Judy Christenberry - The Great Texas Wedding Bargain

“Howdy, Rick,” Lucy, the waitress, called out. Then she noticed the young woman standing beside him. “Megan, right? You’re Faith’s daughter. Welcome to town.”

“Thank you. May we sit anywhere?”

Lucy waved them toward the booths. “You bet, hon. Take your pick. It’s not like we’re busy.”

Rick followed Megan’s determined march and slid into the booth she chose, opposite her.

“What can I get you folks?” Lucy asked.

“A cup of coffee for the gentleman and iced tea for me. Would you care for anything else, Mr. Astin? I believe the pie is supposed to be good.”

“Best in town,” Lucy declared, staring at Rick, waiting for his decision.

He deliberately took his time, watching Megan’s antsy movements across from him. “What kind do you have?”

“Apple, coconut cream and chocolate.”

“I’ll have apple, with a scoop of ice cream,” he said, smiling at Lucy.

“Coming right up.”

“For someone who only has five minutes, you’re certainly taking your time,” Megan muttered as Lucy hurried away from their table.

“Pie’s worth the extra time,” he assured her, adding a wink. He thought she seemed a little tense, but it was silly to get her tail in such a twist over a dance.

She glared at him.

“Look, honey, don’t act so uptight. If going to a dance is that important, I’ll take you.” This time he might even enjoy himself.

Her blue eyes widened and she blinked several times. “I beg your pardon?”

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To ask me to take you to a dance? I’ll have to admit, buying me pie and coffee is a new approach. I like it.”

Her mouth dropped open. A tasty little mouth, too. Full lips, slightly pink, no lipstick. In fact, she didn’t have on hardly any makeup at all. Most of the women who’d come after him usually loaded up on the war paint.

Smart lady. Her dark lashes framed her blue eyes and her cheeks were soft pink over ivory. She didn’t need any fake enhancements.

“Why, you conceited…conceited oaf!” she exclaimed.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Did I get it wrong? Okay, what do you want? We don’t know each other. I doubt you’d want to buy cows. I can’t think of any other business we’d have.”

She suddenly retreated, her gaze becoming secretive, her openness disappearing. Looking away, she said nothing.

Lucy arrived at their table with their drinks and the pie and ice cream. “How’s your mother, Megan? Tell her to come in and visit. I haven’t talked to her since y’all came back.”

“Thank you, I will.”

After Lucy left the table, Rick leaned forward. “You just recently came to town?”

“A month ago.”

Her clipped tones didn’t invite conversation.

He frowned. The lady was presenting a puzzle. He assumed she’d been told to approach him by one of the matchmakers. Maybe he was wrong. “Look, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I figured Mabel or Florence or—” He stopped as her cheeks flooded with color. Guilt if he ever saw it.

“How did you know?” she asked with gasp.

He didn’t answer at once. The pie and ice cream, already melting, demanded his attention. After he’d digested a tasty bite, he grinned. “Everyone in town knows those ladies are determined to marry off every single man in the county.” He shook his head, still grinning. “Not that I’m accusing you of trying to marry me. They usually start off with a date to one of the barn dances they have around here.”

He thought she’d be even more embarrassed, maybe even back out of asking him. Too bad. He might have enjoyed dancing with Miss Megan Ford.

Taking another bite, he was enjoying the combination of warm fruit pie and cold ice cream, when she spoke.

“You’re wrong, Mr. Astin. We’re skipping the date part and going straight to the wedding vows. I’m asking you to marry me.”

He sputtered pie and ice cream across the table.

NOT HER MOST shining moment, Megan decided.

She shouldn’t have lost her temper, but the man was so sure she was eager to fall at his feet in adoration.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she added sharply as he stared at her. “I’m not in admiration of your masculine charms. But I need a husband.”

He gave a low chuckle that shivered down her nerves as he wiped off the table. “That’s sure a unique approach, Miss Ford.”

“I’m serious!” she snapped.

That fascinating left brow slipped up toward his dark hair, but he was still grinning. “Yeah, and I’m the Easter bunny.”

Okay, so she hadn’t handled it right, but the man didn’t have to be sarcastic. She gritted her teeth and waited for him to stop laughing.

“I can offer you five thousand dollars,” she said grimly.

The mention of money seemed to sober him up. She’d thought it would. He didn’t have the look of a wealthy man. Mabel Baxter had told her he was trying to operate his ranch on a shoestring, doing most of the work himself.

He put down his fork and leaned forward. “Let me get this straight. You’re offering me five thousand dollars to marry you?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

She twisted her hands together. The explanation wasn’t as simple as the request. And a lot depended on her convincing the stranger across from her to agree to her proposal. “It’s complicated.”

“Getting married always is.”

His drawl carried a note of bitterness.

“You’ve been married before?”

He gave a brief nod.

“Do you have children?” That would really make things complicated.

“Nope. I’m not cut out to be a father.” He put more pie on his fork. “You’re not going to surprise me again, are you?”

The twinkle of humor in his brown eyes was reassuring. When she shook her head no, he even smiled, which made him more handsome.

“Um, the reason I need to marry is to get custody of my niece and nephew.” If the man didn’t like kids, he probably wouldn’t agree. Why hadn’t Mabel said anything? She knew why Megan was looking for a husband.

His chewing slowed, as if he was considering her explanation. After swallowing, he leaned forward. “Where are their parents?”

Her eyes filled with tears. After all, it had only been a few months since she’d lost her sister. “My…my sister’s dead.”

“And her husband?”

Husband. That word had once meant good things to her. Until Drake Moody had come into her sister’s life. “He’s in prison.”

She could tell her abrupt answer had surprised him, but at least he didn’t lose any food. He put his fork down and stared at her. Finally, he said, “Looks to me like you won’t have much competition for guardianship.”

She pressed her lips tightly together before drawing a deep breath. Then she forced herself to relax. “He’ll get out soon. And he’ll come after them. Mr. Gibbons said I’d stand a better chance if I’m married.”

“Mac? You talked to Mac?”

“Yes, Dr. Gibbons’s husband.”

“He’s good.”

“Yes.” She knew the man was a good attorney. He’d been honest with her, not offering false promises. That’s why she’d made the desperate move of asking this man to marry her.

“Well? What’s your answer?” she prodded, staring at him.

RICK BLEW OUT his breath, leaning back against the booth. She wanted an answer now? Automatically, a no rose in his throat. After all, he’d tried marriage once. Who would consider a second marriage? Not him.

“I might be able to come up with another twenty-five hundred,” she said, pleading with her blue eyes.

He shook his head, frowning. The money didn’t matter. Not that he could tell her that. Someone might discover his secret. Which made his answer hard to explain.