The Husband School. Kristine RolofsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
Patsy Parrish at the Hair Lair—she has seven.” These were interesting statistics, but Jerry needed Meg involved in his scheme and these numbers weren’t going to make that happen.
“Eighteen proposals of marriage,” he mused. “I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be,” she said. “I’m not.” She set down the full pot and removed the empty one. “Every once in a while someone has too much to drink, waves roses in front of me and wants to get married. And don’t get me started on Valentine’s Day.”
“There,” he said, slapping his hand on the table. “You’ve proved my point exactly. Do you all see now how unbalanced and crazy this is?”
“Crazy? You think it’s crazy that someone would want to marry me?” The look she gave him practically shriveled his manhood.
The council members sucked in their collective breaths. Jerry realized he was flying too close to the flame now, and any minute Meg would toss them all out of the restaurant, meeting adjourned. She wasn’t a fan of personal questions and she didn’t take kindly to discussing her love life, not that anyone thought she had one. He’d know if Meg had a boyfriend, probably because the news would make the front page of the local paper. Or at least the men’s room of the Dahl.
For one agonizing moment Jerry feared she would fling the empty coffeepot across the room. He’d heard there was a temper beneath the cheerful smile, but up until now he hadn’t believed it. He pulled out a chair and gestured toward it. “Look, Meg, I’m sorry. That’s not quite what I meant. Join us for a minute, will you?” He kept his voice soft, used the persuasive tone he’d spent so much time cultivating. “We need your help.”
She edged away. “No, thanks. I have breakfast orders—”
He wasn’t about to let her off the hook. He needed a female perspective and he needed it now. And he didn’t care if it came from an overly sensitive woman who had a bad attitude or a bad boyfriend or just disliked men. “Meg. Please. Just tell me, what do women want? You know, from men. We need to know.”
“Excuse me?” The question obviously surprised her, because she paused in midflight and stared at him.
“I’m serious,” he repeated, his pen poised. “Tell me what women want. It’s important. I’ll take notes.”
“Jerry,” she said, backing up. “You don’t have a big enough piece of paper.”
CHAPTER TWO
OWEN PAID NO attention to the yammering of the town council until Meg approached their table and got all huffy. Then, his attention caught by the curious discussion going on behind him, he overheard Jerry’s question and the laughter from Meg’s reply.
She’d been proposed to eighteen times? The official count was more likely to be nineteen, because Owen doubted that their teenage romance was public knowledge, so his own proposal wouldn’t be on the list. Had every man in town tried to hook up with her these past years? Now, that was an unpleasant thought. No wonder Meg was kind of prickly about the subject. That kind of attention would embarrass her—or at least would have embarrassed the shy girl he’d once known.
He watched Meg—who, surprisingly, had acted as if they were nothing more than acquaintances, which he supposed was exactly what he’d hoped for—hurry to the counter, where a couple of old guys waited to pay their bills. She looked good in those jeans. And kinda cute in the red-checked apron, too, so he couldn’t really blame the local guys for trying.
“Mr. MacGregor? I don’t think we’ve met.” Owen turned to see the redheaded man standing next to his booth and holding out his hand toward him. “Jerry Thompson. Mayor.”
“So you’re the brave man who wants to know what women want? Nice to meet you.” Owen stood and shook the hand offered to him, which prompted a flurry of greetings from the others at the table. There were condolences about his uncle, surprise that Owen was still in town and introductions made to the younger men Owen didn’t recognize.
Jerry grinned. “I guess Meg’s keeping it a secret.”
Owen, who’d had a few eye-opening experiences of his own since growing up and venturing off the ranch, knew what women wanted. He uncharacteristically shared the knowledge. “Women want your money, your attention and your soul.” That got a burst of laughter. Owen frowned and added, “And that’s just the beginning.”
The mayor’s disappointment was obvious. “Don’t tell them that. I’m trying to get something done here.”
“You’re awfully bitter for a young man, MacGregor,” Gary Petersen pointed out.
“Yeah, well, women have a way of doing that to you.” Owen returned to his seat in the booth and picked up his coffee mug. “Sort of gives you a different perspective.”
“So you’re not lookin’ to get married any time soon?” another guy asked. Pete...Pete Lyons was his name.
“I don’t have anyone in mind, Pete.” He’d played football with the guy in high school, he remembered.
“It’s a generational thing with these kids. They’re all that way,” another said.
“No, we’re not.” Jerry looked insulted. “Not all of us. I’ve been looking around for the right woman. It just hasn’t happened yet.”
“And when it does?” Owen asked the question of Jerry while the others looked embarrassed. “Will you live happily ever after?”
The mayor blushed. “I sure hope so. I want a relationship, a wife, kids, a family. The whole enchilada.”
“I don’t think it’s that easy.”
“It should be.”
“Yeah,” Owen said, “it should be, but I’ve never had much luck.”
Jack’s face fell. “Well, if you can’t get lucky, there’s no way the rest of us can.”
The conversation was fortunately interrupted by the arrival of Owen’s breakfast. Meg set three plates in front of him, one with five strips of bacon, another with three hotcakes and the third with eggs and hash browns. It was everything he’d hoped for.
He attempted to change the direction of the conversation. “I heard there’s snow—”
“Hard to believe some gal hasn’t moved herself into your place by now,” Pete declared. “Unless you’ve got someone in the city that you’re not telling us about.”
He quickly looked up to see if Meg had overheard that comment, but she seemed to have hightailed it out of there as fast as she’d delivered his meal. “It wouldn’t be a secret,” he replied as quietly as he could, “but no, there’s no one out at the place right now but me.” Not that it was anyone’s business, but that didn’t seem to stop the men’s questions.
“There will be when the TV cameras show up,” the annoyingly cheerful mayor assured him. “They’ll probably want to see a working cattle ranch. You know, for atmosphere.”
“TV cameras?” Owen picked up a slice of bacon and bit into it. Hot and crispy, it smelled and tasted great. Everything, from the buttered toast to the fried potatoes, smelled great. “What exactly is it that you have going on, Mayor?”
“We’ve just voted to bring some new business into Willing,” Jerry told him proudly. “It definitely has possibilities for population growth and prosperity.”
“He’s bringing women into town,” one of the younger ones said. The bull rider, Owen thought. “For us.”
“Beautiful women,” another interjected.
Jerry correctly interpreted the look on Owen’s face and hurried to interject. “For a TV show. A friend of mine from L.A. is looking for a remote Western location with lots of local color.”