The Best Bride. Susan Mallery
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Mandy nodded.
“I love you, sweetie.”
“I love you, too, Mommy.”
Elizabeth fussed with the covers for as long as she could, knowing she didn’t want to turn around and face Travis. What must he be thinking about her? Every time they came to some kind of agreement, something was there to remind him about the mysteries in her life. She knew he was curious. She just prayed he would stop asking her questions she couldn’t answer.
Travis was waiting for her in the hallway. Without saying a word, he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her down the stairs. When they reached the foyer she was about to say good-night, but he opened the front door.
“Come outside,” he said. “It’s a beautiful night.”
She hesitated. It would be better for both of them if she went to her room—alone. The two of them sitting in the dark could get into a lot of trouble. Their kiss this afternoon had proved that, and it had still been daylight. But the cool night beckoned. She was tired from her long day, but not in pain.
“I won’t bite,” he promised.
How could she resist him? “If you’re sure,” she said, and stepped out onto the porch.
The light beside the front door cast a soft glow down the steps. The swing was to her left, but she felt that would be tempting fate too much, so she sat on the top step and pulled her full skirt over her knees to her ankles. Travis settled next to her. The night air was full of sounds: crickets, the soft buzz of invisible flying wings, the hoot-hoot of an owl. She inhaled the smells. Damp earth from a brief afternoon shower, the last lingering sweetness of the roses by the porch rail and the hint of woodsmoke from some faraway fireplace.
A quarter moon hung just above the horizon. This was a different sky than she was used to. The lights of Los Angeles washed out most of the stars, but up here she could see the twinkling lights of the constellations.
Travis sat close enough for them to touch. Shoulder to thigh. She should probably pull away, but he was warm and familiar, her only anchor in her new world.
“You want to talk about Mandy’s father?” he asked. He’d lowered his voice, but it still sounded loud in the quiet evening. “I assume you heard what she said.”
“Most of it.” She folded her arms on top of her knees and rested her chin on them. “I can’t.”
“How about your father?”
“What?”
She glanced sideways at him. He smiled at her. In the soft light, he looked like a chiseled statue. His hair and mustache were the color of midnight, his skin a polished bronze. If it wasn’t for the warmth of his arm brushing her and the heat seeping through her dress from hip and thigh, she would have wondered if he was real. She’d escaped her past and had somehow stumbled upon this man. Was fate being kind or playing the most horrible joke on her?
“I’m changing the subject. Tell me about your family. Did you grow up in L.A.?”
“In the area. Near San Bernardino. A small town, a lot like this one. Then I went to the big bad city to go to college.”
“And you’re the only child.”
“Yes. Mom was in her late thirties when I was born, and that was a lot less popular then. I was lonely growing up. I’d always planned on having three or four kids of my own to make up for it, but it didn’t turn out that way.”
“You could have them now.”
“I’m not sure. Being a single mom is hard. I’m not getting married.” Again. She almost said it, but at the last minute held back the word. Still it hung in the night like a winged creature before taking flight and disappearing into the silence. She cleared her throat. “What about you?”
Either he didn’t notice that now she was the one changing the subject, or he was too kind to comment. She had a feeling it was the latter.
“Four boys, an assortment of uncles dropping by to visit. It was noisy.” He shrugged. She felt the rise and fall of his shirt as it brushed against her skin. It was nice. “My dad was sheriff of Glenwood for about twenty-five years.”
“Did you work for him?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “For about a minute. He took an early retirement, but there was a month there when I was his newest deputy.” He paused. When he spoke again, his voice was different. “He rode me hard.”
“Did it make you angry?”
He turned to look at her. “Why do you ask?”
“You sounded...” She trailed off. “Bitter, I guess.”
“Maybe I am. Not about the work, that was fine. Dad and his brothers were the original good ol’ boys. They lived hard, drank hard, played hard. By the time I was ten, three of my four uncles were divorced. The fourth one, Bob, never bothered getting married. I knew my dad had a bunch of girlfriends, not to mention a mistress he kept in the next town.” He drew in a deep breath. “This is the seedy side of the Haynes family legend. Sorry. You don’t want to hear this.”
She felt bad that he’d gone through that, but part of her was grateful to have something to focus on other than her own problems. She shifted until she was facing him. Her knees bumped his thighs. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands hang loose.
“People in town think it was all good times and parties at our house,” he said at last. “It wasn’t. My folks fought a lot. You can imagine what my mom thought of my dad’s activities.” His mouth twisted into a grim smile. “He was so damn proud of himself. He had four sons and, no matter what else he did, he woke up every morning in his own bed. What a saint.” He drew in a breath. “She split when Kyle was fifteen. Packed her bags and left. Not a word, or a note. We thought about looking for her, but we figured if she wanted to stay in touch, she knew where to find us.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-one. It didn’t really bother me. I’d just finished college and was about to find my own place anyway, but it hit Kyle hard. Jordan, too, but he wouldn’t show it.”
Elizabeth’s heart squeezed painfully. Jordan wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to show his pain. Travis might have been older, but she had a feeling his mother’s abandonment had hurt him just as much. She was torn. Part of her couldn’t blame the woman for walking out on Travis’s father, but she didn’t understand how a mother could abandon her sons.
“So you decided to punish all women for what she’d done?” she asked.
“No. It’s not like that. None of us are angry at women. Nobody has figured out how to make it work.” He turned his head and looked at her. She saw the sadness in his eyes. Instinctively she reached out and rested her hand on his forearm. He didn’t acknowledge the comfort, but she didn’t mind. He felt warm and strong, even with all his pain. She liked to think she was giving a little back.
“Craig