Читать книгу The Wedding Party Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Aimee Carson - Страница 51

Chapter Eleven

By the time Ryan called her the next morning at ten and told her they were expected for lunch at noon, Betsy had to scramble to get ready.

She’d had fun with Tripp. He’d taken her to the Spring Gulch Country Club for a night of dinner and dancing. When he’d told her to dress up, she thought he’d been kidding. But just in case, she’d pulled on a little black dress she’d bought last year on clearance.

When he’d shown up wearing a suit and tie, she was glad she’d taken the time. Yet she worried about the cost of the meal and the price of the bottle of wine he’d ordered after he’d announced he was the new hospital administrator at Jackson Hole Memorial. Apparently Mr. Stromburg was retiring and they’d picked Tripp to fill his shoes. He’d come to Jackson Hole to meet with the hospital board before they confirmed the offer.

She’d told him that while it was good that he had gotten a job, there could still be cash-flow problems while waiting for that first check. He’d simply smiled.

They’d laughed and talked and danced. But when he put his arms around her while they were dancing, she couldn’t help but wish it were Ryan holding her tight.

The doorbell rang as Betsy was tying her snow boots. If she and Ryan were going to play in the snow, she was prepared. Flannel-lined pants, ski sweater with silk underwear, Eskimo parka and pink plaid aviator hat.

She’d told Tripp last night about her plans. When she’d mentioned she was planning on wearing her aviator cap with the fur inside, he’d laughed. He’d told her if he could wrangle an invitation he’d go simply to see her in that hat.

The doorbell rang again.

“Coming,” she called out.

Puffy ran ahead barking her own greeting.

Betsy hurried to the door and flung it open. Her heart flip-flopped when she saw Ryan. “Good morning.”

His navy ski coat made his eyes look more blue than gray and the smile on his face was enough to melt her heart. He held out an insulated paper cup to her.

“What’s this?” She took the cup from his hands and waved him inside.

“Cappuccino. I know it’s your favorite, and I thought it’d get your Saturday morning off to a good start.”

Betsy tilted her head when she saw his hands were now empty. “You didn’t get one for yourself?”

“I had some coffee on the way over.”

Betsy took a sip. “It’s delicious.”

“That good, eh?”

“Here.” She held out the cup to him. “Try it.”

He glanced down where her lips had once been and she immediately regretted her impulsive gesture.

“I’m so sorry. Take off the lid—”

His lips closed on the same spot where hers had been only moments before. “It is good.” His gaze never left hers. “And I don’t mind drinking after you. After all, we’ve kissed. How is this so different?”

“We kissed a long time ago.” Betsy stopped herself from admitting that she knew exactly how many days it had been since he’d last kissed her. “It scarcely counts.”

“I can remedy that.”

Before she knew what was happening, he’d placed the cup on the side table near the front door and tugged her to him. Betsy told herself not to fall under his spell, but an invisible web had already begun to weave around her, pulling her in.

He tilted her chin up with a curved finger before his mouth closed over hers. His kiss was sweet and slow, exquisitely gentle and achingly tender.

The momentary thought that she should pull away vanished as she gave in to the moment, to the delicious sensations streaming through her body.

His tongue swept across her lips, and she opened her mouth to him. A smoldering heat flared through her, a sensation she didn’t bother to fight.

“Oh, Bets.” His voice was a husky caress.

His hand slid under her sweater, beneath the silky undergarment. Red flags popped up in her head. She ignored them.

His long fingers lifted and supported her yielding flesh as his thumbs brushed across the tight points of her nipples. All the while he continued to kiss her.

Then a knock sounded at her door.

She stiffened.

“Ignore it,” he murmured.

When three more quick knocks sounded at the door, Betsy knew the unexpected visitor wasn’t going away. “It’s Mr. Marstand from next door. That’s his signal. He knows I’m home.”

With obvious reluctance, Ryan dropped his hands to his sides and took a step back.

Betsy adjusted her sweater and hurried to open the door. Her elderly neighbor stood shivering in a light jacket.

Stepping aside, Betsy motioned him in. “Mr. Marstand, you need a heavier coat.”

The older gentleman wasn’t much taller than Betsy with a mop of unruly white hair and skin pulled taut over his bones. His mustache needed trimming. But his dark eyes were bright and missed nothing.

“I’m only shivering because it took you so long to open the door.” Ralph Marstand’s eyes settled on Ryan.

After pushing the front door shut, Betsy turned and hurried to the sofa. She grabbed a cotton throw and wrapped it around the man, then gestured to the sofa. “Take a seat,” she said. “I’ll brew you up a nice cup of tea.”

Ryan was all for being hospitable, but they were expected at Cole and Meg’s for lunch. He tried to catch Betsy’s eye, but she was too focused on the old man.

He dropped into a chair opposite the man and Puffy immediately jumped into his lap. Ryan thought about pushing the Pom off, but Mr. Marstand was staring.

“How long have you known Betsy?” the old man asked.

It had been years since Ryan had dated a girl, rather than a woman. But he remembered being back in high school and having to be interviewed by their father before his date could leave the house. “Pretty much all her life. I’m a friend of her brother, Keenan.”

“The one who’s in prison?”

“I’m sure Betsy’s told you that Keenan is innocent.” Without realizing what he was doing, Ryan stroked Puffy’s soft fur. To his surprise, instead of growling or baring her teeth, the puffball licked his hand.

“You spent the night.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” The older man’s eyes were filled with disapproval.

“I just got here.” Ryan paused. Had Betsy had an overnight guest? Could Tripp have... Nah, Betsy was too smart to succumb to Tripp’s charm. But then she had sounded sleepy when he’d called, as though he’d awakened her. The question was, who else had he awakened?

“Did you see a car parked over here last night?” Ryan fought to keep his tone casual and offhand.

But before the old man could answer, Betsy swept into the room with a tray in her hand and three cups of steaming tea. She smiled at the two men and placed the tray on the coffee table. “I heard you chatting in the kitchen. What were you talking about?”

“He wanted to know if the guy who picked you up last night—the tall blond one—spent the night.” Mr. Marstand picked up one of the mugs and took a sip.

“What?” Betsy’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you!”

Puffy hopped off his lap as if it were a sinking ship.

“Nonono,” Ryan said. “You misunderstand. He was interrogating me—”

“I asked you a few simple questions,” Mr. Marstand said with great indignation. “Since when is it a crime to be friendly?”

“He was the one who asked if I’d spent the night.”

“I don’t recall that part.” The old man tapped his head with a forefinger. “But then my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

Betsy gave Marstand an understanding smile.

Ryan wanted to slug him.

“Did you ask Mr. Marstand if Tripp spent the night?” Betsy pinned him with her gaze.

“I did not,” Ryan said.

“You asked if there was a car parked here overnight,” Mr. Marstand said pointedly.

Great. The old guy chose now to regain his memory.

Betsy met Ryan’s gaze. “Is that true?”

A trickle of sweat trailed down Ryan’s back. Asking that question hadn’t been one of his finer moments, but lying would only make it worse. “Marstand, er Mr. Marstand, implied I’d spent the night. I knew I hadn’t, so I asked him if there’d been a car parked here overnight.”

Betsy shifted her gaze to the old man.

The white-haired man shrugged. “Could have happened that way.”

To Ryan’s surprise, Betsy laughed. “What am I going to do with you two?”

“Tell us about your date last night,” the old man said.

Ryan sloshed a bit of tea onto his hand. Just when he was starting to think the geezer wasn’t so bad, he went and did this. But then Ryan realized perhaps the man had done him a favor. After all, it would have been tacky for him to pump Betsy about details of her date with Tripp. This way he wouldn’t have to; the old guy would do it for him.

He shot Mr. Marstand an encouraging smile.

Betsy picked up her cup of tea. “His name is Tripp Randall,” she said, taking a sip. “Like Ryan, he was a high school friend of my brother.”

“Randall?” Mr. Marstand rubbed the gray stubble on his chin. “Is he related to Franklin Randall who owns Spring Gulch Land and Cattle?”

“Isn’t that the big cutting horse and cattle ranch south of Jackson?” Betsy asked.

“That’s his dad’s place,” Ryan confirmed.

Betsy pulled her brows together as if trying to sort everything out. “Tripp is rich?”

A lump the size of a large boulder settled in the pit of Ryan’s stomach. To someone from Betsy’s background, heck to almost anyone, Tripp’s wealth would be very appealing.

“You don’t look very happy, punkin’.” Mr. Marstand’s worried gaze settled on Betsy. “Something troubling you?”

“Yes, something’s wrong,” Betsy said. “I paid for Tripp’s drink at the bar last weekend because I thought he was in dire straits. I chastised him for buying a bottle of wine last night. I feel like a fool. That man definitely owes me an explanation.”

* * *

The minute she arrived with Ryan at Joel and Kate’s new home in the mountains surrounding Jackson, Betsy knew her day was going to get even more interesting. Standing inside the foyer, nursing a tall glass of hot apple cider was Tripp Randall.

He lifted a hand in a semblance of a greeting and cast a pointed glance at her head.

Betsy held up her aviator hat, but when he motioned for her to put it on, she shook her head. She was still angry about his deception.

“We have a buffet table set up in the great room,” Kate said with a welcoming smile. “Help yourself.”

Joel held out his hand and Betsy couldn’t think of any reason not to give him her coat. Except she had on pants with flannel lining that made her butt look big, and her ski sweater had a stripe across the chest—’nuff said.

With Ryan’s help, she shrugged out of her bulky parka, placing it in Joel’s outstretched hands. The second Ryan handed Joel his coat, he placed his hand against the small of Betsy’s back.

“Tripp.” Ryan’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Betsy had forgotten that Ryan thought she had the hots for the rich hospital administrator. Had he made sure Tripp was invited today? But was that before or after he’d kissed her so ardently?

Tripp’s gaze settled on Betsy and his lips lifted in a slight smile. “I heard there was a party and invited myself.”

“Don’t let him feed you a line,” Joel said after hanging up the coats. “Any son of Franklin Randall is always welcome in my home.”

“You know Frank?” Ryan asked.

It seemed a valid question to Betsy, because Joel had moved to Jackson Hole only several years earlier from Montana.

“Building another guesthouse on his property was my first big job when I expanded my business to Jackson Hole,” Joel said as they walked down the hall to the great room at the back of the large log home.

Joel glanced at Betsy and Ryan. “I understand you’re all old friends.”

“Ryan and I go back to high school days,” Tripp said. “Betsy and I are relatively new friends. Of course, I’ve known her brother, Keenan, all my life.”

“Does your brother live in Jackson Hole?” Joel asked.

“He lives in Rawlins.” It wasn’t as if it was a big secret that Keenan was in prison, but Betsy didn’t feel like answering a lot of questions right now.

“Betsy and I went to the Spring Gulch Country Club for dinner last night,” Tripp said. “I’d forgotten how good the food is there.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when the conversation moved to the newly revised menu at the country club and off her brother. She didn’t have much to add. Last night had been her first visit to the country club. Before her eyes had been opened to the possibilities, she’d considered upscale dining to be dinner at Perfect Pizza, where you ordered at the counter but they brought the food to your table.

The doorbell rang and Joel smiled. “Help yourselves to some food,” he said. “I think you probably know almost everyone here. If not, introduce yourselves. Once everyone has eaten, we’ll head outside.”

Betsy stared at the group of people, many the same as she’d met in church. Some familiar. Some not at all. Children were everywhere, preteens to toddlers. The room buzzed with conversation and laughter.

Even though Betsy considered herself to be fairly outgoing, she was suddenly overcome with the realization that she didn’t belong here. These were the beautiful people of Jackson Hole, the doctors, the lawyers, the elite. She was a legal assistant. A woman whose mother had been a showgirl in Las Vegas before turning to the bottle.

Her breath came short and shallow as panic edged its fingers up her spine. “I’m going to run to the restroom and wash my hands,” she said to no one in particular, although both Ryan and Tripp were nearby. “I’ll be back.”

She asked directions from a friendly blonde woman who introduced herself as Rachel Rossi and the curly-haired adolescent beside her as her daughter Mickie, then headed off the way they pointed.

Betsy hadn’t gone far when she ran into Kate, looking as though she could have stepped off a cover of an outdoor-fun spread in a magazine. Her classic black ski pants looked like they had been made for her and the cable-knit sweater in a burned-orange didn’t look at all bulky.

“It’s good to see you again,” Kate said with a warmth that surprised her.

Betsy shifted from one foot to the other as a large peal of laughter sounded from the other room.

“If my ears aren’t deceiving me that’s Mary Karen Fisher.” Kate smiled. “I swear the woman has never met a stranger. I wish I were more like her.”

Betsy tilted her head, not sure she’d heard correctly. “But you’re very social.”

“Thank you for that,” Kate said. “But the truth is I’m actually quite shy. The first time I went for breakfast with Joel at The Coffeepot and saw everyone sitting there, I wanted to turn on my heel and walk the other way...quickly.”

Remarkably, Betsy felt some of the tenseness in her shoulders ease. She chuckled. “I had the same feeling when I walked into your living room. I told Ryan and Tripp that I wanted to go wash my hands, but it was an excuse. I needed to collect my thoughts.”

“A few deep breaths doesn’t hurt either.” Kate smiled. “How about I walk in with you? It’ll make it easier for both of us.”

“Sounds good.” But when Kate started to turn in the direction of the great room, Betsy placed a hand on her arm. “Can I ask you something first?”

“Of course. You can ask me anything.”

“You and Ryan dated.”

“We did.” A hint of wariness crept into Kate’s gaze. “Right before Joel and I got together.”

“What happened?” Betsy asked before it hit her that it might be too personal of a question. “If you don’t mind my asking that is...”

“Ryan is a nice guy.” Kate’s fondness for the attorney was evident in her gaze. “We had fun together. I still consider him a good friend. But the spark, the sizzle, for whatever reason it just wasn’t there. Then I met Joel and I knew it was him. He was the one for me.”

“Tripp told me that Ryan tends to run hot then cold with women.”

“And I bet he told you that when things go south, you should think of him.”

“I told him that Ryan and I are simply friends.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sure he didn’t believe that any more than I do.” Kate’s eyes softened. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“Oh, God, is it that obvious?” Betsy brought her hands to her suddenly hot face.

“No, of course not,” Kate said reassuringly. “But you do like Ryan.”

Betsy settled for a nod.

“If he wants to date you, then I’d give it a shot.” Kate smiled. “Think of it this way—what’s the worst that could happen?”

He could break my heart, Betsy thought to herself, shatter it into a million little pieces and I’d never be able to put it together again.

“You’re right,” Betsy said. “I don’t have anything to lose.”