Читать книгу: «Clayton's Made-Over Mrs.»

Chapter One

“Evenin’, Mel.”

For an instant everything inside Melody McCully went perfectly still. She recognized Clayton Carson’s voice; more than anything, she recognized what it did to her, darn it all. In the second or two it took to recover her equilibrium, she pushed her hair out of her face and turned around. “The diner’s closed, Clayt.”

He ambled closer, sidestepping the tables she’d already cleaned off, coming to a stop on the other side of the counter where a handful of regulars would be ordering up breakfast in less than twelve hours. He surveyed the room the way he always did, leaning back on his heels, his fingers hooked through the belt loops of well-worn jeans. “Do you have any coffee left?”

Mel was tired, and when she was tired, she tended to be the tiniest bit cranky. Of course, Clayt claimed she was always cranky. That wasn’t true at all. She had a perfectly fine disposition when it came to everybody else. It wasn’t her fault that Clayton Ezekiel Carson was a blind fool who couldn’t see the forest for the trees or the one woman in all the world who’d always loved him.

Motioning to the coffeepot with the wet dishrag in her hand, she said, “There’s coffee, but it’s been sitting in the pot so long it’s about to turn into paint stripper.”

“Just the way I like it.”

Mel sputtered under her breath the entire time it took to reach beneath the counter for a clean cup and fill it with thick, black brew. For some reason Clayt hadn’t moved. His eyes were in the shadow of the brim of his hat, and the lower half of his face was covered with a couple of days’ worth of whisker stubble that did nothing to detract from the strong lines of his jaw and chin. The man was over six feet tall without the scuffed-up heels of his cowboy boots. He loomed over her, and Mel McCully hated to be loomed over.

Giving him a good once-over, she said, “You’re too tall to talk to when you’re standing. Unless you wanted that coffee to go, you might as well have a seat.”

He lowered his frame onto one stool and dropped his hat onto another. “That hospitality of yours is something, Mel. Always keeps me coming back for more.”

Mel McCully had been born and raised in a town chock-full of rugged cowboys, but Clayt Carson’s slow, easy grin was one of a kind. She’d lost track of how many times she’d wished it wasn’t. Sighing, she moved on to finish washing off the counter.

“Do you have to do that now?” he asked.

“If I want to get out of here anytime soon, I do. Why?”

She glanced over at him in time to see him flash her another lazy, sexy smile. “I was sort of hoping you’d join me.”

“You were?”

This time his grin was accompanied by a brief nod. Reminding herself that she had plenty of backbone, she cast him a guarded look. His dark hair was a little on the shaggy side, and there were tiny lines beside his eyes and a crease slashing one lean cheek. He looked exhausted, whipped, dragged through a knothole backward. It served him right. Oh, she’d been as relieved as anybody when his little girl had been found safe and sound that very afternoon. No one knew why the little girl had run away, and Mel supposed Clayt had every reason to look worried and exhausted.

“Where’s Haley?” she asked, taking a stab at conversation.

“She dropped off to sleep a little after six and hasn’t moved since. Luke and Jillian are watching her at my place. With Haley asleep and Luke up to his elbows in wedding plans, I decided to go for a drive. I still can’t believe my brother’s getting married.”

As owner of the town’s only diner, Mel had heard all the jokes about the needy bachelors of Jasper Gulch. She hadn’t said much when the local boys had decided to advertise for women to come to their small town, but when she’d learned it had been Clayt’s idea, she’d nearly gone through the roof. He was her brother’s best friend, and she’d been in love with him for as long as she could remember, long before Clayt had married someone else, someone beautiful and sophisticated and selfish, someone who had decided early on that Jasper Gulch wasn’t for her and had left years ago. Recently Victoria had decided that motherhood wasn’t for her, either. For three months now, Clayt had had custody of his nine-year-old daughter, and boy did he have his hands full.

It was true that there were sixty-two bachelors in Jasper Gulch and only six marriageable women, give or take a few who had moved in this past summer. Mel supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that Clayt had thought it was necessary to advertise for women to come to this godforsaken tract of land in South Dakota, but enough was enough. The town needed women, did it? What was she? Chopped liver?

“How about that cup of coffee?” he asked.

Swiping the back of her hand across her brow, Melody leaned her elbows on the counter. “If I drink coffee now, I’ll never get to sleep.”

He shrugged as if he thought he should have remembered that, then stared into the dark brew, lost in thought. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to be nice just this once, she said, “What’s on your mind, Cowboy?”

His answer was a long time coming. “Haley, mostly.”

“She’s okay, isn’t she?” Mel asked. “I mean, she didn’t get into any real trouble last night when she was gone, did she?”

Clayt answered without looking up. “Not this time. But what about the next time? She’s only been living with me for three months and she’s already gone skinny-dipping with a boy, stolen food off people’s front porches, and run away from home. I hate to think what she’ll do next.”

Mel’s heart softened at the thought of Clayt’s little girl, and so did her voice as she said, “Instead of trying to figure out what she’s gonna do next, maybe you should try to figure out why she’s doing the things she’s doing.”

“I think I know why.”

“You do?”

“She needs a mother.”

Melody went back to cleaning off the counter. Scrubbing at some dried-on ketchup, she said, “Most kids do, Clayt.”

“Yeah, well, the first two single women to move out here passed me right over for my brother and my best friend. I guess there’s no accounting for taste, huh?”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Who’d marry an ornery cuss like you, anyway?”

“I was sort of hoping you would.”

Mel froze. Mouth gaping, she stared at Clayt for a full five seconds. She’d been dreaming of marrying this man for as long as she could remember and had imagined his wedding proposal at least a thousand times. Not once in all her imaginings did he ever use the words sort of.

He flashed her his lazy, sexy grin one more time. Just when her knees were starting to melt along with her resolve, he said, “By the way, do you have any cream and sugar?”

She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t seem to make a sound. She thought about hitting him over the head with one of the trays, but she didn’t see much sense in denting a perfectly usable item. Completely oblivious to her agitation, he said, “What do you say, Mel?”

Since Mel McCully didn’t have much except her diner and her pride, she planted her hands on her hips and raised her chin at the haughty angle she’d perfected years ago. She untied her apron in a flash and slapped it on the counter before stalking toward the door. “I say get your own damn cream and sugar.”

“Mel, wait!”

She didn’t even break stride. “And lock up when you leave.” The door slammed on the last word.

Clayt blinked. At the sound of her footsteps clomping up the stairs to the apartment overhead, he slowly rose to his feet. Tiredly dropping a dollar bill on the counter, he reached for his hat and headed for the front door where he turned the lock just as she’d instructed. Demanded was more like it. Scowling, he thought it was exactly what he should have expected from Wyatt’s little sister. Mel McCully had always been as ornery as the day was long. Why had he assumed tonight would be an exception?

Other than a few vehicles that were parked in front of the Crazy Horse Saloon, Main Street was deserted. The town’s only bar was normally booming on Friday nights, but most folks were exhausted after spending the better part of last night searching for Haley. Things would be back to normal as soon as everyone got a good night’s sleep. Clayt needed eight hours’ worth of shut-eye, himself, but when he woke up, he’d still have a huge problem.

The worst drought in twenty-two years was only a memory now, but the shortage of women in town was still as real as the moon in the sky. Clayt had hoped to find a mother for Haley in one of the gals who’d come to town this summer. Everything had seemed so logical last spring. The town council had voted on his idea to advertise for women, the local paper had printed some of the bachelors’ comments, and bigger newspapers had picked up the story, nicknaming Jasper Gulch “Bachelor Gulch.” Scores of women had come out to check out the Jasper Gents. Unfortunately, most of them had taken one look at the dusty roads, the meager stores and the limited job prospects and had kept right on going. Only a handful had stayed, and Wyatt and Luke had snagged the two prettiest ones. More women continued to trickle in from time to time. Clayt figured it was possible that he might find one to his liking …eventually.

Haley needed a mother now.

His little girl was as precocious as they came. Victoria had never been mother-of-the-year material, but her latest desertion had been hard on their little girl. Things might not have been so bad if Clayt’s own mother hadn’t gone out to Oregon to care for his ailing grandmother. Left on his own with his freckle-faced daughter, Clayt had reached his wit’s end.

He’d always known Mel had had a crush on him, just as he knew he needed help with a capital H. Marrying Mel seemed like a perfect solution. She already loved him, she was good with kids, and he’d known her all his life. And best of all, she was nothing like Victoria. Mel was neither gorgeous nor sophisticated. Hell, she was as predictable as daybreak. Until tonight the only time she’d ever stunned him was when she’d kicked him in the shins when she’d been in the first grade.

I say get your own damn cream and sugar.

Hitching one boot onto his truck’s running board, he rubbed the shin Mel had kicked all those years ago, but it was his ego that was smarting tonight. Cramming his hat on his head, he climbed into his muddy truck and started the engine. He’d planned to announce his and Mel’s engagement at the barbecue he was throwing on Sunday in honor of his brother’s recent betrothal. So much for things going according to plan.

Clayt rubbed his bleary eyes. He was exhausted. A man tended to get that way after spending eighteen hours searching high and low for a girl who’d gotten it into her head to run away from home. He still thought Haley needed a mother. What an understatement. But she was safe for now, sound asleep in a four-poster bed in the house her great-grandfather had built on Carson land. Clayt needed a good night’s sleep, too. With a little luck he might just be able to come up with an alternative plan in the morning.

“Clayton, look at me!” Haley called.

Clayt’s heart made it to his feet before he did. His first impulse was to run hell-bent toward Haley. His second was to beg her to climb down from the gate she was using as a balance beam. But he was afraid any sudden noises or movements might cause her to fall into the pen with the meanest bull in the state.

His brother, Luke, and Wyatt and Cletus McCully must have had the same idea, because all four men set off toward the corral at a clipped, though steady gait. Keeping his voice as level as possible, Clayt called, “That’s good, Haley. How about hopping down from there and helping Is-abell Pruitt with the decorations for Uncle Luke’s engagement party?”

Clayt hoped old Isabell didn’t see his darling daughter stick out her tongue. “That’s sissy stuff,” Haley complained. “I’d rather help you, Clayton.”

She started to climb down, teetered slightly, then hopped to the ground. Four men breathed a collective sigh of relief but Clayt was the only one who placed his fist over his rapidly beating heart. Turning to his brother, he said, “As soon as this barbecue’s over, I’m moving that bull to the other pen.”

Luke and Wyatt both nodded but Cletus McCully shook his craggy head and said, “It won’t make any difference, boy. If there’s trouble to get into, that girl’s gonna find it.”

Haley chose that moment to stoop down to pet a halfgrown kitten. Her stance reminded Clayt of how she’d looked when she was four, all little girl grace and innocence. He didn’t know how a child could go from precociousness to sweetness in the blink of an eye, but his daughter had been doing it all her life. She’d come into the world squawking her head off, and had learned to walk when she was only nine months old. He’d only seen her for a week at Christmas and during the summers after the divorce, but he distinctly remembered the year freckles had started spattering her nose. She’d been seven. That was about the same time she’d started calling him Clayton. Not Daddy, not even Clayt. Clayton. Until Haley, only his mother had gotten away with that.

At first he’d thought it was just a phase. After a month, he’d asked her to call him Dad. She’d raised her chin and refused. Cajoling hadn’t worked either.

He was the first to admit that he’d never known how to handle his little girl. But that hadn’t kept him from loving her. She’d spent the seven years since the divorce being bounced from one end of Texas to the other while Victoria searched for the oil tycoon of her dreams. Clayt had custody now, and Haley was here to stay.

While Cletus, Wyatt and Luke set off to see how the women of the Ladies’ Aid Society were coming with the rest of the food, Clayt put his hat back on his head and strode toward the barrel roasters where a side of beef had been cooking all night. Keeping Haley in his line of vision, he breathed in the aroma wafting on the breeze.

It was the third day of September and fall was in the air. The weather could turn on a person this time of year, but for now the skies were sunny and the air was comfortably warm. Picnic tables had been set up on the grassy slope of land between his folks’ place and his own. The fine citizens of Jasper Gulch would start arriving soon. It looked as if the barbecue he was throwing for his only brother, Luke, and their best friend, Wyatt McCully, and their future brides was going to come off without a hitch.

Clayt was in a much better frame of mind this afternoon. Sleep had helped, but so had the realization that the situation with Haley wasn’t completely hopeless or out of control. Oh, Mel’s response to his marriage proposal still rankled, but the truth was he’d always done better when he was on edge, when beef prices were lousy and the weather was worse and only backbreaking long hours and sheer determination put food on the table and a little money in the bank. Somewhere between Friday night and noon today he’d decided it was about time he applied that same kind of sheer determination to finding a mother for his child.

Mel had had her chance. From now on he was going to check out the other women who lived in Jasper Gulch.

He was tall, Mel had said so herself. Women liked tall men, didn’t they? Folks had always claimed he and Luke had gotten their father’s looks and their mother’s brains. Who was he to argue? So what if Mel had turned down his proposal. There were other fish in the sea. Okay, there weren’t many, at least not in this corner of South Dakota. But there were a few, and by God, it was high time they were exposed to a large dose of Clayt Carson’s charm.

“Wonders never cease, do they, girl?” Cletus McCully surveyed the folks talking and laughing in small groups throughout Clayt’s side yard.

Mel downed the last of the punch in her paper cup before agreeing with her grandfather. It was amazing that two of the local boys—one of them her very own brother—were going to be married in a double ceremony in less than a week. It just so happened that she was immensely happy for her brother, Wyatt, and for Luke Carson, too. Jillian Daniels’s red hair and surprising flare of temper was a perfect match for that Carson obstinacy. And Lisa Markman’s throaty laughter and bad-girl smile was exactly what Wyatt needed.

Some things had definitely changed in good old Jasper Gulch. Others, however, remained the same. Tomorrow was Labor Day, and the day after that school would start, just like it did every year. The same people who’d attended the town picnic earlier that summer had turned out for Clayt’s barbecue today. Punch had been ladled and plates had been emptied. Isabell Pruitt, the self-appointed leader of the Ladies’ Aid Society, had checked the punch for possible spiking every fifteen minutes like clockwork. Now, children were jumping puddles near the barn door, mothers were fussing about muddy shoes, and the area ranchers were lamenting over the price of beef, just like they always did.

A trill of laughter drew Mel’s gaze to a rough-hewn fence near the shed. Clayt straddled the top board and Brandy Schafer, the only girl from her graduating class a few years back to stay in Jasper Gulch, was laughing up at him with stars in her eyes. It was enough to turn Mel’s stomach.

She’d always considered herself a reasonable woman, but the despair and disappointment she was feeling came from a place beyond logic or reason, a place that ached with shimmery emotions and dusky yearnings and hidden dreams.

Cletus muttered something under his breath and shook his head. “Don’t take it to heart, girl. I’m sure nothing will come of that. One of these days Clayt Carson’s gonna wise up and figure out that he couldn’t do any better than you. Nobody could. Maybe it would help if you were a little nicer to him. A person catches a lot more bees with honey, you know.”

Mel released a huge sigh and shook her head. She’d been doing that a lot since Clayt had sort of asked her to marry him. She’d stood in front of her mirror for a long time Friday night. She was twenty-nine years old, and she admitted that she was a little on the scrawny side. But her legs were thin and muscular, and although she wasn’t exactly well endowed in the chest department, she thought her breasts were, well, nice, maybe even pretty in a pert, cute sort of way.

Casting another glance at the cleavage visible above the low neckline of Brandy Schafer’s shirt, Mel cringed. Puppies were cute. So were kittens and bunnies and newly hatched chicks. But as far as breasts were concerned, it seemed that men preferred them in larger, more lush sizes. Cute breasts evidently ranked right up there with marriage proposals that included the words sort of.

Smoothing her thumb over the strands of hair secured in a heavy braid over her shoulder, she glanced up at her grandfather. Something had been bothering her ever since she’d stormed out of her own diner Friday night She’d been hiding her feelings from Clayt for years. Yet he’d acted as if she should fall at his feet at her first opportunity to marry him. It didn’t make sense. Neither did the fact that her grandfather seemed to know about her crush, too.

“Would you tell me something, Granddad?”

Cletus raised his bushy white eyebrows. “I’ll do my level best, girl.”

Checking to make sure nobody was within hearing distance, she whispered, “What makes you think I have tender feelings for Clayt?”

Cletus shifted from one foot to the other the way he always did when he was discarding answers faster than he could come up with them. Inching closer, he said, “I’ve known for years.”

“You have?”

The nod of his head was more serious than Mel would have liked. “Now might not be the time to break this to you, but everybody knows.”

Her hand flew to her throat. “That’s impossible. I’ve never told a soul.”

“When has that ever had anything to do with anything in Jasper Gulch? Would you looky there? Doc Masey’s motioning for me to join him behind the shed for a nice fat cigar.”

“Granddad.”

He turned around again on bowed legs, although he could have pretended he hadn’t heard.

“Everybody knows?” she mouthed.

Pulling at his suspenders, he said, “If you don’t believe me, ask around.” Without another word he headed for a group of his buddies who were waiting near the shed.

Mel stared after him, shaken. If everybody knew about her foolish heart’s stupid infatuation with that ignoramus Clayt Carson, she’d never be able to hold her head high in the diner again. How could they have possibly known? She and Clayt were rarely civil to each other, let alone nice.

Why, then, had her grandfather said that everybody in town knew about her feelings? Cletus McCully was a wonderful man. He’d taken her and Wyatt in after their parents had drowned in the Bad River when she was six, and she loved him to pieces. The man would lay down his life for her and Wyatt, but Mel happened to know that he wasn’t above bending the truth every now and then. He had to be mistaken about this. Still, he’d told her to ask around. Spying Jillian Daniels, one of the brides to be, Mel knew exactly where to begin.

“A double wedding. Isn’t that, like, the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard of? And look at Lisa’s dress. Isn’t it, like, the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen?”

Clayt was doing his best to follow Brandy Schafer’s conversation. But it wasn’t easy. At first he’d blamed it on the upper swells of her breasts she was so intent upon showing him. Now he realized there was more to his distraction than her young, nubile body. Truth was, she was boring him to death.

“I mean, I adore that color of blue, and I love the way the material practically skims her ankles. If Lisa’s going to carry that style of dress in her shop I’m absolutely positive the Jasper Gulch Clothing Store is going to be a success. Oh, I hope she does. I’m so sick of Western skirts and blouses…”

Idly, Clayt wondered how much longer the girl could keep talking without coming up for air. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He didn’t have to turn his head to know it was Mel McCully. He would recognize her slender build and dark blond hair anywhere. She was one gal who’d never bored him with useless prattle. Mel wasn’t like other women. That’s what he liked about her. He was all set to flash her his famous grin, but she walked right on by without a backward glance, and he ended up shaking his head instead.

So, good old Mel was holding a grudge. He wasn’t surprised. She was more ornery and obstinate than any woman he’d ever known—including Victoria. Only Mel wasn’t nearly as mean. Clayt didn’t like thinking about Victoria. It reminded him of too many mistakes, of too many things he couldn’t change. He’d married young. And he’d married wrong. He was thirty-six years old now. The next time he got married he’d like to do it right. Maybe not for love, but at least for the good of Haley.

He nodded at whatever in Sam Hill Brandy was talking about now. Mentally he checked her off his list. She was built nicely, but criminy, any woman who was going to stay a step ahead of Haley had to have a little more between her ears.

A new woman named Brittany Matthews had moved to town a couple of weeks ago. She’d pretty much kept to herself since her arrival, but Clayt had heard that she and her five-year-old daughter had come all the way from New Jersey. Old Mertyl Gentry had her cornered over by the food table right now. As soon as he could get a word in edgewise with Brandy, he’d mosey on over and introduce himself. Brittany. Now that was a real pretty name.