One Husband Needed. Jeanne AllanЧитать онлайн книгу.
of every ranch where she’d visited her father. The barn would be dark and gloomy with snarling, half-wild cats. There would be cows and more horses and dust and smells and noise.
She couldn’t stay in the car forever. Worth Lassiter had already gotten out. Elizabeth reached for the door handle.
He beat her to it, opening the door and blocking her way with his body. “Let me give you a little friendly advice, Elizabeth. If you have any issues with Russ, take them up with him, but don’t wreck my mother’s happiness because of them.”
His hat shaded his face, but Elizabeth had no trouble seeing the way his eyes steadily regarded her, almost in warning. A clipped voice had replaced the lazy, dark-honeyed drawl he’d been pouring over her since they’d met in the airport. “What are you talking about?” she asked, confused by the transformation.
He placed his hands on the top of the car, bracing himself as he leaned closer. “You know what I’m talking about, Red. I’m not going to let you hurt my mother. Don’t even think about trying to stop this wedding.”
Too astonished by his assumption to dispute it immediately, she lost her chance as he straightened and walked away. The situation struck her as excruciatingly humorous. She’d been lusting after his body while he’d been imagining some improbable scenario about her trying to keep Russ from marrying his mother.
Russ walked out on the porch with a blond woman. One of the perfect, horse-loving sisters he’d raved about. Elizabeth plastered a smile on her face and stepped from the car.
Her father walked down the porch steps. “I’ll get that luggage, Worth. Hello, Elizabeth, how was your trip?” He stopped a few feet from the car.
“Fine.” She widened her smile. “We had good weather.”
“That’s good.” He put his hands in his trousers. “No air pockets or anything.”
“No. It was a smooth flight.”
“Good. Good.” Russ jingled the coins in his trousers. “Nothing worse than air pockets. Always scare the living daylights out of me.”
“Everything went smoothly. Sunny skies all the way.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Russ,” the woman said, “if you want a weather report, turn on the radio.” She ran lightly down the porch stairs and held out her hands. “Welcome to Hope Valley and the Double Nickel, Elizabeth. I’m Mary Lassiter.”
“You can’t possibly be old enough to be Worth’s mother,” Elizabeth said in astonishment. Not knowing what else to do, she took the woman’s outstretched hands.
“I love her already, Russ,” Mary Lassiter said in a laughing voice, squeezing Elizabeth’s fingers. “No wonder you think she’s wonderful. Now where is Russ’s grandson? I can’t wait to get my hands on him.”
“Here he is.” Worth walked around the vehicle, Jamie riding happily in his arms.
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. Jamie never warmed to strangers. As proof, he took one look at Russ and Mary and pressed back against Worth’s chest.
Worth rubbed Jamie’s back. “Don’t worry, buddy, us guys have to stick together. I won’t let the women slobber all over you until you’re ready to take them on.” Holding Jamie easily, Worth gave his mother a quick squeeze with his free arm.
“Really, Worth, I don’t slobber.” Mary turned laughing blue eyes, so like her son’s, on Elizabeth. “I hope when Jamie grows up, he doesn’t sass his mother the way my children sass me.” She turned toward the house. “I’ve put you and Jamie in Davy’s room, but if you’d rather have separate rooms, we can move the baby bed elsewhere. Come upstairs and I’ll show you.”
Elizabeth had the feeling of a floodtide sweeping her away. “Jamie,” she said quickly and held out her arms.
Worth gave her a long, steady look, then surrendered her son. “I’ll get your luggage, while you and my mother have a nice,” he emphasized the adjective, “chat.”
Dawn popped over the hills to the east in a showy display of golden peach, the morning light stealing into Worth’s bedroom as he lay awake. He ought to be up and moving. Early morning was the best part of the day, drinking coffee on the front porch, smelling the wind and hearing the birds twitter awake. The old house creaked and sighed, familiar sounds.
A little voice chattered from down the hall. Worth smiled. Whatever his mother’s problems were, the kid was a cute one. Elizabeth was as warm and loving toward her son as she was cool and distant to her father.
Not that Russ had rushed to hug his daughter.
Mary joked her mission in life was to teach Russ how to deal with people as well as he dealt with animals. Worth grinned. At least Russ no longer cringed when Worth’s sisters hugged him. As Worth’s nephew frequently said, the Lassiter women were huggers.
Elizabeth Randall was not a hugger.
Worth suspected his family had overwhelmed her. Only his niece Hannah, with her red hair and delight at seeing another redhead, had managed to overcome Elizabeth’s reserve. He wondered about the funny look on Elizabeth’s face when Hannah suggested Jamie’s father was probably playing with angels. Playing with angels being Hannah’s explanation for the death of her birth mother.
Worth strained to hear, but no female voice answered the baby. During the night Worth had heard the baby fretting and his mother’s voice soothing him. Elizabeth had looked exhausted when she’d arrived. She must be getting some much-needed sleep.
His mother hadn’t returned to the house. Every night Mary snuck over to the guest cabin where Russ was staying, and every morning she tried to sneak back before Worth arose. She seldom made it, but he always pretended to believe her story about being unable to sleep and taking an early morning walk. He doubted she believed him any more than he believed her, but he had no objection to pretending if it saved her embarrassment. His mother deserved a little naughtiness in her life.
Down the hall Jamie’s voice took on strident overtones.
Throwing aside the covers, Worth rose and pulled on his jeans. He knocked softly on Elizabeth’s bedroom door, and when no one responded, peeked inside. Jamie greeted him from near the door, bouncing up and down in the baby bed and holding up his hands in a demand to be picked up.
Jamie’s mother lay dead to the world, her chest rising and falling in the slow rhythms of sleep. Tiptoeing into the room, Worth lifted the little boy from the bed. Jamie gurgled with pleasure.
Jamie’s mother slept on, her red hair spread over the snow-white pillow. Worth felt his body tighten. Elizabeth sighed in her sleep and rolled over, her bottom a rounded hump under the blankets. He didn’t even like her, and he wanted to crawl under the covers with her.
Jamie chomped down on Worth’s chin.
Out in the hall, Worth closed the door to the bedroom and grinned at the little boy. “You hungry or reading my mind?”
Jamie grinned back, proudly displaying six little teeth.
Elizabeth lay facedown in the bed. A cup of coffee would be heavenly, but she didn’t want to disturb Jamie, who was sleeping soundly at last. Poor baby. Yesterday had been too long and too stimulating for him.
And for her. Two of Mary’s daughters had come for dinner along with their families. Cheyenne, married to Thomas Steele, had two children, ten-year-old Davy and nine-month-old Virginia. And Allie, married to Zane Peters, with six-year-old Hannah and six-month-old Harmony. The third sister lived in Denver.
The sisters were younger versions of Mary. Both were beautiful and self-assured, their husbands handsome, confident men who clearly adored their wives.
A spasm of envy twisted Elizabeth’s stomach. She’d felt like a penniless child outside a candy store, her nose pressed to the window, as she’d observed the teasing family interaction. Children had been passed among the adults with easy familiarity.