The Great Texas Wedding Bargain (7 page)

“Okay, I won’t argue with that.”

He strode across the dance floor and tapped Ed Baxter on his shoulder. “Time for us to cut the cake, Mr. Baxter.”

“Well, I guess I can give up the rest of my dance for such a good cause, but don’t you forget, young lady. You owe me half a dance.”

“I won’t forget, Mr. Baxter,” Megan said softly, a gentle smile on her lips.

Which made Rick want to kiss her again.

Hell, he had half a million reasons to kiss her again. He’d collected them as he’d watched her dance around the room in the arms of other men.

“Are you any good at cutting a big cake, ’cause I don’t have any idea how to go about it,” he told her as they moved in that direction.

“We only have to cut one piece,” she assured him, taking his hand in hers. It was the first time she’d voluntarily touched him tonight, except when she’d rested her head on his shoulder during that one dance.

“I’ll let you show me,” he assured her, realizing the way to his wife’s heart—no, not her heart, her kindness. The way to receive consideration from her was to need her.

But not in the way he needed her.

Florence Greenfield, Mac’s aunt, was in charge of the cake, and she directed them on cutting the first piece.

“Now, you each feed the other a bite. And I don’t want anyone smushing cake on the other’s face. That’s a barbarian thing to do,” Florence instructed.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rick agreed, smiling at Megan. He broke off a small bite of the cake and offered it to Megan.

With an embarrassed look, she leaned forward and took the cake into her mouth, along with his fingers. Rick thought he’d died and gone to heaven as her tongue flicked his skin.

When she picked up a slightly larger piece of cake and lifted it to him, he reached out and clasped her wrist. After taking in the cake, he licked her fingers. Her cheeks flushed and their guests cheered. Then he followed up that display with another kiss. A sweet, sensual tasting of her and the wedding cake that was ambrosia.

When he lifted his head, his gaze caught a flick of icing on her upper lip and he couldn’t resist touching her lips with his tongue.

“Rick!” she protested, her cheeks red.

“Icing,” he assured her even as he stared at her face, hoping for another reason.

“Nicely done,” Florence said, interrupting their concentration on each other. “Now, go fill your plates at the buffet while everyone else eats cake.”

“She is definitely a mother…or a general,” Rick muttered with a grin as they followed her directions.

“She and the others have been so helpful since we moved back here. It’s meant a lot to Mom.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but he hadn’t forgotten the disconnected battery cable. They needed to be on their toes.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you. I asked Samantha if you could participate in the roundups so they’d come help you with yours. I mean, Tuck and Spence and—”

“I’d already made that arrangement,” he told her, surprised that she’d interfere in his ranch work.

“Oh. I…I wanted to help you. You’ve done so much for us.”

“It’s a mutual thing, Megan. You and your mom are doing a lot for me, too. Here, have some brisket.”

Distractedly, she let him fill her plate. “How did you know about the roundups? You haven’t been here that long.”

“I moved here as they were starting the fall roundups. I offered to help out, even though I wasn’t ready for one. I figured it would help me meet folks, get to know the area.”

“Oh. That was very smart of you.”

“I appreciate you thinking of me, though,” he said and leaned over to kiss her again. He’d planned just a brief kiss, a thank-you kiss. But the second his lips touched hers, he lost control.

“Watch out! You’re going to spill your plates!” someone warned and he jerked back.

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” It was a good thing the reception wouldn’t last much longer, because he was becoming addicted to kissing Megan Ford. Megan Astin. Her name was Megan Astin. At least that was real.

“Come on, let’s sit down,” he suggested.

While they ate, the cake was served to the guests and the noise of the gathering simmered to a low level as everyone consumed the cake.

Before the evening ended, however, the band returned to the stand and played a riff of announcement music and Mabel Baxter walked to the microphone.

Rick frowned. He’d thought the evening was winding down. He’d figured he and Megan would take their family home and go to their separate bedrooms, leaving him unsatisfied but safe.

Separate from her.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mabel said, gathering everyone’s attention. Then she said, “Rick and Megan. Usually, everyone arrives at a wedding with gifts. But since you both already have house things, we decided to do something different for your wedding.”

He and Megan exchanged wary glances before turning their attention back to Mabel.

“What you don’t have is a honeymoon.” Before they could say anything, Mabel held up her hands to stop them. “I know, I know. Megan is supposed to work and there’s the children. So, Marybelle has agreed to work for you tomorrow, Megan. You can sleep in,” Mabel assured her, suggesting with her tone that Megan might be doing something besides sleeping.

Everyone laughed.

Except for Megan and Rick.

“Our housekeeper has agreed to spend the night with Faith at the house, to take care of the children,” Mabel continued. “And the reason for that is because you and Rick are going to have at least one honeymoon night. You two have a reservation at the bed and breakfast across the square for a night in their honeymoon suite, including breakfast in bed in the morning!”

Everyone cheered.

Everyone except for Megan and Rick.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Faith enthused as she ran to Megan’s side to hug her.

Her mother’s action awakened Megan from the frozen state she’d been in since Mabel’s announcement. “Mom, how could you let them—you
know
we don’t want that!” she whispered.

Faith leaned back. “It’s so wonderful because two people in
love
as much as you are deserve a little privacy, a little celebration.”

Megan read the message in Faith’s words and gaze. It was supposed to be a love match. She shifted her gaze to Rick. He’d been watching her mother, too.

“Speech! Speech!” someone in the crowd shouted.

Rick reached out and took her hand, sending her a look that told her he’d gotten Faith’s message. Helping Megan to her feet, he led her over to the stage. They stepped up and he pulled her against him, his arm around her waist, and held up a hand to stop the cheering.

“Folks, this community is the best! You’ve made both of us feel welcome. And I can guarantee you this is one wedding present that won’t be returned!” Then he leaned down and gave Megan another of those mind-numbing kisses.

All she could do was cooperate to the best of her ability. Which wasn’t all that much since he’d kissed her. But their audience seemed to believe all was well. They were busy preparing for the bride and groom’s departure. Edith Hauk stepped to the stage holding Megan’s wedding bouquet.

“Time to find a new bride, Megan. Turn your back and toss it. Single ladies, come closer.”

There was a rush of ladies of all ages.

Rick whispered in her ear. “Looks like not everyone thinks marriage is a disaster.”

No. Not everyone. Just the bride and groom.

Megan turned her back and tossed the flowers into the air. Amid a lot of squealing and grabbing, a blushing young woman held the bouquet aloft in triumph.

“Now the garter,” Edith insisted.

Megan stared at her blankly.

“You did put on the garter, didn’t you?” Edith asked. “We sent it over. Faith promised you’d wear it.”

She had worn it, because her mother had insisted, but Megan had forgotten about that tradition. She nodded, wishing she hadn’t pushed it so high.

“Kneel down, Rick, and take it off,” Edith ordered.

He did as he was told and slid big warm hands up her right leg.

“The other leg!” Megan hissed, trying to hide the shivers his touch caused.

The grin he sent her told her he was enjoying this part of the evening more than he should. She vowed revenge, though she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to wreak it.

As she caught her breath, he’d slid the blue, lace-trimmed garter down her leg. “Lift your foot, sweetheart.”

By the time he stood, the single men had been pushed to the forefront. Several of them seemed a lot less eager than the women. Rick turned his back and tossed the garter. It flew through the air and landed in a hapless fellow’s hands in the back of the crowd, surprising him more than anyone.

“Hey! I don’t intend to—I’m not getting married!” he protested amid laughter.

Megan couldn’t resist a quick look at Rick. After all, that had been his attitude, too.

He gave her a wink, as if he knew what she was thinking. But, of course, he didn’t. He didn’t know her that well. Then she remembered how well she thought she understood him when their gazes had met at the altar.

He surprised her again, stepping from the stage and then sweeping her into his arms.

“Rick!” she protested in his ear, sure no one could hear her amid the cheers. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t bother to answer. Striding to the door, amid well wishes and rose petals the guests had received to shower on them, he made a beeline for the exit.

“We need to get out of here before they come up with any more ideas,” he told her as he reached the front porch.

“Yes, but I can walk. You can’t carry me across the square. That’s too far.”

“I think I could manage it,” he protested, as if she’d insulted his manhood.

She squirmed. “We can go faster if I walk. Here they come!” she warned as the crowd surged after them.

He set her on her feet and took her hand. Though she had on heels, they weren’t high, and she managed to keep up with him as they ran across the square. Only the hardy continued to follow, but even they stopped when Rick and Megan reached the front door of the bed and breakfast.

The hostess was waiting for them and showed them to the honeymoon suite on the second floor with a big smile on her face. “Enjoy yourselves!” she trilled as she closed the door behind them.

H
ELL
! What was he supposed to do now?

Not that Rick would need directions if this was his real honeymoon. Retrieving the garter had warmed him up for what he’d—whoa, this wasn’t real.

No honeymoon.

“Uh, Megan—”

“What are we going to do?” she demanded as she whirled to face him. She looked like she was about to cry.

“Sweetheart, don’t get upset. We’ll…we’ll manage. And you’ll have to admit, it does make the wedding look real.”

He couldn’t believe he was seconding the actions of the matchmakers. He had no doubt they were the ones behind the wedding gift.

“But we don’t…I mean, I don’t even have a toothbrush!”

He couldn’t hold back a lopsided smile. If it were a real honeymoon, a toothbrush would be about all he’d be concerned about. No need for clothes.

Just the thought of Megan without her beautiful suit, her lacy lingerie, made Rick salivate. He immediately shut that thought down. His tux was well-tailored and didn’t leave a lot of room to disguise his reaction.

Megan, still holding her bouquet that had been returned to her after the toss, began to pace the room. “I can’t believe Mom let them do this. I don’t care how good it makes our marriage look. She could’ve at least warned us.”

“They probably swore her to secrecy. Look, it’s not so bad. There are two rooms. I’ll sleep out here, on the sofa, and you can have the bedroom. Then, in the morning, we’ll go home.”

He was relieved when she seemed to settle down. Drawing a deep breath, she turned to face him. I’m sorry, Rick. I know this is as hard for you as it is for me. I…I was just so…I felt so betrayed by my own mother. I didn’t really believe you about the car.”

The urge to wrap her in his arms, to comfort her, to remove the sense of betrayal he could see in her eyes, almost overcame him. He even took a step in her direction, but the alarm in her gaze stopped him.

“Let’s, uh, let’s check out the digs. See if you’ll be comfortable.” He walked past her and opened the door on the other side of the room.

And sighed.

A king-size bed with fluffy pillows, the cover turned back with pale blue sheets, looked so inviting, he groaned.

“What is it?” Megan demanded, pressing herself against him and peeking around. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he agreed and cleared his throat. “Uh, I think you’ll be comfortable.” Oh, yeah. And if he joined her… Another thought to be suppressed.

He wanted to back up, to avoid stepping into that seductive bower. Fresh roses in a crystal vase perfumed the room and soft lighting completed the picture. The old-fashioned cutglass lamp lent a magical air.

Megan was still pressed against his back, eliminating the possibility of retreat.

“Is that your luggage?”

His head snapped up and he frowned. “What luggage?”

She pointed to a chair by the window where three leather bags, obviously expensive, rested, stacked one on top of the other.

“No, that’s not my luggage.”

“Mine, neither.”

She skirted around him and approached the luggage. Then she stopped and turned back to him. “Don’t you think we should see whose it is?”

Which meant, of course, that he had to enter the room.

“Uh, sure.”

He crossed the room, keeping as far from the bed as possible. By that time, Megan had opened the overnight bag and found a card.

With a shaky voice, she read,

“What other things?” he asked. He was worried about what the matchmakers might’ve come up with.

“I don’t know. There’s nothing else in here,” Megan assured him. She secured the lid and set the suitcase over on the bed, then reached for the medium-size bag.

When she opened it, all Rick saw was a filmy blue gown that immediately fired up his imagination again.

All he needed.

He took a step back. “Uh, looks like it’s stuff for you.”

She lifted a pair of black silk briefs. “I think these would be for you.”

He snatched them out of her hand. “Uh, yeah. That’s great. I’ll take a shower.” A cold one.

“Here’s some jeans and a shirt, your boots,” she said, digging through the suitcase. “I don’t see any pajamas.”

Rick snorted, unable to control his humor. “No, I guess not. I don’t wear pajamas.”

He watched in fascination as her cheeks heated up.

“Oh.”

“Is there a change of clothes for you?” he quickly asked, hoping to relieve her embarrassment.

“Yes.” She lifted a dress from the bag and held it against her. It wasn’t formal like her suit. He could tell it was going to cling to her, softly enhancing her curves.

Underneath the dress was some lacy underwear. When Megan realized that, she dropped the dress back to the suitcase and slammed the lid. “Everything I need.”

“Okay,” he agreed, clearing his throat again. “Good.” He reached up and untied the tux’s bow tie. It was getting too tight.

His action caught her attention. “I didn’t know you were going to wear a tux. Thank you. I’m sorry you had to take so much time to get one.”

He frowned. “Time? It didn’t take any time.”

“Didn’t you have to drive into Lubbock?”

Still distracted by her beauty, he shook his head no and added, “Cal and I both had them.”

She frowned at him.

“Well, if you’ve got everything you need, I’ll, uh, see you in the morning.”

He began backing away from her, but she stopped him.

“The bathroom is in there, if you want—you can go first.” She lifted the lid and reached back into the suitcase. “Here’s your toothbrush.”

He grabbed it and was on his way to the bathroom when he heard a gasp. He spun around. “What is it?”

“Nothing!” she protested, but her cheeks were bright red.

“Megan?” He moved in her direction and she held up a hand.

It took him a minute to realize she was holding a package of condoms. “Man, they really did think of everything.”

“I can’t believe—”

Rick chuckled. “Just picture one of those ladies purchasing those condoms. That I would’ve paid to see.”

Megan tried to hide her amusement, but her lips quivered with laughter. “They probably were as comfortable as I would be.”

“Ah. So you’re not a swinger?”

Megan didn’t think she could be more embarrassed. “No!”

“I didn’t think so, or I wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch,” he said with a gentle smile.

“I can take the couch if you think you’ll be uncomfortable.”

“No, sweetheart, I’ll take the couch.” Then he entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Megan stood there, staring at the closed door, startled by the regret that filled her. She’d never been a believer in sexual promiscuity. So why was she wishing she could throw her caution and restraint out the window now?

Because her bridegroom was a sexy man. And a great kisser. That was all. It was lust. And that wasn’t a good reason to break her promises to herself. But it certainly was a temptation.

She sank onto the bed with a sigh. All she could do was wait for Rick to return to the living room. The only nightgown in the suitcase was that sheer, frothy thing that hid nothing from view. She certainly couldn’t put that on until she had absolute privacy.

The door to the bathroom opened and Megan sprang to her feet, as if sitting on the bed in Rick’s presence was too dangerous.

“I’m going to wait until morning for my shower,” he explained. Keeping his distance from the bed, he edged his way to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait!” she called and then took a step back as he spun around, an eager expression on his face.

“You’ll need a pillow and some cover.”

His arms were full with his change of clothes and toothbrush, so Megan gathered the pillow and one of the blankets from the foot of the bed and came toward him. “I’ll fix your bed for you.”

“I can manage.”

“It’s the least I can do,” she assured him, concerned about the roughness of his voice. Was he angry with her?

They both walked into the sitting room and Megan eyed the couch, as a bed for Rick, for the first time. It was an antique settee. It didn’t even look comfortable for sitting, much less sleeping.

“You can’t sleep here,” she said flatly.

“I’ll manage,” he grumbled. Putting his load down on the coffee table, he reached for the bedding.

But she clutched it to her chest. “I’m serious, Rick. You’ll be up all night.”

He glared at her. “I probably will be anyway.”

“Why? Aren’t you tired?”

“Damn it, Megan, don’t you know anything about men?” he demanded, his hands on his hips, the tuxedo shirt unbuttoned halfway.

Megan thought he’d never looked more handsome. But she did know something about men, and a closer examination told her that he was aroused.

“Oh.”

He gave her a wry grin. “Yeah. So I’ll sleep here.”

“But I’m shorter. I could—”

“No!”

Suddenly, she’d reached her limit. “Fine! Be hardheaded and suffer! See if I care.” She dropped the bedding at his feet and stormed back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Then leaned against the door, her shoulders sagging, feeling sorry for herself and her husband. They were doing the right thing, trying to protect Torie and Drew. Why did the right thing have to be so painful?