Читать книгу The Sex Solution - Kimberly Raye, Kimberly Raye - Страница 10

“HERE’S THE FLIGHT NUMBER and the arrival time.” Cheryl Louise scribbled the information on a napkin the next morning as she sat across from Madeline at Chester’s Diner.

Madeline slathered fat-free yogurt on her whole-wheat toast and did her best to ignore the smell drifting from across the table of pancakes drenched in butter and syrup. While she indulged in Oreos for the sake of creativity, there was nothing at stake now except her deprived taste buds.

Back in Dallas, it was so much easier to keep her normal routine. She worked so hard that she barely had time to think about food. When she did, it was much easier to shake the cravings. She had only to glance around V.A.M.P.’s executive offices at the svelte women in their designer suits and name-brand shoes to motivate herself. Maddie had spent her entire adolescence not fitting in. No more. She fit in just fine back in Dallas.

Here in Cadillac, there wasn’t a Gucci jacket or a pair of leather Pradas in sight. There was food. Lots of home-cooked, mouthwatering food. And conversation. And…warmth.

She shook the thought away and fixed her attention on the nervous bride-to-be sitting across the scarred Formica tabletop.

“Make sure you’re there early and make sure you’ve got a sign or something so he’ll know who you are.”

“He’s on a commuter flight with eighty pounds of horse feed and three new hogs for the Double D Ranch. The only other person who’ll be at the airport is old Mr. Denton. I doubt I could get lost in the crowd.”

“Promise you’ll carry a sign. His eyesight isn’t what it used to be. And Uncle Spur’s not used to being in the big city.”

“We’re in Cadillac. Population three thousand. No McDonald’s. No after-hours grocery store. No tanning bed.”

“Donna Mae Walters over at the Toss-n-Tease put in a stand-up tanning unit last year.”

“Okay, so the town’s come of age. It still doesn’t qualify as a huge metropolis.” At Cheryl’s worried expression, she added, “I’ll keep the radio on an AM farm station and we won’t go near the Toss-n-Tease. That way he won’t have major culture shock.”

“Thanks so much.” Cheryl Louise smiled and nibbled at her pancakes. “I was hoping you’d be the one to do this. The other girls tend to let him get under their skin. The last time he came down for my graduation, he told Sarah that she should stop coloring her hair and let it go natural.”

“Red is her natural color.”

“That’s what she told Uncle Spur, but then he demanded proof.”

“But how could she prove…” Her thoughts trailed off as she did a mental evaluation of all the possibilities. Realization dawned and her eyes widened. “He didn’t.”

“He didn’t mean it in a sexual way, of course. He’s a sweet old man, but practical. He handed her a pair of tweezers.”

“Ouch.” She grinned. “I bet Sarah told him where to get off.”

“Believe it or not, she went through with it and proved him wrong. Not that it was enough. He said it wasn’t hers and he wouldn’t settle for anything less than a DNA match to verify ownership.” Her voice lowered. “He’s sort of bored out there and I think he watches a little too much TV at times. Anyway, she said no, but then he came after her with a pair of scissors. He didn’t catch her, of course, but by the end of the party, she was in tears.”

“Tears? Our Sarah? She’s never cried over anyone or anything.” Except once, at Sharon’s funeral. They’d all cried, except for Madeline. It had taken all of her strength just to stand beside the grave and breathe. Afterward she’d climbed into her car and left her small unsophisticated, going-nowhere town far behind, the way Sharon had always wanted to.

Sharon?

No, Maddie had wanted to leave, as well, and she’d done just that. She’d left her old life, her old self and her haunting memories of that night, and headed off to pursue her own dreams.

And boy, have I got a piece of beachfront property smack-dab in the middle of Kansas to sell you.

She ignored the nagging voice and the image that niggled at the back of her mind. A clear, star-studded sky. A gravel road. An enormous tree…

She shifted in her seat, suddenly anxious to do something. “Can I have a bite?” she blurted before reaching over for a piece of Cheryl’s pancakes.

The sugary sweet flavor of maple exploded on her tongue and consumed her senses, and she concentrated on chewing.

“Um, sure. In fact, I’m not really hungry.” She slid the plate toward Madeline. “Anyhow, he scared off Sarah right then and there. The others are just as leery of him, but I know you won’t let Uncle Spur ruffle you.”

Way back when maybe.

But not now. She dealt with snotty marketing personnel and a bitch of a research director on a daily basis. She could hold her own with a difficult old man.

“I can handle it,” she said, taking another bite. She would have to handle it, because she’d lost the game.

Thanks to Austin.

One measly kiss. That’s all she’d wanted from him. She might as well have asked for his balls on a platter. That’s how horrified he’d looked when she’d made the request.

Far from the reaction she’d anticipated, considering that he’d actually given her The Look with those liquid blue eyes. The Look that said I want you and I aim to have you.

Not that she’d ever been on the receiving end of one of his legendary looks. He’d reserved those for the school bad girls who’d always flocked around him. But for a little while last night, she’d felt like one of those bold women instead of the shy, frumpy goody-goody she’d been all those years ago. She’d felt truly attractive and drop-dead gorgeous and wanted.

Felt? To hell with that. She was all three, even if Austin Jericho hadn’t recognized it. He was obviously still stuck in the past, viewing her in all her Gem glory.

Geeky.

Brainy.

Matronly.

As the familiar words she’d heard from her peers time and time again echoed through her head, she became aware of the mouthful of syrup and pancakes tantalizing her taste buds. She swallowed and pushed the plate away.

Cheryl glanced at her watch. “I have to run. I’ll meet you at the house later to introduce you to my plants and go over Twinkles’s hygiene schedule.”

Twinkles had a hygiene schedule?

The question echoed through her mind and another sliver of apprehension went through her. Madeline fought it back down and smiled. Twinkles was just a dog, even if he did have a hygiene schedule, and Madeline liked dogs. While she didn’t actually have an animal of her own—she wasn’t home enough to take care of one—she’d always loved cute, cuddly puppies. As for the plants…how hard could daily watering be?

“Have fun at the hairdresser and try to enjoy the rest of the day.”

“I’ll enjoy the honeymoon, especially knowing that you’re looking out for Twinkles and my girls.” She stood and gathered up her purse and bridal book. “Oh, and don’t forget the sign. Uncle Spur can’t see to save his life.”

“WELL, WELL. Just call me a three-legged jackrabbit and put me out of my misery if it ain’t Maddie Hale.”

Time seemed to have stood still for Spur Tucker. He’d looked ancient then with his shock of snow-white hair and his leathery skin, and he’d changed little. He stooped a fraction more and his hair had thinned some. Otherwise, he was every bit the man she remembered from all those childhood Christmases, with the exception of his eyes. Rather than cloudy and gray as they’d been back then, they were now a clear, crystal blue.

She peered closer. “You know who I am?” She hadn’t even held up her sign, complete with extra bold letters.

“’Course I do. What do you think I am, blind or something?”

“Well,” she started, but he cut her off.

“Well, I ain’t. Cataract surgery. My vision’s as first-rate as the rest of me.”

“That’s good.”

“’Course it is.” His face crinkled as he narrowed his eyes and sized her up. “I see you still got plenty of meat on them bones of yours.”

“And I see you’re still every bit as charming.”

“’Course I am, and I’m also a whole lot wiser.” He handed several bags to her and picked up the lightest. “Speaking of which, let’s get going ’cause I ain’t of a mind to waste time. I got things to do.”

“The wedding’s not until later tonight.” Madeline picked up the largest bag and her shoulder wrenched. “You’ve got time for a little nap.”

“A nap? Hells bells, I ain’t got time to sleep. I still have to shower and shave, polish my boots, squirt on some of the vanilla extract I packed just for special occasions. I aim to look and smell my Sunday best.”

“I’m sure Cheryl Louise will appreciate that.” She hoisted bag number two. “You must have packed an awful big bottle of vanilla.”

“Those are extra vittles. A man’s got to eat and I know how you women are. Why, you’re liable to torture me with rabbit food for the next few days.” He gave her another once-over. “’Course you probably got some vittles of your own stashed away. Why, you could probably hibernate a good six months with what you got stored in them hips of yours.”

She let the suitcase slip from her hands and watched his look go from smug to panicked as his luggage dropped to the floor.

“Whoops, sorry about that,” she muttered.

“Lordy be, just tote the danged thing. Don’t throw it around.” He shook his head. “And all the primping ain’t for Cheryl Louise. It’s for the future Mrs. Spur Nathaniel Elijah James Tucker.”

“You’re engaged?”

“Sure am.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I will be once I narrow down the playing field. I figure that ought to take a good fifteen minutes. Maybe ten. There are a lot of prime cutting horses at the Newfolk Auction, too, but I can always pick the best of ’em in less than ten minutes.”

“You really intend to find a wife this weekend?” She struggled after him with the bags.

“That’s why I’m here.”

“I thought you were here for Cheryl Louise’s wedding.”

“It’s called killing two hogs with one load of buckshot. Since this here’s a social event, I thought I’d do double duty. Pay my respects to the bride and groom and find my own little bride to fetch back home.” He picked up his steps. “Enough of this chitchat. Get a move on. I don’t aim to keep the future missus wait-in’.”

SHE SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT the bread maker.

Madeline came to that conclusion the minute she walked inside Cheryl Louise’s family home two hours later and came face-to-face with Twinkles.

Literally.

Twinkles was a Great Dane and far, far removed from the cute and cuddly puppy stage. Standing on his hind legs, his paws braced on her shoulders, he looked her straight in the eye. His snout bopped her in the nose. A fat, wet tongue flopped out and licked at her face.

“He’s really…big,” she told Sarah, who’d met her at the house since Cheryl Louise was still stuck at the hairdresser.

“He’s big and several years old, but still as playful as a puppy.”

“Is that where he got the name Twinkles?”

“‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ is his favorite lullaby. He likes to hear it every night after his evening walk.” Sarah grabbed a spiral notebook from the nearby coffee table and flipped several pages. “He likes ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb’ after his morning walk, which should follow Live with Regis and Kelly—that’s his favorite TV show.” She held up the notebook. “It’s all right here. There’s a detailed schedule for feeding and hygiene, as well as a page with lyrics in case you’re not up on your lullabies. And a TV schedule, as well. Oh, Cheryl also included a picture diagram of Twinkles with a list of the exact spots where he likes to be scratched. The last few pages contain information on the plants. They’re all on the sun porch out back. Each pot is labeled with a name and an age.”

“And a lullaby?”

“Actually, they like country music. There’s a CD player out back complete with a stack of George Strait CDs. Each is labeled with a time slot and a preferred song.” Sarah must have noticed Madeline’s shocked look. “Look on the bright side, at least Tilly the farting poodle is going with them. Besides, it’s only two weeks. They almost went to Australia, which would have meant a solid three.”

“Want to time-share with me?”

“I went for a popcorn maker myself. Speaking of which, I need to get going. I have to run by my house and grab the gift before I head for the church. I picked up the dresses at the dry cleaners. Yours is hanging over there.”