Small Town Romance Collection: Four Complete Romances & A New Novella

by Brown, Carolyn

  Ted whacked the back of his chair with enough force to make his hand sting.

  "Until then, son, she is your wife." Bob suppressed a chuckle. "And she needs a ride to work and she isn't going to beg you. I suppose I could offer her a ride. Or your mother could drive her. At least everyone in Maysville won't see your wife walking to work while you sit here with a brand-new truck, sulking to beat the band."

  "Oh, hell." Ted stormed out of the dining room and up the stairs to do his duty . . . and get his family off his back. He rued the day he'd decided to get that snot-nosed redhead out of trouble. Now his whole family was taking her side over his. Ted had been almost ready to admit that he liked having her around—until that fight. She'd taken pains to let him know she wasn't interested in any dream of his. He'd be a gentleman and take the brat to work, though, even if she didn't deserve it. But he damn sure didn't have to enjoy it.

  Ted knocked on the door.

  No answer.

  He knocked again, louder.

  There was still no answer.

  He slung it open forcefully.

  Cassie was standing in front of the balcony doors, with her back to him. She was neatly dressed for work in her all-white uniform, down to the white barrette. But one curl had already escaped and was sneaking around her ear.

  "Cassie?" His voice as cold as steel in a January snowstorm.

  "What?" She didn't turn around and her voice was even colder than his.

  "I've got to go to the lumberyard. I'll give you a ride into work," he stated firmly then started to shut the door.

  "You don't have to go to the lumberyard. I'd rather walk anyway."

  "You're not going to walk. And that's that."

  "Stop, it, Ted." Cassie turned around. Her eyes were red and her mascara ran down her cheeks in dark brown streaks. "Maria probably made you come up here and say you'd take me to work. I know you don't want to drive me. I'll walk every step of the way and you can just go to hell. Or else go wherever it is all you big, mature men go when us children go to work every day."

  "Don't be stupid," he snapped.

  "I'm not," Cassie's eyes flashed. "You're the stupid one. You wouldn't see the light if the sun dropped out of the sky and landed in your lap."

  "I'm not going to fight with you, Cassie. Just be downstairs and ready on time because I'm takin' you to work whether you like it or not." He shook his finger at her. "And by the way, Momma did not tell me to come up here and say I'd take you to work."

  "I don't believe you. You're only polite to me because you're afraid of what your family might say," she snapped. "You don't care about me. You don't care about anyone but yourself."

  "Right. You just better be ready by eight-fifteen." Ted slammed the bedroom door with enough force to rattle the windows.

  "When pigs fly!" she yelled through the door.

  At exactly quarter past eight, Ted left the family office located above the three-car garage and went down the stairs to the living room. Not that he'd done any work in the past hour. He'd propped his feet on the desk and let a glorious feeling of anger take over his entire body and soul.

  He didn't even know how good it felt to feel bad until he started analyzing why he wanted to tear something to shreds, why he wanted to throw the glass paperweight at the wall and why he wanted to spank that redhaired peck of trouble he'd brought home.

  He was almost as angry as he was the day that damned gun killed his brother. He thought about John and the good times they'd shared, the hurts, the laughter and oddly enough, instead of anger, a feeling of peace enveloped him like a warm blanket. Then Cassie invaded his thoughts and he was angry again. How could a man feel such peace one minute and anger the next? It had been too long since he'd felt anything at all for him to figure it out.

  Cassie wasn't waiting in the living room for him.

  "Where is she?" he asked his father, who was pretending to read the paper he'd just hidden himself behind. Ted noticed it was upside down.

  "Who?" Bob asked innocently.

  "Where is Cassie? I told her I would drive her to work," Ted said doggedly.

  "She must not have heard you. But everyone at the breakfast table heard you slamming doors and screaming something about her not being stupid. Was that what you said? I couldn't quite hear." Bob coughed to keep the chuckle out of his voice.

  "Yeah, that's what I said. Not that I think she's stupid. But she is the most exasperating woman I've ever met," Ted said furiously. "I guess she's still pouting up in her room and I'll have to go up there and get her."

  Maggie followed Maria out of the kitchen, as both of them wiped their hands on their aprons. "You looking for your wife?" his aunt asked. "You'll probably find her about half a mile from town. She left right after you practically broke the windows in your Momma's house slamming that door so hard."

  "Damn it!" Ted growled—but his mother knew he wasn't really talking to her or his aunt. He tore out the front door, jumped into his truck, and slung gravel all over the driveway when he peeled out. He pushed the gas pedal to the floor, let up on it, stomped the clutch and shifted into the next gear, then repeated the procedure until he was racing down the dirt road toward Maysville.

  Ted spotted Cassie about a half mile from the clinic, just on the outskirts of town. He left thirty feet of tire marks in the gravel before he came to a screeching halt behind her. Before she could turn around he was out of the truck and standing in front of her.

  "I told you I'd take you to work," he yelled.

  "And I told you not to bother," she yelled right back. "Now hop right back in your shiny new truck and go back to the office your daddy set up to keep you busy, and do whatever rich little boys do. I've got a real job to get to."

  Ted opened the door to his truck, picked up a length of rope from behind the seat and started toward her. Cassie saw what he was holding and took off in a dead run. She was little but she was a country girl and she could outrun this big ox any day of the week. She might look like the wrath of God had descended upon her when she made it to the clinic, but she'd have a high color in her cheeks, that was for sure.

  Ted's rope floated out of the air like a halo and lassoed her, pinning her arms to her sides. Before she could take another step, think another thought, or even say a cuss word, he had it looped around her three times and tied it in a knot. He threw her over his shoulder, even though she was kicking him hard enough to cause bruises. Ted simply didn't seem to care. He opened the passenger side of the truck and plopped Cassie down on the front seat so hard she had trouble catching her next breath.

  "You . . . you . . ." she panted. It was impossible to find a word mean enough to throw at him.

  "I told you I was going to drive you," he said quietly. "Still want to argue about it?"

  She decided not to give him the further satisfaction of an argument, and silently cursed the day she'd laid eyes on him in the bus station diner.

  A few minutes later he parked the pickup in front of the clinic, took his time walking around the truck, opened the passenger door slowly and picked Cassie up as carelessly as if she'd been a bag of seed potatoes instead of a woman.

  "You put me down right now and untie me," she warned him.

  "I'll put you down inside the clinic, just like I said I'd do," Ted retorted.

  And that's what he did. In front of the nurse, whose eyes were the size of saucers. In front of Dr. Brock Wellman, who could not keep the grin off his face. In front of the nasty customer who'd gossiped about her in the clothing store back when and who couldn't believe her good luck at seeing Cassie again—in a highly embarrassing situation.

  Ted untied her, held her arms down to her sides so she couldn't slap him, and gave her a kiss that rocked her heart, her mind, and her body.

  "Have a good day, Cassie," he said casually, as if he had done nothing out of the ordinary at all.

  Ted whistled as he walked out of the clinic with the rope draped over his shoulder, and Cassie stared after him, speechless with indigna
tion.

  Chapter Seven

  Before Ted came in from the fields, Cassie finished helping Maria with supper and escaped to her bedroom with a thick romance novel. She knew when he arrived because she could hear the deep tone of his voice floating up the stairs and through her bedroom door. Maria told him to put his supper in the microwave to warm it up, and Cassie irrationally hoped that his chicken-fried steak would be tough, his gravy would have lumps in it big enough to gag him, and that Maria served it all to him on a red placemat.

  The nurse at the clinic had giggled all day about the way that idiot had tied her up and delivered her to work. The mere memory of it was almost as mortifying as the actual experience had been.

  Now it was all over Maysville that they had had a typical newlywed fight and Ted had won.

  That was the part she hated most . . . he had won. And that he had kissed her as if it would make everything just wonderful and left whistling. Well, it damned sure wasn't wonderful and even if he sent a choir of angels to sing his apologies, she would never, ever forgive him for this humiliation. She'd be thrilled when the next five months were over and she could go back to—it suddenly hit her that she had nowhere to go back to.

  Ted sat down to a warmed-over meal served up on a red placemat with a red napkin under his silverware. His mother knew he hated that color, he thought irritably. She'd set his plate that way to let him know she wasn't pleased with him. Ted knew very well why, but he wasn't about to traipse up those damn stairs and apologize to Cassie just so he wouldn't have to eat on red placemats.

  For the next two weeks, Ted deliberately worked in the office or on his land until after dark and after supper, and made do with microwaved leftovers. Cassie helped Maria, worked at the clinic, and read romance novels in her room. By the time she finished seven of them, she was so tired of happy-ever-after that she thought she would throw up if she read the first page of another one. She missed watching television in the living room. She missed helping Alicia memorize her Latin declensions. She missed sneaking peeks at Ted.

  But wild horses couldn't have dragged her down the stairs to rejoin the family, because she hadn't done one thing wrong. Ted had to come to her and say he was sorry for humiliating her, or she'd stay in this room until spring came, and she could sign the divorce papers that would set her free. Maybe she would file for an annulment and a divorce, just to be sure she was rid of him.

  Cassie reminded herself that spring was just around the corner.

  Chapter Eight

  It was a glorious Sunday in February, not too hot, not too cold, but one of those just-right days which incubated an ailment called spring fever. Ted knew for a fact that he was suffering from it. His late granddaddy had always told him that spring fever made old men think of seed potatoes and onion plants, and young men dream of love. He'd added that there was no known cure. Well, if that was all that was the matter with him today, Ted thought glumly . . . he'd get over it.

  After church that morning, Ted and Cassie were separated by family members who acted like they hadn't seen them in months. Ash suddenly needed to talk about a strange noise in his truck, and Ash's wife took Cassie aside to compliment her on her chic green suit, and ask in guarded whispers if she and Ted had patched up their quarrel. Ted heard the question his aunt whispered—the woman could whisper louder than anybody—but not Cassie's reply. He turned to his uncle, and scowled.

  "So have you and Cassie kissed and made up?" Ash leaned against the gleaming front grille of his black truck, and surveyed the people chatting in groups on the lawn in front of the church.

  Ted ignored the question.

  "What's the matter with your truck, Ash?"

  "Nothing." Ash grinned. "I just wanted to talk to you away from the womenfolks. But it's no use. You're hellbent on ignoring me—and her. Too bad, Ted. If you don't want that pretty little woman, someone else is going to snap her up."

  "They're welcome to her. I don't want her. I don't even like her most of the time, Ash."

  His uncle looked at him shrewdly. "Something tells me you're in love with her, Ted," he said finally. "Are you?"

  "Love that redheaded hellcat?" Ted laughed. "Falling in love with a five foot rattlesnake would be a lot safer."

  Ash sighed. "She sure does have spirit. That's why we all like her so much. Well, see you later. Maggie's cooked up a ham the size of this truck and enough sweet potatoes to feed an army. You'd think the whole town was coming to Sunday dinner, instead of just us Wellmans."

  "Last time I counted us Wellmans, I lost count," Ted said crossly. "There's too many, and none of them are on my side. I'm thinking of seceding and starting my own branch of the family."

  "Really?"

  Ash would've liked to ask a question or two on that subject, but his nephew was already headed for the parking lot.

  Ted considered his uncle's words very carefully on the drive home and dismissed the idea that he could ever fall in love with that Cassie O'Malley. It wasn't possible. Or even practical. Even if he was already married to her. He turned on the radio to his favorite country music station, and listened to a recent hit by a singer who had to have been married to a little hellcat just like her.

  The woman in the song had thrown most everything the singer had owned on the back forty and given the rest to charity. Life with Cassie might be a lot like that, Ted mused. One thing for sure—it would never be dull. He wouldn't ever have time to sit and grow scar tissue over his heart the way he'd done for the past seven years. She'd keep him on his toes for the rest of his days if they stayed married—and then she'd probably follow him right into eternity and tell St. Peter how to run heaven.

  One minute Ted was listening to the song and the next, a car was coming straight at him, driving in the wrong lane. He could see the woman at the wheel frantically trying to get control of it, and the children crowded into the back seat. Then he saw pieces of rubber flying, and he realized her tire had blown. The disabled car got closer and closer and he had to jerk his wheel hard to the left to get in the other lane and give the woman room to pass him. Just as he got his truck straightened out, his left front wheel ran off a low shoulder and he lost control.

  The scene played before his eyes in slow motion. He whipped the wheel around, and then the woman passed him, narrowly missing hitting his fender. Then the truck went out of control. Ted slammed into a telephone pole and his head hit the dashboard and bounced back to strike the rear window. Something was hurting his leg and his arm felt cold and wet and it hurt like blazes. And then there was darkness . . .

  Maggie hummed softly, pleased with how well everything had turned out. She'd had the table set before she'd left for church that morning. The ham was cooked to perfection with a brown sugar and mustard glaze studded with pineapple chunks, and all the side dishes were ready. Everyone was there except Ted—she figured he had stopped at home. Getting him to wear a suit to church was as far as that boy would ever go . . . he must have decided to change into jeans before Sunday dinner. Unless he hadn't remembered dinner was at her house this Sunday . . .

  The phone rang and Alicia picked it up. She listened for a moment, her expression suddenly serious. She motioned her uncle Brock to the phone and handed him the receiver.

  "It's the emergency room," Alicia said. "There's been an accident."

  "Oh, damn," Brock muttered. His face paled when he spoke to the triage nurse. "I'll be right there. Cassie, Bob, Maria! Ted crashed his truck and the ambulance is on the way to the hospital with him. Hurry!"

  Cassie's heart seemed to stop. She couldn't get her feet to move and Brock was yelling at her again to hurry up. Maria was sobbing. Bob had his wife by the arm, guiding her to the car where Brock was waiting impatiently.

  "Come on." Bob put his arm around Cassie's shoulder, steering gently to the car, and into the back seat beside Maria.

  Brock grabbed the car phone and punched in the hospital number. "Give me the attending surgeon in the E.R. This is Dr. Brock Wellman." He asked a few
more questions, then turned to his brother. "Ted swerved to avoid an oncoming car and wrapped his truck around a telephone pole. The other driver called the police on her cell phone and the ambulance got there fast. But we've got to hurry."

  Dry-eyed, speechless with shock, Maria reached across the seat and clasped Cassie's hand tightly. Tears flowed down Cassie's cheeks. Why had she been so cold to him? Why, why, couldn't she have controlled her temper and given him credit for all he'd done for her? Ted might die; he might already be dead. And he would never know she loved him—oh, Lord. She hadn't known it herself until this minute. Cassie put her head on Maria's shoulder and sobbed for what never could be. Why did Cassie have to figure out everything too late?

  Cassie flung the back door open even before Bob had brought the car to a full stop and ran next to Brock through the automatic emergency room doors. The hospital corridor was a hive of activity. Brock started barking orders at everyone.

  "Get me X-rays of his head, ribs, arms, and legs—and get those admission papers here for Cassie to sign. Hook up an IV and start a drip. He's going to need blood so order two units. He's lost a lot from that gash on his arm."

  "Cassie, get out of here. Go out in the waiting room with Bob and Maria. Maria shouldn't see this." He guided her through the double-wide swinging doors and shouted more orders. Cassie looked back to catch the briefest glimpse of Ted, unconscious and bloody, lying on a gurney, while the emergency room trauma team came running.

  She stumbled forward, right into Bob, who caught her as she fainted.

  Cassie came to on the vinyl couch in the waiting room, with most of the Wellman family around her, looking concerned. She fought the fogginess that clouded her mind . . . Maria was crying . . . why?

  Ted! Her mind seemed to scream. He had to be dead! He'd died when he'd wrecked his truck and Maria had just found out . . . Cassie began to sink into darkness again, but a nurse gently patted her cheek.