Almost a Bride, a western romance by Patricia McLinn

Author:Patricia McLinn [McLinn, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: TUEBL
Publisher: Craig Place Books
Published: 2014-01-05T05:00:00+00:00

Lying in bed staring at the ceiling was nothing new for Matty. It was how she'd started most nights after returning to Wyoming. Always hoping the ceiling arithmetic she computed would arrive at better solutions than she'd come up with on paper for the Flying W's books.

But this time what kept her awake weren't calculations.

Odd how Dave had homed in on her relationship with Cal. Odder still that he'd asked about kissing.

The night after Great-Uncle Henry's funeral–only a few short hours after she'd discovered the financial mess, and then turned down Dave's invitation to dinner–Cal had come up to the main house to talk about what he intended to do the next day. A late-season snow had started that afternoon and hadn't let up. When Cal had prepared to follow the narrow path through the snow to his small cottage, she'd said it was plain stupid for him to leave.

People will think more's going on than's going on , he'd said.

She'd stared at him, seeing the kindness in his eyes and, to be totally honest, the muscled, hard body. At that moment it seemed like the most reasonable thing in the world. If her memories had slid to the sight of Dave at the graveside, so handsome and somehow distant, she couldn't be arrested for that. So maybe we should prove them all right.

Matty–

She'd given him no time to say more, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him. He'd cooperated. And there'd been a spark. A genuine spark. They both agreed on that. But the spark had cooled and gentled in no time flat.

With her arms still around his neck, she'd backed off enough to look into his face. He looked shocked.

Damn, Matty, I thought when we... It's why I've held off. I never...

Well, at least that was balm for her ego. He'd expected a conflagration, too.

I guess this comes under the heading of Not Meant to Be.

She'd gotten that much out with dignity, but then she'd burst into tears.

In the end, Cal had stayed all night at the main house, but it was spent at the kitchen table over leftover brownies and hot chocolate, listening to her disjointed woes, fears and disappointments. The one area she hadn't strayed to was Dave.

Cal had been the most understanding shoulder to cry on–literally and figuratively–that she'd ever had. He'd said little about himself, but a few phrases had let her know she wasn't the only one at that table who felt life wasn't in the best shape possible. Maybe that was what had connected them–a comradeship of loneliness. And a fond protectiveness for a fellow wayfarer.

Her eyelids started to drift down.

Whatever it was, it now felt like a durable, reliable friendship, which required little conversation and raised no doubts in her mind.

She cuddled closer into the pillow.

It would have been so much easier if she'd felt with Cal the way she'd felt kissing Dave in the barn.

Her eyes popped wide open.

The way she'd felt kissing Dave .

It all poured back through her in long, rolling waves.

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