Читать книгу His Tomboy Bride - Leanna Wilson, Leanna Wilson - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Fat chance she’d let Nick Latham walk her down the aisle! Tension crackled in the silence following her mother’s request. With an irritated flick of her wrist, Billie flung the veil off her shoulder. Her gaze collided with Nick’s and started a chain reaction along her spine. She had to nip her mother’s idea in the bud before it grew and took root. She couldn’t let Nick give her away. Not in a million years!

She ignored the pesky, unrealistic notions popping up in her mind. Nick would not whisk her away and keep her for himself. That was ridiculous! He didn’t want her. Not as a woman, anyway. He never had. And never would. She no longer wanted him, either. That had been a crazy childhood fantasy. Like other schoolgirl dreams, it had died.

Love hurts, she reminded herself. She wouldn‘t—couldn’t—love Nick anymore. It was only seeing him again, his whiskey-colored eyes and easy smile, that had her so...unsettled.

Tiny pinpricks of awareness made each millimeter of her skin feel vibrant and alive. Her insides burned. Ignoring the hot sensations Nick aroused, she turned away from him and focused on the one person who could stop this insanity.

“Mother,” Billie said, her voice rising with each pounding beat of her heart, “have you lost your mind?”

Her mother’s smug smile dimmed. Her eyebrows arched in that familiar you’ve-gone-too-far maternal look. “No, I have not. And I don’t appreciate your insinuation, young lady,” Martha admonished. “I’m being very practical, just like you always are. After all, since your dear father passed away, I’ve spent long nights worrying about things like this. You need someone to escort you down the aisle.”

“No, I don’t.” Billie planted her hands on her satincovered hips. “I’m more than capable of walking myself down the aisle.”

Her mother clucked her tongue. “That’s just not done.”

“Sure it is,” Nick interrupted.

Martha’s eyebrows slanted downward. Surprised he’d stood up for her, Billie cut her gaze toward him.

“Women do it all the time,” he continued. “Last week, I attended a wedding in Houston. The bride’s father had...well, not passed away, but he’d abandoned his family years before. The bride walked down the aisle by herself. She looked elegant and mature.”

For once grateful for his presence, Billie perked up, liking his impressions of a lone bride proving her independence. “See, Mother?”

“It’s disgraceful.” Martha stated.

Rolling her eyes, Billie knew her romantic mother would never understand. “Poodle skirt” ideals remained fashionable in Bonnet, Texas. Martha would keel over in a dead faint if she knew Billie was marrying Doug for any reason other than love. If Nick knew, he’d probably jump on her mother’s bandwagon, too. Which confirmed her conviction for keeping tight-lipped about her practical reasons.

Nick settled his hand on Martha’s shoulder. “Billie should do whatever she chooses. After all, it’s her wedding.”

His words reassured her. She had made-the right decision. Was Nick finally seeing her as a full-grown woman? The cocky slant of his eyebrow made her wonder. Maybe he was only looking for an excuse to get out of attending the wedding. Somehow that notion gave her an overwhelming sadness.

“Nick, honey—” Martha clutched at his arm “—I was counting on you to help me talk some sense into my daughter.”

He patted her hand. His gaze shifted to Billie. His pointed stare put her back on the defensive. “Oh, I’m going to do just that.”

His words held an ominous ring. What did he mean? Crossing her arms over her chest, she stood firm. She wouldn’t let him derail her or her goal. She had plans for herself. Plans she’d waited a long time to fulfill. If Nick tried to stop her, she’d run right over him. She’d made up her mind. She’d chosen a mate—for better or worse.

“Why don’t you finish with the dress fitting?” He nodded to Rosa who held her pincushion between her hands like a bouquet of delicate roses. “Billie and I can talk afterward. Privately.”

His arrogant wink unnerved her. Whatever he had in mind, she’d beat him at his own game. For a moment she felt as if she were ten years old, trying to compete with her older brother and Nick. She’d had to work twice as hard, most of the time she’d relied on brains instead of brawn. This time wouldn’t be any different.

But to best him, Billie needed to be on her own turf, not fumbling in a froufrou wedding dress in her mother’s dainty parlor. She felt about as feminine as a tractor plowing down summer daisies. Her regular work clothes would give her the surefooted competence she needed.

With a confident tilt of her head, she said, “Fine, I’ll show you the ranch.”

If he saw the changes she’d implemented on the Rocking G, then he’d know for certain she could make well-thought-out, intelligent decisions. Maybe he’d be impressed. He’d see she wasn’t a girl under the spell of puppy love. He’d see her as a strong-willed woman who could run a ranch and marry any man she damn well pleased.

“That’s a good idea,” he said.

His voice resonated inside her like a gust of warm air. His hot gaze traveled the length of her, tracing every curve from the round of her breast to the indentation of her waist and swell of her hips. Her body tingled with his lingering glance. Far more vulnerable in these layers of lace than she cared to admit, Billie longed for her denim jeans and muddy boots.

“She’ll probably put you to work.” Martha smiled and turned her attention to the satin trim along the bottom of the veil.

“I don’t mind hard work.” His rough, work-worn hands emphasized the truth of his statement. He gave Billie a mischievous grin that set her nerves on edge.

No one had ever looked at her as Nick did now. It unraveled her composure. It made her jittery. But it also gave her a smug confidence she’d never experienced. She’d always known she could ride or rope as well as any cowboy. But she’d never known she could turn a man’s head. Or was she only wishing she’d caught Nick’s attention now?

“And we’ll talk,” he warned.

Terrific, Billie thought, just what she needed—a heart-to-heart with the man who’d unknowingly stolen part of hers.

Inside the barn, Nick inhaled the musty scent of baled hay and the sweet aroma of rolled oats. Memories assaulted his senses, reminding him of long days spent in the saddle...backbreaking workdays, happy days when Mr. Gunther would ask him to give Jake and Billie a hand with their chores. Those times seemed old and dim compared to the vibrant image before him. Billie walked out of a stall leading a sleek, chestnut quarter horse.

Even though she tried to hide the facts under an oversize plaid shirt, the evidence was clear—she was all woman. Her faded jeans hugged her slim hips as intimately as a man longed to hold a woman. The soft denim clung to her long legs and ended with frayed threads curling across well-worn black boots that boasted more cow manure and scratches than shine. With each step, she exuded confidence. He couldn’t decide which way he liked her best—rough as an ordinary cowhand or elegant as any New York model. Or which wreaked more havoc on his libido.

“How long has it been since you’ve ridden horseback?” Billie asked, a smirk tugging her lips into a half smile.

“High school, I guess,” he said, leaning against a stall door where he’d draped his jacket. The warmth of the day had encouraged him to roll up the sleeves of his starched white shirt “When Jake and I rode in that local rodeo. Remember? That was the day I knew I wasn’t cut out for getting dumped in the dirt and stomped on like a rag doll.”

Actually his dad’s dream of handing the business over to him had been the deciding factor. It had been his dream, too. But it hadn’t turned out the way he’d imagined.

“You decided you’d rather dig in the dirt?” A teasing smile pulled at her mouth.

“I let others do the digging. I’m the boss, remember?” His grin slowly faded with well-worn memories. “I always did like working with my dad, though.”

He missed not being able to anymore. He’d always imagined them working side by side, building their construction company together. Tom Latham had retired and left his company entirely to his son’s management. Sink or swim, it was up to Nick. Over the past five years his enjoyment had been squashed under the impact of reality. He’d liked working with his hands, building things, taking pride in his work. Now, running Latham Construction on his own kept him busy with management problems, obtaining permits, bidding on new contracts, handling employee relations. All the work and none of the fun.

“How is your dad?” she asked, her eyes full of interest and concern.

“Fine. Enjoying the easy life.”

She nodded and turned back to her horse, smoothing her hand over the broad expanse of its back. “I remember your dad whooping and hollering for you at that rodeo,” she said with husky warmth in her voice. “Didn’t you get thrown?”

His shoulders snapped to attention. “Hell, who wouldn’t have? That was a rank ol’ bronc. If I recall, Jake didn’t fare so well, either. And your fiancé didn’t even have the guts to try.”

“A real man doesn’t have to ride a bronc to prove himself.”

“Ah, so that explains Schaeffer’s...disinterest.” Nick grinned.

She gave him a tight smile and slipped a snaffle bit into the horse’s mouth, then slid a bridle over its head. Each movement shifted the unbuttoned plaid shirt and gave him a glimpse of the skimpier white cotton top beneath. The material stretched across her full breasts and lifted a notch to expose her smooth, flat stomach, which was two shades paler than her face and arms. His gut clenched tight as a Boy Scout knot.

Guilt lifted his gaze and urged him to give her an apology. But she didn’t seem to notice him. Her attention was focused on the horse. She lovingly stroked the mare’s nose. She had a way with animals. Her father had often entrusted her to care for scrawny calves that wouldn’t nurse, and she’d turned them into big, strong beasts.

“I recall—” Nick rubbed his jaw “—you were plenty interested in cowboys back then. Weren’t you worried about me? Didn’t you run out into the arena to see if I was all right?”

He remembered Billie rushing toward him as he lay in the dirt, his pride bruised as much as his backside. Fear had creased her brow, clouded her eyes. Embarrassment had pushed him onto his feet despite the pain in his knee. He’d brushed past her, trying to hide his limp.

Now, for some odd reason, a part of him longed for her to show some concern again. It made no sense. He didn’t need her, any more than he needed anyone else. Being near her unsettled him. Maybe he was simply feeling nostalgic, wishing for a simpler, easier time.

Her cheeks brightened to an enticing pink. She reached for a blue-and-green-plaid saddle blanket. “I was a silly schoolgirl then.” One of her shoulders lifted as if she shrugged off the memory. “You were grumpy as an old bear, growling at me to leave you alone.”

He chuckled. She’d cared about him once. Had those feelings faded like the blue in her jeans? Of course they had, he realized as disappointment pinched his already knotted gut. “No guy wants attention drawn to him when he’s just landed on his rump in front of a hometown crowd. I wanted to lick my wounds in private.”

“Well, trust me, if you get thrown today, I’ll ignore You: ”

“No, you won’t. You’ll laugh.”

“Maybe.” She gave him a sly wink and laid the saddle blanket over the horse’s back.

“You won’t offer to kiss it and make it all better?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. They were a mistake. Instantly he regretted them, but he found himself holding his breath, watching her with more anticipation than he should have, waiting for her response.

Her eyes darkened like a cloud blotting out the sun. “I’m an engaged woman.”

A wintry chill whipped through him. His face stiffened. He needed that reminder. He needed to get a firm handle on his feelings, his responsibilities. “What’s the mare’s name?”

Billie’s eyes narrowed, then she looked at her horse. She nuzzled the side of the mare’s neck. “Calamity.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is she a klutz? Or always causing trouble?”

Billie grinned, her white teeth flashing against her honey-colored tan. “If there’s a root snaking over the ground, she’ll find it and trip. If there’s a gopher hole, she’s bound to step in it. She’s been lucky not to hurt herself too badly. But she’s great with rounding up calves. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

He watched Billie’s hands move over the horse in a loving, confident manner. He remembered how she’d cared for her father’s animals, staying up late to help a colt enter the world, handling vaccinations deftly, crying when a sick kitten couldn’t be saved. She had a tender heart. And he wouldn’t let Doug Schaeffer trample it.

Billie flung a saddle over Calamity’s back. Nick stepped to the side, bent and handed her the leather girth beneath. Their fingers brushed. His smile disappeared. With supreme effort, he clamped down on the desire to find out what it would feel like to hold her for real this time.

“You still remember which side to mount on?” she asked, humor lacing her words.

“Just give me a running start,” he said, wondering if her mind swam with the same memories. Focusing on the past helped him picture the future. Billie was getting married—to someone else.

She glanced at him, a question lighting her eyes, then laughter burst out of her, the full, throaty sound stirring his interest again. “Oh, God, you remember that?”

“How could I forget you trying to ambush Jake and me like a Comanche on the warpath?”

Shaking her head, she grabbed the reins and headed out of the barn. “Come on, I’ll saddle your mount.”

“Which one am I riding?” he asked, stepping into the warm sunlight. The rays caught the gold shimmering highlights in Billie’s blond hair and the intensity of her blue eyes.

“Diablo. You remember him, don’t you?”

How could he forget Jake’s surly black gelding that liked to kick and bite more than Billie the Kid? He nodded, wishing he’d brought his old rusted spurs. “Meanest bronc this side of the Red River.”

Her mouth twitched as if she couldn’t decide if she should smile. He figured she’d hold her laughter till he got thrown and busted his butt. She looped Calamity’s reins loosely over a post, grabbed a rope and walked down the fence line. “Come on, we’ve got to catch him first. He’s not very sociable these days.”

When had Diablo ever been? Nick stuck his hands into his pockets. He was in for a long afternoon.

Billie whistled, and the shrill sound pierced the quiet barnyard. Birds fluttered toward their perches in the barn loft In a nearby corral, a smattering of black cows and calves flinched. Diablo stood in the middle of a patch of green and chomped on sweet clover. Nick blinked. The once solid-black gelding was now gray, almost white in places.

Billie climbed the fence and jumped down into the corral. “He’s hard of hearing, too.”

“You sure it’s safe to ride him?” Nick asked. “He looks...fragile.”

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s stronger than he looks,” she said, giving Nick a pointed stare. He caught her meaning. Billie was stronger than she looked, too, always had been. “Besides, Diablo likes the challenge.”

Great, Nick thought. Wasn’t Billie enough of a challenge for one day? He opened the gate for her to lead the gelding out of the corral. The horse acted as docile as an old hound. “You think you can race and win, with me riding this poor, pathetic excuse for a horse, huh?”

“No such thing.” But she flashed him a devilish smile.

A few minutes later, mounted, they rode through a copse of live oaks and toward the green pastures. The horses’ hooves crunched acorns as they walked. Nick’s gaze trained on Billie, riding just ahead of him, as he rolled with Diablo’s slower gait. The saddle cupped Billie’s backside, framing her bottom, accenting the shifting motion of the horse. Nick groaned and concentrated on the thick green grass, the cornflower blue sky, the stark white fence surrounding the north stretch of the ranch.

“That a new fence?” he asked, noticing the rails where there used to be barbed wire.

She nodded. “Jake and I put that in right before...” Her voice faded, then she resumed. “It was expensive but in the long run it’ll require less maintenance. And I don’t have to worry about a cow breaking through and getting out onto the highway.”

“Unless an eighteen-wheeler plows through it.” He grinned, agreeing with her decision.

“Then I’d have more problems than an ornery cow on the loose.”

“What are you going to do with the ranch once you get married?” he asked, prodding Diablo alongside the chestnut mare. Out of the corner of his eye, he detected the abrupt stiffening of Billie’s spine.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t see Schaeffer letting his wife herd a bunch of smelly cows,” he confessed, slanting his gaze to her face.

Her jaw squared, and her eyes flashed. “No man lets me do anything. It’s my choice...whatever I do. With the Rocking G or anything else.”

Her crisp tone signaled that the discussion was closed. He ignored the warning. “Are you selling out?”

“No.” Her answer came quick. Too fast, almost defensive, in his opinion.

His eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t read her expression. She shuttered her emotions behind a determined mask. “You’ve put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into this place. It’s your heritage.”

“I know that Better than anyone.” Her shoulders slumped as if beneath a great weight. “But...”

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. We’re keeping the ranch in the family. Doug can p-p—” She clamped her mouth closed and looked out over the north range.

He studied her for a long moment. “I didn’t know you were unhappy here.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Nick.” She cut her eyes toward him. “How’s the construction business these days?”

“Growing,” he said, making a mental note that she hadn’t denied she was unhappy.

“Do you like living in Houston?” Reining Calamity near a patch of clover, she draped her wrist over the saddle horn.

He shrugged as Diablo stopped to graze beside the mare, and turned in his saddle to look at her. “It offers a lot of opportunities.”

“I would imagine so. For a single man.” A faint tinge of pink brightened her cheeks. Her gaze softened. “We heard about the divorce, Nick. I’m sorry.”

He tightened his grip on the reins. “So am I.”

“Is marriage as hard as everyone says?” she asked.

“For me it was.” Shifting on the hard saddle, he said, “Your mom would be a better one to ask. She made a marriage work for twenty some-odd years.”

“But you know what it’s like starting out in the nineties.”

He set his mouth in a stern frown. “Yeah, it’s hard.” He took the opportunity to drive home his point. “That’s why it shouldn’t be entered into lightly.” He leaned toward her, until he was close enough to smell the musky scent that fogged his brain. “Level with me, Billie. You don’t really love Doug Schaeffer, do you?”

She closed her fist over Calamity’s reins and heeled her mount into a faster pace. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t act like a blushing bride.”

“Well, maybe because of the way you behaved earlier, I didn’t think you wanted to hear me gush about my groom.”

“That’s probably true,” he admitted, matching her stride.

A sudden need gripped him. A need to know she really didn’t love Doug. For a split second he wondered if he was jealous, then dismissed it as concern—a feeling any big brother would have. “Tell. me you’re not going to marry him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “We’re engaged. The wedding date is set for one month from tomorrow.”

“It’s never too late. Not until you’ve said ‘I do.”’ Sadness softened his tone. He shook his head. “After all Doug’s teasing. The way he used to pick on you. Why would you marry him? He’s a jerk, Billie.”

She squared her shoulders. “We were all jerky when we were young.” She raised one brow. “Some of us outgrew junior high.” She gave him a pointed stare. “Besides, Doug wasn’t the only one who teased me.”

He chuckled. “I see you haven’t lost your backbone. That’s a good sign. I teased you like a li’l sister. I wasn’t mean. Not like Schaeffer.”

“No,” she admitted, her gaze softening. “You weren’t mean.”

“Now what can I say for you to break your engagement?” he asked, his voice low.

She jutted out her chin. “Doug and I are getting married.”

“What can I do, then?” His voice dropped to a provocative tone as he remembered the kiss they’d once shared. His gaze shifted to her sensuous mouth. He stared at her full bottom lip, which looked ripe and plump as a summer strawberry. He remembered the softness of her lips, the warmth. His body tightened with renewed awareness. He jerked his thoughts upright. What had gotten into him? Had he lost his mind?

She turned in her saddle to face him. “You can’t do a damn thing, Nick Latham. Go back to Houston... where you belong. And let me get married in peace.”

Billie heeled her mount into a cantor, anger straightening her spine like a steel rod. What was Nick trying to do? Stop her wedding? Why was it so important to him?

Of course, she wouldn’t let him. His pointed questions about the ranch stabbed at the raw guilt she already felt for failing to make it profitable. Nick was right; it was her heritage. But not her chosen path. She wanted to work with animals, but not breeding to sell them for somebody’s juicy steak or cheeseburger. Each time she sold a truckload of cattle, her heart ached. She’d had to sell more recently to make ends meet. How much longer could she hold out? Her plan would keep the land in the family, provide a place for her mother to live, and give her the freedom to move on with her life. With Doug’s money, she could hire someone to handle the ranch, and she’d oversee it as she went to school.

For some reason, though, she couldn’t explain her feelings to Nick. He wouldn’t understand. He’d made his father’s business a success. And she didn’t want his pity...or his contempt.

She wouldn’t let him affect her, either. Although he already had. Far more than she cared to acknowledge. Her senses swirling, her mind spinning, she rode hard and fast until she noticed Calamity laboring for each breath. She reined in her mount and slowed to a trot then a walk. As her heart calmed to a steadier beat, she heard the rumbling sound of a horse approaching from behind. Knowing it was Nick, she kept her gaze straight ahead. She heard Diablo wheeze as Nick pulled alongside her.

“We better let Diablo rest,” she said, swinging a leg behind her and dismounting. Once again, she’d overreacted, putting the gelding at risk. Guilt hung around her neck like a heavy yoke. She patted the old horse in a quiet apology.

Nick met her in front of the horses and looped the reins over Diablo’s head. He watched Billie., but she ignored him. Her cheeks stung with an internal heat. Too aware of Nick, his stare, his smile, his broad shoulders that looked strong enough for a girl to rest her weary head upon, she broke off a sliver of knee-high grass and stuck the end between her teeth.

“Boy, I’ve missed this place. It feels like home.” He led the horse through the field. “But it’s changed.”

Unsure of his tactics, she furrowed her brow. At least he’d chosen a safe topic. “A few months ago I built a new corral over near the swamp. Remember when Dad had us drag a feed trough over there to entice those wild heifers out of that pasture?”

“Yeah.” He placed a hand on his lower back as if an old injury still pained him. “That she-devil kicked the slats out of me when I tried to herd her toward the truck.”

“Well, now we have a feed lot with two troughs and a chute. I can bring the cattle in, worm them, spray for flies or weed out any I plan to sell. I can herd one or two into the chute, then load them straight into the trailer from there.”

“Pretty smart,” he said.

Relaxing a smidgen, she shrugged. “Well, I didn’t come up with it all on my own. I saw Harold Jacobson with a similar operation. Do you remember ol’ Mr. Jacobson? He used to teach the Ag courses at the high school. Dad and he were friends. And he’s been generous with more agriculture advice since Jake and I started running things. He comes around about once a week to see how things are going.” She smiled suddenly as if remembering something. “You had the hots for his daughter.”

Nick rubbed his jaw with his thumb as his mouth quirked with a fleeting smile. “I’d forgotten about her.”

Billie snorted and pursed her lips. “You always were the love-‘em-and-leave-’em type. It was like a parade, watching the girls march in and out of your life. How many wore your letter jacket? Your class ring?”

“Ah, hell, Billie, I can’t remember every girl I’ve ever dated. Can you remember every boy you ever went out with?”

Her jaws locked. Tension coiled around her like a snake. Of course, she could remember. There had only been one boy she’d ever wanted. And only one she’d ever dated. The first was standing beside her, staring at her as smug as any Neanderthal. The second was her fiancé.

“Can you?” he prompted, not letting her off the hook.

She kept her gaze trained straight ahead. “Yes, I can. Maybe I took dating a little more seriously than you did.”

“Why?” he asked.

She glanced at him, then wished she hadn’t. He looked too damn sexy. Natural as any cowboy, he handled Diablo like a wrangler, not like her fiancé who looked like he’d rather be air-conditioned and sipping a Scotch. Squeezing off that thought, she walked faster.

“Because dating is...serious business. It has a purpose. To find the one you’re going to marry. And I did.” She reiterated her engaged state for her own sake as much as Nick’s. When she looked at him, at the crinkles surrounding his hazel eyes, the tempting curve of his lower lip, she needed a clear reminder of why she’d chosen Doug instead of waiting for love.

“It’s also to have fun. Didn’t you ever date for fun?” His brow crunched into a frown.

Feeling the bite of resentment, she gritted her teeth. That was one more thing she’d never had time for. In fact, much to her chagrin, she’d never dated around period. Her experience with men had mostly been proving herself in a man’s world. She’d preferred branding irons to curling irons. She hadn’t cared about makeup or twittering gossip about the cutest boy. Unless it had centered on Nick.

He stopped walking and draped his arm over Diablo’s withers. The reins dangled between his tanned fingers, drawing attention to his work-worn hands, which exuded strength, confidence and an amazing gentleness that she remembered from a long-ago caress.

“Didn’t you ever go out with a man,” he asked, “knowing you wouldn’t marry him, and yet you had a damn good time?”

“No.”

“You should before you get married,” Nick said, his tone serious. “You could go out with someone safe...a a friend...like me.”

“You? S-safe?” she sputtered.

“Sure.” He rocked back on his heels. “I’m like your big brother. You couldn’t be safer.”

His hot gaze made her feel anything but.

“Just like that?” she quipped, her heart hammering its way into her throat. “What makes you think I’d go? That Doug would agree?” She doubted her fiancé would care if she went out with a friend, but she’d never wanted to date Nick...as a friend. And she didn’t want to do so now.

“I thought you said no man let you do anything.”

He’d caught her. His teasing smile pulled one out of her.

“So, are you gonna take me up on my offer?” he asked, his smile casual, his gaze intense.

Her mouth thinned into a tight line. “This won’t work, Nick. I don’t know if you’re desperate or what, but I can’t go out with you.”

“Why?” His voice sounded smooth as silk.

She turned on him then. “Would you have let Diane date while y’all were engaged?”

He rubbed his jaw. “I wish now that I had. I might have learned a few things before the wedding.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged as if his button-down shirt had suddenly shrunk. “It might have saved both of us a lot of grief.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, which sent a shiver of pure delight down her spine. That’s why you should experience as much as you can before you get married.”

“You’re trying to get me to break my engagement.”

“Maybe. But not this way. This is important.”

“Why?” Confusion made her mind whirl. Part of her wanted to grasp his tempting offer. Part of her wanted to shove it away, the way he’d set her aside so long ago.

“Because if you don’t date for the fun of it, how will you know that you’re really marrying the right one?”

“That’s insane. Marriage isn’t supposed to be fun. Everyone, including you, says it’s hard work. Was that all Diane was? A fun date?”

Immediately she regretted that question. “Nick, I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn.”

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s a good point. But there’s more to it than that. Maybe we didn’t take time to have enough fun. Maybe we didn’t date long enough.

“Bottom line, if you don’t enjoy your spouse, then it’s not worth all the effort.” His gaze narrowed. “Life is too hard to go through if you’re not with someone who can make you laugh once in a while.” He shifted the reins into his other hand. “How does Doug compare to the other men you’ve dated?”

That stumped her. She rolled her lips inward and studied Calamity’s mane. A long moment of silence followed. Billie refused to look at Nick. How could she compare her dream to reality, Nick to Doug? She couldn’t lie to Nick. He’d be able to read through her. But she couldn’t face the truth, either. She didn’t want to see the shock, the slight head shake of pity.

“Why would I want to go out with you? What makes you think we’d have any fun?”

“We did growing up, didn’t we?” His jaunty grin made her head whirl.

She pursed her lips. “Yeah, I guess we did. I’m sure it would be an education. Maybe one I should do without. After all, you and Jake taught me some...well, not very sociable manners when I was a kid. Doug might not appreciate anything you have to teach me.”

Nick scowled. “What did we teach you that was socially unacceptable?”

“The finer points of spitting,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, but laughter lurked beneath the surface as she remembered those hot summer afternoons down at Willow’s Pond.

“Hey, we taught you not to spit on others. That’s socially correct.” His broad shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “You were a natural. You could hit a fly at fifty paces.”

Her mouth twisted with the effort of containing a chuckle. “You taught me how to box, too. And that got me in trouble when Charlie Wallace and I had a fight on the playground.”

“Only because you bloodied his nose. Otherwise he probably would have been in more trouble for picking on a girl.” Nick rubbed his jaw. “You never know, though, that right hook of yours might come in handy. It’ll keep me in line. If I get fresh, then I give you permission to wallop me.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes, but her heart hammered in her chest. “You get fresh with me.”