Читать книгу: «The Great Texas Wedding Bargain»
“We’re not talking about a real marriage,” she assured him. “It would be a marriage on paper.”
She was desperate, Rick realized. So desperate she was on the verge of tears. Walking away from Megan Ford would be hard to do. He’d be haunted forever by those big blue eyes.
“What kind of coffee do you make?”
She blinked several times. “What kind? I—I usually grind my own beans. I like—”
“Grind your own beans? Tell me you can cook, too.”
Megan gave him a befuddled stare. “Well, yes. Of course.”
He grinned at her, hoping to chase away those tears that still lingered. “Honey, looks like we got a deal.”
Come back to Cactus, Texas, in Judy Christenberry’s bestselling series TOTS FOR TEXANS! You’re guaranteed to have a grand ole time!
The Great Texas Wedding Bargain
Judy Christenberry
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
Or simply visit
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Judy Christenberry has been writing romances for fifteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers. Judy quit teaching French recently to devote her time to writing. She hopes readers have as much fun reading her stories as she does writing them. She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two daughters. Judy’s a native Texan, living in Plano, a suburb of Dallas.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
He was the one.
Megan Ford nibbled on her bottom lip as she stared at the dusty cowboy leaning against the feed-store counter. She’d heard Mr. James, the store owner, call him by name, confirming his identity.
Richard Astin.
Her mother’s friends had recommended him.
If she weren’t so desperate… But she was. Time was of the essence.
“Well, hello, there, Megan. What can I do for you?” Mr. James called out, having finally seen her in the dim shadows of the store.
“Good afternoon, Mr. James.” She remembered he’d gone to school with her mother and treated her as if she were a favorite niece even though she’d only met him a month ago.
The cowboy turned around to glance at her, and she sucked in a deep breath. He might appear tired, dirty and down-at-the-heels, but he was good-looking. Maybe he wasn’t as perfect for her plans as she’d thought. But she didn’t have any other candidates.
She stepped forward and extended her hand to the stranger. “I don’t think I’ve met you. I’m Megan Ford.”
“Sorry, I should’ve introduced you,” Mr. James said. “This here is Richard Astin. We call him Rick. He’s got a smart little spread outside of town.”
She smiled politely. “How nice.”
His eyebrows raised over his warm brown eyes. “Yeah. Are you ranching in the area?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m a nurse. I work for the doctors.” She didn’t need to give their names. Dr. Greenfield had been the only doctor in the west Texas town of Cactus for a number of years. He’d recently taken in a partner, Samantha Gibbons. She’d married one of the local men last summer.
The cowboy didn’t look terribly interested in her history. Even better.
Turning back to Mr. James, the cowboy finished his business and started to go, tipping his hat at her as he strode past.
She wanted to grab his sleeve, to stop his departure, but she certainly didn’t want to conduct a conversation in front of Mr. James. That would never do.
With a quick nod in the older man’s direction, she followed Richard Astin outside.
“Mr. Astin?” she called out. He’d covered a lot of territory in the two minutes he’d been out of her sight and was now standing at the door of an old pickup.
“Yes, ma’am?”
In the sunlight, though his gaze was shaded by his cowboy hat, the strong planes of his face were visible, making Megan hesitate. He wouldn’t be easy to manipulate.
She drew a deep breath. It was now or never. “Could I have a word with you?”
RICHARD ASTIN stared at the pretty woman on the porch of the feed store.
Not another one.
He’d thought he was safe here in Cactus. The eight months since he’d moved here had been the happiest of his life. The good people of Cactus took a man at face value…and left him to live in peace.
Well, most of them. The Matchmakers weren’t quite as good about staying out of a man’s life. But he’d found them amusing. The four women had gotten their sons married, with children on the way. Then they had started looking for fresh bait. But lately they’d left him alone.
“Yes, ma’am? Talk to me about what?” He didn’t budge. She could come to him. Maybe there was another dance and the ladies had sent her over to lure him to it.
His left eyebrow was raised as he recognized distress on her face. Those blue eyes of hers appeared wary and she was nibbling on her full bottom lip.
She took one step toward him, and stopped. “It’s…it’s personal.”
He dipped his head down so she wouldn’t see his grin. He wondered which matchmaker had put her up to approaching him. He’d have to tell them that she didn’t know much about flirting.
Looking up, he said, “Can’t be too personal. We just met.”
“Could I buy you a cup of coffee?”
Now she was tempting him. He’d never learned to make good coffee. The instant kind he made each morning was only a mockery of the fragrant coffee he loved. “Where?”
His question seemed to throw her. She should’ve planned better. He could give her pointers, from his past experiences, but why help the enemy?
“At the drugstore?”
He deliberately looked at his watch. No point in letting her think she’d roped him in. “I’ve got five minutes to spare.”
Her chin rose. “Then we’d better walk fast,” she retorted and turned on her heel to head down the sidewalk in the direction of Brockmeier’s Drugstore.
Rick chuckled under his breath. At least she had some spirit. She’d been so hesitant at first, he’d thought she was timid.
He strolled after her, not hurrying, but his long legs caught up with her a few storefronts away. Not that she had short legs. Her denim skirt ended above her knees, catching his eye.
No doubt she was good-looking. Half the single men in town should be after her. He didn’t understand why she was chasing him. Unless she knew his secret.
She stopped outside the drugstore and turned to make sure he’d followed. He’d admired her restraint in not looking before. He reached around her and held open the door.
Sweeping past him with her chin raised, in the fashion of a grand duchess, she headed for the side of the drugstore where several empty booths awaited customers.
“Howdy, Rick,” Lucy, the waitress, called out. Then she noticed the young woman standing beside him. “Megan, right? You’re Faith’s daughter. Welcome to town.”
“Thank you. May we sit anywhere?”
Lucy waved them toward the booths. “You bet, hon. Take your pick. It’s not like we’re busy.”
Rick followed Megan’s determined march and slid into the booth she chose, opposite her.
“What can I get you folks?” Lucy asked.
“A cup of coffee for the gentleman and iced tea for me. Would you care for anything else, Mr. Astin? I believe the pie is supposed to be good.”
“Best in town,” Lucy declared, staring at Rick, waiting for his decision.
He deliberately took his time, watching Megan’s antsy movements across from him. “What kind do you have?”
“Apple, coconut cream and chocolate.”
“I’ll have apple, with a scoop of ice cream,” he said, smiling at Lucy.
“Coming right up.”
“For someone who only has five minutes, you’re certainly taking your time,” Megan muttered as Lucy hurried away from their table.
“Pie’s worth the extra time,” he assured her, adding a wink. He thought she seemed a little tense, but it was silly to get her tail in such a twist over a dance.
She glared at him.
“Look, honey, don’t act so uptight. If going to a dance is that important, I’ll take you.” This time he might even enjoy himself.
Her blue eyes widened and she blinked several times. “I beg your pardon?”
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To ask me to take you to a dance? I’ll have to admit, buying me pie and coffee is a new approach. I like it.”
Her mouth dropped open. A tasty little mouth, too. Full lips, slightly pink, no lipstick. In fact, she didn’t have on hardly any makeup at all. Most of the women who’d come after him usually loaded up on the war paint.
Smart lady. Her dark lashes framed her blue eyes and her cheeks were soft pink over ivory. She didn’t need any fake enhancements.
“Why, you conceited…conceited oaf!” she exclaimed.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Did I get it wrong? Okay, what do you want? We don’t know each other. I doubt you’d want to buy cows. I can’t think of any other business we’d have.”
She suddenly retreated, her gaze becoming secretive, her openness disappearing. Looking away, she said nothing.
Lucy arrived at their table with their drinks and the pie and ice cream. “How’s your mother, Megan? Tell her to come in and visit. I haven’t talked to her since y’all came back.”
“Thank you, I will.”
After Lucy left the table, Rick leaned forward. “You just recently came to town?”
“A month ago.”
Her clipped tones didn’t invite conversation.
He frowned. The lady was presenting a puzzle. He assumed she’d been told to approach him by one of the matchmakers. Maybe he was wrong. “Look, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I figured Mabel or Florence or—” He stopped as her cheeks flooded with color. Guilt if he ever saw it.
“How did you know?” she asked with gasp.
He didn’t answer at once. The pie and ice cream, already melting, demanded his attention. After he’d digested a tasty bite, he grinned. “Everyone in town knows those ladies are determined to marry off every single man in the county.” He shook his head, still grinning. “Not that I’m accusing you of trying to marry me. They usually start off with a date to one of the barn dances they have around here.”
He thought she’d be even more embarrassed, maybe even back out of asking him. Too bad. He might have enjoyed dancing with Miss Megan Ford.
Taking another bite, he was enjoying the combination of warm fruit pie and cold ice cream, when she spoke.
“You’re wrong, Mr. Astin. We’re skipping the date part and going straight to the wedding vows. I’m asking you to marry me.”
He sputtered pie and ice cream across the table.
NOT HER MOST shining moment, Megan decided.
She shouldn’t have lost her temper, but the man was so sure she was eager to fall at his feet in adoration.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” she added sharply as he stared at her. “I’m not in admiration of your masculine charms. But I need a husband.”
He gave a low chuckle that shivered down her nerves as he wiped off the table. “That’s sure a unique approach, Miss Ford.”
“I’m serious!” she snapped.
That fascinating left brow slipped up toward his dark hair, but he was still grinning. “Yeah, and I’m the Easter bunny.”
Okay, so she hadn’t handled it right, but the man didn’t have to be sarcastic. She gritted her teeth and waited for him to stop laughing.
“I can offer you five thousand dollars,” she said grimly.
The mention of money seemed to sober him up. She’d thought it would. He didn’t have the look of a wealthy man. Mabel Baxter had told her he was trying to operate his ranch on a shoestring, doing most of the work himself.
He put down his fork and leaned forward. “Let me get this straight. You’re offering me five thousand dollars to marry you?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
She twisted her hands together. The explanation wasn’t as simple as the request. And a lot depended on her convincing the stranger across from her to agree to her proposal. “It’s complicated.”
“Getting married always is.”
His drawl carried a note of bitterness.
“You’ve been married before?”
He gave a brief nod.
“Do you have children?” That would really make things complicated.
“Nope. I’m not cut out to be a father.” He put more pie on his fork. “You’re not going to surprise me again, are you?”
The twinkle of humor in his brown eyes was reassuring. When she shook her head no, he even smiled, which made him more handsome.
“Um, the reason I need to marry is to get custody of my niece and nephew.” If the man didn’t like kids, he probably wouldn’t agree. Why hadn’t Mabel said anything? She knew why Megan was looking for a husband.
His chewing slowed, as if he was considering her explanation. After swallowing, he leaned forward. “Where are their parents?”
Her eyes filled with tears. After all, it had only been a few months since she’d lost her sister. “My…my sister’s dead.”
“And her husband?”
Husband. That word had once meant good things to her. Until Drake Moody had come into her sister’s life. “He’s in prison.”
She could tell her abrupt answer had surprised him, but at least he didn’t lose any food. He put his fork down and stared at her. Finally, he said, “Looks to me like you won’t have much competition for guardianship.”
She pressed her lips tightly together before drawing a deep breath. Then she forced herself to relax. “He’ll get out soon. And he’ll come after them. Mr. Gibbons said I’d stand a better chance if I’m married.”
“Mac? You talked to Mac?”
“Yes, Dr. Gibbons’s husband.”
“He’s good.”
“Yes.” She knew the man was a good attorney. He’d been honest with her, not offering false promises. That’s why she’d made the desperate move of asking this man to marry her.
“Well? What’s your answer?” she prodded, staring at him.
RICK BLEW OUT his breath, leaning back against the booth. She wanted an answer now? Automatically, a no rose in his throat. After all, he’d tried marriage once. Who would consider a second marriage? Not him.
“I might be able to come up with another twenty-five hundred,” she said, pleading with her blue eyes.
He shook his head, frowning. The money didn’t matter. Not that he could tell her that. Someone might discover his secret. Which made his answer hard to explain.
“I’ve been married once. I don’t want to do that again.”
“We’re not talking about a real marriage. It would be a marriage on paper. We’d stay married until I get the children. Then…then we’ll get a divorce.”
“Won’t the courts be suspicious?” What was he doing, arguing with her?
“We…we might have to wait six months. I could ask Mr. Gibbons.”
Damn, he didn’t want to tell her no. Those blue eyes tugged at his heart. “Look, we’d have to live together. You don’t want to do that.”
“We…we can give you your own room. I’ll take the children in with me and—”
“Lady, I have to live on the ranch. I have a lot of work to do. I can’t live in town.” Okay, here was his out. He’d given himself a year to prove himself. He had four months to go.
“Do you have a house?”
“Yeah.” He had a big old house, made for families. Too much house for him. He didn’t have the time to clean it. He barely kept the kitchen decent. Maybe decent was too nice a word. But he couldn’t afford a housekeeper. Not on his present budget. Things had cost more than he’d thought.
“We could move into your house. We’d be quiet. We wouldn’t cause you any trouble.”
She was desperate, he realized. So desperate she was on the verge of tears. Walking away from Megan Ford would be hard to do. He’d be haunted forever by those big blue eyes.
“What kind of coffee do you make?”
She blinked several times. “What kind? I…I usually grind my own beans. I like—”
“Grind your own beans? Are you serious?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Tell me you can cook, too.”
She gave him a befuddled stare. “Yes, though not as good as my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“There’s four of us. Me and my mother and the two kids. But two rooms would be enough. I promise we wouldn’t take up much space.”
“Can you clean house?”
“I don’t—why are you asking me these questions?”
“I need a housekeeper and I can’t afford to hire one.” The idea that had struck him sent a surge of adrenaline through him. He could have a housekeeper and it wouldn’t cost him anything. In return, he’d help Megan gain custody of two little kids.
Not a bad trade-off.
“What do you think?” he asked, as she continued to stare at him.
“You’re serious?”
“Why not? We’d each get what we needed. A temporary husband for you and a housekeeper for me. Sounds like the perfect bargain.” He grinned at her, hoping to chase away those tears that still lingered.
Her eyes narrowed. “I shouldn’t have to pay you if I’m going to work for you. Oh! I mean, I already have a job. But Mother and I together could—”
“I agree. No money. Does your mother keep the kids while you’re working?” His wife had never worked. Or cleaned house for that matter. He’d had a housekeeper. He wished he still had her. In fact, he’d been having dreams about Maria and her enchiladas, but she’d retired when he left Austin.
“What can you cook?” he asked, his gaze intent on her face.
“You seem to be fixated on food,” she muttered, frowning at him.
“If you’d been eating what I have, you would, too.”
“You don’t have enough money for food?” she asked, her voice rising in horror.
“I have enough money for food, but when I come dragging in at dusk, after putting in twelve or fourteen hours, I don’t have the energy to cook anything. Or find a clean pan,” he added under his breath, hoping she didn’t hear him.
“You don’t have any pots and pans?”
“I’ve got a few.” But they were all dirty. He pictured his kitchen as he’d left it this morning. Not a pretty sight.
“We have plenty of kitchen things. We could bring ours and then there’d be enough. We’re renting a place month-to-month, so we could move in at the end of the month.”
He barely heard her words. All he could think about was sitting down to a decent meal at the end of the day. Coming home to a clean house. Maybe even having his laundry done for him.
Maria had taken care of all that stuff for him. He hadn’t even considered those aspects of his life when he left Austin. He’d thought of a breeding bull. Fencing materials. A secondhand tractor. A couple of trucks.
Nothing for the kitchen.
“So, you still haven’t told me. What can you cook?”
Chapter Two
“What did he say?” Faith asked, meeting her daughter at the door of their small apartment.
Megan tried to smile. She wanted to reassure her mother. The past year had been hard on her. “He said yes.”
Faith closed the door and turned back to Megan. “You don’t sound happy about it. Have you changed your mind? You shouldn’t marry him if it’s not what you want to do, Meggie.”
“Megan?” a shrill little voice sounded only seconds before her niece burst into the small living area. “You’re here!” Victoria squealed and launched herself into her aunt’s arms.
Megan held her close, kissing her little cheek. The child’s warmth against her chased away the chill she’d been feeling. She looked over Torie’s shoulder. “I’m happy about it, Mom. He’s…he’s a little strange, but nice,” she hurriedly added.
“Where did you go?” Torie demanded, putting her hands on Megan’s cheeks and turning her face to her.
“I had to go to a meeting. Were you good for Grandma?”
“Very good. I took my nap, didn’t I, Grandma?”
“She did. She just woke up a few minutes ago. Andrew is still sleeping.”
The guilty look that covered Victoria’s face, plus the cry from another room, told its own story.
“You woke up your brother?” Megan asked Torie.
“I didn’t mean to. I thought he would play with me,” Torie responded, her eyes filling with tears.
Megan knew she had to be stern with her niece, but not now, not today. She hugged the three-year-old closer. “Then let’s go see if he wants to play.”
When she and Torie, along with nine-month-old Andrew, returned to the living area, Faith was seated at the breakfast table.
“Let the children play and you come talk to me,” Faith ordered.
Megan settled the children with some toys. Andrew sat on the floor, his chubby legs spread wide to give him balance. Torie had several stuffed animals she used to entertain the baby.
Her mother poured her a cup of coffee as she sat at the table. “Why did you say Rick Astin was strange?”
“Because all he wanted to talk about was what we could cook. He wanted to know if you could make enchiladas.”
“Didn’t you ask him to marry you?” Faith asked, her eyes widening.
“Of course I did. And he agreed. And I don’t have to pay him any money,” Megan assured her mother, her chin jutting out as she remembered her negotiations.
“Not pay him? Then why is he willing…Megan, he didn’t assume…you explained it wouldn’t be a real marriage, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. But we’ll have to share living quarters if we’re going to convince the courts. You knew that.”
“Yes, but—we agreed you and I would share the sleeper sofa, the children would have one bedroom, and he could have the other.”
“He can’t stay here.”
Faith’s alarm increased, upsetting Megan. The doctor had warned that her mother had to be relieved of stress or it could cause permanent damage to her heart. “Mom, let me explain. Everything’s going to work out fine. But he’s a rancher. He has to live on the ranch. But he has a big house.”
“He does? And we could live with him?”
“Yes. And we’re not paying him because we’re going to be his housekeepers and cooks during our agreement. So we’ll save on rent, too.”
“That way we can save more money to pay for the legal bills,” Faith said, obviously relieved.
Megan took a deep breath. However much she hated the agreement she’d made, it would be worth it if it brought relief to her mother and saved the kids.
“So we’re invited to his house for dinner this evening, to look at our new living quarters,” Megan added, putting on a big smile.
“Tonight?” Faith asked and looked at her watch. “But it’s already four o’clock. Let’s see, I’ll bathe the children. While I’m dressing them, you can have the shower. Then—”
“Mom, he’s not going to inspect us. He already agreed.”
“But you want to look nice for him, Megan. He should be proud of his new family.”
Megan sighed. “I think all he cares about is enchiladas, Mom.”
FROM HIS POSITION at the backdoor, Rick took a long, hard look at the kitchen. It was even more of a disaster than he’d remembered. Or wanted to admit.
The sink was piled high with dirty dishes. The cabinets needed cleaning. The trash was overflowing. The long table had a week’s worth of mail, empty cereal boxes, more dirty dishes and…uh-oh, a pair of dirty socks.
He looked at his watch. Just after four. He’d invited Megan and her family to dinner at six.
With a sigh, he headed for the phone. The only good meals he’d had since he moved to Cactus were the nights he splurged and ate at The Last Roundup. He’d order a meal to go. If he picked it up at five-thirty, he’d have an hour before then to straighten the kitchen, shower and drive back into town.
Working like a whirlwind, he cleared as much of the kitchen as he could. Just removing all the trash made everything better. But he managed to fill the dishwasher and turn it on before he took a brief shower and threw on a newer pair of jeans and a T-shirt. All his regular shirts were so wrinkled he didn’t dare wear them.
He ran for the pickup and zoomed into town. Jamming into a parking spot in front of the restaurant, he vaulted from the vehicle and almost collided with Cal Baxter, the town sheriff.
“Whoa, Rick! You’re in a little hurry, aren’t you?” Cal asked, clasping Rick’s shoulder as he tried to pass him by.
“I’ve got company coming for dinner,” Rick explained. “Your wife’s doing the cooking.” Cal’s wife, Jessica, owned The Last Roundup.
Cal laughed. “Good thinking. Well, slow down on the return trip. I wouldn’t want one of my deputies pulling you over.”
“Thanks, Cal, I will,” he agreed and raced ahead of him into the restaurant.
His luck ran out on the way home. He hit what looked like a piece of cardboard in the road, but it turned out to be metal and ripped his back tire all to pieces.
He muttered a few highly appropriate words, even if they wouldn’t be acceptable in polite company, and set to work putting on the spare as fast as he could. The kitchen needed more work, and the rest of the house hadn’t even been touched.
By the time he got the tire changed, he needed another shower and it was almost six o’clock. As he reached for the truck door, a four-door sedan passed him. He caught a glimpse of Megan driving.
Damn, the whole agreement was about to go down the drain. All because he was a lousy housekeeper. With a sigh, Rick slid behind the wheel and trailed the sedan to his ranch.
Megan got out of her car and stared at him as he pulled in behind her.
Getting out of the truck, he pasted on a smile. “Hi. I intended to be here to greet you, but I had a flat tire.” He couldn’t even offer his hand for a greeting. It was smeared with black dirt.
An older woman, a faded version of Megan, got out of the passenger seat. “Hello, I’m Faith Ford. I hope we’re not causing you too much trouble.”
“No, not at all,” he assured her, impressed with his own acting ability. “Uh, I’m not a very good housekeeper, though. I hope you won’t be offended by…by everything.”
The look on her face reminded him of Maria. She’d always scolded him about his lack of tidiness. But he’d had his mind on other things.
“I explained that you don’t have time to clean the house,” Megan hurriedly said.
He shot her a grateful look. “Thanks. I have dinner in the truck. Let me get it and we’ll go in.”
While he gathered the containers of food, Megan and her mother unstrapped the two children from their seats. He was nervous around kids. The few he’d spent time with seemed to constantly scream and complain. These two weren’t making any noise. That was a good sign.
He led them to the backdoor. No one used front doors in Cactus. He juggled the containers to pull the door open and stand to one side. The ladies stepped through and he took it as a good sign that they didn’t turn around and run out screaming.
He followed them in, discovering them staring around them, a surprised look on their faces.
He must’ve done a better job than he’d thought. But as he surveyed the kitchen, too, he realized, with a sinking heart, that he’d only made a dent in the mess. He’d cleaned off the table, but he’d done so by making piles on the floor, on the hutch and in one corner of the cabinet. He had gotten rid of the socks, but he didn’t think it would be good to brag about that.
He’d meant to sweep the floor, but he’d run out of time. The mud he’d tracked in last week after they’d had a spring rain was still there. Dog hair was noticeable. When Daisy barked at the backdoor, he automatically opened the screen for her even as he was trying to figure out what to say.
“Uh, the table’s clean,” he muttered.
“A doggie!” the little girl squealed, reaching out to Daisy.
“We can’t touch the doggie right now, Torie. It’s time to eat,” Megan said. Then she looked at him, a question in her blue eyes.
“Yeah, I’ve got the food right here,” he assured her, setting the containers on the table.
The two women exchanged a look. Finally, the older one said, “Do you have place mats? Or…or dishes?”
Heck, they could see he had dishes. A lot of them were piled in the sink. He hadn’t been able to get them all in the dishwasher.
“There’s clean ones in the dishwasher. I’ll—”
“I’ll get them,” Megan said gently. She helped the little girl into one of the chairs at the table. “You sit still, Torie, and do not pet the dog.” Then she turned to him and said softly, “You might want to wash up.”
He turned bright red. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be right back.” He hurried to his bathroom and washed. As he looked in the mirror, he realized his white T-shirt had a streak of black on it. Whipping it off, he searched for another shirt.
Much to his disgust, all he could find was a pink one, created when he’d washed it with something red. “Damn, I’m going to look like a sissy. A messy sissy!” he said in disgust. But he had no choice. He couldn’t go without a shirt.
The little girl was still seated at the table, but her gaze was on Daisy, who was sitting on her haunches by the door, waiting for Rick.
“If you’ll hold Andrew,” Megan’s mother said as he entered the kitchen, putting her words into action by placing the baby in his arms before he could protest, “I’ll help Megan.”
He stood there, dumbfounded, while the two women quickly set the table. Then they opened the boxes to set out the food.
“I didn’t buy anything for babies,” he suddenly realized. “I’m not used to—”
“You don’t dislike children, do you, Mr. Astin?” Faith asked, alarm in her voice.
“No, ma’am. That is, I don’t dislike them. I haven’t been around too many children.”
Бесплатный фрагмент закончился.
