Hawk's Way Grooms (32 page)

Randy made a strangled sound in his throat as Faith's hand brushed tantalizingly across his erection and disappeared back onto her own side of the seat. “That sounds fair,” he said.

For the rest of the ride into town, Randy wasn't aware of anything except Faith's teasing touches, her impish glances, the intimate promises she was making that he hoped she planned to keep. He responded with caresses of his own and heated glances and a whispered question. “When?”

He saw her cheeks pinken, and knew she'd heard him. “We can slip away during your sister's wedding reception. My parents won't miss me for a few hours during all the celebration.”

“Will you let me see your other hand? I mean, without the prosthesis?”

Her mouth flattened into an unhappy line. “You may not like what you see. Is it really necessary?”

He took her hand in his, caressing the normal fingers. His mind had conjured up an image of deformity beneath her prosthesis that he was sure couldn't be worse than the real thing. “You take it off at night, when you go to bed, don't you?” he asked.

She nodded.

“If we're going to spend our lives together, I figure I better get used to how you look without it.”

“Maybe you won't want to be with me anymore after you see me without it.”

He was surprised that Faith was able to state her fear so clearly and succinctly. If he could accept the hook and the plastic arm, he didn't think real flesh and bone—no matter how malformed—could make him reject her. But he knew words alone weren't likely to assuage her fear. “You'll just have to take that chance,” he said at last. “Unless you want to break up right now.”

He watched myriad emotions—doubt, fear, hope—flicker across her face as she evaluated the risk, and balanced the possible reward.
Like Colt did with Jenny,
he realized.
Balancing the risk of losing her against the joy of loving her.
As Faith must balance the risk of trusting him against the joy of being fully loved.

“All right,” she said at last. “I'll let you see my hand. But only if you promise—”

He squeezed her trembling hand to cut her off and said, “It'll be all right, Faith. Believe me. It won't make a difference.”

He only hoped he was right.

 

J
AKE WAS ANGRY
. H
OPE RECOGNIZED
the signs. The vertical lines on either side of his mouth became more pronounced because his jaw was clamped, and his eyes narrowed to slits. There was an overall look of tautness to his body—shoulders, hands, hips—that suggested a tiger ready to leap.

She knew she shouldn't have invited herself along. She knew Jake didn't want her around. She also knew he didn't want her around because he was tempted by her presence, like a beast in rut responding to the relentless call of nature.

Hope let her gaze roam over Jake and saw his nostrils flare as her eyes touched what her hands could not. She wondered whether she ought to push him into something irrevocable. Like taking her virginity.

He would marry her then. She was sure of it. But would he love her? She didn't want him without his love. She knew that much. But she was running out of time. Why, oh, why, had he gotten engaged to Miss Carter? She wouldn't feel this desperation if he hadn't forced her hand. She knew in her bones that they belonged together, and she didn't intend to lose him to another woman.

When they arrived in town, Hope was surprised that Jake volunteered to drop off Randy and Faith first after setting a time to pick them up again. She offered a reassuring smile in response to Faith's anxious look as she and Jake drove away.

“You haven't asked where I want to be let off,” she said when Jake had driven half the length of the main street in town without stopping.

He shot her a look filled with scorn. “Don't insult my intelligence. You haven't got any errands to run. But I do. So sit there like a good little girl and be still.”

It was the
little girl
that did it. It was a flash point with her and always would be, because it diminished who she was, which was more than the sum of her age. She began to unbutton her blouse right there, driving down Main Street.

Jake glanced in her direction and nearly had an accident. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Taking my clothes off?”

“Do you want to get me arrested?”

“I'm not a minor, Jake. We're two consenting adults.”

“I'm engaged. I'm promised to another woman.”

“Not once word of this gets around,” she said, glancing at the passersby who gawked in through the window as she pulled her shirt off her shoulders, leaving her wearing only a peach-colored bra.

Jake swore under his breath and gunned the engine, heading for the old, abandoned railroad depot on the outskirts of town. He braked to a halt in front of the depot and turned to glare at her. She saw the flicker of heat as he glimpsed the fullness of her breasts above her bra.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I'm not a little girl, Jake. I don't know what I have to do to prove it to you.”

“I'm not going to marry you, Hope. You're not what I want. I want someone who can share my memories of the world, someone who's lived a little.”

“I can catch up,” she said desperately.

He shook his head. “No, little girl. You can't.”

Hope felt her chin quivering and gritted her teeth to try to keep it still. “So you're going to marry Miss Carter?”

“Yes, I'm going to marry her. Put your blouse back on, Hope.”

She grabbed her shirt and tried to get it on, but the long sleeves were inside out, and her hands were shaking too badly to straighten it.

She heard Jake swear before he scooted across the bench seat, pulled the shirt from her hands and began to pull the sleeves right-side out. He held the shirt for her while she slipped her arms into it. Her cheek brushed against his as she was straightening. She turned her head and discovered his mouth only a breath from her own. Their eyes caught and held.

She wasn't sure who moved first, but an instant later their mouths were meshed, and his tongue was inside searching, teasing, tasting. He was rough and reckless, his hands cupping her breasts as a guttural groan was wrenched from his very marrow. His mouth ravaged hers as his hands demanded a response.

She couldn't catch up. He was moving too fast.

And then he was gone. Out the opposite door. She scrambled after him, pausing in the driver's seat when she spied him leaning against the van, his palms flat against the metal, his head down, his chest heaving.

He stood and faced her. “That was my fault,” he said. “I…” His eyes were full of pain and regret. “You're formidable, Hope. I'll grant you that. Somewhere out there is a very lucky young man.”

“I want
you,
” she cried.

“I belong to someone else.”

“You're only marrying Miss Carter because you don't think you can have me. But you can,” Hope insisted. “There's nothing stopping us from being together except your own stubborn bias against my age.”

“Your youth,” he corrected.

She snorted. “Eighteen years isn't that much. Lots of men marry younger women.”

“You need to go to college. You need to find out what you want to do with your life. Maybe you'll decide you want more out of life than simply being some rancher's wife. If I were to marry you now, the day might come when you decided marriage to me wasn't fulfilling enough, that you needed to go find yourself.”

“Is that what happened with your first wife?” Hope asked, her eyes wide.

“I've seen it happen,” Jake said without answering her question directly. “You're too young to know what you'd be giving up, Hope. Go to school. Get an education. Find out what you want to do with your life.”

“If I do that, if I go to college, will you wait for me?”

She saw the struggle before he answered, “In four years I'll be forty. I—”

“Wait for me,” she said, stepping out of the van. “Don't marry Miss Carter. Promise you'll wait for me.”

“I can't promise anything, Hope. There's another person in this equation you're not considering. I've proposed to another woman, and she's said yes. Unless Amanda breaks the engagement, I'm honor-bound to marry her.”

“Even if you don't love her?”

“Who says I don't?”

The shock of his words held Hope speechless. “How could you love her and want me like you do?”

He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair. “I respect and admire her. And she loves me. We can have a good life together.”

“You
don't
love her,” Hope said accusingly.

“I don't know what I feel anymore,” he retorted. “You've got me so damned confused—”

“Wait for me,” Hope said. “There are such things as long engagements.”

“That wouldn't be fair to Amanda,” Jake said stubbornly.

“It is if you don't love her. Don't you think she'll notice? Don't you think she'll miss being loved?”

Jake stared at the ground, then back at her. “I'll go this far,” he said. “I won't press her to get married. But I'm not going to walk away if she sets a date.”

“Thank you, Jake. At least that gives me a chance.”

Jake shook his head. “I'll say this much. Life with you would never be boring.”

Hope laughed. “I hope I get a chance to prove that to you someday.”

“S
TAND STILL
, J
ENNY, OR
I'
LL NEVER GET ALL
these buttons done up,” Rebecca said.

Jenny looked at herself in the oval standing mirror in the corner of her bedroom, hardly able to believe that she was the beautiful woman reflected there. She looked like Cinderella, ready for the ball, except her dress was white, instead of pink. She'd pieced the dress together herself, but Colt's mother had finished it, adding lace and ribbons and seed pearls like one of Cinderella's mice.

The satin gown had a wide boat neck, open almost to her shoulders, with long sleeves that tapered to the wrist. The bodice was fitted to the waist with a wide skirt belling out below. A narrow train decorated with tiny seed pearls began where the last cloth buttons ended in back and trailed several feet behind her.

Jenny reached up to adjust the net veil, held in place by a circlet of fresh white daisies, and brushed at a stray wisp of hair at her temple that had escaped the knot of golden curls at her crown. “Are you done yet?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Rebecca said.

“Whatever made you decide to put thirty-two buttons down the back instead of using a zipper?”

Rebecca smiled. “I was thinking of my son.”

Jenny's brows lowered in confusion. “I don't understand. A zipper would make it easier for him to get me out of this dress in a hurry.”

Rebecca's smile became a grin. “I know. But think how much his anticipation will have built by the time he gets the last button undone.”

“If his patience lasts that long,” Jenny said with a laugh.

Rebecca joined her laughter. “There. All done.” She put her hands on Jenny's shoulders and looked at their side-by-side faces reflected in the mirror. “My son loves you, Jenny. I'm only beginning to understand how much. I wish you both all the joy that love can bring. I'm sorry your mother isn't here to see you today. I know she'd be very proud of all you've accomplished.”

Jenny felt the sting in her nose and the tickle at the back of her throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Whitelaw.”

“I wish you'd call me Rebecca. Or Mom, if you wouldn't mind.”

Jenny turned and hugged Colt's mother. “I've missed having a mom. It'll be good to have one again.”

Rebecca levered Jenny to arm's length and looked her over. “You're beautiful, Jenny, inside and out. I wish you much happiness with my son.”

Jenny looked at Colt's mother through misted eyes. “Thank you, Mom.”

Rebecca grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the dresser and dabbed at the edges of her eyes. “We'd better get moving if you don't want to be late to your own wedding.” She reached down to pick up the dragging train, brought it around and layered it carefully over Jenny's arm. “There. Are you all set?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” Jenny said.

“Are you sure there's nothing else you need?” Rebecca asked.

“Let's see. Something old—my mother's pearl necklace. Something new—this beautiful gown. Something borrowed—the Whitelaw family Bible you gave me to carry. Something blue—my wedding bouquet of bachelor's buttons. I have everything I need.”

“Except a groom,” Rebecca said with a laugh. “I'll see you at the church.”

Once Rebecca was gone, Jenny didn't linger long in her bedroom. She knew her four brothers were waiting in the living room to escort her to church. As she came down the hall she heard Randy say, “Holy cow!”

The moment she stepped into the living room, her brothers, who'd been lounging on the furniture, all stood up. Sam spoke first.

“I'll be damned. You're gorgeous, Jenny.”

Jenny smiled. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Stunning,” Tyler said.

“The prettiest bride I've ever seen,” James added.

“Holy cow!” Randy repeated.

Jenny laughed. “I'd love to stand here and listen to more of your compliments, but I think it's time we left for church.”

The four brothers exchanged looks before Randy stepped forward. “We got together and decided to give you something special as a wedding gift.”

Randy looked into the inside pocket of the navy blue suit jacket he was wearing but didn't find what he was looking for. He looked in the other side of the coat and pulled out some papers. He stepped forward and handed them to Jenny. “For you.”

“What's this?” she asked.

“A honeymoon,” Sam said.

“At the Grand Canyon,” James added.

“We figured you deserved a
monumentally
good time,” Randy said with a grin.

“We'll take care of the ranch while you're gone,” Tyler said, cutting off the objection on the tip of her tongue.

Jenny was astonished. “I don't know what to say.”

“‘Thank you' might be nice,” Sam said.

Tears filled Jenny's eyes, and she tried to sniff them back.

“Don't you like it?” Randy asked, confused by her tears.

“I'm overwhelmed,” Jenny said. “Thank you all.” She held her arms wide, and her brothers moved to hug her all at once. She gave them each a kiss wherever she could reach.

Randy wiped the kiss from his cheek and said, “We don't have time for any more of this mushy stuff right now. We're gonna be late if we don't get outta here.”

“Right, brat,” Sam said, tousling Randy's hair. “So get moving.”

Jenny laughed, banishing her tears, and followed her brothers out of the house.

Her wedding day had dawned sunny, but the ceremony was scheduled for eleven-thirty to avoid the heat of the day. The reception was being held in the courtyard at Hawk's Pride, beneath the cool shade of the moss-draped live oak.

Jenny's stomach was full of butterflies, which she suspected was normal for a bride on her wedding day, but she had put her fears on hold. Today was about joy and love.

Once they arrived at church, she waited by herself in a small room off the vestibule, while her brothers helped to seat guests. In a departure from the norm, Jenny had neither bridesmaids nor a maid of honor. She didn't have any close girlfriends, and she didn't know any of Colt's sisters well enough yet to feel comfortable asking them to stand in such a role. She had asked her four brothers to stand up with her instead.

“If you're going to be unconventional, I don't see why I can't do the same thing,” Colt had said.

“Meaning what?” Jenny asked.

“How about a Best Lady instead of a Best Man?”

“Who did you have in mind?”

“My sister Jewel,” Colt said. “She was like a second mother to me, and we've always been close. If you don't mind, I think she could hang on to the rings as well as one of my brothers. And Frannie will kill me if Jewel gets to dress up and she doesn't. So I guess I'd better include her.

“Actually, it might balance things better if I use all my sisters for ‘groomsmen,'” Colt mused. “That way, with Rolleen and Cherry, we'll have an even number of girls and guys coming down the aisle. What do you think?”

“It sounds like a wonderful idea!” Jenny said.

“Who's going to give away the bride?” Colt asked.

“I don't know. I forgot all about that.”

“It's usually a parent or an older relative,” Colt said.

“I don't have any of those. Any suggestions?”

“As long as we're being unorthodox, how about my parents? They've adopted eight of us kids. I don't see why you can't adopt them.”

Jenny smiled. “Done.”

“Then it's all settled,” Colt said.

“What will people think?” Jenny wondered.

“This is our wedding,” Colt said. “We can do as we damn well please.”

 

C
OLT WAS WISHING THEY'D ELOPED
. He was standing in his father's bedroom, dressed in a black dinner jacket, studded white dress shirt, cummerbund and black trousers, fidgeting nervously as his father tried for the third time to tie his bow tie. His brothers watched the comedy of errors from vantage points around the room.

“Hold still,” Zach said as he adjusted the black silk, “and give me a fighting chance to get this straight.”

“It's too tight,” Colt said, slipping his finger between the bow tie and his throat.

“That's the marital noose you feel tightening around your neck,” Jake said.

“Just because your marriage didn't work out—” Rabb began.

“The bride's got cancer,” Jake said.

“
Had
cancer,” Avery corrected.

“May still have cancer,” Colt said quietly. “And if she does, we'll deal with it. I love her. Be happy for me, Jake.” He met his brother's remote, ice-blue eyes and felt as though they were miles apart.

Jake shrugged. “It's your funeral.”

Avery hissed in a breath.

“Bad choice of words,” Jake said repentently. “I don't know what's wrong with me today. I hope you and Jenny have a long and happy life together, Colt. I really do. I'll see you after the ceremony,” he said, backing his way out of the room.

It was clear, at least to Colt, that Jake considered marriage on a par with walking through a minefield barefoot. Which made Colt wonder why his brother had gotten himself engaged to Amanda Carter. And whether Jake would follow through and take a second trip down the aisle. Only time would tell.

“I'd better get going,” Rabb said. “I promised Mom I'd help greet people at the church.”

“Me, too,” Avery said as he followed Rabb out the door.

Colt's father stepped back to admire his handiwork. “That ought to do it,” he said.

“Any last words of advice?” Colt said.

“Be happy,” Zach said.

Colt saw the tears in his father's eyes and felt his throat swell with emotion. “Thanks, Dad.”

He took the step that put him within his father's reach and felt his father's arms surround him. As a child, he'd found support and succor, even surcease from pain, within these strong arms. Zach Whitelaw had taken a child that was not his own flesh and blood and made of him a devoted son.

“I love you, Dad,” he said.

His father gave him a quick hug, then pushed him away. “We'd better get going. Your mother will kill me if I don't get you to the church on time.”

“Sure. Then she'll kiss you all over till you're well again.”

“Maybe being late isn't such a bad idea,” Zach said with a laugh.

They made the trip to the church in Colt's Mustang convertible with the top down. The wind ruffled Colt's hair and left his bow tie once more askew.

“Let me fix that tie,” Zach said.

Colt waved at friends and neighbors as his father arranged his bow tie, then watched his father head for the front of the church. He headed for a door at the rear, where the choir usually assembled, and which was used during weddings for the groom and his “groomsmen.”

The room was filled with his sisters, arranging their hair and putting on makeup and getting dressed. Colt grinned as he observed the cacophony and confusion. It felt like old times. Cherry was walking around in a bra and half slip; Jewel's hair was still in hot curlers; Frannie was buttoning up Rolleen's dress, while Rolleen talked on a cell phone.

“Hi,” Colt said.

“Finish buttoning Rolleen for me,” Frannie said. “While I pin some flowers in my hair.”

Colt crossed to Rolleen and began buttoning up her dress. “Who's that on the phone?” he asked.

“Gavin's grandmother,” she whispered back. “The baby's teething and has a little fever.”

“When you finish with Rolleen, can you do me?” Cherry said, pulling her dress on over her head.

Colt crossed to the sister who'd been most like him in temperament, the other rebel in the family. Cherry had come to the Whitelaw family as a mutinous fourteen-year-old juvenile delinquent and ended up—in Colt's humble opinion—as a damned good wife and mother. “How're the twins—both sets—and what's-his-name?” he asked.

“The girls are in the high school pep squad, and the boys are into G.I. Joe. What's-his-name hit a home run in his Little League game this morning. Why do you think I'm running so late?”

“Tell Brett I said congratulations,” Colt said.

“You can tell him yourself at the reception. He'll be there, along with forty-three dozen other screaming Whitelaw brats.”

Colt groaned. “Surely you jest!”

“I'm not off by much,” Cherry warned.

“Colt, will you come hold this mirror so I can see the back of my hair?” Jewel said.