Barbara Dunlop - Hitched For The Holidays - Hitched For The Holidays / A Groom In Her Stocking

“Time to hit the showers,” Eric said, knowing it was also time to call Mindy.

He thought far too often of calling her, but the cautious side of his nature held him back. He’d been through an emotionally charged breakup with Cassandra. She’d refused to accept any share of the blame for their incompatibility and was furious, mainly because he’d spoiled her horse-care plans. He still felt angry when he remembered her resentment and spite.

He’d been blinded by optimism and admiration for Cassandra’s style and class, that and basic lust for a hard-to-get female. He couldn’t help comparing his infatuation for Cass with the way he was beginning to feel about Mindy. Unfair as it might be, he was gun-shy when it came to women like Mindy, whose chief goal was to organize and reform. Better to keep his life unfettered, risk-free and placid than deal with another colossal mistake.

He would call Mindy, though. They had a deal, and he would do his part.

NOTHING WENT quite the way Eric planned that day. To begin with, he still hadn’t talked to Mindy. Now here he was, on her doorstep on Saturday night, not sure how he felt about another cozy dinner for three.

More to the point, what had her reaction been when Wayne told her Eric was coming for another meal? Mindy hadn’t been home when he finally called in the early afternoon. Wayne didn’t expect her soon, but suggested Eric drop over for dinner that evening. He’d declined, of course. He didn’t think Mindy wanted her father to arrange her social life, and he sure as hell didn’t, either. But he’d neglected to give a valid-sounding excuse right away, and Wayne wore him down until there was no way to refuse without disclaiming all interest in his daughter.

What Eric wanted was a private conversation with Mindy. What he was getting was dinner, deception and her dad.

His only consolation was she was probably more uncomfortable about it than he was. She’d gotten him into this, and she’d better have good news about her father going home. He didn’t like this dating charade. Their nonrelationship was getting to him more than he would’ve believed possible.

Probably worst of all, he felt silly standing in front of her door, not knowing if she wanted him to come for dinner. Rather than show up empty-handed, he’d picked up a bouquet of flowers that reminded him of autumn in Iowa, shades of gold and rust like the late fall foliage. They were long-stemmed and wrapped in green tissue paper. All he had to do was hand them over, but now that he was about to do it, the gesture seemed romantically hokey.

Wayne had probably spotted him through the big front window, so it was too late to retreat or hide the flowers in the car. He rang the buzzer.

His wanna-be father-in-law answered the door leaning on his crutches. The old boy still didn’t know how to dress down the Arizona way. He was wearing dark navy slacks, brilliantly shined black dress shoes, and a short-sleeved blue tailored shirt. His bolo tie looked stiff and formal.

“Good to see you, Eric.” He thrust out his hand.

“Nice seeing you, sir…Wayne.”

A spicy tomato smell permeated the interior of the house making him realize how hungry he was.

“Come on in, come on in. Mindy will be out in a minute. I have to warn you though, she’s a little miffed.”

“At me?”

She could be mad because he hadn’t called all week. That would’ve been enough to send Cassandra into a blue funk, but he didn’t have a real relationship with Mindy. She could’ve called him anytime if she had something to say.

“No, not at you.” Wayne laughed a bit too heartily. “At her father. Seems I committed a social nono when I invited you to dinner. Not that she isn’t happy to have you.”

“I’ll go if being here is a problem.”

“No, stay. You’re not the one she’s angry with,” Wayne said, shuffling out of the way then shutting the door behind Eric. “I’m the one who’s in the doghouse.”

“Where is Peaches?”

Right now he’d welcome the little rascal even if she jumped all over him, panting and licking his fingers. Anything to cut off this conversation with Wayne.

“In the bedroom with Mindy. You know women. Always a few last-minute rituals they think will make them look better. With Mindy, it’s usually eyebrows. Pluck, pluck, pluck. Anything wider than a pencil line is too bushy.”

Eric smiled, entertained by her grooming secret. Now that Wayne mentioned it, her brows were dark dramatic slashes, the sexiest he’d ever noticed. He’d wanted to run his fingertip over them more than once.

She came out of her room with Peaches forming a noisy honor guard and stood by the kitchen counter with a grim expression.

“Has he told you?”

She was asking Eric. The bouquet was beginning to feel clammy in his fist. Would soggy tissue turn his hand green?

“That you’re mad at him?”

He thrust the flowers forward, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Dad was being cute when he invited you to dinner. He’s going out.”

So Wayne was playing matchmaker, inviting him over to be alone with his daughter. The sly old devil had done exactly what Eric wanted, given him a chance to talk to Mindy alone. Their deal wasn’t working for him, and this was better than meeting at his office or working things out on the phone.

“I found an old friend from college, Jack Webster, through the Internet,” her father explained sheepishly. “Turns out he lives in Phoenix. He’s picking me up any minute now. His wife divorced him after thirty-eight years of marriage, so he’s at loose ends.”

This was more than Eric wanted to know about the old college buddy, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Mindy. She was wearing blue denim overalls, loose the way farmers in Iowa wore them, but hers barely came to mid-thigh. She probably didn’t know how sexy they were, which was a big part of their appeal. With only a little white camisole showing under them, the effect was pretty spectacular. He was too busy imagining how it would feel to run his hands under the loose denim and down her sides to her panties—if she was wearing any.

She must be. She was that kind of girl, and he deserved a swift kick for confusing what he felt—or didn’t feel—for Mindy with real sexual attraction.

From outside a horn beeped.

“Oh, there’s Jack,” Wayne said. “I’ve got a spare key, Mindy. You two have a good time.”

He went down the flagstones, swinging on his crutches like a kid let out of school and got into a dark green sports utility van big enough to haul a baseball team.

“Nice your father has a friend here,” Eric said, thrusting the flowers in her direction again after she closed the door. “These are for you.”

“Thank you.” She’d probably accept a summons with the same degree of enthusiasm.

“I don’t have to stay.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“No, but…”

“I have spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove, garlic bread ready to heat, salad already tossed and lemon bars in the fridge.”

“All that for me?”

He gave her a crooked little smile hoping to break through her anger, although he didn’t know why he cared.

“No, for my scheming, conniving father who never even hinted he was going off on his own tonight until a few minutes before you got here.”

Thanks, Wayne, he thought sourly. Ignite a brush-fire and let me get burned stamping it out. The guy was looking worse all the time as a prospective father-in-law.

“By then I didn’t see much point in trying to reach you, especially since I don’t have your cell phone number. If you’d been late as usual, Dad would have been gone.”

“I’m not usually late.”

Now he was mad, too. Maybe it would be best to leave.