The Marrying Man Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Barbara Bretton
a gallon of vanilla ice cream. "I think we pulled it off. Nobody seemed to notice we forgot the cranberry sauce."
"They were too busy arguing politics with your new cowboy friend."
She'd wondered how long it would take Jenny to zero in on him. "He's not my friend."
Jenny leaned against the sink and shot Cat a quizzical look. "Why'd you invite him to dinner?"
Cat hacked at the rock-solid ice cream with a plastic scoop. "He looked lonely."
"You could see lonely through all of that gorgeousness?"
"I don't know what I saw. As soon as I heard he had nowhere to go today, I found myself asking him to dinner."
"Way to go, girl. He's the best stray you've brought home in ages."
"Don't let those outdoorsy looks of his fool you, Jenny. McKendrick's one of those clock-watching pencil-pushing types who lives to organize." She shuddered. "Max wants to hire him to put me on the straight and narrow."
"The cowboy could put me on the straight and narrow any time."
Cat took a vicious swipe at the ice cream. "I thought you went for the intellectual type." She looked up at Jenny. "Like Max."
Jenny's cheeks reddened. "Max Bernstein is a jerk. He hasn't an ounce of romance in his soul." Jenny and Max had dated a few times last summer but their attraction of opposites hadn't made for an easy alliance. "Besides, after meeting the Marlboro Man out there, I've decided to go for brawn instead of brain."
"Enjoy," said Cat, scooping ice cream onto a slice of pumpkin pie. "If you ask me, muscles are highly overrated."
"I'll let you know when I've had a chance to investigate."
Cat tossed a wadded up paper napkin at her friend. "You're incorrigible."
"No," said Jenny. "I'm hopeful. You never know when good fortune is going to smile down on you."
Apparently Jenny had a peculiar notion of what constitutes good fortune. Sharing the dinner table with Riley McKendrick had been about as relaxing as sharing a bathtub with a rattlesnake. Every time she'd looked up, he'd been watching her with that damnable twinkle that made his green eyes sparkle.
The cranberries! That was why he'd decided to stay for dinner after all. He was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to pounce. He hadn't said anything outright but it was just a matter of time. Sooner or later the right moment would arrive and he could announce her idiocy to the world. She knew the wait must be driving his clockwatching little cowboy heart crazy.
"Cowboy," she muttered, opening the container of ice cream. "A likely story." He had the looks and the drawl and the boots but she refused to believe he had the attitude that went with them.
She could just imagine McKendrick trying to foist his time-management nonsense on an unsuspecting bunch of real cowboys. They'd have him riding his calculator out of town before he knew what hit him.
The idea tickled her fancy and she grinned as she topped three pieces of apple pie with three scoops of vanilla ice cream. Cranberries notwithstanding, parts of the afternoon had been surprisingly pleasant.
Jenny and the kids were home when she and McKendrick returned and the cowboy had joined in a makeshift basketball game that had left her sons open-mouthed with admiration. Sometimes she felt sorry for them that they had no male role model to look up to, someone who understood the mystery of sports and testosterone, but short of teaching them how to shave, she felt she was doing a good job.
Still there was something oddly poignant about watching them in the yard, her precious sons and the cowboy, and that warm feeling had lingered right up until McKendrick came back into the house and started criticizing the traffic pattern.
But she'd got her own back. She'd seated McKendrick at the far end of the main table between Mary McGregor, who never shut up, and Cindy Hughes, who'd never met a man she didn't like.
If the cowboy had been entertaining any schemes to get his grubby hands on her house, Mary and Cindy had seen to it that he never had the
"They were too busy arguing politics with your new cowboy friend."
She'd wondered how long it would take Jenny to zero in on him. "He's not my friend."
Jenny leaned against the sink and shot Cat a quizzical look. "Why'd you invite him to dinner?"
Cat hacked at the rock-solid ice cream with a plastic scoop. "He looked lonely."
"You could see lonely through all of that gorgeousness?"
"I don't know what I saw. As soon as I heard he had nowhere to go today, I found myself asking him to dinner."
"Way to go, girl. He's the best stray you've brought home in ages."
"Don't let those outdoorsy looks of his fool you, Jenny. McKendrick's one of those clock-watching pencil-pushing types who lives to organize." She shuddered. "Max wants to hire him to put me on the straight and narrow."
"The cowboy could put me on the straight and narrow any time."
Cat took a vicious swipe at the ice cream. "I thought you went for the intellectual type." She looked up at Jenny. "Like Max."
Jenny's cheeks reddened. "Max Bernstein is a jerk. He hasn't an ounce of romance in his soul." Jenny and Max had dated a few times last summer but their attraction of opposites hadn't made for an easy alliance. "Besides, after meeting the Marlboro Man out there, I've decided to go for brawn instead of brain."
"Enjoy," said Cat, scooping ice cream onto a slice of pumpkin pie. "If you ask me, muscles are highly overrated."
"I'll let you know when I've had a chance to investigate."
Cat tossed a wadded up paper napkin at her friend. "You're incorrigible."
"No," said Jenny. "I'm hopeful. You never know when good fortune is going to smile down on you."
Apparently Jenny had a peculiar notion of what constitutes good fortune. Sharing the dinner table with Riley McKendrick had been about as relaxing as sharing a bathtub with a rattlesnake. Every time she'd looked up, he'd been watching her with that damnable twinkle that made his green eyes sparkle.
The cranberries! That was why he'd decided to stay for dinner after all. He was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to pounce. He hadn't said anything outright but it was just a matter of time. Sooner or later the right moment would arrive and he could announce her idiocy to the world. She knew the wait must be driving his clockwatching little cowboy heart crazy.
"Cowboy," she muttered, opening the container of ice cream. "A likely story." He had the looks and the drawl and the boots but she refused to believe he had the attitude that went with them.
She could just imagine McKendrick trying to foist his time-management nonsense on an unsuspecting bunch of real cowboys. They'd have him riding his calculator out of town before he knew what hit him.
The idea tickled her fancy and she grinned as she topped three pieces of apple pie with three scoops of vanilla ice cream. Cranberries notwithstanding, parts of the afternoon had been surprisingly pleasant.
Jenny and the kids were home when she and McKendrick returned and the cowboy had joined in a makeshift basketball game that had left her sons open-mouthed with admiration. Sometimes she felt sorry for them that they had no male role model to look up to, someone who understood the mystery of sports and testosterone, but short of teaching them how to shave, she felt she was doing a good job.
Still there was something oddly poignant about watching them in the yard, her precious sons and the cowboy, and that warm feeling had lingered right up until McKendrick came back into the house and started criticizing the traffic pattern.
But she'd got her own back. She'd seated McKendrick at the far end of the main table between Mary McGregor, who never shut up, and Cindy Hughes, who'd never met a man she didn't like.
If the cowboy had been entertaining any schemes to get his grubby hands on her house, Mary and Cindy had seen to it that he never had the
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