Four-Karat Fiancee

by Sharon Swan

  Then again, how do you feel about her, Devlin?

  Another hell of a question, he had to admit. He still had trouble keeping his hands off her, that was for sure, and he had more than a hunch that wouldn’t change anytime soon. When it came to other things, though, he was a lot less certain of the answer. The truth was, like many males of his acquaintance, he’d never been at his best when it came to figuring out relationships with the female half of the population. For all that he’d been a husband for weeks now, he was still groping his way.

  But he was hopeful he’d get better at it. He had to be optimistic, he told himself. Could be that before too long he and Amanda would start discussing the future, and, who knew, she just might give him the chance to be a real parent to her sisters and brothers. Could be, in fact, that they’d all wind up living happily ever after.

  Dev had to grin as that last thought hit. “Talk about optimism,” he murmured under his breath. “If you’re not careful, Devlin, you’ll wind up with stars in your eyes.”

  Then again, what could it hurt to look on the bright side? he asked himself with a light shrug. The rain seemed to be over for a while. The kids were back to normal. And best of all, he reflected as his grin widened, he was already having a good time spending a few hours alone with the two Bradley boys. Their big sister had clearly been startled when he’d asked them over breakfast if they wanted to join him for some baseball practice at the park, but the boys had wasted no time in accepting the invitation, so she’d only nodded her agreement.

  A little male bonding, he thought, was a start.

  “Did something used to be there?” Caleb asked from his seat beside Dev. He pointed to a large slab of bare concrete near the pond.

  “Uh-huh. That was where the pavilion stood.”

  “The what?”

  “The pavilion,” Dev repeated. “It’s a kind of building that has no walls, just a big roof. It fell down a while ago.”

  Not accidentally, either, he added to himself, recalling the sheriff’s announcement that had created a buzz all over town. In the aftermath of those findings, had Luke McNeil come to the same conclusion he himself had about the fire that had started in the wreckage after the collapse? Dev wondered. Probably. It was pretty plain in hindsight that whoever had sabotaged the pavilion had resorted to arson to try to hide the evidence. Luckily Jester’s volunteer Fire and Rescue squad, of which Dev was a member, had quickly put out the blaze without much harm done. Now, with the wreckage hauled away, the building that had been a big part of the town’s Founders’ Day celebration every March was history—and the guilty party was still on the loose.

  “Break time’s about over,” Dev told his companions, reaching up to tap down his Stetson. “Ready to take a few more swings?”

  “Sure.” Caleb finished the last of his candy bar and hopped to his feet. He picked up the small bat Dev had bought at the Mercantile that morning along with three chocolate bars to tide them over until lunch and new hats for the boys.

  “All right, I’ll pitch,” Dev said, rising. He tossed the ball he’d been holding in the air and caught it with a snap of his wrist. “You take the outfield, Patrick.”

  “Okay.” Patrick tugged down the brim of the straw cowboy hat that had struck his fancy. Unlike his older brother, the four-year-old had turned down the chance to pick out a baseball cap. His miniature ranch hadn’t only become his favorite toy, it seemed he favored all things Western. It probably wouldn’t be long before the kid would want some boots, too.

  And Dev promised himself he’d see Patrick got them, even if Amanda rolled her eyes at his buying more stuff. He liked giving things to all the kids.

  They jogged back to the small practice diamond at one side of the larger ball field. Caleb took his place at home plate. They had this part of the park to themselves at the moment. A few birds chattered in nearby trees and some soft voices could be heard coming from a children’s play area closer to where the park ended at Lottery Lane, but for the most part it was quiet.

  “Ready?” Dev asked Caleb.

  “Yep.”

  Dev launched the ball in an underhand toss, making sure he didn’t get too much speed on it. Caleb swung and the bat connected with a soft crack.

  “Holy cow!” Caleb said as Dev whipped around to see the ball fly farther than anything else the boy had hit so far. “I’m gettin’ good.”

  Dev watched Patrick take off after it. He judged that with the way the ball had landed and started to roll at a fast clip it would be a while before the kid returned. “Why don’t you give your brother a hand tracking it down,” he told Caleb. “You guys can play catch on the way back.”

  Caleb didn’t hesitate to follow up on that suggestion, using his running shoes to maximum advantage.

  Another grin curved Dev’s mouth. They were getting some exercise for sure, he thought. Even with his limited childcare experience, he knew that had to be good. Maybe that was why he felt so good himself, just watching them.

  “See you’re out getting some fresh air,” a deep voice said in a hearty tone.

  Dev didn’t even have to look to know who that robust voice belonged to. Jester’s duly elected mayor usually spoke as if he were making a speech at Town Hall.

  “Morning, Bobby,” Dev said mildly. He switched his gaze to the big, brown-haired man just in time to catch the fleeting frown that greeting produced. Ever since the lottery win had brought a load of publicity down on the town’s head, Bobby Larson had taken to calling himself “Robert.” But Dev wasn’t about to chime in. In fact, he’d only go so far as to allow that big was the word to describe most everything about the mayor.

  Bobby, a good-old-boy type in his late forties, favored sport coats with checks so big he looked like a walking checkerboard half the time. He drove a big gold Cadillac that had once been top-of-the-line but had long since faded to a shadow of its former glory. And he had big schemes for how to put Jester on the map in a major way.

  Predictably, in the manner of a born politician, Bobby hid his irritation and smiled a wide smile, teeth gleaming like the silver streaks at his temples. “Haven’t heard much from you about my plans to really make something of this place.” He took in the area where they stood with a sweeping gesture.

  Dev glanced around the park. Maybe because of the Bradley boys he could see enjoying a game of catch in the distance, his thoughts went back to his own days as a child. Even when things had been a lot less than happy at home, he recalled how he’d been able to enjoy himself here. More than just a place to play, it had been a haven, he recognized for the first time.

  “Once we get a high-class hotel built on this land,” Bobby said, “the tourists will start flocking in. The economy’s going to shoot right through the roof.”

  “And what about the kids?” Dev asked quietly.

  Bobby looked at him. “The kids?”

  “Where will they play if the park is gone?”

  The mayor shrugged a broad shoulder. “They’ll find somewhere else, most likely. I’m sure you wouldn’t be in favor of stopping progress. You’re a businessman, after all.”

  Dev could hardly argue that last point. He was a businessman, all right. He was also someone who’d been bound and determined to steer clear of local politics, he reminded himself. That’s why he’d avoided taking sides when it came to furthering or opposing Bobby Larson’s schemes. Instead, he’d vowed to concentrate on the Heartbreaker and maintain a neutral stance.

  But now, Dev knew, he was going to break that vow.

  “Progress isn’t everything,” he said firmly. “Folks in town need this park, and that makes it more important.”

  For a moment Bobby looked startled. His smile faltered before he pasted it back on his face. “Come on, you don’t really mean that.”

  “The hell I don’t,” was Dev’s blunt reply.

  Bobby’s smile deserted him in a flash. “In that case, I’ll leave you to your fresh air and be on my way. I’ve got business to attend to.” Wh
ipping around, he headed back past the basketball courts bordering the baseball field. “Might’ve known I couldn’t expect much,” he muttered just loud enough to be heard, “not from one of the no-account Devlins.”

  Dev fisted his hands at his sides and counted to ten. It was either that or stalk after Jester’s mayor and kick him flat in his beefy butt. The no-account Devlins. It had been a long time since he’d actually heard those once-familiar words spoken by one of Jester’s citizens, so long that he’d almost believed he might never hear them again.

  Fat chance.

  “It’s my turn to be batter,” Patrick said as the boys came running up.

  “That’s right.” Dev’s good mood had gone downhill in a hurry, but he told himself he wouldn’t let that spoil the kids’ fun. For the next hour he kept a smile on his face. Even though to another adult it might have looked as forced around the edges as Bobby’s last effort, the boys didn’t seem to notice.

  When the sun peeking through the scattered clouds was near its high point in the sky, they left the park and headed for the Brimming Cup. Rather than fixing a midday meal as usual when Amanda was working, Mabel had agreed to take the Bradley girls for a visit to the bookstore, after which everyone would meet at the diner for lunch.

  Dev and the boys passed the Medical Center and Jester Public Library as they made their way down Lottery Lane. Olivia Mason, a slender woman in her early forties, waved a greeting from across the street before continuing on her way.

  “She’s a teacher at my school,” Caleb told his brother.

  “Next year I get to go,” Patrick announced with a proud set of his narrow shoulders.

  Caleb looked at Dev. “Did you go to my school, too?”

  “Uh-huh.” And I was a trial to more than one of my teachers, Dev acknowledged to himself, although he didn’t pass that news along. “Might as well make a quick detour to the post office and see if we’ve got any mail,” he said instead.

  They waited for Jester’s only stoplight to turn green and crossed Main Street, then passed the grocery store and the hair salon. The post office was located in a small building next to the sheriff’s office, and it rivaled the local barbershop as the hub of town gossip. With that in mind, Dev wasn’t surprised to see Wyla Thorpe standing at the counter talking a mile a minute to Bernice Simms, the town’s veteran postmistress. The string-bean-thin redhead with a knack for making a pest of herself and the stout gray-haired woman responsible for the local mails were a stark contrast, even down to their speech patterns. One whined, the other bubbled.

  Dev ignored the whining Wyla and concentrated on Bernice, who offered a lively greeting. It hardly amazed him when the boys followed his example, or when Wyla, clearly miffed at the inattention, sailed out with an irritated sniff.

  “I have something for you,” Bernice told Dev. She reached into one of the wooden slots behind her and pulled out a letter. “Not much today, but at least it doesn’t seem to be a bill,” she said, handing it over.

  Dev glanced down at the letter while Bernice chatted with the boys. It had a Nevada postmark and no return address, but he didn’t need one to more than suspect who’d sent it. His older brother’s scrawling handwriting hadn’t changed much, even after all the years Jed Jr. had been away who knew where.

  Dev tore the envelope open and pulled out a single sheet of white paper. He only had to read a few sentences to have his mood, already none too good after his encounter with the mayor, taking a sharp dive for the worse.

  “I hope it’s not bad news,” Bernice said after he’d finished the letter and replaced it in the envelope.

  “It could be better,” Dev allowed in the most offhand tone he could muster. “Let’s go, guys,” he added to the boys, shoving the envelope into a back pocket of his jeans.

  Jeez, he thought as they headed out and found a stray dark cloud passing overhead to cast gloom over the old Main Street storefronts. Jeez, Jed Jr., how could you screw up this badly?

  SOMETHING WAS WRONG. Amanda knew it after one look at the set-in-stone expression on her husband’s face as he walked into the Brimming Cup with Caleb and Patrick leading the way. She couldn’t deny that he’d caught her off guard when he’d offered to take the boys to the park that morning. Now, despite the fact that her brothers seemed far from upset themselves as they hurried forward after catching sight of her seated in one of the diner’s large fifties-style booths, she had to wonder whether she’d been wise to let them accept that invitation.

  “Hi!” The boys said in unison.

  Amanda slid off a length of light blue vinyl and stood up. On the other side of the booth, Mabel remained seated with Liza beside her. “You can sit here,” Amanda told the boys, indicating the space she’d left open.

  She took a small bat from Caleb and a ball from Patrick. “I’ll put these up in front until we leave.” As they scrambled in, she turned to Dev. “Did everything go all right at the park?” she asked, dropping her voice.

  He gazed down at her, his eyes shaded by the rim of his Stetson. “Everything went fine. I think they had a great time.”

  She glanced back at her brothers. They were chatting up a storm with Liza and Mabel while Betsy viewed the conversation from a high chair standing near the end of the booth. “You didn’t have to buy them new hats.”

  “I know. I wanted to.” His even tone revealed no more than his gaze.

  She cleared her throat. “Well, why don’t you scoot in next to the boys and I’ll sit by Mabel.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not real hungry at the moment and I should get over to the Heartbreaker. Roy’s about to open up.”

  She considered reminding him that they’d agreed to all have lunch together, then thought better of it. “Okay, I’ll explain to Mabel and the children that you had to leave.”

  “Thanks,” he said. And that was all he said before he turned and wasted little time in walking out.

  Amanda swallowed a sigh and explained Dev’s departure as best she could. Her sisters and brothers accepted it at face value. Mabel, on the other hand, looked curious, although she merely aimed a glance around the booth and asked, “Well, what are you children going to have?”

  Leaving them to discuss the merits of hamburgers versus macaroni and cheese, Amanda took the bat and ball to the front counter, where Shelly was ringing up a customer with a typically warm smile. Once the diner’s owner was free, Amanda stepped forward. “Can you put these behind the counter until we’re through with lunch?”

  “Sure.” Shelly took the bat and ball and placed them under the long, gray Formica counter. “Now I’ve got a question for you,” she said, looking straight at Amanda. “What’s the matter with Dev? He didn’t even say hello to me when he walked in—or goodbye when he left. That certainly isn’t like him.”

  And trust Shelly to notice, Amanda thought, studying her friend. As usual, she found it hard not to be candid with the woman who wore a yellow blouse under her apron today but would probably be switching to maternity tops in the near future. They’d simply known each other too well for too long.

  “I’m only sure that something is the matter,” she said, keeping her voice low.

  “Hmm.” Shelly arched a brown brow. “Marital problems?”

  Amanda gave her head a quick shake. “We’ve actually been getting along fine.”

  “Fine? Well, that’s a change. Still,” Shelly added after a moment, “maintaining a marriage in name only would probably be harder for a man than a woman. Sometimes those big, strapping males are more, ah, needy in certain areas than we are.”

  “That’s not the problem,” Amanda replied, getting her friend’s drift.

  “Sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Shelly’s hazel eyes took on a knowing glint. “I’d say there’s only one way you could be positive…and that would be if it’s no longer a marriage in name only.”

  Amanda blew out a breath, unable to refute that logic. “Okay, so it’s not.”

  Shell
y grinned, obviously as pleased as punch at the news. “I told you he was too darn good-looking to live with and resist for any length of time.”

  “Well, you were right,” Amanda admitted.

  “Since you’re being so generous in conceding my wisdom,” Shelly said, “I suppose I’ll have to forgive you for running off to get hitched at the courthouse, even though I would have loved to see you get married.”

  “It wasn’t,” Amanda told her, “that big of a deal.” Nothing like her friend’s wedding a few months ago, with many of the town’s residents in attendance.

  “Weddings,” Shelly firmly contended, “should be a big deal.”

  “Is anybody gonna pick up this meatloaf platter in the next year or two?” the diner’s cook called out at that point, his gruff voice coming from the pass-through to the kitchen. Dan Bertram, who’d been at the Brimming Cup long enough to become as much of a fixture as the row of chrome-legged stools favored by some of its regulars, knew his way around a sizzling grill, but patience wasn’t always his strong suit.

  “Keep your shirt on, Dan,” Shelly called back, “I’m coming.” Dropping her voice, she continued. “Dev may be out of sorts about something, Amanda, but that probably won’t last. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. In fact, everything may be back to normal by dinnertime.”

  UNFORTUNATELY Shelly’s prediction proved to be anything but accurate. Dinnertime had come and gone, Amanda thought later that evening as she dressed for bed, and things were still far from normal. Her husband had been quiet at dinner, leaving her and the children to keep the conversation going, and then he’d headed back to the Heartbreaker as soon as their meal was over. She had no idea how late it would be before he returned for the night, but she’d promised herself she would stay up for as long as it took in order to talk to him alone.

  Something was wrong, and she was determined to learn as much as she could, no matter what.

  Amanda tightened the belt on her long satin robe and decided to make herself comfortable in one of the twin bedroom chairs—the same chair Dev hadn’t let her sleep in the first night they’d shared this room. The first night they’d made love. The first night she’d fully discovered her own capacity for giving and receiving pleasure. Her pulse fluttered in her veins just thinking about it.