by Donna Alward
“What did you tell her?”
Meghan shrugged. “That I’d think about it.”
“If this is any indication of your other recipes I’d say you’d be a big hit.” He helped himself to another heaping forkful of enchilada.
She couldn’t hold back a grin. She did have a lot of fun creating unique food combinations. She couldn’t imagine it’d be too hard to come up with enough recipes to fill a book. In fact it might be fun, now that Harold wasn’t around discouraging her.
“You know, I received an email from the editor not too long ago.”
“Why don’t you talk to her and see what she has to offer?”
Cash was so different from Harold. Where Cash encouraged her to follow her dreams, Harold had insisted writing a cookbook would be a waste of time. She’d been so intent on pleasing him—on earning his love—that she’d gone along with his decision. She’d been willing to sacrifice her dreams to fulfill her mother’s wish for her to become the perfect wife. The memory sickened her.
“I’ll get back to her,” Meghan said with conviction.
For a while they ate quietly. Meghan tried to focus her thoughts on anything but the sexy cowboy sitting across the table from her. Giving in to this crush would not be good. Soon she would be leaving the Tumbling Weed, and she needed to keep her focus on her baby and her options for the future.
“So what happened?” Cash asked, drawing her back to the here and now. “What made you run away from your own wedding?”
Wow! That had come out of nowhere. Her fork clanked onto her plate. She sat back and met his intense gaze. She’d suspected he’d ask sooner or later, but this evening she’d wanted it to be all about the food—the one thing she could do well. Not about her failings as a woman.
“We...we wanted different things.”
His gaze continued to probe her. “You guys didn’t talk about the future and what each of you wanted?”
She stared down at her still full plate. “We did. But things changed.”
“And Harold wasn’t up to handling change?”
What was up with all of these questions? Why the sudden curiosity? She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. The determined look in his eyes said he wasn’t going to let the subject rest until she’d answered him—but it didn’t have to be the whole truth.
“A couple of weeks before the wedding I told him about some changes to our future and...and he seemed to accept it. It wasn’t until the day of the wedding that he called everything off.”
“I don’t understand. If he called off the wedding why were you both at the church? Why did you walk down the aisle?” Before she could say a word, Cash’s eyes widened. “Wait. You mean he waited to dump you until you were standing at the altar in front of your family and friends?”
She nodded, unable to find the courage to add that Harold had not only rejected her, but their unborn baby too. The memory of the whole awful event made her stomach churn.
“The jerk! How could he do that to you? You must have been horrified. No wonder you ran. You must hate him.”
“No,” she said adamantly. When Cash sent her a startled look, she added, “I can’t hate him. It...it wasn’t all his fault.”
She’d been the one to forget her birth control pills. She’d strayed from their perfectly planned-out life. Maybe the problem was that they’d planned everything out too well—leaving no room for the unexpected.
“How can you stand up for him after what he did to you?”
She couldn’t spout hateful things about the father of her baby—no matter how hard it was to smother the urge. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“You mean you’re still hung up on this guy?”
She didn’t answer as she picked up her dinner plate and headed to the kitchen. Maybe she should have told Cash about the baby. Guilt gnawed at her over this lie of omission. But she couldn’t see how revealing her pregnancy would change things for the better.
The last thing she wanted was for Cash to look at her as if she was an utter fool. She valued his opinion and needed him to respect her. If only she could keep her secret for a little longer he’d never have to know.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MEG’S STOMACH FLUTTERED with nerves. What had gotten into her yesterday when she’d promised Cash that she’d contact the book editor?
What if the woman had already found someone else? Or, worse, what if the editor had completely forgotten about the offer and her? This wasn’t a good idea.
But she had promised, and she always tried to do her best to keep her word. So she sat down at Cash’s computer and started it up.
Without her cell phone she felt totally disconnected from the world—cocooned in the safety of the sprawling Tumbling Weed Ranch. The thought of having to face the reality of her life and the aftermath of the wedding disaster made her heart palpitate and her palms grow moist.
Staring at the blank screen, she realized she was being melodramatic. It wasn’t as if anyone was going to know she was online and confront her.
Slowly her fingertips poked at the keyboard. As was her ritual, she visited the discussion thread on the Jiffy Cook’s television show website.
Any other day she’d log on to find out how people had responded to her previous broadcast. Today was different. Today her morbid curiosity demanded to know how her fans were reacting to her wedding debacle.
What would happen to her television career if her followers bailed on her? The thought of being jobless and pregnant had her worrying her lower lip. That wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t. Her show was doing well.
Meghan scrolled down to find over nine hundred comments. Wow! That was a record. Apparently people had a lot of emotions concerning her runaway bride act. Now the question remained: did the majority side with her or the groom?
She clicked on the comments and waited for them to load on the screen.
Jiffy Cook Discussion—Comment #1
Hey, Jiffy Girl, hang in there. You did what you had to do. Now stick to your guns. We’re behind you. SexyLegs911
The message brought a smile to her lips. SexyLegs911 had been Ella’s screen name for years. It was a private joke since her sister had inherited their mother’s short legs. And with Ella being a baker she wasn’t skinny. A point their mother stressed regularly. But that didn’t keep the young guys from turning their heads when Ella strolled by. It just went to show that some men liked curves on their women—no matter what their mother said.
Meghan continued skimming over the comments until she spotted a heart-stopping link: Fickle Cook Bails on Groom for Hotter Dish.
The backs of her eyes stung. Part of her just wanted to shut down the computer and run away, but a more powerful urge had her clicking on the link. In seconds, a picture popped up on the screen. It was from a distance, but it showed her as she’d run out the church doors.
Meghan’s face flamed with heat and she blinked repeatedly as she read the malicious article. They accused her of running out on Harold for a hottie from her stage crew.
It was libelous! Outlandish! Horrible!
But it also had thousands of hits. Her shoulders slumped. By now even her own mother must think she was a two-timer with no conscience.
An internet search of her name brought up another trashy article. It included a picture of someone claiming to be her, and with the picture being slightly out of focus observers just might believe it really was. Her look-alike was on some beach, making out with a tanned, muscular guy that she’d never laid eyes on before in her life. And this headline was even more outrageous: Jiffy Cook Dishes up New Dessert on Solo Honeymoon.
What in the world was her family thinking after reading that scandalous trash? Her once stellar reputation was beyond tarnished—singed beyond repair. What was she to do now?
&n
bsp; * * *
Cash was in the middle of exercising Emperor when he spotted Meg walking down the lane. He was about to turn away, but there was a rigidness in her posture—an unnatural intensity in her movements—that didn’t sit right with him.
Something was wrong—way wrong.
“Hey, Hal!” he called out to his ranch foreman. “Can you finish up with Emperor? I need to take care of something.”
Hal cast a glance in Meg’s direction. “And if you don’t hurry, at the pace she’s moving, you’ll need the pickup to catch up to her.”
Cash didn’t waste time responding. He swung out of the saddle and ran, vaulting over the fence. All the while he searched his memory to recall if he’d done something wrong. He couldn’t think of anything. In fact she’d seemed to be in a good mood at lunch, having created a delicious frittata recipe.
“Racing off to any place in particular?” he asked, taking long strides to keep pace with her short, quick steps.
“Like you’d care,” she said in a shaky voice.
Cash grabbed her arm, bringing her to a stop. “Whoa, now. What has you so riled up? And, by the way, I do care. Now, out with it.”
She glanced up at him with red-rimmed eyes. The pitiful look tugged at him, filling him with a strong urge to pull her to his chest and hold her. But her crossed arms and jutted-out chin told him the effort would be wasted.
“I’m waiting,” he said. “And we aren’t moving until I know what’s going on.”
A moment of strained silence passed. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“I doubt that.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t strike me as the type to get this upset over something trivial.”
Surprise closely followed by relief was reflected in her bloodshot eyes. “I went online to contact the book editor and...”
“She turned you down that fast?”
Meg shook her head. “There were these articles online...about me. They were...awful. Full of lies.”
Her shoulders drooped as she swiped at her eyes. He inwardly groaned at his own stupidity. If he hadn’t urged her to contact the editor she wouldn’t have run across the bad press.
He had to make this better for her. Throwing caution to the wind, he reached out and wrapped his hands around her waist. Surprisingly, she came to him without a fight. Her cheek pressed to his chest.
His heart hammered as he ran a hand over her silky hair. She felt so right there. So good.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
She yanked out of his hold. “Why should you be sorry? You didn’t write those malicious lies.”
He lifted his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “No, but I’ve been on the receiving end of the tabloid press. I know how bad it can hurt.”
She eyed him. “Is that why you hide away here—all alone?”
“I’m not hiding.” Or was he? It didn’t matter. This wasn’t about him. “Don’t try and turn the tables on me.”
“Just seems, with you being a good-looking guy and all, you wouldn’t have a hard time finding someone to settle down with.”
His heart thumped into his ribs. She thought he was good-looking?
Now wasn’t the time to explore what that might mean. Right now she was upset and trying her hardest to change the subject. But he couldn’t let the press stop her from having the brilliant future she so deserved.
“Meg, this isn’t about me and my decisions. You have to ignore the lies. Because the more you say about the matter, the more headlines you’ll make for them. And you don’t want them to make a bigger deal of this, do you?”
A fire lit in her eyes. “Of course not.”
“Good. Anyone who knows you will know it’s nothing but a pack of lies. Give it a little time and they’ll move on to the next story.”
The stress lines eased on her face, which in turn eased the tightness in his chest. He wanted to go online and call those people out on their lies—he wanted to tell the whole world that Meg was the kindest person he’d ever met. She’d no more intentionally hurt someone than he would return to the grueling life of the rodeo circuit.
He fought back the urge. He couldn’t make this any worse for her. All he could do was be there for her when she needed a friend.
Not liking the thought of her returning to a career where the press took potshots at her, he asked, “Did you contact the book editor?”
Meg shook her head, letting the sunshine glisten off the golden highlights in her red hair. “I was going to, but then I saw those awful articles—”
“Don’t dwell on them. They aren’t worth it. Pretend they don’t exist and go ahead with your plan to email the editor.”
“But if my reputation is already smeared in the press, what’s the point?”
He hated that some lowlife had made Meg doubt herself. “Trust me, those articles aren’t such a big deal.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Really? Or are you trying to make me feel better?”
“I’m serious.” And he was. He doubted anyone would give those headlines any credence. “Now, promise me you’ll contact the editor.”
A wave of expressions washed across her pale face. Seconds later her shoulders drew back, her chin tilted up and her gaze met his. “I’ll do it.”
* * *
Late the next afternoon, Cash stared down at the large check made out to the Tumbling Weed and couldn’t help but smile. Emperor’s new owner had just picked up the black stallion. The sale couldn’t have come at a better time. The ranch could certainly use a few more profitable sales like this one.
He couldn’t wait to share the good news with Meg. His strides were long and fast as he made his way to the house. Inside, he found some pans on the stove, but no sign of his beautiful cook.
“Hey, Meg?” Nearly bursting with pride over his biggest sale to date, he searched downstairs for her.
“I’m in the family room.”
In his stockinged feet, he moved quietly over the hardwood floors. Meg turned as he entered the room. Her smile was bright like the summer sun. It filled him with a warmth that started on the inside and worked its way out. He tamped down the unfamiliar response. He couldn’t let himself get carried away.
“You never told me you were a world champion steer wrestler.” A note of awe carried in her voice as she held up a trophy. “I’m not sure this room is big enough to display all of your accomplishments. Shame on you for hiding all of these awards in a box in the corner.”
His chest puffed up a little. “You really like them?”
“I think they’re amazing—you’re amazing. And very brave.”
Brave? No one had ever used that word to describe him. He could tell her some horror stories from his days on the rodeo circuit, but he didn’t want to ruin this moment. He felt a connection to her—something so strong he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced it before.
“I was lucky,” he said. “I retired before anything too serious happened to me.”
“I’m glad.” She picked up another trophy. “Any particular place you want these?”
“Wherever you think is best works for me.”
She immediately turned and began positioning the two awards on the mantel. “What did you come rushing in here to tell me?”
Oh, that’s right. He’d gotten so caught up in Meg and her compliments that he’d forgotten his big news. “The buyer just picked up Emperor. I’ve made my first big sale. And the man promised to be back for more.”
“That’s wonderful! Congratulations. I’ve got some good news too.”
“Are you going to make me guess?”
She grinned like a little kid with a big secret. “I followed your advice and found the email from that book editor. I reread it. She sounded very excited ab
out the project. I can only hope she’s still interested. I emailed her and now I’m waiting to hear back.”
Cash basked in Meg’s happy glow. He’d never seen anyone look so excited and hopeful. With all of his being he willed this to work out for her.
“The editor’s going to jump on this opportunity.”
“We need to celebrate,” she said. “And I just happen to have your favorite meal started in the kitchen. I’d better go check on it.”
She remembered his favorite meal? He paused and looked at her. He couldn’t deny it. He was impressed. She was a diligent worker—in fact his house had never been so clean, with a fresh lemony scent lingering in the air—she’d befriended his grandmother in record time, and she was thoughtful.
He liked this—he liked her. There was so much more to Meg than he’d originally thought possible for a television celebrity. She wasn’t at all concerned about herself, but she cared for others.
He trailed behind her into the kitchen. His gaze latched onto her finely rounded backside as she sashayed across the room. His blood warmed at the sight, bringing his body to full attention.
His gaze slid down over her shorts to her bare legs. He stifled a murmur of approval. Still, he couldn’t stop his mind from imagining what it would be like to run his hands over her creamy smooth skin.
She turned to him and heat flamed from beneath his shirt collar, singeing his face. His mouth grew dry and he struggled to swallow.
He should turn away, but he couldn’t. He liked staring at her too much. Every day he swore she grew more beautiful. She was like a blooming flower. Even the dark circles under her eyes had faded since she’d been here. He’d also taken note of her increased appetite. For the second time the blue skies and fresh air of the Tumbling Weed had worked its magic and healed a broken person—he’d been the first, when he’d returned here a few months back.
Meg rushed around the kitchen. “Do you see the hot mitts?”
He spotted them on the counter and moved into action. “Let me get the food from the oven.”