The Marriage Season. Linda Lael MillerЧитать онлайн книгу.
them a plate and stand back. Once they taste the stuff, they’ll dive in.”
Tate relaxed a little. “Good advice.”
His head was beginning to clear, but it wasn’t happening fast enough to suit him.
He was still bewitched, still awkward. If the two of them had been in kindergarten, he’d probably be shoving her off the playground swing or pulling her ponytail.
Moreover, he could see that she hadn’t been fooled by his effort at casual conversation; she knew he was off his game. But maybe she was off her own, just a little. Faint color had come into her face, and it wasn’t just because of the cool fall breeze.
Finally, Tate stepped aside. “I’d better round up the kids,” he said.
“I’m going back to town for more pastries,” she told him, dangling her keys.
That announcement startled him for some reason, and it must have shown in his face.
Bex laughed again, but at least the awkward moment dissolved as she explained. “I brought pastry and I’m sure the pregnant ladies are going to need more. Plus, your boys probably wouldn’t mind a few chocolate chip cookies for dessert.”
The decision seemed sudden. Was she trying to escape?
He couldn’t bring himself to ask. “You’ll be idolized. Elevated to instant goddess status.”
“I’ve always wanted to be a goddess.” She breezed past him.
He shouldn’t have looked back but he couldn’t resist watching Bex as she headed for her car. She had a very nice posterior and a graceful way of moving...
“Tate.” The use of his name was like a verbal poke in the ribs.
“Huh?” He turned to face Tripp, who descended the porch steps and slapped him on the shoulder. Hadleigh looked on, smiling, from the kitchen doorway.
“How about pulling your eyeballs back into their sockets and rolling up your tongue?” Tripp joked. “If you don’t, some of us might get the impression that you’re finally ready to stop acting like a monk and get on with your life.”
“About time,” Spence put in gruffly. Tate hadn’t noticed him, or Melody, who stood beside her husband, one arm around his waist.
“Leave the man alone,” she said. “It isn’t as if you were in any big hurry to get with the program.”
Spence’s mouth opened, closed again.
Both Tate and Tripp laughed at his bewilderment.
Then, as if by tacit agreement, Hadleigh and Melody disappeared into the house.
“Hey, Tripp, let’s have a look at that stallion you just bought,” Tate suggested, anxious to shift his attention to something—anything—other than the mysteries of women.
Half an hour later, when Bex had returned with a stack of bakery boxes in her arms, and the men and boys had washed up, lunch was served.
Bex’s earlier advice concerning any mention of spinach was proven right. Although his youngest, Adam, was infamous for his disdain of vegetables in general and eyed the green in the tomato sauce with suspicion, with a glance from Tate he took a bite—and quickly became enthusiastic about the lasagna, even taking seconds. Tate had to agree that the food was delicious, never mind that it was vegetarian and he was more of a meat-and-potatoes man.
After the meal, Bex got up from her chair, crossed to the counter and returned with the boxes from Madeline’s.
The boys, both of whom had hollow legs, cheered.
“It’s nice to be loved for something,” Bex said, opening the boxes with a flourish. “Peanut-butter cookies and other variations with chocolate thrown in have arrived, plus more puff pastries. Those of you not running a marathon next Saturday may help yourselves.”
Tate, who’d been trying to ground himself again ever since Bex had left for town, drew a breath, sat back in his chair and looked around at the spacious kitchen.
It was a well-appointed room, designed to be both functional and welcoming. The space was rustic, and he appreciated the simplicity of it. An island with a flat stove and a ceramic top had been added, an ideal fit with the hand-hewn cabinets Jim had built himself, years before. Even when Tripp had remodeled the place after he’d sold the charter jet service and moved back to Mustang Creek, he’d left the best parts unchanged, so the other appliances, however sleek and modern, actually enhanced the relax-and-stay-awhile effect. A natural rock fireplace filled one wall, and a quilted runner—Hadleigh’s own handiwork—brightened the long plank table, with its sturdy pine chairs. The overall effect was warm and inviting.
Tate wanted that sense of hominess for his own place, for his boys. Tricky, in an all-male household.
Just the same, he maintained certain standards. Although he let a lot of house rules slide, one thing he insisted on was the supper ritual. Both Ben and Adam would happily eat in front of a TV or a laptop, but he insisted they all sit down together—every single night.
That particular dictate meant he wasn’t always popular.
Just then, someone’s phone rang, interrupting Tate’s thoughts.
Bex was the lucky winner.
Or maybe not so lucky, judging by the worried frown that appeared on her face.
She answered her cell with a murmured, “Tara?” and got up, moving away from the table, phone pressed to her ear. Hadleigh and Melody, meanwhile, exchanged glances, looking concerned.
“This isn’t good,” Hadleigh said in an undertone.
Melody nodded in irritated agreement.
“SLOW DOWN. I can’t understand you.” Bex was several years younger, but decades calmer, than her volatile sibling, Tara. “What’s going on?”
“I left him.”
“Greg?”
“Who else would I leave?”
Bex could have done without the petulance in her tone.
Her sister had a point—it was a dumb question—but Bex was trying to process the situation, and the hysteria on the other end wasn’t exactly conducive to rational thought. “Okay, where are you?”
“Your house.”
Good choice. So much for an enjoyable, relaxing lunch. She wasn’t going to rush home, because Tara and Greg had split before, but it sure ruined her day to have to worry about it. There was the usual blowup, and then they both changed their minds...
“I’ll be home soon so we can talk,” Bex told her after a few minutes.
There was an empty chair at the kitchen table and she took it. Melody looked at her inquiringly and Bex said, “The usual nothing.”
Hadleigh rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, she left Greg again.”
It was more than a little embarrassing to admit it in front of Tate. “They had a dustup, it seems. I got no details. So I have no idea what’s really going on. She and Joshua are at my house.” Bex sighed; she couldn’t help it. “I’ll deal with this later. Every single time I rush to the rescue, Tara and Greg immediately make up. What I want to do now is eat something decadent.”
Hadleigh pushed the box toward her. “The carbs will help.”
It wasn’t until the men took the boys back outside that Bex revealed the latest. “He’s been cheating on her.”
No one said anything.
She reiterated. “Greg’s been cheating on Tara.”