you need help?” Ryan started to rise from his seat.

Betsy waved him back down. “We’ll be fine.”

She took off the cowboy hat still on her head and handed it to Ryan. “If you could return this to the proper owner, I’d appreciate it.”

Ryan took the hat. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but now wasn’t the time or the place. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“It was nice meeting you, Betsy,” Tripp said, then shifted his gaze to Adrianna. “Take care of yourself.”

“We better go, Betsy.” Adrianna’s pale complexion now looked almost green.

As the two hurried off, Ryan watched them go. The statuesque brunette and her solicitous friend. The woman he’d thought was “the one” and the woman he loved.

* * *

After taking her friend home, Betsy had barely opened the door to her apartment when the same bug hit her.

She spent that night and most of Saturday alternating between the bedroom and the bathroom. Puffy watched her from the hall with worried eyes. But when Betsy awakened Sunday morning to the ringing of her phone, she realized that for the first time in almost thirty-six hours her stomach felt normal.

She fumbled for the phone she’d flung onto the bedside stand sometime yesterday. “Hello.”

“I’m picking you up for church in forty-five minutes.”

Betsy pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. “Who is this?”

“Who do you think it is? Ryan.”

“Good morning, Ryan.” He’d called several times yesterday but she’d been in no shape to talk to anyone.

“Why didn’t you return my calls?”

“I was, uh, incapacitated with the same bug that hit Adrianna.” Betsy plumped up several pillows and sat up in bed. “I’m better now.”

“You should have told me.” Concern filled his voice. “I’d have brought you over some chicken soup or something.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to be here.”

“I could have taken care of you,” he insisted. “Or at the least kept Puffy out of your hair.”

Betsy glanced at the small red Pomeranian. Other than demanding to be fed and taken outside on schedule, the dog hadn’t been much trouble. “Puffy was no problem.”

“Well, consider this fair warning. Next time you don’t answer my calls, I’m coming over,” he said. “I don’t like it that you were home all alone and sick.”

Her heart rose to her throat. “Well, I’m better now.”

“Good. I’ll have the truck nice and warm for you.”

Where had he said he wanted to take her? Ah, yes, to church.

“I don’t attend Sunday services.” Betsy had gone a couple of times with friends when she’d been small. But once she realized God really didn’t answer prayers, she hadn’t been back.

“It’ll be fun.” He spoke with such enthusiasm that she found herself believing him. “It’s casual, so you don’t need to dress up. Afterward we’ll go with everyone for breakfast at The Coffeepot. They have bland things—like oatmeal—on the menu, too, so you should be able to find something to eat.”

Betsy was familiar with the café in downtown Jackson. It was known for its hearty country-style breakfast fare. But who was Ryan referring to when he said “everyone”? She knew church wasn’t on Adrianna’s agenda. “Will Tripp be there?”

Silence filled the other end of the line. “Probably not. Does that make the difference?”

“No,” she said, surprised by the edge to his voice. “I was simply curious who ‘everyone’ was.”

“It varies from week to week,” Ryan informed her. “Usually Lexi and Nick Delacourt, David and July Wahl, Travis and Mary Karen Fisher, and Cole and Meg. If they’re in town, Derek and Rachel Rossi usually show up, too, as well as a few others.”

Although Betsy was acquainted with everyone Ryan mentioned, she didn’t run in their social circle. Of course, there was no reason she couldn’t get to know them better. And perhaps get to know Ryan better in the process? After all, hadn’t someone once said that to know a man, you just need look at his friends? “How long do I have to get ready?”

“Forty minutes.”

Betsy swung her legs to the side of the bed and stood, already eyeing her closet. “Okay. And, Ryan?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For caring that I was sick and offering to come over.” She kept her thanks simple, not wanting to be maudlin. “I haven’t had anyone who cared for a long time.”

“Well,” he said, “get used to it. Now you do.”