Читать книгу Two in the Saddle - Vicki Thompson Lewis - Страница 7

WEDDINGS MADE Travis Evans nervous.

Standing at the altar of the Huerfano Community Church with his good buddy Sebastian Daniels was like hanging out with a guy who had chicken pox. One wrong move on Travis’s part and bam! He’d catch the marriage bug. And that would mean the end of life as he knew it.

But somebody had to be there for Sebastian. By rights Sebastian should have had four guys lined up to give him moral support, but he and Matty hadn’t been willing to wait for folks to rearrange their schedules.

Sebastian’s brother Ed was stuck in Alaska, and as for the three cowboys who made up Sebastian’s inner circle, only Travis was available. Nat Grady was overseas working in a small, war-torn country with a name Travis had trouble pronouncing. Boone Conner was on the road in New Mexico with his mobile horseshoeing business and tracking him down had been impossible.

So Travis was Sebastian’s best man, which was just as well, Travis thought, because that balanced out the wedding party. Matty’s family hadn’t been able to make it on such short notice, either, so her only attendant was Gwen Hawthorne, maid of honor. Or matron. Travis wasn’t sure which it was when a woman was divorced. Divorced and marriage-shy. It was a hell of a promising combination, in Travis’s opinion. Too bad Gwen hated his guts.

Even though Sebastian and Matty were light in the wedding-party department, they weren’t short of wedding guests. The tiny clapboard church was packed. The men had dusted off their best Western-cut suits, and the women…. Travis sighed with longing. The women looked like a bouquet of Colorado wildflowers in their pastel-colored outfits. The air was still cool on this May afternoon, but the women of Huerfano had dressed for spring.

Travis loved how warmer weather invited the ladies to bare a little more of their delectable skin, and ordinarily he would have taken delight in the number of eligible females within range of his smile. But weddings were a dangerous time to flirt. Weddings gave single women ideas.

The minister, Pete McDowell, had been a hell-raiser in his youth according to what Travis had heard, but he’d entered the ministry and reformed. With his neatly trimmed gray beard and long robe, he looked like the sort of person who could tie the knot good and tight.

Besides, everybody agreed Pete had been born with a voice that belonged either in the pulpit or on the radio. He turned now and nodded toward the church organist, Sarah Jane Ashfelder, who began to play.

Out of habit, Travis glanced over and winked at her. She blushed and bobbled a chord. Immediately he regretted the wink, partly because he’d flustered her and partly because everybody in the valley knew Sarah Jane was desperately seeking a husband. A wink from him while Sarah Jane was playing the organ at a wedding gave the wrong impression all the way around.

“Got the ring?” Sebastian whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

It was about the hundredth time Sebastian had asked since this morning, but Travis cut him some slack. A guy had a right to be wrecked on his wedding day. “Yeah, I’ve got it,” he murmured. “How’re you holding up?”

“Shaking like a newborn calf.”

“This is a good move, Sebastian.” Travis thoroughly believed that. Even though he wasn’t interested in matrimony himself, it fit some guys like a glove. Sebastian was one of those guys. And Matty Lang was perfect for him.

“I know it’s a good move,” Sebastian said softly. “But I’m no good at public displays like this. This collar itches, and my coat’s too tight across the shoulders. I—”

A baby’s loud wail rose above the deep tones of the organ. The congregation turned toward the back of the church, their murmurs of curiosity getting louder as they strained to see where the noise was coming from.

“That would be Lizzie, kicking up a fuss in the vestibule,” Travis said. “I knew it was a mistake, making her part of this shindig.”

“It is not a mistake,” Sebastian said in a low voice, although he could have spoken normally and not been heard above the bellowing organ, the screaming baby and the excited chatter of the guests. This baby had been the subject of much speculation, and folks were obviously dying to see her.

“She’s not even four months old,” Travis pointed out. “That’s too little to be in a wedding.”

“No, it’s not. She’s advanced for her age. Besides, Elizabeth brought Matty and me together. She belongs here. We forgot the pacifier, is all. I want my daughter to be part of this.”

Travis felt like strangling Sebastian with his string tie. The guy wouldn’t give up his wrongheaded insistence that he was Lizzie’s father. “She’s not your daughter. She’s mine, as you damned well know.” Travis was dead sure about it. The evidence was in the note he’d received three weeks ago in Utah, a note he’d now memorized.

Dear Travis,

I’m counting on you to be a godfather to my daughter Elizabeth until I can return for her. Your playful approach to life is just what she needs right now. I’ve left her with Sebastian at the Rocking D. Believe me, I wouldn’t do this if I weren’t in desperate circumstances.

In deepest gratitude,

Jessica

Lizzie was his, all right. Maybe he couldn’t remember the specifics of that night when he, Sebastian, Boone and Jessica had celebrated the anniversary of their escape from an avalanche, but he was the likely candidate for fatherhood.

He recalled that all the guys had been drunk, drunk enough to make passes at Jessica, even though she was only a friend. And like a good friend, she’d driven them back to their cabin and tucked each of them in bed. He remembered her leaning over him, a smile on her face. He must have coaxed her in there with him, and that was when Lizzie had been conceived.

And yes, Sebastian had received a similar note asking him to be a godfather when Jessica left the baby on his doorstep. But Sebastian wasn’t the type to get wasted and make love without protection. Travis hadn’t ever done that before, either, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for him the way it was for Sebastian.

Nevertheless, Sebastian had taken credit for that baby and wouldn’t give up. He was presently glaring at Travis, his jaw clenched. “She’s my baby. She’s got the Daniels nose.”

“In your dreams. She looks exactly like a picture of my mother at that age.”

Sarah Jane launched into the wedding march, pulling out all the stops to drown out the baby’s cries.

“Oh, yeah?” Sebastian said. “Then I guess I never showed you a picture of my mother at that age. She—”

“Gentlemen.” Pete McDowell lifted his eyebrows in censure. “I don’t think this is the time or the place to argue your paternity issues. The processional has begun.”

Sebastian gulped and faced the back of the church.

Travis turned in that direction, too. Sure enough, here came Gwen pushing the antique baby buggy she’d unearthed from the attic of her Victorian house. People on both sides of the aisle craned their necks hoping for a glimpse of the mystery baby that two men claimed to have fathered.

Gwen had pushed Lizzie down the aisle in the buggy during the rehearsal, and the little girl had seemed to love it. But today was a different story, apparently. Today Lizzie was having nothing to do with that buggy.

Gwen had decorated it with flowers and ribbons so it looked real pretty, and she’d found a way to hook her bridal bouquet onto the buggy handle. Lizzie didn’t seem to appreciate any of Gwen’s efforts. But it wasn’t the buggy decorations that held Travis’s gaze. One glimpse of Gwen and his hormones snapped to attention.

She wore a dress the same color as new aspen leaves, and the pale green looked amazing against her golden skin. He vaguely remembered hearing that she had Cheyenne ancestors somewhere in her family tree. That also explained her jet-black hair, worn up today in some elaborate arrangement that mystified and tantalized him. She’d woven green ribbons and flowers through her shiny curls, making her look like a Native American princess—a modern princess who knew her way around a curling iron.

Travis licked his lips. He was of the firm belief that women spent all that time putting their hair up hoping that some man would itch to take it down. And he did.

The sleeves of her dress were long, with little conservative buttons at the wrists, but the neckline wasn’t even remotely conservative. Travis stared at the most spectacular cleavage he’d seen in a coon’s age. He sighed as he calculated the odds of ever enjoying that bounty. She was the only single woman in the valley he hadn’t been able to charm.

And that frustrated him, especially at this moment when Gwen was walking toward him displaying her wares so effectively. Travis was relatively unacquainted with frustration, considering that women seemed to enjoy giving him what he wanted when he wanted it.

Because he was used to having his needs satisfied in short order, he’d never realized that rejection could be a more powerful aphrodisiac than acceptance. Good thing these fancy pants Sebastian had rented for him had pleats.

Gwen held her head high and smiled as she pushed the buggy containing the screaming baby, but Travis noticed the tension around her eyes. And then, for one electric moment, her dark gaze met his. Her silent plea for help might have been unconscious, but it was unmistakable.

Without thinking, Travis reacted. He crossed in front of Sebastian and the minister and met Gwen as she reached the altar.

She paused, and her eyes widened as he lifted a squalling Lizzie out of the buggy and cradled her against the shoulder of his tux.

They’d decked the baby out in a white eyelet dress and white booties, which was reasonable, but some idiot had decided to torment her by putting a bow on an elastic band around her head. No wonder she was upset. Travis took the bow off and kissed the little girl’s damp cheek.

Gwen cleared her throat. “Travis—”

“Go on over to your spot,” Travis murmured, tucking the bow gizmo in his pocket. “I’ll handle her.”

“But—”

“Go on. I’ll get her to stop.” And in fact he already had. Lizzie snuffled against his shoulder and grabbed on to his lapel as if she didn’t plan to let go. He smiled at Gwen. “See?”

Gwen shook her head. “Unreal,” she muttered.

He shrugged. “Most girls like me.” With a wink at Gwen he returned to his place holding Lizzie.

Gwen didn’t want to be touched by the picture of Travis standing at the altar letting a baby slobber on his tux. On her way to the front of the church, in addition to worrying about Elizabeth’s crying, she’d noticed that Travis looked like a god up there. She’d known he was mouth-watering in jeans, but she hadn’t been prepared for the sight of him in a tux.

Because she loved everything Victorian, she had a weakness for a man in a tuxedo, a man who looked as if he’d stepped out of another era. Dressing Travis in a tie and tails and setting him smack-dab in front of her should be against the law.

She’d nearly forgotten Elizabeth’s wailing as she took in the allure of the high, white collar emphasizing his strong neck, the black coat stretched tight across his broad shoulders, and the snug fit of his dove-gray vest. Vests were made for men built like Travis. The delicate pink rosebud in his lapel only emphasized his virility.

In order to get her hormones under control, she’d convinced herself that Travis was vain as a peacock. She visualized him preening in front of the mirror, combing his rich brown hair, gazing into the tawny depths of those bedroom eyes of his and winking at his reflection before he walked out to face his admirers. But a peacock wouldn’t let a baby suck on the shoulder of his coat. A peacock wouldn’t let that same baby pull on his string tie until it came undone. A peacock wouldn’t have come to Gwen and Elizabeth’s rescue in the first place.

The organ music swelled, and with some effort Gwen turned her gaze away from Travis and Elizabeth in order to give Matty the respect and attention she deserved.

Matty came down the aisle, regal in the simple white gown Gwen had insisted she wear, despite this being a second marriage. Gwen had advised her on the flowers, too, and the old-fashioned bouquet of rosebuds, lavender and ivy was exactly right for Matty. Watching her, Gwen felt her throat tighten with happiness, pride, and a trace of longing.

Her friend had never looked more radiant. The expression of pure love on Matty’s face made Gwen yearn for something she hadn’t wished for in a very long time—a love of her own. Both she and Matty had hooked up with scoundrels the first time around, but Matty hadn’t let that stop her from dreaming. Now she had a man who would lay down his life for her.

Gwen swallowed the lump in her throat. Men like Sebastian Daniels were rare, and she knew it. The rancher’s good looks could have served him well as a lady-killer, but instead he was humble, sweet, and adorably dense about the effect he had on women. He was the exact opposite of Travis, who was all too aware that women swooned when he walked by.

But Gwen would not swoon. By God, she would not swoon.

As Matty joined Sebastian at the altar, Gwen sneaked a peek at Travis to see how he was getting along with Elizabeth. He was rumpled and damned sexy-looking from dealing with the baby. He’d removed his boutonniere, probably so Elizabeth wouldn’t stick herself on the pin or try to eat the rosebud. Gwen was impressed with his caution.

Continuing to keep the baby entertained, he played nosey-nosey with her, and she chuckled, a low sound of feminine delight. No doubt about it, Travis had a way with the fairer sex, regardless of age.

On a hunch, Gwen glanced around the small church. The men were watching the ceremony. But as she’d expected, the women, ranging from eight to eighty, were watching Travis. From their expressions of open adoration, Gwen figured Travis would be booked up for the rest of the summer on the basis of this one little scene.

Well, good. The busier he was, the less chance she’d have of running into him. And she wanted to steer clear of Travis Evans. She certainly did. Definitely. The sexual tingle she felt every time she looked at him would go away eventually, especially if she didn’t have to look at him very often. This wedding would be the worst of it. After today, she’d have clear sailing.

But today was a challenge, because she caught herself constantly glancing over at Travis, right along with every other woman in the church. He was strong medicine, especially with that baby.

Maybe he realized the baby was a terrific prop. That thought gave her some comfort. If he was using the baby to get women’s attention, then that made him…calculating. She had no use for a calculating man. Yes, he probably had ulterior motives for holding Elizabeth. What a grandstander, playing with that baby and making every woman in the place drool.

“Gwen,” Matty whispered.

Gwen blinked.

“The ring,” Matty said, her tone amused.

Hot embarrassment flooded through Gwen. She’d lost her place in the proceedings. “Coming right up,” she murmured as she reached in the buggy, found the small box she’d put there and took out the ring. She’d planned to have it ready and waiting when the time came, but she’d become so absorbed with Travis, she’d blown her assignment. Damn that tuxedo-wearing, baby-holding cowboy, anyway.

With new determination she focused on Sebastian and Matty. From her position she could only see the back of Matty’s head, golden curls covered in white tulle. But with her height advantage she could peer right over Matty and watch Sebastian’s face.

And sure enough, he was giving his new bride The Look. Gwen couldn’t define it exactly, but it was a potent combination of love, respect, devotion, lust, appreciation, and a few more emotions she hadn’t identified yet. Sebastian’s expression left no doubt in anyone’s mind that Matty was his one and only.

The lump returned to Gwen’s throat. If she were completely honest with herself, she’d have to say that no one, not even her ex, had ever given her The Look. She wondered if she’d go through life without ever experiencing such a moment.

Pull yourself together she lectured herself. Count your blessings. She lived in a gem of a Victorian house and had been lucky enough to keep it after the divorce by opening a bed and breakfast. It turned out she loved the business, although at times she wondered if caring for her guests only took the place of caring for the family she’d always wanted.

But the house gave her roots. The itinerant life of her archeologist parents wasn’t for her, and she’d hated the constant moving as a child. She tallied each year spent in Huerfano with pride, and she was now up to seven, more years than she’d ever stayed in one place in her life.

Maybe running a B&B didn’t stack up well against her parents’ international reputation, or her brother’s prestigious job running a museum in Boston. Maybe they sometimes reminded her that she was twenty-nine and hadn’t done anything with her life. But she wasn’t giving up her house, no matter what anybody said.

“You may kiss the bride,” Pete McDowell said.

A collective sigh went up from the congregation as Sebastian lifted Matty’s veil and cupped her face in his big rancher’s hands.

The tender moment lasted long enough to bring a mist of tears to Gwen’s eyes. Then Elizabeth began chortling and wiggling in Travis’s arms.

Scene-stealer, Gwen thought, and she wasn’t sure whether she meant Elizabeth or Travis. She wondered what would happen with that little baby. Her mother, Jessica Franklin, seemed to be on the run from something or someone and wanted her daughter out of danger. Jessica had been gone for six weeks, long enough for Matty and Sebastian to bond with Elizabeth.

Personally, Gwen figured Travis was the baby’s father, not Sebastian. But in the event Jessica never returned, Sebastian and Matty would provide a better home for the little girl than a playboy like Travis. Even Travis agreed on that point. Still, he seemed quite possessive of the baby and argued every time Sebastian tried to claim paternity.

But neither of them would find out who was Elizabeth’s father until Jessica chose to tell them. She’d called a few times to check on Elizabeth, but she’d never stayed on the line long enough to answer any questions.

Gwen had never encountered something this strange, but maybe Jessica knew what she was doing. Elizabeth was safe and surrounded by people who loved her, including Gwen, although she was trying not to get too attached.

She’d learned detachment during a childhood of constant moving, losing both friends and familiar surroundings. So she’d kept in mind that Jessica could appear at any time and take the baby away, although she might have a fight on her hands at this point. Even from Travis. And he was good with the baby, Gwen admitted grudgingly. Still, he couldn’t be counted on. Not in the long run.

“I give you Mr. and Mrs. Sebastian Daniels,” Pete McDowell said in his deep, booming voice.

The congregation broke into applause and Sarah Jane launched into the recessional.

Gwen blinked back tears as Matty and Sebastian walked back down the aisle, arm in arm. She was so happy for her friend. And maybe a little sorry for herself, but she’d get over it.

Then she looked across at Travis. With sentiment running high at this moment, she was in no shape to deal with him, but deal with him she must.

It wouldn’t be for long. A walk down the aisle, a dance at the reception, and she’d be free of her obligation to fraternize with him. And it would be good riddance.

She pushed the buggy toward the center aisle. As Travis met her there with Elizabeth, Gwen inclined her head toward the buggy, indicating Travis could put Elizabeth back inside.

“I don’t want to risk it,” he murmured.

“Suit yourself.” Pushing the buggy required two hands. During rehearsal they’d linked arms and each put a hand on the wooden handle to push the buggy back down the aisle.

But that wouldn’t work now. Travis couldn’t hold the baby, link arms with Gwen, and lend a hand pushing the buggy, so Gwen decided they could forego linking arms. Just as well.

She used both hands to push the buggy, expecting Travis to simply fall in step beside her. Instead he shifted Elizabeth to his outside arm and slipped his free arm around Gwen’s waist. Instantly her heart started chugging like a freight train.

“That’s not necessary,” she said, a smile pasted on her face for the benefit of the congregation. Looks of envy came shooting at her from all sides.

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.” She tried to ease away. She was entirely too close to him and his spicy aftershave, especially after she’d just witnessed the emotional joining of her two best friends.

“Yes, it is.” His grip tightened at her waist, sending shock waves all through her body. “We’re supposed to look as if we’re together.”

“Casually together, not plastered together.” Oh, but his hand felt good right there. She registered the imprint of each of his fingers through the soft material of her dress.

“Take it easy, sweetheart.”

“I am most definitely not your sweetheart.” And if her nerves jumped at his words, that was only because nobody had spoken an endearment to her in a while.

“Too bad for both of us. Listen, I know you hate me and this is torture for you, but we’re almost done.”

Oh, it was torture, all right. Torture of the highest order. And how she wished that hate was the emotion she was feeling for this man.