A Rich Man for Dry Creek / a Hero for Dry Creek (18 page)

Added to that, she was wearing an old bathrobe that kept her shape so well hidden, a man couldn't tell if she was a woman or a fence post.

Still, she appealed to him in a crazy sort of way. Garrett wondered if the snow could have frozen his brain or something. The woman sure wasn't the usual kind who caught his eye. He liked a woman who strutted her stuff and wore her clothes tight enough so a man didn't have to strain himself wondering what was underneath.

And that robe wasn't his style. He liked the black see-through kind that was worn more for invitation than for warmth. The bulky old robe this woman wore wouldn't get her noticed in a monastery.

Besides, the robe said loud and clear that the woman who wore it was a nice woman who wasn't inviting anybody to look at her twice.

Garrett made it a policy to stay away from nice women because they always thought a man like him had promise. It wasn't true, of course, but try convincing a woman who was intent on reforming him. If he knew one thing about himself, it was that he was a short-term kind of a guy. He liked the freedom of the road. Given that, he felt it was only right to keep his dating to women who weren't interested in a long-term arrangement, either.

Granted, Garrett had grown a little tired of dating strangers lately. He told himself he was just off his game. He hadn't been out on a date in six months.

But that was bound to change soon. Somewhere, someplace, a woman in black spandex was waiting for him.

Still, if he had been the sticking-around kind of guy, there was something about this woman that interested him even more than the black-spandex ones. Maybe it was the freckles on her neck. She'd tied the belt of the robe tight around her waist and that made the collar bulge just enough so he could see the light sprinkling of freckles that scattered out from her collar bone. The bone itself was fragile and made him feel protective. But it was the freckles that were his undoing.

For the first time in his life, Garrett wished he knew a thing or two about marriage.

“I'm sorry, I—” Garrett began. He didn't know what he was going to apologize for exactly. Maybe the fact that cold air had gone into her warm kitchen. Or that he had snow on his shoes. Or that he hadn't been born into an Ozzie-and-Harriet kind of a family.

Nicki shifted in the doorway. A faint pink made her face glow in embarrassment. The man didn't need to apologize. She wasn't such a ninny that she thought he was serious. Of course, she was acting like one. The man had been making her agitated and that wasn't like her. She was usually very calm and sensible.

“I know it wasn't a real kiss.” Nicki waved her hand vaguely, as though she'd experienced a million kisses that were real and so could tell the difference instantly. “You don't need to apologize.”

Garrett frowned. “What do you mean it wasn't a real kiss?”

“That's what I'm saying—it wasn't like the kiss was supposed to be real, so you don't need to apologize.”

“I wasn't apologizing for kissing you.”

The pink on Nicki's face deepened. “Oh, well, I just wanted you to know I know it didn't mean anything. It was just because of the ring, and me asking to be pinched and you in that tuxedo and all.”

“It's not a tuxedo, it's a uniform. Besides, every kiss means something.”

Nicki could hear her mother's high-heeled footsteps as she continued walking from the counter that held the coffeepot to the counter that held the dishes. “Where do you keep the cups?” her mother called out.

Nicki forced herself to turn and look. Everything in the house looked shabbier than it had when her mother left. Because of her fall yesterday she hadn't even done the dishes from yesterday. Three mugs stood around the sink. “There are more mugs in the cupboard.”

Every Christmas the hardware store in Dry Creek gave away a mug to its customers with the store's name on one side of it and the year on the other. In addition to the three by the sink, another dozen of those mugs sat in the cupboard.

Nicki's mother took one look at the dirty cups. “I'm not talking about mugs. I'm talking about real cups. I always drink my coffee from a real cup. Something pretty and tasteful. Surely, Charles still does the same.”

“I'm afraid the mugs are all that we have.” Nicki tried to hold back the defensiveness in her voice, but she didn't succeed. Nicki wasn't sure she wanted the woman in front of her to realize that she was her daughter. The fuss the woman was making over cups that were functional instead of pretty only reminded Nicki of how critical her mother had been of her. Nicki had never been the pretty little girl her mother wanted. Nicki remembered that her hair never curled enough and the lace on her dresses always made her itch so she couldn't wait to change into her jeans.

“But these mugs don't even match.”

“They don't need to match to hold coffee.”

All of a sudden, Nicki realized what her mother was looking for. Nicki's mother had had a set of English bone china that served sixteen, but Nicki and Reno kept it packed away in the old bunkhouse where their father had put it. The dishes were the one thing Nicki hadn't even dreamed of replacing over the years. Her mother loved that china with its clusters of pink roses and the gold rim around each plate.

Nicki decided she needed to get the mugs so that her mother could drink her coffee and leave. She forgot about her leg, however, and her first step made her wince.

“You're hurt!” Garrett said, and stepped toward her. Unfortunately, he let go of the broom handle so that he could steady Nicki just as she moved again. Instead of falling to the floor harmlessly like it should have, the broom landed on Nicki's foot.

“Oooh.” Nicki felt the pain shoot up through her leg. The broom hit her toes and her slippers weren't enough of a cushion. To make matters worse, it was her good foot that had been hit. The bruise was on her other leg and so now she didn't have one good walking foot between the two legs.

The dismay on the man's face made Nicki wonder if her face had turned white with pain. “Don't worry. I'll be fine. It's just that yesterday my horse fell and now this—”

“You need to stay off your feet,” he said.

“I'm fine. Really.” Nicki gathered the collar of her robe around her more closely. To prove she was all right, Nicki carefully put one foot in front of the other and started walking toward the cupboard that held what dishes they did have. She smiled to show it didn't hurt.

Her smile turned to gritted teeth as she bit back the moan. Oh, my, that hurt.

“It's my fault the broom fell,” Garrett said as he stepped forward and scooped Nicki up in his arms.

Nicki gasped in surprise. Maybe she was still dreaming. Her cheek was pressed against the tuxedo's satin lapel. The suit even smelled of class. Nicki wished she were wearing perfume. Forget perfume—she wished she were at least wearing deodorant.

“You need to put me down. I can walk,” Nicki said. But maybe she couldn't walk. Everything seemed dizzy. Her whole world was shifting. Her heart was building up to a pounding close to thunder. Being swept up by Prince Charming was a fantasy come true.

Nicki's mother walked closer to the two of them and frowned. “Are you Mrs. Hargrove's daughter? You look familiar.”

Nicki kept her cheek pressed against the man's shoulder.

“Doris June? No, I'm not her,” Nicki answered when she knew her mother couldn't see her eyes. Doris June Hargrove had gone to school with Nicki. She lived in Anchorage now and was working for a television station there.

“Oh, I was just wondering.” Her mother didn't sound convinced. “I'm sure Charles needs someone to look after the house for him since both of the kids took off like they did on him.”

“Who told you anyone took off?” Nicki asked quietly when she was finally sitting on the kitchen counter. She reknotted the tie on her robe just so she had somewhere for her eyes to focus that didn't involve looking at her mother.

“Why, Charles, of course. He wrote me a letter. Years ago. I'd written to ask about the kids, and he said they'd just up and left. I was surprised about that, but I suppose they had their reasons. He promised he'd let me know if he found out where they were. Have you worked for Charles long?” Nicki's mother smiled thinly. “I know I'm going on, but I would like a cup of coffee before I have to see Charles. Do you think he'll be up soon?”

“No, no, he won't be up soon,” Nicki said. Everything seemed fuzzy. Her whole world was shifting. Her heart was pounding. She didn't know whether it was because of seeing her long-lost mother or because she'd woken up to see Prince Charming.

Nicki immediately rejected the idea that her mother could affect her like this. She'd gotten used to living without a mother and she was doing fine. The woman standing by the sink could be any woman. Nicki didn't feel anything for her.

Not that, she remembered with a start of guilt, she should be so willing to think the dizziness was from the man, either. She shouldn't be swooning over any man. She was going to marry Lester. That thought alone was enough to bring her back to earth with a thud. At least it settled her stomach.

“Oh,” Nicki's mother said as she turned to leave the kitchen. “If he's not going to be up soon, I'm going to visit the ladies' room while you finish making the coffee. It was a long drive.”

“The bathroom's upstairs,” Nicki offered. “The first door on your left.”

“I remember where it is.”

Nicki didn't say anything as she listened to the staccato tapping of her mother's heels as she climbed up the stairs.

Garrett wished he could offer to clean out the rain gutters on this woman's house or something. She looked drawn and pale, and he'd always had a soft touch for any wounded being. Of course, it hadn't helped anything that he had dropped the broom that hit her foot. And the broom wasn't half-plastic like the ones they made today; it was pure oak and could do some serious damage. “Let me look at your toes.”

“What?” Nicki looked up in time to see Prince Charming reaching for her slippers.

“I'm hoping no toes are broken.”

Nicki was just hoping she'd survive.

Garrett had never seen more elegant feet. The toes themselves were worthy of a poem. “I like the pink.”

Nicki blushed. She had never meant for anyone to see the nail polish on her toes. She didn't want to wear polish on her fingers, because someone was sure to comment on that. But she figured her toes were safe from the eyes of others and a good way to practice using nail polish just in case she ever wanted to do her fingernails. “There's nothing wrong with having good toe hygiene.”

Nicki almost groaned. She was sounding like a schoolteacher. No wonder there had never been a line of men waiting at her door to date her. “I'll be fine in a minute. My foot will be better.”

“I'm sorry I dropped the broom.”

The man didn't need to apologize, Nicki thought. A man that good-looking—women probably flocked to him to have their toes bruised. It must be the tuxedo, she decided. That, and the way he had of lifting her into his arms, as though she didn't weigh any more than a feather.

Nicki wondered why Lester had never swept her off her feet like Prince Charming here had done. She might mention it to Lester. That's right, she told herself. It was the action that had made her heart all jumpy. It had nothing to do with the man. If Lester put on a tuxedo and swung her up into his arms, she'd feel the same breathlessness as she felt now. She might even want to kiss Lester after something like that.

Nicki heard a motor in the driveway. “I'd better get down four mugs.”

Seeing Garrett's bemused expression, Nicki said, “Lester's here.” She reached for the mugs and put them down on the counter beside her.

“And who's Lester?”

Nicki hesitated. “Our neighbor. To the east of here.”

Nicki told herself she didn't owe this man any explanations. “He's just here for his coffee. Oh, and some coffee cake.”

Nicki started to brace herself to slide off the counter.

“No, you don't.” Garrett stepped over and held out his arms to scoop her up again.

“You shouldn't.”

“The floor's cold.”

Nicki nodded. She supposed once more wouldn't hurt. It might actually be a good thing. She probably wouldn't be dizzy this time, and she'd know it had only been a momentary thing before. It was really for scientific research that she was going to let Garrett carry her again.

Nicki slid into his arms.

Garrett was a happy man. The fuzzy material of Nicki's bathrobe brushed against his cheek and the pure soap smell of her surrounded him.

“You didn't need to carry me. I can walk if I have to.”

Garrett knew that. But he wasn't fool enough to pass up the opportunity to carry her again. He'd even walk slow. The refrigerator was way across the kitchen. If he worked it right, he could almost make a waltz out of the whole thing.