Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel)

by Coulter, Brenda

  No sane person ever said no to the Graces' pie, anyway, and even Laney's coffee couldn't touch the robust stuff her great-aunts brewed.

  "Sorry the pie's not strawberry-rhubarb," Millie said. "We know that's your favorite."

  "I like this, too," Jeb said. "Thank you."

  Beaming at him, the Graces settled around the table and resumed the knitting session he had apparently interrupted. On the floor, a smoke-colored cat batted halfheartedly at a ball of yarn before yawning and slinking into a cardboard box that lay on its side next to the refrigerator.

  "Frankie Five loves his boxes." Millie's knitting needles clacked rhythmically as she bestowed an indulgent smile on the cat. "Maybe he'll let you hold him later," she added, as though that would constitute a rare treat.

  Jeb forked up several bites of pie before he found his nerve and announced, "I came here to ask you something."

  Three sets of knitting needles stopped moving. Three identical pairs of faded blue eyes blinked patiently behind wire-rimmed glasses. Even Frankie Five padded out of his box and meowed inquisitively. But Jeb's mind had suddenly gone blank.

  Caroline's crinkly mouth curved in undisguised amusement. "Finish your pie," she said. "A man can get himself into all kinds of trouble asking questions on an empty stomach."

  Jeb sighed and poked another bite of pie into his mouth. Laney's great-aunts went back to knitting noisily, the delicate clacking of their needles filling the brief, infrequent pauses in their chatter.

  "There now." Millie slipped something that looked like a small round potholder off of her needles. "That's another little hat done. Now I'll make the booties to match."

  "I already made two pairs out of that yellow yarn," Caroline said. "But we have two white hats and no booties to go with them, so you could make some white ones. Or start on another sweater. We only have four of those."

  Apparently, the Graces' latest charitable endeavor was outfitting a brigade of babies. Replete with cherry pie and feeling unaccountably mellow, Jeb reached for his coffee mug.

  "Here's a thought," Aggie said. "Let's make matching sweaters for Laney and the baby out of that rainbow yarn."

  About to take a drink, Jeb halted the coffee mug an inch from his mouth. Staring at Aggie, he waited for his brain to make sense out of her odd suggestion.

  "Oh, what a cute idea!" Millie said. "But let's make two or three different sizes for the baby, so Laney can enjoy playing look-alike for more than just a month or two."

  "Why would Laney play look-alike with somebody else's baby?" Jeb asked before setting the mug to his lips.

  "These things we're making," Millie said with a beatific smile, "are for Laney's baby."

  Jeb choked on his coffee.

  As he coughed and gasped, Aggie sprang out of her chair and thumped him repeatedly between the shoulder blades.

  "Laney's what?" he demanded as Aggie beat him like an old rug at spring cleaning time. "She's not even—" Cough, cough. "—married yet!"

  "She will be soon," Caroline said composedly as she continued knitting. "You okay there, Jeb?"

  "P-perfectly fine." He coughed again and then looked over his shoulder to raise a stern eyebrow at Aggie, who had stopped pounding his back to nudge her arms beneath his and dig her small fists into his solar plexus.

  "Sit down, Aggie," Caroline said. "He doesn't need a Heimlich hug. He just swallowed his coffee wrong."

  "Oh, shoot." Aggie withdrew her arms and subsided onto her chair. "I always wanted to try that."

  "So what's with the baby stuff?" Jeb addressed the question to Millie because when it came to giving a straight answer, she was far more reliable than devious Caroline and mischievous Aggie.

  "We're working ahead," Millie explained. "Because even if Laney were to get married in the next few months, it could still be a couple of years before she has a baby. And we're not getting any younger, you know. We might be gone to Glory by that time, or just not able to knit anymore. And we've been knitting for Laney since she was a baby. So do you think we'd risk failing to provide her first child with a box of cute little things made with a bit of yarn and a lot of love?"

  Caroline and Aggie nodded their matter-of-fact approval to that poignant little speech.

  "I guess that makes sense," Jeb said carefully.

  "It's just insurance," Aggie said. "Pure and simple. But don't you breathe a word about it to our girl. When we finish this layette, we'll pack it away until it's needed."

  Jeb wasn't sure what a "layette" was. But since he hoped to be the man who married Laney, it was entirely possible that the Graces were unwittingly knitting booties for a bouncing baby Bell.

  He was careful to conceal his amusement. The Graces might appear harmless as they sat there crafting garments for Laney's first child, but they were like Miss Marple in triplicate. Their agile brains continually made all sorts of scary connections, and they could wreck a man's self-confidence faster than they could roll out the crust for one of their mouthwatering pies.

  He folded his arms on the table and cleared his throat. "Speaking of starting families," he began with what he felt was remarkable aplomb, considering his history with these women, "I know you three are scheming to marry me off."

  Once again, their knitting needles stilled.

  "I'm not mad." Jeb regarded the bemused trio with a genial smile. "In fact, I agree that I'm ready for marriage."

  Millie gasped. Aggie's jaw dropped. And for the very first time in Jeb's memory, Caroline Grace Ryland looked flummoxed.

  "But you can just forget about whatever match you're planning for me." Jeb pulled in a deep breath, and then he laid his heart right there on the table. "Because I want Laney."

  "Laney!" the Three Graces cried in unison.

  He'd known this would shock them, but after all they'd done to him over the years, the Graces had at least one good shock coming. Ever since the day they'd made him kneel on their living room rug so they could zip him into that pink rabbit suit, Jeb had been dreaming of payback.

  "Yes," he said. "Laney." He narrowed his eyes to show he was no longer a man to be messed with. "Are you going to have a problem with that?" he challenged.

  Millie darted a nervous glance at Aggie. Aggie started to speak, but was silenced by a tiny shake of Caroline's head.

  "Not necessarily." Caroline had resumed her usual sphinx-like expression. "Go on, Jeb."

  His confidence was already beginning to ebb. He pushed his fingers through his hair and tried to think, but when Caroline dropped her chin and peered at him over her glasses, he was unnerved enough to blurt, "I know I don't deserve her."

  "No," Caroline agreed calmly. "You don't."

  "But nobody understands her like I do," he insisted, "and no man could ever love her more. I'll treat her right, Caroline. You know I will."

  Caroline's gaze dropped to the table, where she lightly scratched a fingernail against the red-checked cloth, tracing little shapes that might have been hearts.

  "So your mind's made up, then?" she asked in that casual tone that could scare the socks off a man.

  "You don't want anybody else?" That was Aggie.

  "You're absolutely positive?" Millie.

  "My mind's made up," Jeb confirmed. "I don't want anybody else. I am absolutely positive."

  A cold sweat erupted on the back of his neck as the Graces regarded him in silence, weighing his worthiness as a life mate for their girl. He pressed his lips firmly together; while their blessing would mean the world to him, he wasn't going to beg for it.

  On second thought, a little begging wouldn't kill him.

  "I know this isn't what you wanted for her," he said. "I know you were hoping I'd sell my house and get out of her life. But you know I'm a Christian now, and—"

  "About your house." Aggie halted him by raising a stubby index finger. "We never wanted you to sell it. We just planted the idea in your head because we knew you'd hate it, and then you might stop and think about why you haven't been coming home very oft
en."

  "Stop and think?" he echoed. If they only knew how desperately he'd wanted to come home. Staying away for as long as a year at a time had strained every atom of his self-control.

  "You don't belong in California," Millie said with uncharacteristic firmness. "You're a Minnesota man, and it's high time you realized that."

  "But I—" He broke off as something nudged his left ankle. Looking down, he met the enigmatic stare of Frankie Five. He was in no mood to discover whether this Frankie was as irascible as the previous model, so he slid his foot further under the table and refocused on the Graces.

  "I stayed away for Laney's sake," he said baldly. "Because I was no good for her. But things are different now, so if she can love me the way I . . ." He wondered at the sudden warmth in his cheeks. Was he blushing?

  Caroline put her knitting aside and folded her gnarled hands on the table. "When did you decide all of this?" she inquired with the equanimity of a courtroom judge.

  "I've loved her forever," Jeb admitted. "But I never allowed myself to dream about marriage. Not until now."

  "Well, then," Caroline said with that unnerving composure. "I gather you'd like us to talk to her."

  "No!"

  Caroline's lips twitched at his horrified reaction. "Then what do you—"

  "I don't know anything about being romantic," he blurted. "All I know is that flowers and chocolate are involved." Feeling a tug on his shoelace, he gave his foot a gentle shake to dislodge Frankie Five. "And French restaurants, and—"

  Aggie snickered.

  Jeb's cheeks grew even hotter. "Laney loves French food," he said defensively.

  "All right." Caroline aimed a quelling look at Aggie. "We'll advise you, Jeb."

  "Thank you," he breathed. With the Graces on his side, how could he lose? He leaned back in his chair, not even minding when Frankie Five mistook the move for an invitation and hopped onto his lap. "So what should I do?" he asked as he scratched behind the cat's ears.

  "Be patient," Caroline said. "She's had three romantic relationships, and she was even engaged to one of those men, if only for a day."

  Jeb's hand stilled on the back of Frankie Five's neck. "She was never seriously in love with those other guys," he protested.

  "We know that. But she tried to be, and that's significant."

  Frankie Five squirmed under Jeb's hand, demanding attention. Jeb complied, absently stroking the cat's smooth back while staring at a smudge of cherry pie filling on his plate and mentally digesting Caroline's words.

  Judging by those kisses, Laney was already more than half in love with him. But he didn't want her leaping into a romance with him only to regret it later.

  "I take your point," he said at last. As difficult as it had been to humble himself before the Graces, seeking their advice had been a good move. Lifting his gaze from his plate, he eyed the three wise women with deepening respect.

  "So what she needs is time," Millie said gently.

  "And space," Aggie put in. "You don't have to be with her every single minute."

  "And forget the kissing," Caroline said.

  "What?" Obviously, he'd been too hasty in ascribing wisdom to the Graces. "That makes no sense at all!"

  "Spoken like a man," Caroline observed dryly.

  "I am a man," Jeb shot back. "Why can't I kiss her?"

  "Time and space," Caroline reminded him. "Don't rush her. Don't crowd her. That's very important, Jeb."

  "All right," he said unhappily. He couldn't tell them that he had already kissed their girl pretty thoroughly, and that he had no idea how he was going to fend her off the next time she grabbed his ears and pulled his face down to hers. But he would do his best to follow their advice, especially as he still had a lot of things to work out before he could ask Laney to marry him.

  "Do this right," Aggie said, "and you'll find yourself wearing a wedding ring. Then you can kiss the daylights out of the girl whenever you feel like it."

  "For the rest of your lives," Millie added dreamily, both plump hands pressed over her heart.

  Figuring he'd better get out of there before they changed their minds about supporting him, Jeb carefully tipped Frankie off his lap.

  "All right," he said again. He pushed back from the table, his chair's legs screeching against the oak-plank floor. "Thanks for the pie. And the talk."

  The Graces stirred, but Jeb put out a hand, palm down, and signaled them to remain seated.

  "I can let myself out," he assured them. "I'll think about all of this and talk to you more later."

  He exited the kitchen and headed for the hall closet, where he retrieved his jacket. Sliding his arms into that garment, he marveled that his talk with the Graces had gone even better than he'd dared to hope.

  He was whistling as he went out their front door.

  Jeb was barely out of the kitchen before Caroline began to shake with silent laughter. If there was anything more adorable than a proud young man humbling himself for love's sake, she sure didn't know what it could be.

  "How the mighty art fallen," Aggie murmured, and then she giggled behind her hand.

  "Hallelujah!" Millie agreed in a noisy whisper, and then she giggled, too.

  "Shh!" Caroline stabbed a finger toward the hallway, where Jeb could be heard opening the closet to get his jacket. Aggie and Millie pressed their hands against their mouths and endeavored to contain their mirth.

  Caroline cocked her head, listening intently to make sure Jeb didn't hear the commotion and return to the kitchen to see if anything was wrong. She was relieved when he shut the closet door and continued down the hallway, treading on the squeaky board next to the staircase before his footsteps were abruptly silenced by the living room carpet.

  He started whistling. The cheery tune wasn't one that Caroline recognized, but Jeb had been making up his own songs for years. She would have liked to hear more of this one, but the front door banged shut.

  And Laney's thoroughly vetted, fully approved suitor was gone.

  Aggie and Millie gave themselves over to riotous laughter that nearly toppled them from their chairs.

  "D-did you see his face when Caro told him to f-forget the k-kissing?" Aggie was chuckling too hard to talk straight, let alone mimic Jeb's slack-jawed, disbelieving stare, but she did her best.

  "Yes!" Millie slumped forward, elbows on the table as she held her grinning face between her palms. "That was more fun than chasing a g-greased pig on the F-fourth of July!" she stammered between fits of giggles.

  "You two are acting like silly schoolgirls," Caroline admonished, even as the corners of her own mouth turned up.

  Oh, well. This kind of joy was what kept them all young.

  Still smiling, Caroline got up to make a fresh pot of coffee. When her sisters calmed down, they'd all join hands and express their gratitude to the Lord.

  And then they'd have some more coffee and get back to their knitting.

  Chapter Twenty

  The sun was shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky, but that wasn't what dazzled Jeb's eyes as he stood on the sidewalk in front of Willie's Diner at ten o'clock on Monday morning. No, the dazzler was Laney. Achingly beautiful in a demure black dress, her wool coat draped over one slender arm, she bent next to Francine's front door and peered into the outside mirror to apply some sweet pink lipstick.

  Jeb longed to kiss that lipstick right back off, but he was resolved to keep his mouth to himself, at least for the present. As much as he hated to admit it, the Graces had been right to caution him against overwhelming Laney with passion. She needed a slow, patient wooing, and Jeb was determined to give her that.

  She wasn't making it easy. Last night when she'd showed up at his place after the baby shower looking gratifyingly eager for more of his kisses, he'd had to distract her by asking some questions about the Bible. Then he'd reminded her of the late hour, and of the panel discussion on weddings she was to participate in this morning at some Minneapolis country club. Before she could argue, he'd hu
stled her out the door with a quick kiss on her forehead and a promise of breakfast at Willie's before she took off for her etiquette gig in the Cities.

  He hadn't dared to walk her home. He'd just stood on his back steps and watched until her kitchen lights came on.

  She must have wondered what was going through his mind, but she hadn't asked. That moment was surely coming, however, so Jeb's brain was scrambling to formulate a plan for handling it.

  Maybe he could think up some more questions about apostles and epistles to distract her with.

  She finished dragging the lipstick over her luscious mouth and met his eyes in the mirror. When she mashed her lips together, parted them, and then mashed them again, Jeb nearly lost control and reached for her. Was that alarmingly sexy lip action somehow necessary to set the color she'd just applied? Or had she noticed how his gaze was riveted to her mouth and decided to torture him?

  Recapping the lipstick, she straightened and turned and smiled up at him, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. When she dropped the lipstick into the bag swinging from her shoulder and edged closer, angling for a kiss, Jeb's mind went blank.

  If she reached up and grabbed him by the ears, his willpower was going to sizzle and evaporate just like the drops of water Willie threw on his griddle to test its readiness for pancakes.

  Her flirty, confident smile wavered. She was about to ask what was wrong, and all Jeb could do was stand there stupid, paralyzed by panic.

  She opened her mouth, but then closed it and gave her head an almost imperceptible shake. Sensing her mental shrug, Jeb guessed she had concluded he was too shy to kiss her in broad daylight on the sidewalk in front of Willie's.

  Too shy! He might have laughed out loud if he hadn't been so relieved. As she pulled her handbag in front of her body and rummaged for her car keys, Jeb chewed the inside of his cheek and wondered if he could avoid being alone with her for a few days. Just until he figured out how to deal with all this excruciating temptation.

  Producing her keys with a jingling flourish, she looked up and smiled again. "I'm still amazed that you got up so early just to have Willie's French toast."