The Great Texas Wedding Bargain (2 page)

“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?”

“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.”

F
ROM 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.”

She beamed at him. “You’re doing just fine with Andrew.”

Surprised, Rick looked down at the little boy he still held clasped to his chest. “Yeah, hey, he’s not crying.”

M
EGAN HID HER GRIN
. She didn’t want to spoil his sense of accomplishment by telling Rick that Drew seldom cried. Especially when he’d recently been fed.

After getting a look at Rick’s home, the kitchen, at least, she decided this cowboy needed to feel good about something. How could anyone live in the middle of disaster? She only hoped he was better at ranching than he was at taking care of himself.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. That pink T-shirt was a surprise. It clung to his muscles, showing his strength, but it was an unusual color.

When all the food was on the table, she looked at Rick. “Um, do you—is there any tea, or—”

His face turned brighter than his T-shirt. “I haven’t made any.”

“We’ll drink water,” Faith assured him, reaching out to pat his shoulder.

“There are sodas in the fridge,” he hurriedly offered.

The little girl immediately asked for a soda, and Rick was relieved that he could please any of them. A hiccup sounded from the baby he was holding and he peered down at him. He seemed content. Two out of four wasn’t bad.

Except the two he’d hoped to impress were the two he couldn’t count on his side.

Megan took some glasses out of the dishwasher and added ice. Faith had opened the refrigerator and taken out some sodas and put them on the table. Then she turned to him and reached for the baby.

He was amazed at his reluctance to release the little guy. His warmth had been a comfort.

“Does it matter where we sit?” Megan asked.

He shook his head no. But when she joined Torie, he took the seat at that end of the table.

“I like pink,” the little girl announced, beaming at him.

Reminded of his unusual attire, he blushed again. “I, um, I’m not very good with laundry.”

Megan’s mother, sitting on his other side, patted his arm again. “Don’t worry about it. I would be a terrible rancher. How long have you lived here?”

The conversation moved a little more smoothly after that and by the time they’d finished the meal, Rick counted Faith on his side, too.

But Megan hadn’t relaxed, hadn’t drawn him into conversation, hadn’t smiled at him as Faith had. She’d remained silent most of the meal, dealing with the little girl, but not talking to him.

“May we see the rest of the house?” Faith asked as they finished eating.

All of Rick’s comfort disappeared. “Um, it’s in pretty bad shape, Faith,” he said, as he’d been instructed to call her. “I didn’t manage to do any work on it today.”

“Why don’t you just tell us about it, then,” Faith said.

Rick smiled at her. The woman was wonderful. He sent a look at Megan, but she ignored him. “Okay. There are five bedrooms. One of them is down here. The rest are upstairs. I could move to the bedroom down here, and let you have the upstairs. There’s only one bath up there, though I’ve been thinking about adding another one.”

When he finished his year, he’d made a few plans. But until that year was over, he was sticking to his budget. No matter what.

“Why?”

That single word from Megan drew his attention. “Why what?”

“There’s only you. Why would you need another bath upstairs?”

“The bath upstairs is not very large. I’d like a second bathroom added to the master bedroom.”