The Bridal Quest. Jennifer MikelsЧитать онлайн книгу.
kind meant to tingle a woman all the way down to her toes.
“Do you want to order now, too?”
“No, I’m waiting for others.”
She noticed he’d glanced at her left hand. For what? A wedding band?
“Have you been a waitress long?”
She lifted the water glass in front of him. “Oh, sure, for ages and ages.”
“That’s mine.”
Jessica stilled. “What?”
“That was my water glass.” He looked at it, then up at her and grinned. “But you can have it.”
She heard a hint of humor in his voice. Why? What was so funny? Frowning, she looked down. She didn’t need to see herself. She felt the warmth of a blush sweep over her face as she stared at the finger she’d stuck inside his glass. Silently she groaned. When she’d reached for the glass, she’d been thinking more about the gaze on her than what she was doing. What a dumb thing to do. “I’m sorry.” She shot a look at Herb, then back at him. “I’ll get you another glass.” She spoke lightly, even flashed a smile, hoped she sounded relaxed. “And your coffee.”
The sounds of two men engaged in a friendly dispute about what teams would play in the World Series this year made him look away. She used that moment to escape. She needed to stop acting so jittery. If he knew who she really was, he would have said something, wouldn’t he?
“I told you this might not work,” Herb said suddenly, falling in step beside her.
Was he already going to fire her? She wouldn’t blame him if he did. She’d dropped several orders of ham and eggs earlier that morning, nearly spilled water on a customer’s lap, and probably had caused a shortage of silverware during the diner’s busiest hour, sending all that had tumbled to the floor back to the dishwasher. “I’ll do better,” Jessica promised.
She wished the day was over.
She waited until he walked away, then snatched up the Tabasco bottle. On her way to the customer, unwittingly her gaze locked with the sheriff’s. Sympathy darkened his blue eyes. He knew just as Herb and anyone else did that she had no experience. Well, she wasn’t doing this by choice. She’d been forced into this situation.
Her mother had announced that she’d found her daughter’s perfect match in a handsome, dark-haired male named Ryan Noble. Furthermore, Jessica’s grandfather had raved about Ryan, his Golden Boy, the company’s most promising associate, and Jessica assumed she’d never convince them that their choice wasn’t hers.
All her life she’d tried to please her mother and her grandfather, done everything they’d ever asked her to do. When she declared she wouldn’t marry Ryan, an argument had ensued.
Her mother had delivered a steely command. “Ryan Noble is your grandfather’s choice. So he’ll be yours. Now, you need to meet with him, get to know him better, and stop this nonsense.”
Jessica had said no more. She hadn’t needed to race down the aisle of the church with the long train of her bridal gown trailing her. No wedding plans existed yet, and she’d vowed there’d be none.
She’d left the room, climbed the stairs to her bedroom, and packed a bag. After everyone went to bed, she’d left a note, saying she’d call shortly.
For the first time in her life, Jessica Walker, heiress to the Walker fortune, did more than balk at doing what her family wanted. She’d fled.
With a few dollars and her credit cards in her shoulder bag, she’d expected to be on a minivacation. After spending a few weeks away, she would call home. By then, her family would realize she was serious about not marrying Ryan.
But her plan had crumbled swiftly. Within two days of leaving the family mansion, she’d had to stop using credit cards for rooms and gas when she realized the receipts were traceable.
While in another town, she’d learned that money, something she’d never worried about, was no longer available to her. A trip to a local bank revealed her lack of funds. She’d planned to withdraw a sufficient amount of money, so she wouldn’t have to use her credit card. She discovered her account was closed. Usually only the IRS could close someone’s bank account, but this one had been opened by her mother when Jessica was still a minor, and all it had taken was Deidre Walker’s signature to close it.
Jessica realized then how serious her family was about her marriage to Ryan. A stubborn streak she hadn’t even been aware she possessed had flared. She wasn’t giving in to their demand. Call her a romantic, but she wanted that happily-ever-after marriage with a man she truly loved. So until she believed her family had accepted her decision, she was on her own.
And not doing well, she reluctantly admitted.
Chapter Three
At the ring of the bell above the door, Jessica looked up from pouring the sheriff’s coffee. An ample-hipped, gray-haired woman and two fair-haired minxes rushed in. Jessica smiled at the sight of the green baseball cap propped on the head of the little blonde.
“Daddy,” the one with soft brown hair yelled.
Both girls raced from the door ahead of the woman.
With the cup in her hand, Jessica scanned the restaurant for the face of a proud-looking papa. In midstride, she stilled as the two flew to the sheriff’s side.
Rapid-fire, they rambled at him. “Amanda is always coloring outside the lines,” the youngest was saying in a tone meant to indicate that that was the ultimate no-no. Smiling at her, her daddy lifted the cap from his daughter’s head and set it on the booth seat beside him.
Jessica couldn’t help smiling. The girls were absolutely adorable.
And motherless.
She recalled that Cory had said he was a widower, and she felt a tug on her heart. You’re too sensitive, Jessica, her mother had often said. Jessica hadn’t thought that was such a terrible trait. She’d admit to having a weakness for children and loved being around them. So what was wrong with that?
She looked forward to having her own some day, and their father would be a man she loved, she reminded herself. That’s why she was going through all this. So her family realized that she would accept nothing less.
After she delivered the sheriff’s coffee and a hot tea for the woman and chocolate milk for the girls, a brief lunch rush kept her busy. When she looked in the sheriff’s direction again, she saw that he’d left his booth to talk to a man sitting at the counter.
Jessica turned in an order for a cheeseburger and fries. Unable to resist, she moseyed over to his daughters. She said hi, but the elderly woman seated in the booth across from the girls was the one who snagged her attention. She looked pale, and beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead. “Ma’am, are you all right?”
The woman sent Jessica a weak smile. “I’m fine.”
She definitely didn’t look fine.
“Mrs. Mulvane, are you sick?” the oldest girl asked with wide eyes.
“I have this terrible heartburn,” the woman was saying. She ran a hand down her throat as if she could ease away the discomfort by touch.
Jessica managed to veil her concern behind a sympathetic smile, then did an about-face. In a few strides, she weaved her way to the sheriff. The idea of not interrupting was never an option. She laid a hand on his forearm to get his attention. When he faced her, momentary puzzlement touched his eyes. “Sheriff, I think the lady with your daughters is having a heart attack.”
To his credit, he didn’t hesitate longer than a second. “Take my girls to another booth,” he demanded, already on his way to them.
Only a step behind him, Jessica hustled the girls from their seats while