Susan Mallery - The Best Bride

“What are you doing?” she asked even as he lifted her against his chest. Elizabeth grabbed his shoulders to maintain her balance.

“And here I thought you were smarter than that.” He started toward the house.

Her face bumped against his shoulder, and she could smell his masculine scent. He’d shaved only a couple of hours before, so his neck was smooth. She fought the urge to nestle against him. “Travis, put me down. I can walk.”

He ignored her. There were four steps up to the porch. He climbed those easily and headed for the front door. She held on, ignoring the way her right breast flattened against his chest and the heated strength of his body. She was wearing shorts so the arm under her legs touched bare skin. Each of his fingers seemed to be leaving a warm imprint on her flesh. She thought about struggling, but her side hurt and she was tired of fighting. Instead, she gave herself up to the feeling of being safe and protected.

When he opened the front door and stepped inside, she stared at the beautiful interior and caught her breath. He had told the truth when he’d said he was restoring the house. Several of the walls had been stripped but not painted or papered. There wasn’t a rug on the wooden floor, and she could see the pile of tools next to the front door.

But none of that mattered. He released his arm and she slid to the ground. Instead of moving away from him, she leaned against him and looked around. A crystal chandelier hung in the foyer. The cut glass caught the sunlight and diffused it into a hundred tiny rainbows. The long staircase swept up to the second story where it split and circled around both sides. Arched doorways led to high-beamed rooms. A giant fireplace filled one wall of the parlor to her left, while on the right, a study with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves held sheet-covered furniture.

“Wow.” She looked at him. “You live here?” He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“All by yourself?”

“I do now. I was married when I bought the place. Some people have a baby to try and save their marriage. Julie and I bought this house.” The humor left his brown eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. There were no hard feelings. Sometimes it doesn’t work out. Julie and I kept bumping into each other on the curves. Hell, it was no one’s fault. Cops don’t make good husbands and neither do Haynes men. I had no business trying.”

She was about to ask why when he collected her in his arms again and started down the hallway next to the stairs.

“I’m going to put you in here,” he said, using his shoulder to push open a door. “There’s an attached bathroom. It’s small, but I didn’t think you’d want to hassle with the stairs.”

Even though she hadn’t moved much since leaving the hospital, her side was already aching. “You’re right.”

A double bed stood next to a window looking out on the side garden where roses had grown into a tangled disarray of blossoms. A single nightstand and a long dresser took up the rest of the space in the room. There was a half-open door and she could see through to a bathroom.

“This will be perfect,” she said.

“Mandy’s been sleeping upstairs.” He set her on her feet. “She can stay there, or I can dig up a cot for her in here. It would be a little crowded, but—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Mandy is happy where she is.”

“I’ll go get your luggage.” He disappeared back the way they’d come.

Elizabeth settled on the bed and touched her healing incision. Just three days ago she’d arrived in Glenwood, hoping to make a fresh start. Many things hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned, but they were getting better. She could feel it. She had to get on with her life. It was the only way to put the past behind her.

* * *

Travis looked at the empty plate on the table, then at Elizabeth. “Are you done?”

She laughed and patted her stomach. “Yes, thanks. It was wonderful. Here you had me believe you didn’t know how to cook.”

“I’m okay with omelets,” he said, and carried the plates over to the counter. “And I know my way around a barbecue, but other than that, it’s just me and the microwave.”

“I can make French toast,” Mandy announced proudly from her place opposite her mother.

“I know, darlin’. You made it for me this morning.”

“How long did it take you to clean up the mess?” Elizabeth asked.

Travis rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “About an hour.”

She looked at him and smiled. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“I found eggshells everywhere.”

“He ate four pieces,” Mandy said.

“Good,” Elizabeth said, but he could see she was more tired than enthused. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her smile wasn’t as bright as it had been that morning when he’d brought her to the house.

He wiped his hands and turned toward the table. The kitchen had been the first room he’d remodeled. That had been before Julie had left. She’d picked out the cream tiles edged in blue flowers, and she’d been the one to insist on bleached oak cabinets. He’d wanted a more traditional kitchen but he had to admit her taste had been better than his. The rectangular room was bright and airy, despite an overabundance of storage and the large subzero refrigerator and six-burner range.

“Mandy, let’s put your mama to bed. Then you can help me clean up.”

“But it’s early yet,” Elizabeth said.

“You’re dead on your feet.”

“I can’t be. After you left, I had a nap. I’ve only been up for—” she glanced at her watch “—three hours.” She punctuated her observation with a yawn.

Mandy laughed. “You’re tired, Mommy.”

“I guess I am.” Elizabeth braced her arms on the table and slowly pushed herself to her feet. Travis moved closer, but she waved him off. “I made it to the kitchen under my own power, I think I can make it back.”

“Have it your way.”

She took small steps. Mandy dogged her heels, and he brought up the rear, ready to jump to the rescue in case she slipped. Her nap wasn’t the only thing she’d done while he was gone all afternoon. She’d also showered and changed clothes.

The shorts and tank top had been replaced by a loose-fitting summer dress. It dipped low in front and back and, as he had served his famous vegetable omelet, he got a flash of cleavage. He hadn’t seen where the tan ended and her pale skin began, but the peek had more than stirred his interest. He’d spent most of dinner giving himself a stern talking-to.

Elizabeth was his guest. Despite his claim to want to be paid for the room, he would no more take her money than he would hurt Mandy. He was simply temporary shelter and the only friend she had in town. He couldn’t take advantage of her, or the situation. It wasn’t right. If he wanted a woman, there were plenty in town to oblige him. He’d never once had a problem finding company.

As she turned down the hallway, the last rays of sun caught the thick braid hanging down to her shoulder blades. Her hair gleamed with rich color, brown and gold with a hint of red, so different from Mandy’s pale blond hair. Had Elizabeth’s hair once been that color, turning darker with age, or had Mandy inherited her hair color from her father?

They reached the bedroom. Elizabeth sank onto the bed and smiled at her daughter. “I’m going to rest here for a few minutes before I get ready to sleep. Why don’t you kiss me good-night now and then go help Travis in the kitchen.”

Mandy reached up and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

“I’m glad you’re not in that old hospital anymore. Tomorrow can you come upstairs and look at my room?”