The Green-Eyed Doll (39 page)

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Authors: Jerrie Alexander

BOOK: The Green-Eyed Doll
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“Sweet? She’s a drill sergeant in disguise. She insisted I lie down and rest.” Catherine patted the side of the bed. “But since I’m here...”

Matt stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the chest of drawers.

“I can’t come over there. We have to talk.”

“That’s all we’ve done. Police reports and news stories have worn me out. I’ve purged my soul and my past to God and country. I have no more secrets to tell.” She patted the bed again, amazed at how brazen she’d become. “And if you forgive me—”

“You’re not the one who needs forgiveness,” he interrupted. “I turned my back on you when you needed me. Will you ever be able to trust me completely?”

His incredibly blue eyes, so serious and so concerned drew her to him. She scooted to the edge of the mattress and held his steady gaze.

“I never stopped trusting you. But we’ve both learned valuable lessons about honesty between two people in love.”

“So if I proposed, would you say yes?” His lips quirked up in a grin, and her heart rate hit the superhighway.

“I have one question before I can answer.”

His face grew serious, and his eyes never left her face. “By all means, ask away.”

“What would John Wayne do?”

“Nothing, he’s dead.” His eyebrows dipped into a scowl. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” She glared back at him.

He stood quietly for a minute. “You mean right now...if he was standing here instead of me?”

“Right now.”

Matt pushed himself upright. His eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Can you wear boots?”

“I’m sure I can. Why?”

“Get dressed.”

****

Saturday, September 23rd, 12:30 p.m.

He was taking one hell of a gamble that his idea would work. Was he supposed to channel the Duke to know what she wanted him to say? His insides were jumping, and his mind raced from thought to thought.

Matt had ushered her to the pickup. The fact she’d limped hadn’t escaped him. Her feet hadn’t healed completely. Had her heart? Only one way to find out.

He drove around the back way to his place. The short trip lasted an eternity, because he felt her eyes bearing down on him all the way. He parked, walked around to her, and scooped her into his arms. He carried her to a chair in the house. “Wait here until I come get you.”

“I can walk, silly.” She demonstrated by walking to the door and letting Benedict Arnold inside. “What am I waiting on?”

Matt’s hand hung at his side, and the dog stuck his muzzle in it so he absentmindedly scratched behind his ears.

Her gaze dropped, followed by her jaw.

“What?”

“Oh. My. God. He likes you.”

“When I thought I’d lost you, he sensed my pain. Been at my heels ever since.” Matt waved Catherine to a kitchen chair. “Remember, wait here. Don’t come outside,” Matt instructed in his firmest voice. “Promise me.”

“Oka-ay.” She arched one eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I’m waiting.”

Heart pounding, nerves racing, with Benedict at his side, Matt ran to the barn. Thirty minutes later, he glanced down at the dog. “It’s now or never.”

He stepped into the saddle, rode up the driveway, and called Catherine outside.

Eyes wide, jaw hanging lax. Priceless would describe her expression. But when he handed her the reins to the second horse, tears welled and ran down her cheeks.

“Oh, hell.” Matt slid off his new bay gelding, wrapping Catherine in his arms. “You think I’m nuts. I’ll put them back in the barn.”

“This is your answer to my question?” She smiled up at him and brushed away her tears.

“Well, hell. Wouldn’t John Wayne have put you on a horse and then ridden into the sunset with you at his side.”

She stood on her tiptoes and covered his lips with hers. “That’s exactly what he would’ve done.”

The kiss sealed the deal as far as Matt was concerned. Anything else would be incidental, nothing they couldn’t overcome together.

“What do you think? Want to give him a try?” Matt offered her the reins a second time.

“What’s his name?”

Matt couldn’t help himself. “Horse.”

“You can’t
not
give him a name.” Her words mingled with her laughter.

“You’re right. His official name’s Poco Red Dawn.”

Without his help, she swung into the saddle. “God. That’s a mouthful.”

“Yeah. It’s Red for short.”

“Red. I like it.”

With a stab of her heels, she and Red broke into a run toward the back pasture. Matt mounted and hurried to catch her.

Catherine slowed, leaned forward, and patted the big gelding on his neck. “I love him. And you.”

Riding side-by-side, Matt turned and asked one last question. “I’d like Ash to be best man at our wedding. You okay with that?”

“As long as you’re there, I’m happy.” Catherine kicked her horse in the flank, and the red gelding lunged forward.

The wildfire-haired woman raced across his pasture on her sorrel horse, her face turned into the wind. She ran free. He’d gladly spend the rest of his life trying to keep up with her.

A word about the author...

A student of creative writing in her youth, Jerrie set aside her passion when life presented her with a John Wayne husband, and two wonderful children. A career in logistics offered her the opportunity to travel to many beautiful locations in America, and she revisits them in her romantic suspense novels.

But the characters went with her, talked to her, and insisted she share their dark, sexy stories with others. She writes alpha males and kick-ass women who weave their way through death and fear to emerge stronger because of, and on occasion in spite of, their love for each other. She likes to torture people, make them suffer, and if they’re strong enough, they live happily ever after.

Jerrie lives in Texas, loves sunshine, children’s laughter, sugar (human and granulated), and researching for her heroes and heroines.

She loves hearing from fans at:

www.jerriealexander.com.

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