Orla smiled nervously. “You were my first kiss,” she divulged meekly. “I never expected it to be like that. I’d hoped for nice, but that was…. positively decadent.”
Jethro’s smile widened. He’d suspected she was untried, but hearing that he’d be her first everything was music to his ears. “Well, I don’t know what decadent means, darlin’, but if that pretty look in your eyes is anything to go by, I’ll do my best to keep all our kisses that way because I agree, that kiss was beyond anything my mind could have conjured up.”
Shifting beside him after a comfortably silent few moments, Orla chewed her lip worriedly. “Mr. McKinnon…”
Gently pulling the lip she held clamped between her teeth free before she could draw blood, he ran the pad of his thumb against the delicate skin. “Don’t do that, Tidbit. You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he scolded patiently. “And you call me Jethro when you wanna call me by name. Or Farmer Man. You seemed real fond of calling me that back at the diner,” he noted ruefully.
“Well, you were doin’ your impression of King of the Mountain, and I don’t like bein’ belittled or demeaned. If you didn’t like me, that’s fine, but you didn’t need to be so ugly,” she retorted petulantly.
More levelheaded now that he’d given into the pull he felt for this woman, Jethro offered her a slightly sheepish look. “I was caught off guard. I guess I don’t deal real well with surprises, and you were quite the surprise, Orla. None of that means that I don’t like you, though. I do. Like you, that is. More than is probably good for you. Now, please. Call me Jethro or Ro if you like. That’s what the hands at the farm call me out in the field and the barn. I’ll answer to just ‘bout anything but Mr. McKinnon. It’s way too formal for two people that know each other’s taste. Besides, only my banker and my preacher call me that anyway.”
“Alright. Jethro, then,” Orla conceded with an uncertain smile. Licking her lips, she murmured, “Jethro, you don’t know anything about me. I know I can’t expect you to honor somebody else’s marriage proposal – even if that person was your stepmother. Besides, I wasn’t entirely forthcoming in my letters to you… or to who I thought was you, either.”
Even though his belly filled with dread and his spine stiffened, Jethro wisely remained still as stone behind the wheel of his old truck. Maybe it won’t be too bad, he thought. She couldn’t already have been married before him. She was too young, her nubile body completely innocent of a man’s touch. Studying her, Jethro remained silent, simply inclining his head slightly in an invitation for her to continue.
“I didn’t deliberately lie in my letters; I just left out some important details about myself.”
“Is there another man out there that wants you… that’s lookin’ for you? That why you fled Atlanta? It don’t matter none if there was, Tidbit. I just wanna know if some asshole is gonna show up here tryin’ to call you his own,” he shared in a lethally low voice. Some bastard could try that shit, but he’d send him back on his way with his teeth in his hand, he thought angrily. She’d turned her back on Atlanta and come here to him, Jethro reminded himself. Obviously, if there was another swinging dick out there wantin’ her, she clearly hadn’t wanted him back if she was sittin here in this truck with him. She was his now, dammit. No other man would ever lay claim to what Jethro had already decided belonged only to him.
“What? Of course there isn’t,” she answered, cocking her head, perplexed. Looking up at him, she shook her head. “For heaven’s sake, I’ve never even been on a date, Jethro. I was always too busy with either schoolwork or working.”
Jethro’s tense shoulders relaxed at that information and he breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. “Good,” he declared shortly. “Then what’s your deep dark secret, honey? We’re losin’ light and the temperature’s dropping like a hammer out there,” he explained, pointing out the truck window. “It gets real cold, real fast in these parts, and until we get some much needed meat on those bones of yours, you could take sick easily.”
“I don’t know how to say this,” she almost whimpered, her eyes going shiny with tears. “Now that I actually sort of like you, I’m afraid you’ll hate me after I tell you what you have a God’s honest right to know.”
Frowning when he realized she was workin’ herself up into another state, Jethro prayed for patience. He wasn’t exactly a tolerant man by nature, but he was trying to make an effort for this girl. Especially since one little taste of those cherry lips of hers had set his blood on fire for her. “Orla, just say it. Straight out. Don’t think about it. Just blurt it out,” he ordered, purposefully injecting his tone with a sternness he usually reserved for his little brother.
Gulping, Orla inhaled a deep breath and burst out, “I’m sorry, Jethro. I can’t have children. I know you’re an important farmer in this area and having heirs is super important to farmers, but I can’t! If you go through with this marriage, you’ll not have any little ones with me. I’m barren!”
Stunned, Jethro’s surprised eyes blinked as his heart tripped in his chest. Shit! Of all the things she could have told him, he’d never expected this. It was hearing Orla’s harsh sobs above the buzzing in his own ears that spurred him into action. Gathering the sobbing woman against his chest, he held her securely, pressing his lips to the crown of her head as he made soothing sounds and let her cry herself through the worst of the emotional storm she was caught up in. “Shhhh, baby,” he crooned into her soft hair. “It’ll be okay. It’s all gonna be fine.”
And he wasn’t lying to her. Sure, he’d always assumed he’d have some kids of his own, but he suddenly realized that it wasn’t a deal breaker for him. The almost instant connection he’d felt after laying eyes on Orla -- this pull he felt toward her – it was undeniable and he just instinctively knew he’d fail if he tried to ignore it. Add to that the fact that she was exactly what she said she was – a good girl – and it went without saying that there would never be any way to keep things carefree and casual between them. She wasn’t like the women he’d been fucking since he was eighteen. Hell, even the widow he’d been seeing over in Knoxville for the last couple of years wasn’t interested in more than a few frantic hours of fun. Jethro’d thought that was all he’d ever need… until he laid eyes on this beautifully innocent spitfire. He wouldn’t go as far as to say he’d fallen in love with her. It was too soon, wasn’t it?
Of course, his daddy had always told him that when you knew…you just knew. And every nerve ending in his body was screaming at him that Orla was his to have and to hold. Hell, at thirty-one years old, it seemed that he’d definitely finally started to take that scary plunge toward handing his heart over to a woman for safekeeping.
And that woman was currently crying into his shirt as if her heart had been shattered into a million pieces.
“I’m so sorry, Jethro,” she whimpered tearfully. “I should have told you before you ever put me in your truck and carried me out to your home. Now, we’re here and you’re s-stuck with me ‘til morning,” she cried, her slim shoulders shaking with heartbreaking emotion.
Oh, hell no, he told himself. She was going to be with him a hell of a lot longer than mere morning. “Tidbit, calm yourself,” he murmured against her damp temple.
“I c-can’t,” she hiccupped. “Lord, I must sound like a sick bird,” she muttered, taking the white handkerchief he pressed into her hand and blowing her nose inelegantly. “Or, a big, fat liar that tried to trap you, but I swear, Jethro, I was tryin’ to find a good way to get the words out,” she apologized desperately, clutching his hankie with a death grip.
“I don’t think no such a thing, Orla,” Jethro returned tenderly, running his hand over her shiny copper colored hair as she leaned her cheek against his tear-soaked shirt. Brushing his nose against her sweet smelling strands of her hair, he inhaled deeply. “Tell me how you know this, darlin’. What makes you so sure that you can’t carry a babe?”
Wiping the back of her hand over her wet cheeks, she swallowed hard. �
��Since you didn’t read my letters,” she began hoarsely, “You don’t know this, but I’m an orphan. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was a little kid. My grandparents had already died and both my momma and daddy were only children. So, there was no one. I was alone,” she explained starkly.
“How old were you, Tidbit?”
“Twelve,” Orla replied faintly, rubbing her nose against his neck.
Closing his eyes, Jethro flinched. His own childhood had been filled with carefree days and happy nights. Sure, there’d been tough times, but his family had always had each other to lean on. Knowing that this tiny woman had been alone and without love for so long broke his heart. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
Orla’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It could have been worse. I stayed in a decent orphanage until I was eighteen. Nobody wanted me because for the longest time after the car accident, I required extra care. You see, I was in the backseat of the car. That’s why I can’t have any babies. There was too much trauma to my womanly parts. Anyway, by the time I was mostly healed, I was past the age that most parents adopt kids. I don’t blame ‘em. People want little kids. I was almost fourteen by the time the braces came off my legs.”
“Shit,” Jethro cursed, hating her story… despising the fact that she’d felt so unwanted.
“It’s really okay, Jethro,” Orla soothed, patting his chest with one hand as she snuggled into his side. “The Sisters of Mount Mercy were strict, but none of the nuns were unkind. Not like some of the places the other kids came from.”
Jethro still hated it. “Did you have friends at least?”
“Not many. Kids came and went from that place so quickly that it was more painful to make a friend than not. I learned the hard way after I said goodbye to three girls that I’d gotten close to that if you didn’t get too awfully attached, it wasn’t so hard saying goodbye when other kids left.”
Scrubbing a hand down his face, Jethro’s arm contracted around her involuntarily. “Christ, Tidbit. That doesn’t sound like a childhood; it sounds like a prison sentence.”
An empty laugh escaped Orla. “Either way, I served my time,” she declared in a hushed voice. “At any rate, I’m beyond mortified that I didn’t tell you about myself before you agreed to marry me back at the restaurant. It was sneaky and underhanded, and if you want me to leave this minute…”
“Orla?” Jethro interrupted easily.
“Yes?”
“Do me a favor and shut it, darlin’. You ain’t goin’ nowhere. Not tonight. Not ever,” he added meaningfully, wanting to take that pain he saw in her weary eyes away from her as quickly as humanly possible.
Holding her breath, Orla tilted her head back to look at him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, but I can’t believe I heard you right. Are you serious? You’ll let me stay? Even knowing I can’t give you children?”
Shrugging his broad shoulders, Jethro shook his head. “It won’t be the end of the world if we don’t produce a baby McKinnon, Tidbit. I’ve got a brother to carry on the family name if it comes down to it. A brother that you’ll be helping me to raise since Mother McKinnon won’t be with us for long. She’s sick, Orla. Real sick. Today was a good day for her, but the bad ones are happening more and more. Doctors say she’s got six months… maybe a year if we’re lucky and God’s smiling and she makes it to fifty-three. But there ain’t a cure. My baby brother – Hawk… he’s gonna need a gentle touch like the one you could give him. Besides, miracles happen every day. Maybe those docs were wrong about you.”
“Miracles are rare, Jethro.”
“Seriously, look how you fell into my life. That right there… that’s a bona fide miracle, Orla. And there’s more than one way a couple can have a child. Maybe we’ll go visit that orphanage home where you lived in a few years and bring home a nice older kid that needs a good family. We can do all kinds of things. This ain’t nothing for you to upset yourself over. I know it hurts, darlin’, but we can figure something out.”
Orla’s whole face brightened and her eyes filled again – this time, with happy tears. “I… I’m speechless.”
Jethro snorted. “I’ve only known you a coupla hours now and even I know that won’t last long,” he scoffed with a playful wink at her.
Smacking his arm, Orla giggled. “Not nice. I’m serious as a heart attack, Jethro. This was the last thing I expected to hear from you…. from any man, really.”
“I’m not just any man, Orla,” he informed her deeply, brushing a kiss against her warm forehead. “From here forward, I reckon I’m to be your man. Just like you’re my woman.”
“Like a team,” Orla declared with a nod.
“Just like a team,” Jethro confirmed, silently wondering how the hell he’d just gone from a loner to a committed relationship in less than a holy hour. “I ain’t sayin’ it’ll be smooth sailin’, but I think we’ve got the key ingredients here to make a go of this now that we have all of our baggage out on the table. You know I can be a stubborn asshole, and I know you’ve got a good heart. Not to mention this attraction we’ve got simmerin’ between us. I just need to know one thing, Tidbit. What exactly are you lookin’ to get out of this marriage? You said earlier that you thought I was mild-mannered and mealy mouthed based on the letters you got from Mother McKinnon….”
“That wasn’t exactly how I phrased it,” Orla grumbled, pursing her lips.
“Well, I know I said it already, but it bears repeating…. I ain’t either of those things, darlin’. I’m hot tempered, quick to anger, and can be a right son of a bitch if I’m in an ornery mood – which is about three quarters of the time I’m awake,” he told her honestly. “I’ll never touch you in anger, but – as you saw earlier – my mouth often runs away before checkin’ in with my brain. Think you can handle that?”
Orla nodded. “I think I can. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not really a shrinking violet either, Jethro.”
Jethro chuckled. “Nah, Tidbit, you ain’t and that couldn’t’ make me happier,” he agreed gratefully. “I just need you to have a real clear picture of who I am. If you’re lookin’ even a little bit for a man that you can change and mold into what you want him to be, I gotta tell you, I’m not him. I can’t go into this misleading you about that.”
“I understand, Jethro. But to answer your question about what I want from a marriage between us, it’s a truly simple answer. I want a place to belong and a family to belong to again. My parents had a happy marriage, and I remember having joy, laughter and love in our home. Every single day. I’m selfish; I want that for myself again.”
“Orla, baby, that’s not selfish. Not even close. It’s human. It’s what everybody wants,” Jethro returned gently.
“Even you?” she asked him suspiciously, her keen eyes narrowing as they met his. “You said you weren’t lookin’ for a wife… especially one that looked like me. Remember?” she questioned doubtfully.
“Told you, Tidbit. I’m a stubborn asshole that’s terrible with surprises. That was a knee jerk reaction made by a man who thought he was comin’ into town to run his momma on a quick unscheduled errand. I was pissed and runnin’ off at the mouth.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t interested in obtaining a bride today or, for that matter, any other day,” she pointed out skeptically. “If I’m going to put my heart on the line, Jethro, I need to know that the man I’m riskin’ it on wants to hold it in his hands without stomping all over it.”
Jethro sighed, knowing she had good, no, great reasons for doubting him. He’d been a real son of a bitch when he’d met her. He’d insulted and demeaned both her looks and her character. Mostly because he was trying so hard to ignore how much he wanted to possess her gorgeous body. Hell, she had everything that made a man want to beat his chest and snarl at anyone that got too close to her.
God, that face. Those tits. And he didn’t even want to think about when he’d first seen her round, fi
rm fuckin’ ass climbing up in his truck! He’d damn near cum in his pants like a randy boy when he’d boosted her into the pickup when they’d been leaving the diner.
None of that changed the fact that she had just cause for her doubts about him, though.
“Orla, I made mistakes back at Nellie’s diner. Can’t change that, sweetheart, no matter how much I wish I could now. All I can say is that after kissing you… feeling you in my arms… and talkin to you here, I know down to the soles of my boots, we were meant to meet. You were meant to be here,” he asserted earnestly, hoping she’d believe that much at least. He could see from her face that she wanted to trust him. He just hoped her brain would follow the pleas of her heart.
Otherwise, he’d be forced to hogtie her in the spare bedroom upstairs that was conveniently located across from his until she saw reason. And he had a feeling that the county sheriff wouldn’t take kindly to such a thing, no matter how much his intentions might be good.
“Even though I’m afraid to believe you, I want to. And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go. I gave up my waitressing job and the apartment I shared with another girl to come here,” she confided tiredly, hanging her head.
“That’s just another sign that fate knew what she was doing,” Jethro returned easily with a big smile as he reached into his pocket for his pack of smokes.
Orla lifted her head and rolled her eyes while she watched him light his cigarette. “It’s a sign that I’m a damned optimistic fool. That’s what it is.”
“Since that works out in my favor, I’m not complaining,” he returned as he cranked down his window an inch and took a drag off his cigarette, silently hoping that she didn’t notice the fine tremble to his hand. He couldn’t help it; he had a good reason to have a case of the nerves. He might be one of the most influential farmers inside the state of Tennessee, but his future was on the line here, and he was growing more convinced by the minute that this strong, unique woman was the key to his happiness. He hadn’t even realized something was missing in his life until he laid eyes on her.
Wed by Wednesday (Passion in Paradise #4.5) Page 6