Janelle Denison: Ready-Made Bride

“Linden is hardly a tourist town,” he said, thinking to dissuade her. “There’s not much here to keep you busy for a couple of days, let alone a week.”

“I’m not really interested in touring the town,” she replied, easily thwarting his plan. “I’m here to spend time with Andrew, if you don’t mind my staying here, that is.”

Realizing a woman like Megan was probably used to more luxurious accommodations than what he had to offer, he said, “The house is small and nothing fancy.”

He lived a simple life with Andrew, and he wouldn’t apologize for the small house he’d inherited when his father had died. He’d been all of seventeen then, his younger sister, Diane, twelve, and he’d made this house the best home he could for the both of them. Except it hadn’t been good enough for his wife. Nothing had been good enough for Cathy Linden after she’d learned the truth he’d kept hidden for most of his adult life.

Her mouth quirked. “I don’t need anything out of the ordinary. A couch to sleep on will be fine.” She stood, took her glass to the sink, then stopped in front of him. “I was hoping you’d let me do the cooking while I’m here, sort of a thank-you for letting me stay here.”

A light feminine fragrance teased his senses and tightened his gut. “That’s not necessary. In fact, I think-”

“I insist,” she said, cutting him off before he could finish telling her that staying in his home wouldn’t be such a good idea. “Besides, Andrew mentioned you’re not real fond of cooking.”

He set his empty beer bottle on the counter, feeling frustrated and edgy. “Andrew talks too much,” he grumbled. Pulling in a deep breath, he met her wide, guileless gaze and tried again. “Megan, about staying here-”

The rumbling noise of a bus in the distance, then the squeal of brakes drifted from outside, stealing Megan’s attention. She glanced toward the kitchen window, her eyes bright with expectation. “Is that Andrew?”

He mentally swore at the timely interruption. “It should be.”

Her breath seemed to catch, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I want to go meet him.”

And then she was gone, on her way through the living room and out the front door, leaving him standing alone in the kitchen, cursing fate and his son’s bright idea…and that he’d stupidly agreed to it.

A minute later he stepped outside and onto the front lawn. He stopped next to where Megan was waiting as Andrew hopped down the bus steps. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he started their way. His steps slowed when he saw the two of them, his gaze darting from Kane to Megan.

A dazzling smile curved her mouth. “There he is,” she whispered, her voice catching on nervous laughter.

“Megan!” Andy’s shout pierced the air, causing a flock of birds nestling in a nearby tree to scatter. He ran toward her, his short legs pumping as fast as they could. He flung himself against her, nearly knocking her off balance, and wrapped his arms tight around her waist. “You’re really here!” he said, his shrill voice muffled against her breasts.

She returned the hug, her eyes shimmering with a rush of tears. “Of course I’m here, silly.” She ruffled her fingers through his blond hair. “I told you I would be.”

Andy untangled himself from her arms and looked at her. A sudden frown stole his bright smile. “Why are you crying, Megan?”

“Because I’m happy,” she said, and gave a small sniffle. She cupped his chin in her palm, her adoration for him obvious. “You’re even more handsome than the school picture you sent me.”

Andy beamed. “And you’re beautiful.” He glanced at Kane, expectation and joy shining on his youthful face. “Don’t you think Megan’s beautiful, Dad?”

Don’t drag me into the middle of this, son. He met her gaze, watching as a flush stole over her cheeks, enhancing the simple beauty in question. “Yeah, she’s beautiful,” he admitted.

She ducked her head and looked away, but not before he’d seen the pleasure lighting her eyes. The sun haloed her bent head, threading gold through the strands. Cinnamon fire, he thought, wondering if her hair felt as warm and silky as it looked.

They started toward the house, and Andy shifted his Power Ranger backpack to the other shoulder. “How long have you been here?” he asked, squinting at her.

“Not long at all,” she replied, smoothing a hand lightly over the crown of his head, the gesture affectionate and maternal. “Just enough time for your father and I to get acquainted.”

“Yeah?” Andy’s gaze bounced from Megan to Kane, then back again. “So, do you guys like each other?”

“We like each other just fine, son,” Kane interjected smoothly.

“I knew you would.” An impish grin creased the dimple in Andrew’s right cheek. Grabbing Megan’s hand, he pulled her up the porch stairs. “Come on, Megan, I want to show you my room and where I keep all your books.”

And in that moment, as he watched the pure joy on his son’s face, Kane knew he’d lost the opportunity to send Megan away.

At the threshold, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder at Kane. The enchanting smile she gave him heated his temperature ten degrees and made him question his sanity for allowing her to stay with them for a week.

“Thank you, Kane,” she said softly. Before he could reply she was whisked away by his impatient son.

He stood on the porch, knowing her gratitude was for letting her spend time with Andrew, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was thanking him for something more.

Releasing a caustic laugh, he strode down the stairs and toward his workshop. “Who are you kidding, Kane?” he murmured to himself. “What would a woman like her see in a simple country boy like yourself?”

Old, buried bitterness scratched its way to the surface, and he quickly shoved it down. One woman had hated him for his insufficiencies. He wouldn’t let another get that close, no matter how tempting she might be.

“Look at what my dad made me,” Andy said, showing Megan the novelty wooden bookends on his dresser bracing a row of books. He fingered the intricately carved and brightly painted locomotive. “The front and back end of a train. Cool, huh?”

“Yes, they are.” She eyed Kane’s handiwork, impressed with his creative flair. She’d seen a brief glimpse of his talent in the barn, but hadn’t realized the extent of his ability until now.

“I put all of my Andy’s Adventures here, cuz they’re special.” He adjusted a hardbound volume that stuck out an inch farther than the rest before bending to open the last dresser drawer. “All my other books are in here. I don’t have any other room for them.”

She glanced into the open drawer, crammed with books of all sizes and variety. “You must love to read.”

“Yep. Dad likes me to read, too.” He pushed the drawer shut. “He’s always bringing me books from the big bookstore in the city, but yours are my favorite.”

“I’m glad.” She sat on his bed and reclined on one forearm, discovering a simple pleasure in watching Andy’s enthusiastic energy. She smiled, unable to recall the last time she’d done something just for herself, even something as simple as a vacation. Something spontaneous and adventurous and wonderfully reckless…like driving to Linden to meet the father and son who’d consumed so much of her thoughts over the past year and a half.

“And look at this,” he went on, moving to a corner of the room. Straddling a wooden seat shaped like a real saddle, he secured his sneakered feet into lifelike stirrups, pulled back on leather reins and rocked. The smooth, perfectly sloped rockers moved soundlessly on the wooden floor. “He made me this rocking horse a couple of years ago for Christmas.”