“Nothing’s going on, Dad. I’m just getting hitched is all.”
“Far as I know, you haven’t been dating one woman steady. Now you walk in here, big as you please, and announce that you’re gettin’ married?”
“Well, Dad—”
“Save the bullshit for your mother. She buys it. I want it straight.”
Hank gave it to him straight, telling his father the entire story, including how he’d coerced Carly into marrying him. About halfway through the recounting, Harv sank onto a milk can, one of Bethany’s tole painting projects in progress. Toward the end of the story, the older man’s jaw muscle had started to ripple, a sure sign that he was clenching his teeth. His blue eyes flashed with anger.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Hank said when he’d told his father everything. “I know I’ve disappointed you.”
“It’s not my proudest moment as a father. I raised you better.”
“If it’s any comfort, I’ve learned a hard lesson. Mom kept warning me that sooner or later, someone would get hurt. She was right, only it wasn’t me. No matter how it turns out between me and Carly, I’ll never do the bar scene again.”
“Is that what they call it now?” His father sat erect. “The bar scene? Seems to me a mighty polite term for drinking, carousing, and popping cherries in the back seat of pickup trucks.”
Hank couldn’t think of a single word to say in his own defense. His eyes burned as he met his father’s sharp gaze. “You know the worst part?”
“No, what?” Harv asked.
Hank’s throat went tight. “She’s everything I would have chosen in a wife if I’d had the brains to go looking. She’s sweet and beautiful and kind with just enough sass and vinegar tossed in to keep me guessing.” He sighed and kicked at a dry leaf that had blown in from the yard last fall. “Every time I look at her, I wonder how I could have thought she was a run-of-the-mill barfly. Not knowing she was a virgin, I wasn’t concerned about being extra careful. I hurt her, I’m sure. She’s wary of me now.”
“As slick as you are with nervous fillies, I’m not too worried on that count. You’ll find a way to settle her down.”
Hank wasn’t so sure about that. “Maybe.”
Harv pushed wearily to his feet. Hank kept waiting for him to say, “I told you so,” or to rant and rave for a while. Instead Harv clasped Hank’s shoulders, looked him directly in the eye, and smiled, albeit sadly.
“I wish you’d never put the poor girl in a position like this. I won’t pretend otherwise. But, given the fact that you have, I’m proud of you for facing up to your responsibilities.”
It was the last thing Hank expected him to say. “It’s my baby, Dad. No question about it. This pregnancy will ruin her life if I don’t step up to the plate.”
“A lot of men would still run like hell.”
“I was taught better.”
Harv nodded. “Ordinarily, I’d never approve of you coercing her into marriage, but nothing about her situation sounds ordinary.”
That was an understatement if ever Hank had heard one.
Harv sighed. Then he patted Hank’s arm. “She’ll have plenty of family to support her from now on.”
Hank glanced at the door that opened onto the kitchen. “Yeah, plenty of family.”
In the not so distant past, Hank had resented the large, close-knit Coulter clan. But now he was glad of it. His mom would take Carly under her wing and be wonderful to her. He could also count on Jake and Molly to make her feel welcome at the ranch. Carly might feel a little overwhelmed at first, but Hank was convinced that she’d soon love his family almost as much as he did.
“She’ll also have a good man at her side,” Harv said softly.
The comment surprised Hank. He gave his father a questioning look.
Harv bent his head and took a turn at kicking the leaf. “Raisin’ sons, a man’s got a tendency to paint himself better than he is, tryin’ his damnedest to set a good example. I made my mistakes, things I never talked about in front of you boys.” He glanced up, looking sheepish. “Tossed a number of skirts, sowed my wild oats. Didn’t want to get married. Couldn’t picture myself with a passel of kids to support. No way, not me. Then I met your mama.” He winked. “Fell in love with her at first glance and spent the next few months takin’ cold showers. She was a nice girl, not the kind to get her skirt tossed without a ring on her finger. Wasn’t nothin’ for it but to marry her. Her daddy had conniption fits. Said I was a good-for-nothin’ scalawag who’d do her wrong. Wouldn’t give us his blessing. He was mad as hops when we ran off and got married anyway.”
“Grandpa McBride didn’t like you?” Hank asked incredulously.
Harv chuckled. “Wasn’t nothing to like. He was right; I was a good-for-nothin’ scalawag.” He jabbed Hank’s chest with a rigid finger. “Took lovin’ a good woman to straighten me up, and she’s kept me dancin’ to her tune ever since. Your grandpa McBride grew to respect me. By the time Jake came along, he and I got along fine. Did until the day he died.” Harv’s mouth twitched. “His last words to me were, ‘You treat my Mary right, or I swear, boy, I’ll come back from the grave and kick your ass.” ’
Hank laughed, still finding it difficult to believe that his father had ever been a skirt chaser.
Harv narrowed his eyes. “Seeing as how Carly’s daddy isn’t here to say it, I will. Treat her right. If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass.”
“No worries, Dad. My scalawag days are over. Soon, I’ll be raising a child and painting myself better than I am, too.”
“I know you will,” Harv said with a nod. “I raised you, didn’t I?”
When Harv turned to reenter the house, Hank stopped him with, “Dad? There’s one more thing.”
Harv swung back around. “If it’s bad news, save it. I’ve heard enough for one night.”
“Nothing bad.” Hank rubbed the back of his neck, thinking carefully before speaking. “I hate to ask this. I know you don’t like to keep secrets from Mom. But in this instance, would you mind keeping Carly’s pregnancy to yourself for a few days?”
Harv frowned. “I’d rather not.”
“I know, and I understand. Honestly. It’s just—well, if you tell Mom, she’ll turn right around and tell Bethany. Before I know it, the whole family will be in on the secret. I don’t want someone to slip up and say something to humiliate Carly on her wedding day.”
Harv finally nodded. “All right, son, I’ll keep it to myself. You’ll need to tell your mother soon, though. I’ll give you a week, and that’s it. She and I don’t keep things from each other.”
“I won’t even wait a week,” Hank promised. “Just a few days. For Carly’s sake, not mine. She might take it in stride. Lots of women get pregnant before marriage these days. But, then again, she might not. Her life experience hasn’t been ordinary.”
Harv rubbed his chin, his fingertips rasping on a five-o’clock shadow that was now more silver than dark. “Your mother will be delighted about the baby, you know. She doesn’t have it in her to be judgmental about things like that.”
Hank puffed air into his cheeks. “I’m not worried about that, not for a minute. It’s just that Carly’s never met any of you. She needs a little time to settle in before Mom starts gushing and presenting her with baby gifts.”
Harv chuckled and gave Hank a push toward the door. “You’d better get back in there before she invites half the town to your wedding.”
Hank wanted to think his father was joking, but when he reentered the kitchen, Mary was already on the phone with his sister Bethany, chattering a mile a minute. “Yes,” Mary chortled. “Friday at four! No warning, nothing. He says her name is Carly. Yes, well, you know your brother. He never crawled. Just up and started walking at seven months. Nothing’s ever changed.”
Hank heard the faint sound of Bethany’s voice coming over the line. He pictured his sister, sitting by the phone stand in the high-tech wheelchair that her husband Ryan had special ordered, her brown eyes da
ncing with delight.
Mary laughed at something her daughter said and thrust the phone at Hank. “She wants to hear all the details, straight from the horse’s mouth.”
On Friday at precisely three thirty, Hank rang Carly’s doorbell. While he waited for her to answer, he checked his bolo tie, shrugged his shoulders to straighten his western-cut tweed jacket, and then fiddled with his belt buckle to make sure it was centered. He was nervous. A fine layer of sweat filmed his body, intensifying the scent of his cologne. It wasn’t every day a guy got married.
When the doorknob rattled, he snapped to attention, tucked the bridal bouquet behind his back, and pasted on what he hoped was a friendly grin. When the door swung open, the grin froze on his lips and all he could do was stare. His church angel had undergone an astounding transformation that could only be described as Debbie Does Dallas.
Carly was wearing a slinky white metallic sheath with a neckline that totally redefined the word plunging. The shimmering knit hugged every delightful curve of her body, and the skirt sported a slit that shot clear to midthigh, revealing one shapely leg almost in its entirety. Her makeup looked as if it had been slathered onto her face with a palette knife. And her hair stood out at either side of her head in a wildly untamed cloud of blond curls that looked stiff enough to support Christmas tree ornaments.
“Hi,” she said, sounding agitated.
Hank was shocked speechless.
She smoothed a hand over her hip. “Bess laid out a dress for me, but a button came off. I tried to sew it back on, but I stuck myself and bled on the bodice.” Her voice went shrill. “It’s the only white dress I own. This one is hers. I found it at the back of her closet. I’m lousy at choosing clothes. Does it look okay?”
It would have been every man’s wet dream if she’d been wearing spike heels. Instead she wore the simple white sandals again, which were anticlimactic, to say the least.
Still stunned, Hank stepped inside the apartment and closed the door. He couldn’t look away from the inverted, green half moons above her beautiful eyes—or the thick layers of black mascara on her eyelashes.
“You’re wearing makeup,” was all he could say.
She touched her cheek. “It’s safe to wear it now. I called Dr. Merrick and checked.” She fixed him with uncertain eyes that were almost eclipsed by the eye shadow. “I’ve never put on makeup. I had to start over three times.”
She had obviously spent a great deal of time applying the cosmetics. For a first effort, there were precious few smears or globs. Taking in the lipstick that defined her soft mouth in glaring red, Hank decided that she must have borrowed Bess’s stuff. The shades were far more suitable for a brunette.
In that moment, he was swept back through time to the night of his sister’s senior prom. Their mother had been called to the stable on an emergency while Bethany was getting ready for the dance. Hank had been the only member of the family who’d remained at the house, waiting for a return call from the vet. Bethany had emerged from the bathroom, looking pretty much like Carly did now, her face smeared with garish color, her hair a nightmarish mess of inexpert curling and too much hairspray, the only difference being that Bethany had realized how awful she looked.
Carly obviously didn’t.
Hank thought about taking the coward’s way out. He hated to hurt her feelings. On the other hand, he couldn’t very well say nothing and allow her to show up for her wedding, looking like this. Later, when she realized how inappropriate the dress and makeup were for the occasion, she’d be humiliated every time she remembered her wedding day.
Evidently his thoughts showed on his face. She splayed a hand over her heart and said, “I look awful, don’t I?”
“You could never look awful.” He laid the small bouquet on the sofa and turned to study her. “It’s just that the dress is too flashy for a wedding, your hair looks much nicer natural, and you’ve put on way too much makeup.”
She looked stricken. “Oh, God.” She turned as if to do something, then whipped back around to fix him with imploring eyes. “Can you help me pick a better dress?”
Hank intended to do more than that. He jerked off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves as he followed her to the bedroom. Boxes were piled all over her bed, telling him that she’d already packed to move to the cabin. Fortunately, she’d left some of her garments on hangers. When she opened the closet, his gaze immediately fell on a simple light blue dress.
“This is perfect,” he said, pulling it out.
“What about my hair and makeup?”
“It just so happens that I’m something of an expert on hair and makeup. I used to help my sister Bethany get ready for dates.” He glanced at his watch, resigning himself to the fact that they would be late for their wedding. There was no way around it. “Can you lose that dress, throw on a robe, and meet me in the bathroom?”
Moments later when Carly appeared in the doorway of the bath, Hank had already turned on the sink faucet and was adjusting the water temp. She flicked him a nervous look when he advanced on her with a wet washcloth. With the aid of some cold cream he’d found, he quickly managed to remove all the makeup. She emitted a startled squeak when he drew her to the vanity, gently pushed her head down, and started dousing her hair.
“This is one of the most humiliating experiences of my life,” she muttered.
“It’s not your fault that you haven’t developed an eye for hair and makeup—or that you can’t see the spangles on a dress.”
He soaped her hair, being careful not to get any suds in her eyes. Then he did the quickest rinse job in history. Her soft bottom pressed against his fly. The contact reminded him of their “no sex” agreement and rekindled his determination to change her mind about that stipulation.
“There,” he said as he wrapped her head in a towel. “Where’s the makeup?”
She gestured at a small bag sitting on the vanity. Hank opened it and quickly rifled through the contents, choosing only three items, some mascara, a blusher, and a light pink lipstick. Carly stood before him, wide-eyed and tense as he went to work on her face. In his opinion, hers was such a perfect countenance that she didn’t really need cosmetics, but he understood her desire to be at her best when she met his family. A little makeup wouldn’t hurt, and it might bolster her confidence.
“General rule of thumb with makeup, less is always better,” he explained as he applied a touch of mascara to her long, silky eyelashes. “The idea is to look natural.”
“I’m sorry for making us late,” she whispered.
The front of her robe hung open slightly, revealing the lacy cups of her bra and the upper swells of her breasts. Hank looked only once, then riveted his gaze to her face, a feat that tested his self-control to its limits.
“It’s not your fault. I should have come earlier.”
“Will your parents be angry?”
He dabbed some color on her lips. “I don’t think so.” He winked at her. “If they’re slightly put out by the wait, they’ll get over it the second they see their pretty new daughter-in-law.”
When he drew the towel from her head, her fine hair fell to her shoulders in damp ringlets. Hank combed them a little with his fingers, marveling at how absolutely lovely she was. “All finished,” he said. “Run, throw the dress on, and we’ll be ready to go.”
She glanced worriedly in the mirror. “I need to dry my hair. I can’t go like this.”
“It’ll be almost dry by the time we get there,” he assured her. “And it’ll look fabulous.” At her dubious look, he added, “I’m the barroom lothario, remember. Trust me to know what looks good.”
She pushed past him to return to the bedroom. By the time she emerged a few minutes later, looking beautiful in the simple dress and white sandals, Hank had retrieved the bouquet.
“You look absolutely perfect,” he said, and as the words left his mouth, he knew he meant them with all his heart. She was perfect, sweet and nervous, trembling and uncertain. “I’ll b
e the proudest man in six counties to walk into that courthouse with you on my arm.”
He presented the flowers to her. “I know you wanted to keep this simple, but I thought you should at least have a bouquet.”
Her eyes shone as she accepted the small cluster of blossoms. “Oh, Hank, you shouldn’t have. They’re gorgeous.” She buried her nose in the blossoms and breathed deeply of their perfume. “Carnations? They’re my absolute favorite.”
Hank realized she had to identify the flowers by smell. When she gently touched a fingertip to another blossom, he said, “That’s a daisy.” He’d asked the florist for an arrangement of wildflowers, and she’d done her best on such short notice, using what she had on hand. He touched a delicate, lavender petal. “These are wild orchids.” Moving on to a tiny violet flute, he said, “And these are bluebells. The purple ones with the yellow and black centers are just garden-variety pansies.”
“Just? Thank you so much. I’ve only ever gotten flowers once—the time you sent me roses.” Even with the blusher to camouflage her natural skin tone, he saw her cheeks turn pink with pleasure. “Flowers have always been my favorite things on earth—I guess because they smell so wonderful. Even when I couldn’t see them, I could enjoy them.”
Hank made a mental note to make sure she got flowers frequently from now on. He reached into his pocket. “I, um—also picked up some rings.”
She flashed him a startled look.
“We’ll have to have rings for the ceremony. When I went to the jewelry store, I meant to get plain gold bands and nothing else. But when I saw all the wedding sets, I couldn’t resist.”
He flipped open the blue velvet box on his palm.
“I wasn’t sure what you might like, so I chose something that reminded me of you.” He lifted out the engagement ring, which sported a dainty swirl of diamond chips around a small sparkling center stone. As he slipped it onto her slender finger, he congratulated himself on the choice. It looked perfect on her fine-boned hand, not too gaudy, not too small, and the delicate design suited her. “I had to guess at the size. I’m glad it fits.”