Читать книгу Ranger's Wild Woman - Tina Leonard - Страница 7

A man wants what he can’t have, not always to his betterment.

—Maverick Jefferson explaining to his young sons why they couldn’t ride Shoeshine Johnson’s legendary red bounty bull, Killer Bee

The beautiful old chapel in Union Junction was filled to standing room only. It seemed that everyone had come to see Sheriff Cannady’s sole child wed. Even Delilah and the ladies of her Lonely Hearts Salon had come to fill in as mother and sisters to Mimi. In fact, they’d pretty much taken over the baking, the decorating and, Mason had heard, the choosing of Mimi’s trousseau.

According to Last—who’d been as thick into the preparations as Delilah’s crew, though that was more the lure of the women than fascination with wedding plans—the wedding-night nightie was a heart attack of epic proportions.

Guaranteed to make a grown man go weak at the knees and rock-hard in the—

Mason forced his thoughts away from the dangerous wedding-night nightie. He shifted uncomfortably in the pew, thinking he’d rather be tied to a stake in the Alaskan wilderness with honey on his toes as a lure for wild animals. Anywhere but here in this flower-filled chapel. But, because of duty, for the sake of years of friendship, and for Mimi, he was here to see her marry another man.

His whole body felt strangely weak, weirdly ill and past the point of medical assistance. He was sweating through his black suit, and so nervous his feet were cold-prickling, as if straight pins were sticking through his shoes. Truth was, he was lucky as all get out that he wasn’t standing up there in the groom’s hot spot. Obviously, Mason was suffering vicarious wedding jitters, no doubt symbiotic, empathetic fear that was surely coursing through Brian O’Flannigan and telepathing to Mason.

How fortunate that I’m sitting here in the front row, the position of family favor, while he’s standing there, about to be yoked.

He resisted the uncharacteristic urge to bite his nails. Crack his knuckles. Or even sigh.

His nine unmarried brothers sat beside him in the pew, their postures as rigid and unmoving as his.

Behind him sat Annabelle and Frisco Joe, as well as Laredo and Katy. The housekeeper, Helga, was baby-sitting Emmie at home.

Ranger had tried to talk to Mason about Mimi, as had Last. In fact, every one of his brothers seemed to think he was playing the coward’s role, that he needed to do something about Mimi’s marriage.

He had no intention of doing a thing. She was doing exactly what she should. Mimi and Mason were best friends, and no third party could ever change that.

Nor would Mason have changed it. One didn’t marry one’s best friend. No point in ruining a wonderful, since-childhood friendship by asking more of it than it ever could be.

Marriage was messy.

Not to mention he had nine younger unmarried brothers to look after. They might not be children, but sometimes they acted like it, and he needed to keep his focus on them. Add to that the fact that the family was now growing, with wives and children, and he had more responsibility than ever.

Matters were fine just the way they were.

And yet, when Mimi floated down the aisle on Sheriff Cannady’s arm, passing by Mason with the sweetest, happiest smile on her face—she smiled right at him—her expression all glowing, it seemed heated pitchforks speared his heart. Pierced it to pieces.

God, she was lovely. More beautiful than he’d ever realized.

Maybe all his brothers were right. Maybe he did have his head lodged firmly in an unmentionable part of his anatomy. He meditated on this as the ceremony progressed, not hearing any of the words being spoken until the minister’s voice rose dramatically, perhaps even pointedly.

“If any person can show just cause that Mimi Cannady should not wed Brian O’Flannigan, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The chapel was deathly silent, so eerily still that Mason could hear his own heartbeat thud, thud, thud in his ears. His suit went from merely hotter-than-hell to a prison of boiling fire as every eye in the church seemed to pin itself on him. Even Reverend Kendall glanced his way, though surely not with any meaning behind it.

Speak now or forever hold your peace.

He tapped his fingers on his knee.

Say it or forever keep a doofus, Uncle-Mason smile on his face every time he saw Mimi, which would be often, since she’d be living right next door, like always. He’d smile when she became pregnant. Smile when she proudly watched her children take their first steps. Smile when she taught them to ride their ponies. When she had birthday parties for them. When she grew gray and contented with her husband, forty years from today.

Speak now or forever hold your peace!

Mason cleared his throat.