The Texan's Bride

In the light from the garage he could see her black eyes flashing. “Just so you know I don’t respond well to people telling me what to do.”

He met her gaze. “Just so you know, as your husband, I’ll be doing that—a lot.”

“I figured,” she replied in a saucy tone. “Don’t expect me to be a dutiful wife.”

He opened the passenger door of his white truck. “That’s the last thing I expect from you.”

She laughed softly and it seemed to clear the tiredness and stress from his mind.

His vehicle was high off the ground and he intended to help her inside, but she hitched up her skirt, showing a long length of smooth thighs, and hopped in without a problem.

Why did Roscoe think Jessie was fragile and helpless? She had as much strength as he had. Why had Roscoe never seen that?

He walked around to the driver’s side. Why had he never seen that? He just assumed Jessie was as vulnerable as Roscoe had described. They’d both been wrong. Jessie could match his strength any day of the week. Their marriage would be a test of wills. Who’d be the first to give in, the first to compromise?

As he backed out, he knew one thing. It wasn’t going to be him.

CHAPTER FOUR

STUPID! STUPID! JESSIE CURSED silently. Why didn’t she let Cadde help her? Her father’s paranoia had made her dependent and she’d spent many years staking her independence, proving to everyone, mostly herself, that she was capable of handling her life. Claiming that prize hadn’t been easy, but she was tired of being afraid of everything around her. So she faced life head-on, determined to do things on her own. Sometimes, though, she needed to make better judgment calls—like tonight.

Little was said as Cadde drove away from the house. She watched his big hands on the steering wheel: capable, efficient and strong. That described him to a T.

A Shilah Oil coffee cup was in the console along with papers listing oil wells and production numbers. The four-door cab truck was big, but with Cadde’s presence it seemed to grow smaller. A woodsy coffee scent tempted her nostrils. She leaned back and let the cool air from the air-conditioning calm her nerves.

When they reached the cutoff to U.S. 290, Cadde stopped the truck. “Where would you like to go?” His tone indicated he didn’t care and that irritated her.

“There’s a nice Italian restaurant in Brenham,” she replied. “It might be more miles, but less traffic.”

“Fine.” He turned right. He was halfway friendly earlier. Now he seemed to have nailed that door shut. If he wanted to be temperamental, that was okay with her—up to a point. This evening was about them getting to know each other and he had to make an effort.

They breezed into Brenham, a small town of nearly fifteen thousand, and home to Blue Bell Creamery. As a child, she loved it when her dad would take her to get ice cream. Even though it was one of her fondest memories, it took all of her childish imagination to ignore the guards. She had wanted to run and play with the other kids, but was never allowed.

She switched her attention to the road and gave Cadde directions. He followed them without saying a word. When he stopped at the house that had been converted into a restaurant, he asked, “Is this it?” Clearly, he wasn’t impressed.

“Yes. It’s very nice and has great food,” she informed him.

“Fine,” he said again in that clipped tone.

She gritted her teeth and got out. It was pointless to wait for him to help her. She’d already blown that.

As they walked to the front door, a warm breeze ruffled her hair. Tossing it back, she gazed at him and had to admit he’d made an effort in dressing. He wore dark slacks, a white shirt, with his dress boots and Stetson. Every woman in the place was going to be looking at him. He had that air, that presence that drew attention. He’d certainly caught hers and her feelings hadn’t changed since the first time she’d met him. She had to wonder, though, if they could build a life on her feelings alone.

They didn’t have a reservation, but were able to be seated without waiting. She could just imagine Cadde’s ire at having to wait. Their table was by a fireplace, which was unlit because it was the last month of summer. Still, with the muted lighting and a candle flickering in the center of the linen tablecloth, it was very romantic. They had a view of a small courtyard with green plants. The whole ambience was relaxing. She took a deep breath and prepared herself to enjoy the evening.

Cadde laid his hat on a chair as a waiter placed menus in front of them. “May I get you something to drink?” he asked.

“A glass of your best chardonnay,” Cadde replied without pausing.

The waiter turned to her. “I’ll have the same,” she told him.

As the waiter walked away, she opened her menu. “The chicken alfredo is good, and so is the marsala.”

“Mmm.” He studied the dinner entrées.

The waiter came back with two glasses of wine. Setting them on the white tablecloth with a coaster, he asked, “Are you ready to order?”

Jessie closed her menu and unfolded her linen napkin. “Yes. I’ll have the chicken alfredo.”

Cadde did likewise. “Parmesan steak. Medium rare.”

She should have known he’d order steak. There was just something about Texas men that they had to have steak. Her father had been the same.

She shifted uneasily and thought this would be a good time for them to talk. Straightening her napkin in her lap, she said, “You have two brothers, but I know little else about you or your family.”

“I was born in High Cotton, Texas.” He took a gulp of the wine. “After our parents died in a car accident, we lived with our aunt and uncle.” A flash of resentment crossed his handsome face.

“Your expression changed when you mentioned your parents.”

He looked at her for probably the first time since they’d left the house. “I don’t know why.” His chilling tone issued a warning—don’t pry.

The silence stretched and she could almost feel a negative vibration coming from him telling her he wasn’t in a talkative mood. She was about to ignore all the warnings when their dinners arrived.

Cadde emptied his glass. “Bring the bottle, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

In a matter of seconds, the waiter was back with the wine.

“Thank you,” Cadde replied, filling his glass.

She twirled fettuccine around her fork and watched him cut into his steak with sharp strokes. Between each bite he gulped the wine. After the third glass, she’d had it. She carefully placed her napkin on the table and picked up her purse.

“If you have to drink yourself silly to have dinner with me, then the deal is off.” She stood and strolled from the room, but not before she saw the shock on his face.

At the small entry alcove, she asked the lady for a taxi. She didn’t even know if Brenham had taxis, but evidently they did since the woman handed her a card with a number. She noted the curious look on the woman’s face. After seeing her come in with Cadde, she was probably wondering what was going on.

As she went out the door, she punched the number in on her cell and gave the taxi company her location. Darkness had settled in over the neighborhood, but the outside lights were bright, illuminating her way. The houses were lit up and a couple of boys rode by on bicycles, enjoying the last days of summer. Through some of the windows with open curtains she could see families were sharing their day—loving families. That was something she was never going to have so she might as well face it.

She glanced at her phone for the time. How long did it take a taxi to get here? The cell was suddenly jerked from her hand. She whirled around to find Cadde. He was furious from what she could glimpse in the streetlight. His hat hid most of his expression.

“Give it back to me.” She jumped for it, which was ridiculous since he was so much taller.

“You’re going home the same way you came here,” he snapped.

“Like hell. I’m not going anywhere with a man who has to get drunk to spend a couple of hours with me.”

“I’m not drunk.”