His Valentine Bride

by Cindy Kirk

  Awkward, Betsy thought to herself as Ryan held out her chair, seating her next to the couple. After introducing her to Joel and Kate, he smiled. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  Betsy tilted her head.

  “We’re having a baby.” Kate slipped her hand through her husband’s arm.

  “Congrats from me, too,” Betsy said. “When are you due?”

  “The middle of June.” Kate’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Our daughter, Chloe, is thrilled. She said she doesn’t need any other presents. Knowing she’ll soon have a brother or sister is present enough.”

  “But we know when it comes time to unwrap gifts, she’ll want something more under the tree,” Joel said with an indulgent smile.

  Once it got going, the conversation flowed easily. Betsy had seen Kate around, but she’d always seemed a bit standoffish. Today she discovered that Kate was as nice as she was pretty with her dark brown hair, big hazel eyes and a curvy yet lithe figure. Betsy felt like an ugly country mouse sitting next to a pretty city one.

  Ryan was in his element, laughing and joking with his friends. Although everyone was friendly, Betsy held back, not sure of her place in this group, not wanting to be too bold.

  But the man at her side would have none of it. Ryan skillfully drew her into the conversation, first by making them aware that she was Keenan’s sister, then telling all her secrets. From her bull-riding talent to her skill with snowballs.

  “You should come out to our house sometime.” Kate paused for a moment as the waitress placed plates of food—and her bowl of oatmeal—on the table. “We could build a fort or have a snowball fight. Chloe would love it.”

  “Count us in.” Mary Karen leaned across the table. “As long as we can bring the boys.”

  Mary Karen’s oldest set of twins made Dennis the Menace look like a choirboy.

  “If we play, we get Betsy on our team,” her husband, Travis, announced.

  “What about me?” Ryan pretended to be outraged.

  “You already said how good she was,” Mary Karen said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Naturally we took that to mean she can take you out.”

  “Yep,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. “She can take me out anywhere, anytime.”

  Betsy looked him in the eyes and wondered if he’d say the same thing if Adrianna was sitting beside him. She prayed he was sincere. If he wasn’t, she was in trouble. Because she was falling more deeply in love with him by the second.

  * * *

  “Have you slept with him yet?”

  “Adrianna, shush,” Betsy hissed. “Someone might hear you.”

  The following weekend, the two women spent the morning checking out the current exhibit at the National Museum of Wildlife Art, then stayed to grab some lunch at the Red Sage Café, located inside the building.

  Adrianna glanced around the empty café. “There’s no one here. Everyone is out Christmas shopping or skiing.”

  “I don’t feel comfortable discussing my personal life in such a public venue.” Betsy kept her voice low.

  Although Jackson Hole held almost twenty thousand people, it was also a close-knit community. The last thing she wanted to do was to get some gossip going about her and Ryan.

  “Okay, how about if I speak in a whisper?” Adrianna grinned, her voice as loud as before. “Then will you tell me your secrets?”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Betsy said. “We’re only friends.”

  Adrianna took a bite of her tuna pita. “You really expect me to believe that? I saw the way he looked at you last Friday at Wally’s.”

  “And I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Betsy took a sip of her iced tea, hoping Adrianna would drop this line of questioning but knowing she wouldn’t.

  Adrianna waved away the comment. She chewed thoughtfully. “Perhaps he doesn’t want to push you.”

  Or maybe he’s in love with you.

  The thought rose unbidden from the deepest recesses of Betsy’s subconscious. Ryan had made it clear he liked being with her, yet he had originally enlisted her to help him win over Adrianna. He’d also told Tripp that it was Adrianna he wanted.

  Was spending time with her part of a plan to make Adrianna jealous? Or had he simply decided to settle for second best?

  Betsy sighed. “Ryan and I are friends, Anna. I’ve told you that many times.”

  “Still not believing it.”

  That’s because so far Betsy knew she hadn’t been all that convincing. “I think Tripp is going to ask me out.”

  Adrianna’s eyes widened and she straightened in her seat. “Are you going to go?”

  “Of course,” Betsy said with what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  * * *

  Betsy picked up her purse, ready to head out the door when Ryan called to her from his office. She sighed and set down her bag on her desk, hoping this wouldn’t be another invitation to stay late.

  All week Ryan had been consumed by a case scheduled for court next week. Every night he’d asked her to work late. The first time it had happened she’d thought he had something more personal in mind. But when he’d pulled out his case notes and started to talk, her hopes of a more intimate evening sank like a lead balloon. It had been the same story every night since.

  By the time they finished it was usually close to ten and she’d gone home exhausted. Too tired to even trim her Christmas tree. It still sat in her living room, in water, begging for decorations. She’d thought about asking Ryan if he wanted to come over this weekend to help, but decided against it.

  She’d started to wonder if the connection she’d felt between them had been all in her head. That’s why when Tripp had called, told her he’d gotten the job and offered to take her out to dinner to celebrate, she’d said yes.

  “You need something?” Betsy asked, stopping in the doorway to Ryan’s adjoining office.

  He looked up and she saw the lines of fatigue around his eyes. Putting down his mouse, he sat back in the leather-and-cowhide desk chair. “We’ve both put in a lot of hours this week. I’d like to take you out for dinner as a token of my appreciation.”

  A token of his appreciation. The sentiment was sweet, but it hit Betsy wrong. Like he felt forced to take her out.

  “Thanks for the kind offer,” she said in as pleasant of a tone as she could muster through gritted teeth, “but I already have plans for dinner.”

  “Oh, are you and Adrianna getting together?”

  Now he was really starting to get on her nerves. Granted, some of her less-than-good mood was probably because she was tired, but did he really think she didn’t have any other options than dinner with a girlfriend?

  “Actually, no. Tripp is taking me out to dinner.”

  Ryan pushed back his chair and stood. His brows pulled together. “Tripp Randall asked you out?”

  Anger shot up Ryan’s spine. After that night at Wally’s Place, he’d told Tripp he was interested in Betsy and to back off. Of course, come to think of it, Tripp hadn’t agreed. His friend had just laughed and asked if Betsy was Ryan’s flavor of the day.

  When he’d asked Tripp what he meant by that crack, Tripp had said they both knew his infatuation with Betsy wouldn’t last. After all, barely two weeks ago he’d told Tripp he was sure Adrianna was “the one.”

  It pissed Ryan off to know that Tripp was right about him, or rather former Ryan. Even though he knew his friend hadn’t meant to hit a nerve, he had. For a few seconds all Ryan could think was he sounded a whole lot like his uncle Jed.

  Uncle Jed had three ex-wives and a girlfriend young enough to be his daughter. That wasn’t the kind of life Ryan wanted for himself.

  Regardless of what Tripp implied, Betsy was different from the others, and he could see them having a future.

  But you thought Adrianna was different, too, a little voice whispered in his head. He immediately silenced it and focused on the conversation at hand.

  “Is there
anything else?” Betsy asked.

  She hadn’t really answered his question, but from the look on her face, it wouldn’t be safe to ask again. But he’d be damned if he’d let Tripp monopolize her weekend.

  “Joel called and asked if we wanted to come out for some fun in the snow at their place tomorrow.”

  “You mean he called and invited you.”

  “Yes, but he specifically mentioned wanting you to come.” Ryan had planned on talking to her about those plans over dinner tonight. But that wasn’t happening.

  Because she was having dinner with Tripp.

  Ryan took a deep breath and forced a smile. “It should be fun. Afterward I thought we might decorate your tree, if you haven’t already decorated it, that is.”

  “When would I have time to trim the tree?” Her expression softened. “My boss is a real slave driver and I spend all my time at work.”

  Hope rose in his chest. “So you’ll do it?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Sounds like fun.”

  “I can pick you—”

  “Call me tomorrow,” she said before he could finish. “I’ve got to run.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “Not too early,” she said as she headed toward the front door. “I may be out late.”

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time Ryan called her the next morning at ten and told her they were expected for lunch at noon, Betsy had to scramble to get ready.

  She’d had fun with Tripp. He’d taken her to the Spring Gulch Country Club for a night of dinner and dancing. When he’d told her to dress up, she thought he’d been kidding. But just in case, she’d pulled on a little black dress she’d bought last year on clearance.

  When he’d shown up wearing a suit and tie, she was glad she’d taken the time. Yet she worried about the cost of the meal and the price of the bottle of wine he’d ordered after he’d announced he was the new hospital administrator at Jackson Hole Memorial. Apparently Mr. Stromburg was retiring and they’d picked Tripp to fill his shoes. He’d come to Jackson Hole to meet with the hospital board before they confirmed the offer.

  She’d told him that while it was good that he had gotten a job, there could still be cash-flow problems while waiting for that first check. He’d simply smiled.

  They’d laughed and talked and danced. But when he put his arms around her while they were dancing, she couldn’t help but wish it were Ryan holding her tight.

  The doorbell rang as Betsy was tying her snow boots. If she and Ryan were going to play in the snow, she was prepared. Flannel-lined pants, ski sweater with silk underwear, Eskimo parka and pink plaid aviator hat.

  She’d told Tripp last night about her plans. When she’d mentioned she was planning on wearing her aviator cap with the fur inside, he’d laughed. He’d told her if he could wrangle an invitation he’d go simply to see her in that hat.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Coming,” she called out.

  Puffy ran ahead barking her own greeting.

  Betsy hurried to the door and flung it open. Her heart flip-flopped when she saw Ryan. “Good morning.”

  His navy ski coat made his eyes look more blue than gray and the smile on his face was enough to melt her heart. He held out an insulated paper cup to her.

  “What’s this?” She took the cup from his hands and waved him inside.

  “Cappuccino. I know it’s your favorite, and I thought it’d get your Saturday morning off to a good start.”

  Betsy tilted her head when she saw his hands were now empty. “You didn’t get one for yourself?”

  “I had some coffee on the way over.”

  Betsy took a sip. “It’s delicious.”

  “That good, eh?”

  “Here.” She held out the cup to him. “Try it.”

  He glanced down where her lips had once been and she immediately regretted her impulsive gesture.

  “I’m so sorry. Take off the lid—”

  His lips closed on the same spot where hers had been only moments before. “It is good.” His gaze never left hers. “And I don’t mind drinking after you. After all, we’ve kissed. How is this so different?”

  “We kissed a long time ago.” Betsy stopped herself from admitting that she knew exactly how many days it had been since he’d last kissed her. “It scarcely counts.”

  “I can remedy that.”

  Before she knew what was happening, he’d placed the cup on the side table near the front door and tugged her to him. Betsy told herself not to fall under his spell, but an invisible web had already begun to weave around her, pulling her in.

  He tilted her chin up with a curved finger before his mouth closed over hers. His kiss was sweet and slow, exquisitely gentle and achingly tender.

  The momentary thought that she should pull away vanished as she gave in to the moment, to the delicious sensations streaming through her body.

  His tongue swept across her lips, and she opened her mouth to him. A smoldering heat flared through her, a sensation she didn’t bother to fight.

  “Oh, Bets.” His voice was a husky caress.

  His hand slid under her sweater, beneath the silky undergarment. Red flags popped up in her head. She ignored them.

  His long fingers lifted and supported her yielding flesh as his thumbs brushed across the tight points of her nipples. All the while he continued to kiss her.

  Then a knock sounded at her door.

  She stiffened.

  “Ignore it,” he murmured.

  When three more quick knocks sounded at the door, Betsy knew the unexpected visitor wasn’t going away. “It’s Mr. Marstand from next door. That’s his signal. He knows I’m home.”

  With obvious reluctance, Ryan dropped his hands to his sides and took a step back.

  Betsy adjusted her sweater and hurried to open the door. Her elderly neighbor stood shivering in a light jacket.

  Stepping aside, Betsy motioned him in. “Mr. Marstand, you need a heavier coat.”

  The older gentleman wasn’t much taller than Betsy with a mop of unruly white hair and skin pulled taut over his bones. His mustache needed trimming. But his dark eyes were bright and missed nothing.

  “I’m only shivering because it took you so long to open the door.” Ralph Marstand’s eyes settled on Ryan.

  After pushing the front door shut, Betsy turned and hurried to the sofa. She grabbed a cotton throw and wrapped it around the man, then gestured to the sofa. “Take a seat,” she said. “I’ll brew you up a nice cup of tea.”

  Ryan was all for being hospitable, but they were expected at Cole and Meg’s for lunch. He tried to catch Betsy’s eye, but she was too focused on the old man.

  He dropped into a chair opposite the man and Puffy immediately jumped into his lap. Ryan thought about pushing the Pom off, but Mr. Marstand was staring.

  “How long have you known Betsy?” the old man asked.

  It had been years since Ryan had dated a girl, rather than a woman. But he remembered being back in high school and having to be interviewed by their father before his date could leave the house. “Pretty much all her life. I’m a friend of her brother, Keenan.”

  “The one who’s in prison?”

  “I’m sure Betsy’s told you that Keenan is innocent.” Without realizing what he was doing, Ryan stroked Puffy’s soft fur. To his surprise, instead of growling or baring her teeth, the puffball licked his hand.

  “You spent the night.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” The older man’s eyes were filled with disapproval.

  “I just got here.” Ryan paused. Had Betsy had an overnight guest? Could Tripp have... Nah, Betsy was too smart to succumb to Tripp’s charm. But then she had sounded sleepy when he’d called, as though he’d awakened her. The question was, who else had he awakened?

  “Did you see a car parked over here last night?” Ryan fought to keep his tone casual and offhand.

  But before the old m
an could answer, Betsy swept into the room with a tray in her hand and three cups of steaming tea. She smiled at the two men and placed the tray on the coffee table. “I heard you chatting in the kitchen. What were you talking about?”

  “He wanted to know if the guy who picked you up last night—the tall blond one—spent the night.” Mr. Marstand picked up one of the mugs and took a sip.

  “What?” Betsy’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you!”

  Puffy hopped off his lap as if it were a sinking ship.

  “Nonono,” Ryan said. “You misunderstand. He was interrogating me—”

  “I asked you a few simple questions,” Mr. Marstand said with great indignation. “Since when is it a crime to be friendly?”

  “He was the one who asked if I’d spent the night.”

  “I don’t recall that part.” The old man tapped his head with a forefinger. “But then my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

  Betsy gave Marstand an understanding smile.

  Ryan wanted to slug him.

  “Did you ask Mr. Marstand if Tripp spent the night?” Betsy pinned him with her gaze.

  “I did not,” Ryan said.

  “You asked if there was a car parked here overnight,” Mr. Marstand said pointedly.

  Great. The old guy chose now to regain his memory.

  Betsy met Ryan’s gaze. “Is that true?”

  A trickle of sweat trailed down Ryan’s back. Asking that question hadn’t been one of his finer moments, but lying would only make it worse. “Marstand, er Mr. Marstand, implied I’d spent the night. I knew I hadn’t, so I asked him if there’d been a car parked here overnight.”

  Betsy shifted her gaze to the old man.

  The white-haired man shrugged. “Could have happened that way.”

  To Ryan’s surprise, Betsy laughed. “What am I going to do with you two?”

  “Tell us about your date last night,” the old man said.

  Ryan sloshed a bit of tea onto his hand. Just when he was starting to think the geezer wasn’t so bad, he went and did this. But then Ryan realized perhaps the man had done him a favor. After all, it would have been tacky for him to pump Betsy about details of her date with Tripp. This way he wouldn’t have to; the old guy would do it for him.