Linda Varner - Lone Star Bride

Mariah bubbled with laughter. “I admit that the books I read are full of that kind of stuff, but there’s no such thing in real life.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong,” protested Opal, clearly appalled by Mariah’s pragmatism—at least from the twins’ point of view.

“And you call me a romantic?” Mariah laughed again. “Look ladies, I know exactly what I want in a man— family ties, a heart of gold and a steady job. Simple. And no other man is worth risking my hard-won independence. Now, I think I’ve explained myself very well, don’t you?”

“You have, indeed,” Ruby answered with another worried look at her sister.

“And we’re all clear on this?”

“We are.”

Affection for the two of them suddenly softened Mariah’s heart. “Please don’t worry about me or try to change my mind.”

“Okay,” replied Ruby, “but only if you’ll promise us that you won’t marry Willard Reynolds.”

That wasn’t hard to do, since he wasn’t in the market for a wife, dam him. “I promise. There, feel better?”

“Absolutely!” both women exclaimed in unison, at which all three burst into laughter.

Their good moods prevailed right through a light dinner consisting of salads and buttered homemade bread, eaten in front of the television a couple of hours later. After the meal Mariah returned to the kitchen to wash up their few dishes. Just as she finished her task, Opal entered the room through the swing door, which creaked loudly, reminding Mariah the hinges needed a drop of oil.

She immediately dug around for the oil can in the storage area under the sink. Opal hovered nearby, clearly thoughtful. When Mariah found the can, she walked to the door and began to work on the bottom hinge. Opal followed but said nothing, though she obviously had something on her mind.

Finally Mariah prompted her to speak with a soft “What’s up?”

“Ruby and I have been talking,” Opal began, her blue eyes misty with emotion, “and we’re sure we could find you a suitable husband...that is, if you’d let us—only because you don’t trust your own judgment.”

“And I suppose Tony Mason would be a candidate?” Mariah answered, pausing in her work.

“We are positive you’re wrong about him,” Opal admitted.

“Hmm. Well, I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to find my own man.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Opal sounded so distressed that Mariah impulsively wrapped her arms around the woman and gently patted her back.

In the distance the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Ruby called from the living room.

Mariah released Opal. “I know you two mean well, but I really don’t want you to set me up with anyone.” Turning to the door once again, oil can in hand, she squatted down to work on the lower hinge. Most of her attention stayed on Opal, however, instead of on her task. “So please promise you’ll never play matchmaker, okay?”

“Okay,” Opal answered with a sigh and a glance toward the living room. “I promise I won’t, but I’m not so sure you’ll be able to talk Ruby out of it....”

At that moment the kitchen door swung inward, knocking Mariah onto her butt on the linoleum floor. Into the room stepped Ruby with none other than Tony Mason right behind her, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“Oops, sorry, dear,” Ruby murmured as Tony extended a hand to help Mariah up.

She hesitated, but short of being rude to the man, who’d really been nothing but polite so far, couldn’t refuse his assistance. She gave him her hand. He tugged her to her feet at once.

“Thanks,” Mariah said, swiping that hand down her jeans the moment he released it. She turned expectantly toward Ruby, who looked as smug as a shopper with a fifty-percent-off bargain.

“Micah towed Tony’s rig into town,” Ruby explained in a rush of words. “But he’s going to have to order a part for the truck before he can repair it.”

“Oh, dear,” Opal murmured. “How long will that take?”

“He might have it by tomorrow afternoon, if be can place the order tonight,” Tony told her. “Otherwise it will be Wednesday.”

Opal sighed her sympathy. “That’s too bad.”

“Not for us,” Ruby interjected, positively beaming. “Since there’s no motel, Micah sent him over to see if we’d rent one of the spare rooms. I told him we’d be glad to, of course.” She clasped her hands and gave Opal a huge smile. “What do you think about the one next to Mariah’s?”

Chapter Two

An awkward silence followed Ruby Smythe’s question. Tony Mason felt the tension in the room and looked from Ruby’s sister, Opal, to Mariah, waiting for someone—anyone—to speak.

Finally Opal, looking decidedly uneasy, did. “That room should be fine.”

“Good...good.” Ruby turned to Tony. “Get your bag, then we’ll let Mariah take you upstairs.” The petite senior citizen, who reminded him of one of his many elderly aunts, smiled sweetly. “Opal and I have bedrooms on this floor. Those steps get harder for us to climb every year.”

“I don’t know,” Tony answered. “You look pretty spry to me. In fact, I’ll bet you could outdance any of the sweet young things in the Southern Revue at the Abilene carnival earlier this year.”

“Southern Revue?” echoed Ruby.

“You know,” Tony teased. “The traveling dance show.”

Ruby gasped, then bubbled with laughter. “For shame! My papa would’ve tanned my hide if he’d caught me talking about such things, much less performing in one.”

“Is your papa still around?” he asked.

“Heavens no,” Ruby told him. “He died years ago.”

“Then he won’t know, will he?” Tony loved teasing Ruby, who seemed to enjoy it as much as the aunts he so badly missed. He also loved the way her bright eyes danced with mischief even as she feigned shock at his bold words.

“I did have nice legs at one time,” she said, easing her soft, floral print skirt up to mid-calf and glancing down at limbs past their prime.

“Ruby Rose Miller!” Opal scolded, swatting her sister’s skirt back down. Tony guessed that Miller must be their maiden name.

“I was just teasing,” Ruby responded, pouting. “And I’m sure he was, too.”

“Actually, I’m thinking you’re right about those legs.”

Tony could see that even Opal struggled not to laugh at his flattery, though she cast a worried glance in Mariah’s direction. His own gaze found the brunette, who didn’t look a bit amused by his tomfoolery.

What’s her problem? he asked himself for the umpteenth time since she refused his request for a ride into town. Beyond an unmistakably positive—maybe even sexual—first reaction to him, Mariah had been aloof, almost surly. Surely it was time to get past the hitchhiker thing. He didn’t break down on purpose, nor did he hurt anyone once they gave him a lift.

Mariah returned his stare coolly for a moment, then shifted her gaze to Ruby. “The room next to mine, you say?” Her tone chilled him as effectively as the box fan, whirling softly in the window.

Ruby nodded.

“This way, Mr. Mason,” Mariah then murmured, exiting the kitchen through the swing door.

Following Mariah down the hall and up the stairs gave Tony a chance to get a good look at her without being caught doing it. So look he did—beginning at her bare feet, traveling up to her jeans that hugged her shapely bottom the ways jeans should, ending at her straight brown hair, which hung past her shoulders and looked healthy enough for a shampoo commercial.

She stood about five foot six or seven, he decided, wishing it were his hands checking her out instead of his eyes. That height was just about right for his own five eleven. He liked the way she moved—gracefully—and the way she carried herself—with pride. Though he couldn’t see her face at the moment, he knew he liked everything about it, too, from her dark blue eyes to her straight nose, rosy cheeks and wide smile.