A Husband of Her Own

“What?”

“Buddy wants his great-aunt to attend.”

“Did you say great-aunt?”

“I did. And she can’t come until January.” She turned her attention to her hair. She liked the blond highlights she’d put in it much better than her natural dishwater color or the fluorescent auburn it had been a few months ago. But she’d had Katie give her a pretty short cut, which didn’t leave her a lot of styling options. Grabbing a bottle of mousse from her dresser, she settled for putting some life into it.

“But you were going to celebrate your birthday in Cancun while you were on your honeymoon.”

“Guess I’ll be doing something else for my birthday.”

“Are you okay with waiting?” Delaney asked.

“I’m excited to think that now I might be here when you have your baby, but other than that, I’m not happy about it.” Rebecca wandered into the bathroom, leaned close to the mirror above the vanity and started applying mascara to her lashes. “But I can’t make him marry me on my birthday, you know?”

“You could give him an ultimatum,” Delaney pointed out.

“Believe me, I’ve thought about that.”

“And?”

“He might tell me to take a hike. Then I’d have to spend the rest of my life living right here in Dundee.”

“That’s not necessarily true. You could meet someone else. Or strike out on your own in a big city somewhere. If Buddy’s not as committed as he should be, maybe it’d be better to find out now.”

“No, thanks. I think I’d rather go out with Booker.”

“Why? That’s only avoiding the issue.”

“So I’m avoiding it. I need to get out of the house. I’ve been spending all my weekends sitting on the couch, talking to Buddy on the phone. Or at the computer, communicating through e-mail and instant messaging. I can’t face another four months of this.”

There was a slight hesitation. “You’d never allow yourself to get involved with Booker, though, would you?”

“No way. I’m still engaged. Besides, it wouldn’t be right to sleep with someone just because your father would hate it.” Rebecca dug through her cosmetics case and came up with some jewelry. Holding a pearl earring to one ear and a large silver hoop to the other, she tried to decide which one looked best. “Anyway, Booker and I are just friends. It was you he always liked, remember?”

“He tried to corrupt me. That doesn’t necessarily mean he liked me.”

The hoops. Much sexier. “Come on,” Rebecca said. “He wouldn’t corrupt just anybody.” She abandoned the bathroom in favor of digging through the shoes in her closet. “You think I should wear flats or something with a heel?”

“How tall is Booker?”

“About my height.”

“Perfect. Wear the dominatrix boots with the six-inch heels. That’ll let him know who’s in control.”

Rebecca came up with a pair of flats. “I don’t think he’d be intimidated by the dominatrix look. I think he’d probably like it. But I’d rather not feel like the Jolly Green Giant tonight.”

“Your height’s never bothered you before.”

“It doesn’t bother me now. I’m creating a different look.”

“If you’re not getting married until January, what are you going to do about the house?” Delaney asked. “Isn’t your lease up soon?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to call Mr. Williams and see if he’ll give me an extension.”

“I don’t think he will, Beck. His son and daughter-in-law and their two little monsters have been living with him for the past couple of weeks. I think he’s promised them the house when you move.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. I heard him say something to Lisa down at the bank about how happy he was going to be to have his space back once Peter and Carla move out.”

“That means I’ll have to find another place,” Rebecca said, sinking down on the bed.

“I’m sure Aunt Millie would let you move in with her and Uncle Ralph for a few months,” Delaney said.

Aunt Millie and Uncle Ralph had adopted and raised Delaney. They were good folk, the best, but Rebecca had no illusions that she could live peaceably in the same house with them. She already had to visit Aunt Millie once a week to do her hair, which nearly caused her to have a claustrophobia attack inside the first ten minutes—usually when Aunt Millie told her she was too thin for the hundredth time. “Are you trying to cheer me up, or what? You know Aunt Millie would snoop through my things and try to hold me to a curfew.”

“I just want you to know you’ve always got somewhere to stay. You could even come out here to the ranch.”

“Wouldn’t Conner love that.” Rebecca retrieved the perfume from her dresser, squirted some into the air, then stepped into the shower of spray. She didn’t want to smell like a perfume factory; tonight she was aiming for subtle.

“He wouldn’t mind,” Delaney said.

“No, thanks. I’m not pathetic enough to move in with my newly married friend.”

“It’s just temporary—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.” Tomorrow. She’d figure something out tomorrow. Tonight she was going to forget all her troubles and go dancing for the first time in months. “Are you meeting me at the Honky Tonk or what?”

“You’re really going?”

“Of course.”

“Then I can’t let you go alone.”

“I’m not going alone. I’m going with Booker.”

“Exactly. I’ll be there in an hour or so.”

As soon as Rebecca hung up, the telephone rang. She eyed it with distrust. Ignoring a ringing phone went against her basic nature. She had sort of a “no run, no hide” policy; anything less smacked of cowardice. But she didn’t want to talk to Buddy or her father or one of her perfect sisters. Not right now. Tonight she was feeling good and going out.

She managed to keep herself from picking up but hurried into the kitchen to adjust the volume on the answering machine. She breathed a sigh of relief that she’d used some restraint when she heard Buddy’s voice.

“Beck? Where are you? Are you mad at me? What’s wrong? I haven’t heard from you. I thought we worked everything out, so what’s with the silent treatment? If you’re that upset about the wedding, maybe we could move it up a couple of weeks. I’ll talk to my aunt. Give me a call, okay?” Beep, click.

“A couple of weeks? Jeez, that’s nice of you, Buddy,” she grumbled and went for her coat.

When she had her purse as well, she called Booker. “I’m on my way.”