Читать книгу The Bachelor's Northbridge Bride - Victoria Pade - Страница 8

“So now you’re going to be with me for a while, Ry?”

“I am, Gram,” Ry confirmed for his grandmother. He didn’t point out that it was the third time she’d asked the same question already today and they’d only just finished breakfast. “Marti has gone on her honeymoon and Wyatt went back to Missoula. He’ll be here with us one day this week but otherwise, it’s just you and me, babe,” he joked, making her smile. “Well, you and me and Mary Pat,” he amended then.

Theresa’s nurse, Mary Pat, suggested she take Theresa to dress for the day. As the two women got up from the table, Theresa said to Ry, “I don’t think you’re going to like it here.”

That was a new one.

Ry raised his eyebrows at her. “Why is that, Gram?”

“It isn’t your kind of place. It’s quiet, things move more slowly. I don’t think it’s going to be enough for you.”

“You know I can usually stir things up a little,” he said, winking at her because he knew it always tickled her.

She waved a hand at him as if she were swatting a fly but giggled anyway before Mary Pat ushered her out of the kitchen.

Ry took a drink of his second cup of coffee.

His grandmother might not always be in her right mind, but there were still some things she had insight into. And despite his making light of it, he thought the possibility that Northbridge wasn’t for him was one of those things.

Granted he’d only been here for Wyatt’s wedding three weeks ago and again now for Marti’s, so he hadn’t seen much of Northbridge. And he knew his brother and sister were enamored of the small town. But in spite of the fact that he’d met a lot of nice people, the town itself did seem a little too sleepy for him—too slow and quiet, just like his grandmother had said.

But whether he liked Northbridge or not, he, Wyatt and Marti had always shared the responsibility of their grandmother. When she’d run away from Mary Pat to come here, he and his brother and sister had agreed that if Northbridge was where Theresa wanted to be, Northbridge was where she should be—even if it meant they had to rotate being here with her.

Of course with both Wyatt and Marti married to locals now, there was talk of them relocating permanently. If that happened, Ry thought he could hold down the fort in Missoula where Home-Max was headquartered. Then he wouldn’t have to spend much time in Northbridge. But for now, here he was, taking his turn at helping with Theresa.

And not excited by the prospect of being basically sequestered in the Montana outback—as he thought of the small town.

It wasn’t that Northbridge was a bad place—from what little he’d seen, it had plenty of charm. But it was a small town and any small town had its limitations. And Ry didn’t like limitations.

He liked—he thrived on—activity and choices and always having more options for things to do than he had time to do them. Slow and quiet? That was the last thing he wanted.

In fact, he’d meant it when he’d assured Marti and Wyatt before they’d left this morning that he was glad to take over all they’d passed along for him to do. Because even if they had had to pile it on, he would always rather have too much on his plate than not enough.

But he definitely had a full plate for this round.

Along with keeping his grandmother company, there was the new Home-Max they were opening in Northbridge. They’d purchased a series of neighboring storefronts on Main Street that needed some work before they could house the new store, and overseeing the final stages of that was on his to-do list.

He also needed to inventory stock as it was delivered, and organize the beginning of the actual setup of the store.

No question about it, he had more than enough to keep him busy with all of that.

And there was also this Hector Tyson guy he had to look up, the guy who had taken unfair advantage of the young Theresa and who now had a lot to answer for, a lot Ry was determined to make him answer for.

Plus, along those same lines, there was the mystery from his grandmother’s past that he and his siblings were trying to solve once and for all—he’d promised to get into that, too, to try to figure out what exactly it was that his grandmother claimed had been taken from her, what exactly it was that she’d come to Northbridge to reclaim. If it might be more than the land Tyson had done her out of. If it might actually be a lost child…

And of course there was his massage tonight….

From Kate Perry.

There hadn’t been any shortage of thoughts about her to occupy him since he’d first set eyes on her yesterday. Even though he wished they would stop coming.

But damn, what a beauty she was! He’d already known that Northbridge had more than its fair share of pretty women from the abundance of them at Wyatt’s wedding. But Kate Perry? He’d hardly been able to believe his eyes when he’d gotten his first glimpse of her. And even though she’d been coming down the aisle between two sections of folding chairs in his grandmother’s old house, his first thought was that she could have been a vision emerging from a mist on an Irish countryside.

Not that he had any idea if she was even Irish. It was just her coloring that made him think Irish lass—that incredible, lush, thick red hair and that pale alabaster skin. Add to it the delicate lines of her nose and apple-colored cheeks, and the pure elegance of her jaw, and she looked more like she was made of porcelain than skin and bone.

Then her compact, posture-perfect, curves-in-all-the-right-places self had reached the makeshift altar where the ceremony was to be held. And in casting her eyes back the way she’d come to watch for the remainder of the bridesmaids and the bride, they’d briefly touched on him where he’d stood with Noah and some of the other groomsmen across the aisle.

But the glance had been just long enough for him to see that her eyes weren’t merely blue, they weren’t merely green; they were a perfect combination of the two—like the mingling of sea and sky. Bright, vibrant, almost electric—they were amazing eyes to complete the picture of a truly, amazingly beautiful woman.

Just the memory was enough to take his breath away a little.

One look at her at that moment and everything else—every other person in the room—including his sister walking down the aisle—every sound, every note of the music being played, every scent of perfume and flowers, everything had faded into a blur as the only clear image he’d had, the only thing he’d been aware of, was Kate Perry.

It was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him.

Of course he’d shaken it off and poured his concentration back into the wedding. But as he sat there at the breakfast table Monday morning, taking another drink of his coffee, he still couldn’t help thinking about it, thinking about her. And how it was slightly unnerving to have had such a powerful first reaction to her.

But regardless of how powerful or weird it had been, it was meaningless, he told himself. She might be one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on, but she wasn’t the kind of woman he meshed with and that had been brought home to him as they’d talked at the reception.

The kind of woman he meshed with was full of life, free-spirited, lively and adventurous, outgoing and game for anything—like him. The kind of woman he meshed with would have flirted audaciously with him when Marti had introduced them. She would never have taken seriously his joking about her occupation, and probably would have shot back a few innuendos of her own.

But a prim reverend’s granddaughter? A woman who held herself so stiff and straight she could have had a pole running up the zipper of her bridesmaid’s dress? A woman who not only hadn’t found the fact that he’d been hurt on a skateboard funny, but who had given him the impression that she thought it was just a stupid, childish thing to have done? A woman who was that reserved and subdued and stuffy?

Huh-uh. No thanks.

He’d tried it with a few women like that, and he knew they were not for him. That his personality, the way he liked to live his life, clashed with theirs and their expectations of who he should be and how he should behave.

So even if Kate Perry was a beauty, even if he had gotten a kick out of the verbal back-and-forth with her and the evidence that she was clearly nobody’s fool, he wasn’t interested.

Besides, there was also the fact that she lived in Northbridge and that she was Marti’s sister-in-law.

Northbridge was not a place he wanted to be tethered to any more than he had to be to take care of his grandmother.

And messing with an in-law’s sibling? He’d already been dumb enough to hook up with someone with that kind of family connection—Wyatt’s first wife’s sister. And when it didn’t work out? Backlash and awkwardness to spare. Not to mention strain on his relationship with Wyatt.

So as far as he was concerned, Kate Perry was a no-go all the way around.

Well, except that she was doing his massage tonight.

If he didn’t have to have his shoulder loosened up so it didn’t hurt like hell, he would cancel that appointment—there was no question about it.

But he really needed the massage, no matter who was giving it; otherwise, he was going to have to pop pain pills and he didn’t want to do that.

Still, he was a little worried about what might happen—purely involuntarily—when someone who looked like Kate Perry touched him.

But he just had to suck it up and have the massage.

Maybe if he kept reminding himself over and over again just how not-for-him Kate Perry was, it would help.

But just in case it didn’t, he was keeping his pants on and letting her deal with the shoulder and nothing but the shoulder.

Get in there, get it done, get out.

That was what Kate told herself as she stood outside the door to the treatment room in the office she shared with the local chiropractor.

The receptionist had just taken Ry Grayson to the treatment room, given him his instructions and left for the day. The chiropractor wasn’t in on Mondays. That meant that there were now only two people in the office—Kate and Ry Grayson, who was waiting for his massage.

A massage that would be no different than any massage she’d ever given because he was just a client, she told herself.

So why was she dreading it so much?

Or was she feeling something else?

No, it was dread. It had to be dread. Why would it be anything else? Anything like excitement to see him again?

It wouldn’t be.

And even if it was, she wasn’t having any part of it.

She was husband-hunting. She wanted what she’d always wanted—to find the one man she could build her life with. The one man who would want what she wanted—to get married, to buy a house, to settle down and have a family, to raise that family together. And she was tired of being distracted from that goal by men who ultimately—even if they said it was what they wanted—didn’t want that same thing.

Steady, stable, serious, rock solid—that was the kind of man she was looking for. Someone who was clear in his convictions, who knew himself and what he wanted. Someone like her.

Certainly, someone who wouldn’t mislead her into thinking he did want what she wanted and then just string her along.

And any man who gave her the slightest indication that that wasn’t who he was, absolutely was not a contender. Absolutely was not someone she was putting an ounce of energy or a minute of her time into. Because doing that three—three—times was enough. More than enough—three engagements that ended short of the altar were more than any one person’s limit.

So no more fly-by-nights.

Or, as in the case of Ry Grayson and his arrival for yesterday’s wedding, no more fly-by-days, either.

His own sister had said that he was just a kid at heart, that she didn’t think he would ever grow up. And even if Kate hadn’t had a preconceived belief that that was the kind of man he was, Marti saying it was a glaring warning that Kate was not taking lightly. In fact, she didn’t need any more confirmation than that to cement Ry Grayson on the do-not-touch-with-a-ten-foot-pole list.

So, all right, maybe he had gotten to her a little at the wedding and maybe that was why what she was feeling could possibly be excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. Opening up to her, letting her know he liked her brother, confiding his feelings about his sister’s late fiancé—there was no denying that the man could be charming and appealing.

But she’d learned—three times—that charm and appeal didn’t get her to the altar. And she couldn’t let charm or appeal blind her again. She had a goal, she was unwavering in her pursuit of that goal and that was all there was to it. She absolutely would not allow herself to be waylaid by anyone she honestly didn’t believe was a potential life partner.

And when it came to this massage, she was a professional and she could do this and keep it purely in that arena—business as usual. And no business-as-usual massage excited her.

With that sorted through in her mind, Kate set her shoulders straight and imagined her goals and resolve protecting her like a shield from Ry Grayson’s charm and appeal. She took several deep breaths for strength and to clear her mind. And then she knocked firmly on the door.

“I’m indecent, come on in.”

Well, no one had ever said that before.

Kate suppressed a smile and went in.

“Hi. Sorry if I kept you waiting,” she said unapologetically.

“I think I dozed off, so even if you did keep me waiting, I didn’t know it.”

He was lying facedown on the massage table, his arms at his sides. He hadn’t used the sheet he’d been given to cover up with, probably because he was still wearing everything from the waist down. But he was naked from the waist up. Naked, tanned, muscular and broad-shouldered at the top of an impressive V that narrowed to his waist and an equally impressive rear end that she almost wished he hadn’t left encased in jeans because one look at his backside and a slight shiver ran up her arms.

“Is it cold in here?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“As long as you’re comfortable,” she lied to cover her own reaction.

Business as usual, she reminded herself.

“Which shoulder is giving you trouble?” she asked, moving closer to the side of the table.

“The left,” he answered.

“I can use oil or lotion—which would you prefer?”

“Makes no difference to me.”

Kate chose oil, pouring some into her hands to warm it and trying as she did not to admire the pure, raw masculine magnificence of those shoulders and that back that could make a person drool, and biceps that were honed and carved and looked as if they were amply able to pull his body weight and more up the sheer sides of mountains.

Business as usual.

She went from the side of the table to the head of it.

“Fancy feet!” he exclaimed the minute she was in position and he could see her from the opening of the headrest. “Polish and a toe ring? That’s a surprise.”

Leave it to him to say something about it.

“The polish was for the wedding—open-toed shoes. And the ring has been there for so long it won’t come off,” she said as if there was no more to it.

But the truth was, she’d refreshed the polish, and she never tried to take off the ring. She just didn’t want him to know that she secretly liked that thin, silver bit of nonconformity that had come out of her late teens.

She also didn’t mention the fact that his view would have ordinarily consisted of only clunky clogs, but that she’d opted for sandals today. With him in mind, although she didn’t want to admit it even to herself.

“I’m going to touch you now,” she warned because sometimes her clients liked to know in advance.

“Go for it,” he said with a laugh that managed to sound sexy even through the slight muffle of the headrest.

“I’m pretty strong, so if I hurt you at all, let me know right away.”

“Give me all you’ve got, I think I can take it.”

And yet her hands hovered over his shoulders.

You said you were going to touch him, now do it!

It was just that she had some concerns about what touching him was going to do to her. Maybe nothing—after all, she’d never had any kind of personal reaction to touching anyone else. But Ry Grayson? There was something different about him.

Still, she had no choice, so she took a deep breath and laid her hands on his shoulders.

Another wave of those shivers went from her palms all the way up her arms again. But she put every effort into ignoring it. And when she did, she began to get an idea of what she was dealing with therapeutically.

“Wow, those are some big, hard knots,” she said.

“Big and hard—isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?” he countered with another laugh.

The man was definitely incorrigible.

Kate took her hands away. “I’m going to have to loosen the knots with some heat before I can deal with them,” she informed him without acknowledging his remark.

Then she escaped from the room and collapsed silently against the wall just outside the door.

She took more deep breaths. She told herself she was being ridiculous. She told herself again why she could not allow herself to be affected like this by Ry Grayson.

But only after about the sixth deep breath did she feel strong enough to cross the hall to the supply area of the office and continue with what she was supposed to be doing.

She took some hot packs from a drawer and heated them in the microwave. Then she retrieved two warm, damp towels from the Crock-Pot where she kept them heating, and went back to the treatment room.

On went the first towel, then the heat packs, then the second towel over them.

And the moan that came from Ry Grayson in response sounded much too much like the kind of moan he might make during the course of far more intimate activities.

Kate swallowed with some difficulty, pressed herself flat against the wall inside the room this time and decided to try polite, innocuous conversation to keep her mind and her reactions to him on another path.

“Did your grandmother end up making it through everything yesterday without any upset?” she asked.

“She did okay, actually. She’s pretty fond of Noah and she was glad to see Marti happy again.”

“And she was all right with Marti leaving on her honeymoon? I know Marti was worried about how Theresa would handle it.”

“There’s a reason for that—Gram is up and down, and we never know how she’ll handle anything. But Marti and Wyatt both leaving this morning didn’t seem to bother her. She was almost chipper all the way through lunch today. Then she took a nap and had a nightmare she keeps having—I don’t know how much Noah has told you about what’s going on with Gram.”

“He didn’t think it was a secret—especially since we are all family now.” Kate threw in that reminder again for her own sake and for his. “I know that when your grandmother was seventeen her parents died and she ended up being taken in by Hector Tyson and his wife. That he bought a major chunk of land from her for a song and got rich himself from selling it off in lots, and then also selling all the building materials for the houses that were built on it because he’s always been the only game in town when it came to lumber and hardware—”

“Something we’re going to change by opening a Home-Max—which he doesn’t like.”

“I know that when Theresa first came to Northbridge, she said it was to get back something that was taken from her,” Kate continued. “And that your family thought she was talking about the land. But when Marti and Noah told Theresa that Marti is pregnant, your grandmother got really upset and claimed that Hector seduced her and that she had his baby—”

“And we believe her, especially since Marti talked to some woman named Emmalina—”

“She was the wife of the minister at the time,” Kate filled him in.

“Right. And this Emmalina said Gram went to talk to the minister, that while she waited for him, she talked to Emmalina about being in love with a married man. And between the things she said and the fact that Gram was all wrapped up in a big coat on a warm day, we believe she was hiding a pregnancy,” Ry said.

“Noah also told me that Theresa says Hector took her baby from her before she even saw it or held it or knew if it was a boy or a girl.”

“We still aren’t sure if that’s a figment of Gram’s imagination or not.”

“But if it’s true, then that baby—which would be as old as our parents by now—could be what Theresa wants back,” Kate concluded.

“So you know plenty.”

“Am I not supposed to?” Kate asked, hoping she hadn’t gotten her brother into trouble.

“No, it’s fine. Anyway, this dream Gram has is that the baby is crying for her. She has problems with depression most of the time but when she has this dream, she really gets bummed out. She ended up crying all afternoon and there was nothing her nurse Mary Pat or I could do to cheer her up.”

“I feel so badly for her,” Kate said. She couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to have a child and then have it taken from her.

“Yeah, it’s lousy,” Ry agreed.

It was definitely easier to talk to him without looking at that handsome face, with his back draped in towels, without touching him while the heat packs did their job, and Kate was feeling more herself.

“We’ve notified this Tyson character that we intend to sue him for restitution over the land,” Ry went on to say. “Our lawyers are putting the finishing touches on that this week, but I think I’m going to have to take the bull by the horns over the baby. Do you know Tyson?”

Kate decided enough time had passed with the heat packs applied to his shoulders and since she felt she could better deal with massaging him, she removed the towels and packs. But before she answered Ry’s question, she warmed more oil between her hands and said, “I’m going to start on your spine to get everything in line before I work on your shoulder.”

“Sure, whatever,” he said.

Talking to him about his grandmother had helped dispel some of her reaction to him because this time when she began the massage, she had something to think about other than how smooth and sleek his skin was.

“Yes, I know Hector Tyson,” she said then, finally responding to what he’d asked. “Everyone does. He’s a cranky old man like my grandfather. In fact, I’ll be seeing Hector as soon as we’re done here. I’m sure you know about that holding barn he bought out from under you to try to keep Home-Max from coming in?”

“Yeah, I know about that.”

“Well, he’s closed on the deal and he wants the title. I agreed to deliver it to him tonight.”

“You’re a masseuse who moonlights as a messenger?”

“I’m a masseuse who’s also the city clerk.”

“Seriously?”

“The city clerk job in Northbridge is only a part-time position—we just aren’t big enough to need one full-time. And since being a masseuse in a small town is also not a huge moneymaker, I do both jobs.”

“Ah, that’s why you were only here this afternoon, not this morning,” he said, although his ah was tinged with some pleasure as she worked her way from his waist upward and began to address those wide shoulders of his, paying particular attention to the injured one.

“So why don’t I go with you when we’re finished here and you can introduce me?” he suggested then.

“I can think of about 100 reasons why not,” she answered before thinking better of it.

“Why is that?”

Of course he would ask, and now that her runaway mouth had gotten her into it, what was she going to say? That she was worried about her own visceral responses to him? That she didn’t want to risk what might happen if she was with him any more than necessary? That the rock-solid muscles of his back were not the kind of “rock solid” she was looking for and so she considered him a waste of her valuable time?

“I just don’t think that would be a good idea,” she hedged. “I’m going to Hector’s house as a civil servant. I can’t bring a date.”

“Who said anything about a date?”

She wished she hadn’t.

“No one,” she backpedaled. “I’m just saying that that’s what it would look like to Hector. And then you’d attack him and—”

“I’m not going to attack an old man. I just want to talk to him. Wouldn’t it be better to start off with an introduction from someone he knows? Someone who can say I’m family now?”

She didn’t appreciate having that table turned on her. But she did know that her brother would want her to help the Graysons in any way she could, especially in getting to the bottom of things for Theresa.

Plus now that she’d shot off her mouth about going to Hector Tyson’s house tonight and then made the other slips of the tongue that had compounded things, if she didn’t concede, this was apt to become a much bigger deal than she wanted it to. And then that could get back to her brother and it all just seemed like it could snowball if she didn’t bite the bullet and let Ry Grayson have his way….

“Ouch!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, not realizing that in the process of working on his shoulder her own frustration might have made her rougher than she should have been.

She was more careful as she stretched his arm toward his back.

“So what do you say?” he asked. “Will you do the honors with old man Tyson? Otherwise I’m just gonna follow you from here so I know how to get to his place and we’ll end up there at the same time anyway.”

“You weren’t planning to go tonight until you heard I was going,” she accused.

“But now that I know you are, I might as well trail you—it’s easier than finding him on my own. So what’ll it be? Together with an introduction—the way a family member would do with another family member? Or some awkward, coincidental, synchronized arrival on the old man’s doorstep that’ll be harder for you to explain?”

Kate was finished with his massage and rather than be quick about answering him, she left the room to get another warm, damp towel. As she laid it across his back and shoulders when she returned, she sighed elaborately and said, “I suppose—since you are family now—you can tag along.”

“Not gracious, but I’ll take it,” he said.

After another few minutes of silence that she let lapse to make it clear she didn’t appreciate being coerced into something she didn’t want to do, Kate used the damp towel while it was still warm to rub the oil off his back, hating that it gave her a tiny thrill to do it and to hear his sighs of satisfaction when she did.

And now her time with him wasn’t going to end here, she thought, knowing that it was also not a good sign that that excitement she’d been trying to dress up as dread in anticipation of his massage had returned with the prospect of taking him with her to Hector Tyson’s house.

But the massage and taking him to Hector’s house were one-time and one-time-only occurrences, she told herself. After this, there wouldn’t be any reason for her to even see Ry Grayson, let alone spend time with him. Or touch him.

If she could just get through the next hour or so, this would all be over with and she could go back to her single-minded husband-hunting.

That meant going home to her apartment to check the two Internet dating services she’d joined, and looking through the catalog of men she’d received in the mail today from Partner-Finders—the matchmaking firm she’d signed up with in Billings.

Stubborn determination—that’s what she had. Stubborn determination to find herself a mate.

And she wasn’t going to let Ry Grayson get in the way of it.

Even if the feel of every taut tendon and hard muscle of his back seemed burned indelibly into her brain.