driver.
Her husband had been an impatient driver, speeding between stoplights, weaving in and out of traffic, jamming on his brakes at the last second, swearing and honking at slower drivers. She’d worried his driving would be the death of them all, but it had been another driver’s carelessness which had ended Lawrence’s life.
Beside the road a picture-postcard river rushed around rocks and fishermen, tossing glittery spume into the air. They crossed a bridge where a large blue-and-white crested bird sat motionless on a wire over the river. If she opened her mouth to ask what the bird was, who knew what demons she’d set loose? Her entire body ached with tension. A tension heightened with the intolerable discovery that now, of all the stupid, inconvenient times, she was conscious of being a woman. And all too aware of the man across the car.
“Kingfisher.” Worth Lassiter had seen the direction of her gaze. “He’s been there almost every time I’ve driven by lately.”
Elizabeth knew she ought to respond. Ought to make polite conversation. She groped for something to say.
He spoke first. “Everyone’s looking forward to meeting you. They wanted to be at the ranch when you arrived, but Mom said they should let you recover from your flight before they mobbed you. We didn’t know you could handle them all with one hand and round up the horses with the other.”
Hearing sarcasm in the low, drawling voice, she immediately defended herself. “And I didn’t know you were one of those men who feels threatened by a woman who doesn’t swoon over your muscles.”
After a moment, he asked, “Did I mention I have three sisters?”
“Yes.”
“It’s like living with three stubborn, wrongheaded mules, but they couldn’t provoke me into a fight, and neither can you.”
“Why couldn’t they?”
He gave her a killer smile. “It was a whole lot more fun making them so darned mad because they couldn’t rile me. Cheyenne was the easiest. She’d practically chew the carpet.”
“Sibling rivalry. How charming.”
“No rivalry. Lassiters stick together,” he said in the voice of one stating an obvious, undisputed truth.
Jealousy stabbed at Elizabeth. Maybe if she’d had sisters, a brother, things would have been different.
What would it be like having a brother like Worth Lassiter? She studied him from under lowered lashes. He’d tossed his jacket in the back and rolled up his shirtsleeves. The blue cotton fabric did nothing to disguise the muscled strength of his upper body. Sunlight illuminated light hairs on his tanned lower arms. His big hands were tough and calloused. Like every cowboy she’d ever met, and she’d met a lot of them.
Which made all the more bizarre the disturbing images invading her mind. Not sisterly images, but images she’d never had about other cowboys. Images involving his hands on her body, touching her, loving her while the slow, deep voice drawled endearments in her ear.
Elizabeth squeezed the bag in her lap. Widows didn’t lust after a cowboy, no matter how much his masculinity made her nerve endings quiver. Lust was a purely physical reaction which had nothing to do with love and tenderness.
She must be coming down with something. The flu. She should have eaten more on the plane. Gone to bed earlier last night. Since Lawrence’s death, she’d had trouble sleeping.
There could be a million reasons why she was having this inexplicable reaction to Worth Lassiter.
The answer came to her. Human contact. Male contact. Worth Lassiter was the first man she’d talked to since her husband had died who wasn’t related or trying to sell her something. Jamie had been her excuse for not socializing. The truth was, she couldn’t bear encountering Lawrence’s friends, hearing their expressions of sympathy.
Couldn’t bear wondering which of them knew the unbearable truth.
“Russ worried you wouldn’t come for the wedding. I’m glad you did. A man can’t get married without his only child being there.”
She spoke without thinking. “Russ could.”
“You call your father Russ?”
“I assume you disapprove.”
“We used to call our father Beau. He didn’t like being called Dad.”
“Used to?”
“He died some years back.”
“I’m sorry.” She genuinely was. No one understood better than Elizabeth how devastating the death of another could be. “You must miss him.”
He gave her a quick look of sympathy. “It’s not like with you. Losing a husband…Russ took it hard.”
“I doubt that.” Elizabeth dug her fingernails into her bag at Worth’s bald-faced lie. “Russ intensely disliked Lawrence and tried everything he could to keep me from marrying him.”
Worth’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as memories of a conversation he’d had two days ago with Russ flooded back.
The nervous way Russ had stuttered and stammered had convinced Worth that the older man had changed his mind about marrying Worth’s mother. Worth had been so relieved he hadn’t paid much attention when Russ finally spilled what really bothered him.
His relationship with his daughter Elizabeth.
The scene replayed itself in Worth’s mind with total, crystal-clear recall.
“I was real surprised when Elizabeth agreed to come to the wedding,” Russ had said.
Worth couldn’t imagine why and said so.
Initially, Russ had sidestepped the implied question. “She was such a tiny little thing. If I yelled at her, Elizabeth never cried, but her face would get all funny and her eyes red. I always wanted so much for her. Wished I could give her a perfect world.” He kicked a clod of dirt. “It’s been over a year since her husband Lawrence died, and she’s still mad at me.”
Worth gave the older man a quick look from under his hat brim. “Mad about what?”
Russ wouldn’t meet his gaze. “The funeral. Our best mare was about to foal. We’d almost lost her the time before, but I told Elizabeth I’d come if she needed me. She said she didn’t.”
“You didn’t go to your son-in-law’s funeral?” Worth had to work to keep the disbelief and condemnation out of his voice.
“I knew my ex-wife and her husband would be there. What could I have done they didn’t do? I’d just have been in the way. If Elizabeth wanted me there, she would have said so.” Russ’s defensiveness made plain he didn’t need anyone to point out how wrong he’d been. He already knew.
Worth’s mother once said men had more trouble than women when it came to dealing with death. She said men wanted to fix things, solve problems. Worth guessed the real reason Russ had avoided his son-in-law’s funeral had more to do with Russ hating his inability to make things right for his
