Married In Montana (At The Altar Book 1) (7 page)

Dr. Simpson sighed.  "I can't do it for you, Savannah.  You're going to have to sit down with your husband and talk to him about your feelings, and you're going to have to listen to his feelings.  If you two don't talk, you won't be able to work anything out."

"But..."

"But nothing!  You wanted to marry a man who would be right for you.  A man who wouldn't try to force you into bed with him the second you met.  He didn't, did he?"

Savannah blushed, thinking about the night she'd just had with her husband.  "No he was very patient in that regard, but..."

"No buts!  My butt is big enough for all three of us."

Savannah stood for a moment blinking as her mind registered what the doctor had said.  Finally, she burst out laughing.  "I can't believe you just said that!"

"Are you calmer now?"

Savannah shook her head, still chuckling.  "Much, thank you."

"Then listen to me.  You married Scott for better or for worse.  The next few months will most likely be the hardest of your marriage.  You have the same core beliefs, which is important, but you both have your own personal beliefs, mainly based on how and where you were raised.  The two of you need to sit down somewhere and calmly discuss those beliefs.  Better yet, you need to make love, and then discuss them.  You need to be nice and relaxed for this, because it might take a few hours."

Savannah blushed.  "I don't know..."

"Listen to me!  For you two, I would say set a timer.  You talk for ten minutes, and he doesn't get to interrupt, and then he talks for ten, and you don't get to interrupt.  The next time you each talk for five.  After that, if you're still not seeing eye to eye, drag him back to bed and start all over again.  Even if you don't work out the issues, you'll both be satisfied sexually, and that's almost as good as working through your problems."

"How have the other couples you've matched through Matchrimony done?"

"Others?  Didn't I tell you that you two were the first, dear?"

"Wait the first?  No, you didn't tell me that!"

"Oops, gotta run!  Our new puppy, Margarita, is trying to eat another of the potted plants.  She needs to be watched every minute!  Have fun!" 

Savannah looked down at the phone in her hand.  She'd been hung up on.  She shook her head.  Maybe the good doctor's methods had something to say for them.  They couldn't be worse than what she had in mind, and if they didn't work?  Well, she could always fall back on plan B and break a vase over his head later if she needed to.

*****

Scott rubbed down his horse, even though he was in a hurry to talk to Savannah.  Listening to Jesse had helped him realize he needed to make some changes in how he was speaking to his wife.  She may not be doing exactly what he wanted her to do, but nowhere in the marriage vows had it said that a wife would stay home and care for the house and cook while the man worked. 

As he was walking toward the house, he saw some dandelions poking up their heads in an unused pasture.  He didn't want to take the time to run to the store to get flowers, so they would do.  She would understand what he meant by the gesture surely.

When he walked into the house, he searched for her, not seeing her right away.  The burger she'd thrown at him was still on the floor where it had landed, and he frowned.  Wasn't she over her mad enough to pick up the mess she'd made yet?

He decided that since he was going to take the high road this time, he should pick up the mess and throw it away.  He dug through the refrigerator and found a bottle of root beer, pouring it into a glass.  He put the dandelions into the bottle with a little water and smiled at his creation.  He would have made a good florist.

He picked up the burger from the floor and wiped up the last of the ketchup from the hardwood floor.  Going into the kitchen, he saw that she hadn't touched the lunch dishes, but because he'd upset her, he put them into the dishwasher and started it himself. 

He went up the stairs, looking for her.  Finding her in the bedroom, sitting on the bed with the phone beside her, he walked over and sat beside her.  He put his arm around her, half-expecting her to flinch away from him.  "I'm sorry I was such an ass."

Savannah looked into his eyes.  "Do you really think you were?"  She wouldn't repeat the word he'd used, because she didn't like it, but it did fit his behavior well.

He nodded.  "I talked to Jesse, my foreman.  He told me that I was wrong about a few things."

"Oh?"  She wanted to hear what he had to say, but she really wasn't certain if she was ready to forgive him quite yet.  "What were you wrong about?"

"My mother worked until I was born.  She worked at the diner in town.  She quit when I was born, but she didn't always take care of my dad like I thought she did."  He shrugged.  "I guess I shouldn't have made those assumptions."

Savannah sighed.  "This is about more than what your mother did and didn't do.  You can't expect me to be your mother all over again.  I'm your wife.  My life was different than yours and our feelings about certain things formed separately.  I always had a working mother, and I never felt like I was neglected.  Your mother never worked, and you didn't feel neglected.  I may decide I want to work after the children are born, just because I love what I do so much.  Would that be so wrong?"

He shook his head slowly.  "I guess not.  I just feel like it's my job to take care of you and any children that come along.  We don't need you to work, because I make plenty of money to support a family."

"It's not about money.  It's about me being an adult and able to think on my own.  It's about me being able to choose whether or not I want to work.  I do want to work, at least until the children start coming and maybe after.  But when I work, I want to have a housekeeper in place so that I can come home, and cook a meal, but not have to worry about doing the deep cleaning.  I think you should have waited until we talked before you let your housekeeper go."  She took a deep breath.  "I should have a say in any decisions made about our household or our new family, because I'm your wife.  I shouldn't be the final answer, but I should at least have the right to voice an opinion."

He sighed.  "You're right.  I need to at least hear what you have to say.  You're a thinking, intelligent human being.  I shouldn't have discounted that before even meeting you."

She hadn't realized until he said those words that she was holding herself rigidly, and only then did she allow herself to collapse against him.  "I don't want to be angry with you.  I hate fighting."

"I do too.  So this is what I think we should do, but I'll make no final decisions until you've voiced your opinion.  Can you see me learning here?"

She nodded slowly, a bit worried about what he might say next.  "Go on."

"I want to be given a chance to court my wife.  To woo you.  I still want bed privileges, of course, because I'm a man, and we're married, but I want to take you out on dates and act like we're not yet married.  I want to make my wife fall in love with me for my charm and devotion to her.  Not just because she wants to be my sex slave."

Savannah laughed softly.  "Get the idea of me being your sex slave right out of your head.  Never happening.  I do like the idea of courting, though.  I think we could both use that."

"Courting with bed privileges."  He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers.  "Don't forget the bed privileges."

"How could I forget the bed privileges."  She looked around her. "Well, look at that.  I think we're on a bed now."

He laughed and pushed her back onto the bed, looming over her.  "I sure hope that was an invitation, because I'm taking it as one."  His mouth pressed to hers and his hands stroked her body through her clothes.  "Last chance to rescind your offer."

Her arms came around him.  "You promised I'd love it the second time, remember?"

He nodded.  "Sex slave position will remain open..."

Chapter Six

Savannah got a call for an interview less than a week later.  She was driving every time they left the ranch, which wasn't terribly often, but often enough that she was learning not to be nervous about driving.  She drove to the interview, chauffeuring Scott. 

The interview was for a combination English and history teacher in Pinkston, a small town near them.  While she wasn't certified in history, she was only a few hours shy, and when she'd talked to the principal on the phone, he'd indicated it wouldn't be a problem.

She parked the truck in the lot behind the small school.  Turning to Scott she asked, "Are all schools here so small?"  This was a public school, and it was as small as her private school back in New York.

"Not all, but a lot of them are.  Pinkston was King's biggest rival.  I remember playing their team every single year when I was in high school."  Savannah looked at Pinkston High School and didn't see how it could be much of a rival, but what did she know?  "I'm not sure how long I'll be."

He shrugged.  "I have my phone.  I'll probably talk to Jake and see if he's been able to tear himself away from the Manhattan Library yet."

"Maybe he decided to stay," she said with a grin.  "I'll be back soon!"

She rushed to the building and hurried inside, wobbling a bit on her heels.  It was the first time she'd worn anything but sandals or sneakers since she'd arrived in Montana, and she was a bit out of practice already. 

She found the office just inside the front door, and she walked in.  "I'm here to see Principal Moore."  The office smelled a bit stale, which was typical for a school office during the summer.  She'd always noticed strange smells during the summer from the lack of use.  Of course, more often than not, schools didn't smell exactly fresh during the school year either.

"Yes, of course.  He's expecting you."  The secretary didn't ask for her name which surprised Savannah, but she didn't say anything.  Instead she stood at the counter, watching as the secretary wandered off to find him.

The man who greeted her was in his mid-forties with dark hair.  He wore jeans and a tee shirt.  "Forgive my attire," he said glancing at Savannah's business clothes.  "I'm only here for this interview today, and then it's back to summer vacation with my wife and kids."

Savannah couldn't help but smile at him.  "I hope your vacation is lovely."  She held her hand out to him.  "I'm Savannah Blyton."  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she blushed.  "Forgive me.  Savannah Ward.  I'll do my best to remember my name before the school year starts."  She felt like an idiot, but she knew he would understand.  She'd been Blyton for twenty-eight years, and Ward for less than two weeks.

The principal laughed.  "Jeff Moore.  How long have you been married?"

"About a week and a half," she answered as she followed him into his office, taking a seat in the chair across from his desk. 

"Tell me a bit about yourself."  He leaned back in his chair, obviously comfortable. 

"I was born and raised in New York City.  I lived there until I married, so I'm a very new resident of Montana."  She was pleased with the laid back structure of the interview, feeling at ease.

Mr. Moore leaned forward with a smile.  "What do you think of our state?  Do you think you'll like living here?"  He seemed to genuinely care about her answer.

"Oh, I already do.  I love the slower pace.  I've seen more sunsets from our back porch than I saw in my entire life living in New York.  Here I don't have to go to Central Park to see beauty.  It's everywhere around me."  She smiled.  "I can't imagine going back to New York now."

He smiled and nodded.  "That's how I feel about it here.  Have you known your husband long?"

She knew he was trying to make idle chit chat, but she didn't like the question.  It was much too personal considering the way they'd met.  "Not long at all.  We knew the instant our eyes met that we'd marry."  There.  It was the truth but revealed absolutely nothing.

"I felt that way when I met my wife.  Of course, that was in college."  He picked up a note pad.  "Now I see you taught honors English and creative writing in New York.  Tell me about your most difficult classroom experience and how you handled it."

As Savannah answered question after question, she became confident that the job would be hers.  "Now, does it bother you that we're only looking for someone for the first semester while Mrs. Hoover is out on maternity leave?"

Savannah hadn't been prepared for that question, but with the way she and Scott had fought about her teaching, she knew he wouldn't mind, and it would give her time to acclimate.  She could always substitute for the second semester, and that could work better for them.  She'd done some subbing right out of college and knew the ins and outs of it better than most.

After she had thanked him for the interview, she went to the truck.  Scott was still talking on his cell phone.

When she got in, he said, "Looks like she's done.  I'll talk to you later."

"Did he make it home from New York?" she asked.  She wondered how much she'd be seeing of her new husband's best friend.

"He flew in last night.  Said he wants to move to Manhattan so he can be a homeless man who lives in the library.  Why would anyone want to be homeless in New York?"  Scott sounded utterly baffled.

"No idea," she said.  "He's
your
friend."  And a man.  She was beginning to think more and more that she'd never understand the workings of a man's mind.

"So do you want to have lunch out before we head home?  Or did you start something?"  As far as Scott could tell, the woman cooked every meal in the crock pot.  She didn't seem to know how to use the oven, stove or microwave.  He thought about offering to sell them but didn't think she'd appreciate his sarcasm.  He was certain he'd make her mad unintentionally, so he should keep sarcasm to a minimum.

"We can do lunch out."  The meal she'd put in the crock pot that morning wouldn't be ready until supper time.  She'd planned on eating out.

"Do you want to go to the diner in King?  Or there's a little restaurant here in Pinkston.  Food's not as good, because they don't serve bison, but whatever."

"I'd be happy with either one," she said quickly.  She really didn't care as long as she didn't have to eat her own cooking for a change.

"Let's just go to the one here then.  It'll be good for you to practice driving in a new area."  He knew she was about ready for her drivers' test.  She was an extremely quick learner and was already driving as well as anyone he knew.  He didn't know if it was due to age or what, but she was picking it up fast.  Almost as fast as she liked to drive.

As soon as they walked into the restaurant a waitress came to seat them.  "Well if it isn't Scott Ward!"  She was tiny with dark hair and brown eyes.  She couldn't have been over five feet.

Savannah looked at Scott.  Would they never be able to go anywhere without running into one of his former girlfriends?  He'd certainly made it sound like he'd dated very little, but it didn't seem that way when they were out and about.

Scott grinned, hugging the girl.  "Ashley, this is my wife, Savannah.  Savannah, this is Ashley.  She used to date Jake back when we were in high school."

Savannah smiled.  "It's nice to meet you.  Were you in their class at King High as well?"

Ashley shook her head adamantly.  "No way.  I went to Pinkston.  I wasn't supposed to date Jake, because we were rivals, but I did anyway."  She picked up two menus.  "Booth okay?"

"Yeah, booth is great," Scott responded, following the petite brunette through the restaurant. 

Once they were seated she pulled out her notepad.  "What do you want to drink?"

"Just water for me," Savannah told her.

"I'll have root beer."  Scott smiled at the waitress.  "I can't wait to tell Jake I saw you here."

She smiled.  "Don't tell my husband, but I still have a soft spot for Jake.  Tell him to come see me."  She winked at Scott, and it was all Savannah could do not to roll her eyes.

Scott laughed.  "That's why you dumped him for Bob, right?"

Ashley laughed.  "Exactly." 

She hurried off to get their drink orders while Scott focused on the menu.  "They have good fried chicken here."  He refused to eat beef.  He didn't like it nearly as well, so if he went somewhere that didn't serve bison, he usually ate chicken.

Savannah looked over the menu.  "How's the baked potato soup?"

He shrugged.  "I'm not much of a soup eater, but I've heard it's good."

Soup was one of Savannah's favorite things.  "I guess we won't be eating a lot of soup this winter then!"

"I can handle it occasionally, but not more than once a week."  Did she like soup that much?  How
could
anyone like soup that much?

Ashley brought their drinks back.  "Do you know what you want?" She pulled her notepad out of the pocket of her apron.

"Is the baked potato soup good?" Savannah asked.

"Oh, it's really good.  One of my favorite things on the menu."

Scott made a face.  "Is soup a girl thing?"

Savannah ignored his question.  "I'll have the soup and a BLT please."

"You still serving breakfast?" he asked.

"I can make anything on the menu happen for you.  What are you thinking about?"

"I want a ham and cheese omelet.  Heavy on the cheese."  He handed his menu back. 

"I'll make it happen.  White or wheat toast?"

"White."  He waited until she walked off before turning his attention back to Savannah.  "How'd the interview go?"

"I think it went really well.  I didn't realize I was only applying for one semester, though.  The current teacher is out on maternity leave."  She was sure he'd like the idea, but she wasn't certain about whether it was what she wanted.

"Well, then you can see how you feel about teaching while you're married.  We can decide how it works for us.  I think a one semester trial is brilliant."

"What if I decide I want to keep teaching?  How would you feel then?"

He shrugged.  "I really don't know.  As much as I don't like the idea of you working, I do want you to be happy.  Let's try this out."

"I could always sub for the second semester.  Because they're short term assignments, you might like it better."  They had to be able to come up with something that would please both of them.

He nodded.  "Take this if you get it, and it's what you want to do.  I'm fine with you subbing, but we'll have to make sure you have a vehicle with GPS."  A thought occurred to him for the first time.  "We're going to need to get you something to drive once you have your license.  I need my truck close to home, because I often have to run to pick something up that we didn't know we needed."  He took her hand in his.  "Any dream cars?"

She laughed and shook her head.  "I'd never been behind the wheel of a car before last week.  How could I have a dream car?"  She'd take anything with wheels at that point, but she didn't want to tell him that.  There was no telling what he'd come up with for her.

"I had a dream car when I was five.  How could you
not
have a dream car?"

Not for the first time, Savannah wondered at the wisdom of putting the two of them together.  She enjoyed being with Scott for the most part, but they were total opposites in so many ways.  "Well, then you can pick out your dream car for me."

He shook his head.  "My dream car is a Camaro.  With your propensity to drive too fast, we'd go broke with speeding tickets.  I think a min-van would be better for you.  Or maybe an SUV."

She shrugged, not certain she knew a mini-van from a Camaro.  Cars had never interested her in any way.  "Okay.  Whatever you think is best."

"With a mini-van you won't need to get a new car when we start having children."

She wondered, not for the first time, if he'd even wanted a wife.  He seemed more interested in a housekeeper who would also bear his children and take care of them, while cooking every meal.  "Sounds fine."

Scott frowned.  He was working hard to try to find ways to court her, but she was resistant.  She had said nothing about the bouquet of dandelions he'd worked so hard to arrange for their table.  Maybe a gift was in order?  He hadn't gotten her a real gift yet. 

"Do you want to stop at the jewelry store on the way home?  You could pick out an engagement ring."

She shook her head.  "I don't need an engagement ring.  Besides, that's something a man picks out and gives to the woman he wants to marry before he proposes.  Not after they're married."  Didn't he understand picking out her own ring wouldn't be romantic at all?  If he brought one home and just gave it to her, that would be a great deal more romantic. 

He frowned.  "Well, I want to do something special while we're courting.  I thought a nice gift would be good."

"A gift is something you pick out.  Not something you have me choose."  She knew she was being critical, but he needed to show some initiative for these things.

He frowned.  "I'm not so good at this courting thing."  Couldn't she see he was doing everything he could to make her happy?