Читать книгу The Fairest of Them All - Leanne Banks - Страница 6

“I’ll never get over him!” wailed seventeen-year-old Carlene Pendleton.

Russ Bradford patted her on the back and looked around. The rented palm would have concealed them if Carly wasn’t making such a racket. He’d been taking a breather from his friend Brett’s wedding reception when Carly had flopped into his lap and started weeping. Now he was stuck nursing a heartbroken mass of teenage femininity wrapped in layers of chiffon when he’d rather be home watching the baseball game and nursing a beer.

He felt her tears seep through his starched shirt and gave a heavy sigh. “Carly, you gotta get a hold of yourself. You don’t want your brothers to see you like this. Think how much teasing you’ll have to put up with.”

Carly lifted her moist eyes to his and sniffed. “I can’t help it. I had such dreams for Brett and me. Now,” she choked, “they’re all gone.”

Russ didn’t bother to point out that Carly had been the one with the dreams, not Brett. In an attempt to divert her, he said, “Hey, in a couple of weeks, you’ll start your senior year. You’ll probably have guys lined up asking you to the homecoming dance.”

The thought gave her pause. She sniffed again. “Think so?”

“Sure,” Russ said emphatically. Carly was tall and skinny, and Russ had enough experience with the female gender to know she was definitely a late bloomer. “I bet all the girls wish they had your dark hair and violet eyes. And your brothers are probably gonna have to shoot the male population of Beulah County for whistling at your legs.”

“I’m too tall,” she said miserably. “The doctor says I’ll probably grow at least two more inches. I feel like an ostrich. If I get a date for homecoming, his cheek will be pressed against my rib cage instead of my forehead.”

Russ withheld his chuckle. He didn’t want to bring on another spate of tears. “I’ll tell you what. If you don’t get a date for homecoming, I’ll come back from the university and take you myself.”

“I might as well ask one of my brothers,” Carly muttered as she smoothed her frilly dress.

She had a point, Russ thought. He’d grown up with Carly’s brothers and had become acquainted with Carly when her biggest problems had been colic and diaper rash.

“Baby, you don’t see it now, but everything will come together for you in a year or two. I promise you’ll be leaving trails of men in your wake.”

“I don’t want trails of men,” Carly insisted, her eyes filling with tears again. “I w-want B-Brett.”

Russ’s uneasiness increased tenfold. Carly hardly ever stuttered anymore. The rare occasion she slipped was a sign of extreme distress.

The balcony door opened, and Russ heard the sound of music and masculine voices. He whipped out a handkerchief and wiped Carly’s tears, thinking she was going to kick herself tomorrow if she didn’t dry up now.

From longtime experience with the Pendleton clan, he knew there were two things you didn’t mess with—pride and independence. “You don’t want everybody to get the idea you’re a sniveling crybaby, do you?” he asked, aiming directly for her pride.

Carly stiffened. “I am not a sniveling crybaby,” she said in a wobbly but stutter-free voice.

“Then quit acting like one.”

Jerking the handkerchief from his hand, she stood, ready to run for the ladies’ room. She took two steps, then turned around. She took a deep breath. “Uh, Russ…”

“Yeah?”

She gave a shaky version of the smile that made her brothers willing to slay dragons for her. “Thanks.”