by Brenda Novak
“Not tonight,” he said. “I’m pretty tired.”
“Tomorrow then?”
“Okay.” He hung up and, suddenly feeling a chill, rolled up his window. What was going on with Rebecca’s engagement? Three postponements? Didn’t Buddy want to marry her?
Maybe her fiancé had figured out what everyone in Dundee already knew—that he’d never be able to handle her on a full-time basis. Doyle said Buddy was too mild-mannered for Rebecca. Maybe he’d seen something in her that had tipped him off.
But Buddy had to marry Rebecca. Josh needed him to make their marriage final so he could move on with his own life. And he needed him to do it as soon as possible, before Josh lost all perspective and did the absolute worst thing he could do—and started dating her himself.
Picking up his cell, he called Katie Rogers.
“It’s Josh,” he said. His mother was close to Katie’s mom and used to baby-sit Katie after school. She was a little like a kid sister to him, but he didn’t call her often and he knew his request was going to sound pretty strange.
“Hi, Josh. What’s up?” she said.
“Is there any chance you could get me Buddy’s phone number?” he asked.
“Buddy’s?”
“Rebecca’s fiancé.”
“Mona and I have both taken messages for Rebecca at the salon. I’m sure it’s on the duplicate copy of the message pad. Why?”
He slowed and pulled off the road. “Do you have a key to the salon?”
“Yeah. We all have a key. We take turns opening. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Would you mind meeting me there?”
“Right now?”
He flipped on the overhead and glanced at his watch. It was almost midnight. “If you can.”
“I can,” she said, “but I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re doing to Rebecca this time.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with Rebecca. Someone at the party tonight told me Buddy might be in the market to breed a mare. I thought I’d give him a call.”
“Oh, okay.” She seemed slightly disappointed that there wasn’t more fun in what he was doing. “I can be there in five minutes,” she said. “Where are you?”
His tires ground on the gravel at the side of the road as he turned around. “It’ll take me ten, but I’m on my way.”
* * *
“YOU ARE WHO?” Buddy said, sounding groggy even though it was nearly noon.
“Josh Hill. Rebecca might have mentioned me,” Josh said, standing inside the door of his largest stable and propping the telephone against his ear with one shoulder so he could remove his leather gloves. He usually took things easier on Sunday, but he’d already been working for six hours, trying to get the place ready for the mares that would start arriving in November. And he’d been tempted to call Buddy since dawn. But he knew not everyone kept the same kind of hours he did, so he’d made himself wait. Obviously he hadn’t waited long enough.
“I don’t think so,” Buddy said. “I don’t recognize your name.”
That was a little deflating to his ego, but Josh thought it could only help. Now Buddy would have no reason to suspect his motives.
“We’re old friends,” he said, slapping his gloves against one dust-covered leg to distract himself from the guilt twisting in his gut for meddling in something that was none of his business.
“You’re not the fellow she’s living with,” Buddy said.
Josh frowned and tried not to let his voice reveal his displeasure with that situation. “No, that’s Booker.”
“Oh.” He sounded a bit more interested. “What can I do for you, Josh?”
“Rebecca’s birthday is coming up in a few weeks and some of us are hoping to throw her a surprise party,” he said, using the only excuse he’d been able to think of that would be plausible enough to contact Buddy. “We were wondering if you might be here for it.”
“When is it?” he said. “We were supposed to be on our honeymoon for her birthday, but now that we’re not getting married until January, we need to make other plans. Do you have a date?”
Josh had thought so much about his main objective—removing Rebecca from his circle of acquaintances as soon as possible—that he hadn’t spent much time perfecting his cover. “Uh…we were thinking the first Friday in November might be good,” he said off the top of his head.
“That’s a week before the Saturday Rebecca and I were supposed to get married,” Buddy responded. “I already have a plane ticket, but I don’t fly in until the following Wednesday.”
“Maybe you could change your flight and come out a little early.”
“I don’t think so. My mother will be here.”
“She could come with you.”
“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea.” He chuckled uncomfortably. “She’s a little resistant to the idea of me getting married.”
Evidently Buddy’s mother had already encountered Rebecca. “Rebecca’s the type of girl who grows on you,” Josh began. “Maybe with a little more exposure—”
“It’s not that,” he said. “My mom lives out of state and hasn’t had a chance to meet Rebecca. She’s just not sure I’m ready for marriage.”
“Oh.” Josh straightened in surprise. How old was this guy? Hadn’t Rebecca said he was twenty-six? “In that case, you’re probably right to spend some time alone with her.” If Buddy’s mother hadn’t come face to face with Rebecca yet, he certainly didn’t see any advantage in muddying the waters. “We’ll just have it the next weekend, then, since you’ll already be here.”
“That would work.”
“Good.” Josh stared at the trees between the stable and the house, watching as a single yellow leaf swirled to the ground. He’d reached the point in the conversation where he should promise to get back in touch and finish the call. But he hadn’t made any headway in convincing Buddy to remove Rebecca from his life as soon as possible—thereby saving him from his own personal Delilah. “So your mother’s worried you might be making a mistake, huh?” he said, looking for some way to draw Buddy out.
“You know how moms are.”
Josh knew how his mother was—strong-willed and sometimes overbearing. But he was just as strong-willed and, while he loved Laurel Hill tremendously, he’d never let her stand between him and the woman he wanted to marry. If he ever found the woman he wanted to marry…“She’s pretty protective?”
“You got it. She keeps going on and on about the permanence of marriage and how you never really know a person until you live with her. The scary thing is, she’s usually right about stuff like that.” An uncertain pause. “Not that I’m particularly worried, of course. That isn’t the reason I postponed the wedding. I just thought it would be smarter to save a little more money. And my great-aunt really wants to come. That had a lot to do with it. She can’t make it until after the first of the year.”
“Your great-aunt?” Josh repeated.
“Yeah, she’s never been to Idaho and thought it would be nice to see the state.”
“Oh.”
Buddy segued from a discussion of his aunt to the importance of being fiscally conservative at this point in his career. Then he talked about rent savings and vacation days and giving his mother time to adjust. But each new excuse began to sound flimsier than the last.
Josh tried to reclaim the sense of purpose with which he’d originally phoned Buddy. He even made an attempt to say Rebecca would make him an excellent wife. But he couldn’t bring himself to put any conviction, real or fabricated, behind those words. The more he listened, the more convinced he became that Doyle Wells was right. Buddy wasn’t a good match for Rebecca. Rebecca was a spirited, sleek mare, Buddy a plodding workhorse without enough spunk to muster anything beyond a walk. He couldn’t see Rebecca with someone so…neutral. She’d be bored within a year.
“You know, I hate to say this because Rebecca and I have been friends for ages,” he said. (Buddy wouldn’t know any better, anyway.) “But I think your mother’s
probably right. Maybe you should give your relationship some time, get to know Rebecca a little.”
Had those words really come out of his mouth? If Buddy waited, he might not marry Rebecca. If he didn’t marry Rebecca, Josh might end up pursuing her himself. If he pursued her, he could end up falling in love with her. And if he fell in love with her, God help him. Then she’d finally have real power over him. He’d be handing his heart to the one woman in the world who’d promptly stomp on it and hand it back.
But he simply couldn’t see her with this guy.
“Why do you say that?” Buddy asked, instantly alert.
“Rebecca is…” Josh searched for the correct word “…unusual. You have to know how to handle her.”
Apparently the frank honesty in his voice came through, because Buddy quit trying to pretend he wasn’t worried.
“What do you mean by that?”
“She’s temperamental. You’ve probably heard what she was like growing up.”
“No, actually I haven’t. She’s never said much about her past.”
Josh smiled, recognizing the incredible opportunity that had just fallen into his lap. “You don’t know about the time she nearly burned down the high school?”
“…No.”
“Or the time she broke Gilbert Tripp’s nose?”
“She broke someone’s nose? A man’s nose?”
Biting back a laugh at the memory of the purple bruise that had marred Gilbert’s face for the next three weeks, Josh proceeded to enlighten Buddy. Once he started on Rebecca’s past, he couldn’t seem to stop. He related every crazy thing she’d ever done—and he knew more than most people. Then he enumerated all the reasons someone like Buddy would never be happy with someone like Rebecca and, when he was finished, he felt a definite sense of satisfaction that had nothing to do with his original agenda and everything to do with serving some deeper purpose. He’d called to talk Buddy into a wedding, not out of one. But anyone who could be talked out of marrying Rebecca didn’t stand a chance with her in the first place.
* * *
“HEY, YOU FINALLY DONE?”
Rebecca glanced up from the salon door she was locking to see Booker leaning against his motorcycle. It had been busy for a Sunday, but more so in the morning. Afternoons always slowed a bit, both in appointments and walk-in business. During the last hour, Rebecca had only one cut—for a ten-year-old boy.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised to see him waiting for her.
“I ran into Katie down at the diner. She said you were closing tonight, so I decided I’d come by.”
“You ran into Katie? Or you followed her?”
He grinned. “I think it came off looking accidental enough.”
Rebecca couldn’t help laughing. “She interested in going out with you?”
“Of course not. But then she doesn’t know me very well.”
“That’s the spirit.” She selected the key to her Firebird. “I thought you were supposed to be painting the garage for Granny Hatfield.”
“I painted earlier. I’m taking the night off. I was hoping you’d want to spend some of the money you won at the anniversary party on a few drinks at the Honky Tonk.”
Rebecca would’ve been excited about the money she’d won last night—especially Josh’s money—except that her father’s reaction had soured the whole experience. “I’ll give you twenty bucks, but I think I’m going home to bed. I’m pretty tired.”
“Come on. It’s only seven o’clock. If we have a drink together, you can tell me what your family said when you told them the wedding’s been postponed. I couldn’t hear very well from the living room.”
Rebecca arched a brow at him. “You were listening?”
“I was trying to. Your father made it easy. Your mother did not.”
“You could’ve asked me what happened while we were on our way home,” she pointed out. “We rode together, remember?”
“I could tell it hadn’t gone well when Greta stormed past me before you came out. Besides, you wouldn’t have wanted to hear what I had to say.”
Rebecca wasn’t sure she was ready to hear what anyone had to say. Not yet. “Word will have spread to the Honky Tonk about the wedding,” she said, considering her options. “I think I’ll give it another week before I face everyone there.”
“No one cares about the postponement, babe.”
That might be, but she still ran the risk of running into Josh, and she wasn’t about to take that chance. She might have beaten him at pool last night, but it was only a game. She felt foolish for having cared so much. The money was nice, of course, but one or two games of pool were never going to change anything. Her father still had a way of making her feel inferior to Josh—to almost everyone.
“No, thanks. I’m going home,” she said.
“That’s boring,” he complained.
“For you, maybe.”
He gave her an endearing smile. “Does anyone else matter?”
She shook her head and started around the building to the small gravel lot where she’d parked her car.
“Okay, I’ve got it,” he called after her. “Let’s stop by the diner and grab a bite to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” she replied.
“Let’s go for a ride on my bike.”
“No, thanks.”
“So you’re not in the mood to go out? Let’s rent a movie.”
There was no getting rid of him, Rebecca decided, chuckling. “Okay,” she said. “Follow me to the store.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AS SOON AS THEY REACHED Granny Hatfield’s, Rebecca told Booker to get the popcorn ready and headed upstairs to change into something more comfortable. Tossing her coat on the bed, she set her purse on her desk next to a slip of paper that turned out to be a telephone message.
Buddy needs to talk to you, Hatty had written. It’s sort of an emergency.
What now? “I’ll be down in a minute,” she called to Booker. Then she quickly pulled her shirt over her head, slipped into some sweats and picked up the phone.
Buddy answered on the second ring.
“I got your message,” she said. “What’s the emergency? What’s wrong?”
A significant moment of silence followed this question. “I don’t know for sure,” he finally responded.
“You leave me a message that there’s an emergency, and you don’t know what it is?”
“It’s not that kind of emergency. I just wanted to catch you before…before you told your family the new date for our wedding.” He said the last part of the sentence fast, as though he wanted to fit it all in one breath.
A sickening feeling invaded Rebecca’s stomach and started radiating outward. “Why? What do you mean?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and…well, I’m not sure we know each other well enough for marriage.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Why is that?”
“I…I talked to a friend of yours today, and he got me thinking.”
Rebecca grew still. He? “What friend?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Why?”
“He told me some things that have me pretty concerned.”
“Like what?”
“Like some of the stuff you’ve done. To be honest, I was more than a little surprised. What kind of girl nearly sets the high school on fire?”
“I can explain that,” she said. “I was only trying to burn the mascot into the field for homecoming, and it got a little out of con—”
“Or dyes someone’s hair blue,” he said, cutting her off.
“Some people want their hair blue,” she replied.
“Did Mrs. Reese?”
He had her there. “No, but I can explain that, too. See, she told her son that his father would fire him from his job at the bank if he kept dating me. Byron and I were both twenty-five at the time, way too old for her to be interfering and—”
; “But why wouldn’t she want her son to date you in the first place?”
Rebecca could hear Booker calling her from the bottom of the stairs, but she was too panicked to answer. Who had paraded her sins in front of Buddy? Her father?
“That’s all in the past,” she said, grappling for something to say that might minimize the damage. “Everyone makes mistakes once in a while. Haven’t you ever done anything you regret?”
“I’ve never set a football field on fire.”
The creaking of the stairs told her Booker was coming up, but she didn’t even look at him when he knocked briefly and opened the door. She had to convince Buddy that she wasn’t as bad as he now believed, or it would be over for good.
“Who is it?” Booker asked.
She ignored him, focusing on her racing thoughts. “Like…I don’t know. Like shaving someone’s head while he was sleeping. Or putting bugs in someone’s locker.”
“Is it Buddy?” Booker asked.
Rebecca nodded, her cheeks feeling warm, her heart pounding.
“I’ve never shaved anyone’s head,” Buddy said. “I’ve never even wanted to.”
“Oh, so you’ve always been a saint, right? I’m the only one with a temper here.”
“Most women don’t have a temper bad enough to make them break a man’s nose.”
“Are you talking about Gilbert? I wouldn’t have hit him if he’d owned up to damaging Delaney’s car.”
“Still, those stories frighten me. Maybe it would be different if there were just one or two instances, but…I’ve never met a woman who’s done anything remotely like a whole bunch of the things you’ve done.”
Anger began to replace Rebecca’s panic. She’d tried so hard to please Buddy. She’d patiently allowed him to make her look like a fool when he kept shifting their wedding date. She’d let him off the hook when he disappointed her and didn’t show up for her parents’ anniversary party. She’d held her temper in check for him like she hadn’t for anyone else. And he was still backing away.
“Maybe we should just forget the whole thing,” she said, glancing up in time to see Booker’s eyebrows shoot up.
“I’m not saying that,” Buddy said. “I’m just saying maybe we shouldn’t rush into marriage, that’s all. Why don’t we let things roll along for a while and not worry so much about setting a date?”