Lear Family 2 - Beauty Queen by Julia London

Author:Julia London
Language: fr
Format: mobi
Tags: Contemporary
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2010-09-02T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

If confusion is the first step to knowledge, I must be a genius . . . LARRY LEISSNER

Rebecca didn‘t sleep at all that night, no thanks to Matt Parrish and his gift of a sketchbook that had gone straight to her heart, .. and not to mention that hot we-aren’t-going-there kiss that had gone straight to her groin.

It was a good thing that at the crack of dawn they were all headed for Dad‘s show palace, the family ranch in Comfort, because Rebecca couldn’t think straight hell, she couldn‘t think at all and she really needed a diversion.

Fortunately, Robin and Jake, and Jake’s son, Cole, would be there, too, because frankly, there was no better way to see Dad than in the company of many. Her only regret was that Rachel couldn‘t come, as she was off in England studying some manuscript or something like that honestly, the last time Rachel had called, Rebecca had been a little distracted and couldn’t remember what she said. Except, of course, that bit about the Cancer. Shit.

Grandma, Grandpa, Rebecca, and Grayson, plus the dogs, piled into Grandpa‘s massive RV, and they were off, crawling down the highway as Frank and Tater moved from side to side, pressing their noses against the windows in a desperate attempt to smell the scenery slowly passing them by while Bean slept, sprawled across the floor like it was a porch.

Grandpa seemed to have a hard time fitting the Queen Mary into a lane even worse, he seemed oblivious to the stark terror on the faces of other drivers as they squeezed past, because he was too busy reliving the glory of having been a bingo announcer at a charity event. At the same time, Grandma was grousing about the unusually low pots and the inability of a certain announcer to call any number on her sheet.

“It was a charity event, Grandma. You couldn’t have kept the money,” Rebecca reminded her from the enormous living area of the RV.

“Well, I know that, honey, but it still would have been fun to win! But nooo, we‘ve got to have Mr. Saturday Night over here. I bet he called that blasted B-9 in every game!”

“Now, Lil, no one likes a sore loser,” Grandpa said.

“I certainly am not a sore loser, Elmer!” she huffed. “Anyway, I am sick and tired of talking about that stupid bingo bash! It’s just a silly game!” She didn‘t say anything else for a moment (and wisely, neither did anyone else). Then suddenly, she pivoted in her big bucket seat and peered at Rebecca. “Now tell me again about that nice young man with you last evening.”

Oh great, here they went. “Ah ... you mean Senator Masters?”

Grandma was, unfortunately, way too smart for that. “Nooo, I mean the nice man who helped you keep my cards when I had that attack of diverticulitis.”

“Oh. Umm ... Matt Parrish.”

“Who?”

“MATT!” Grayson shouted helpfully, having discovered that his great-grandparents were hard of hearing. “She means Matt,” Grayson said to Rebecca, as if she didn’t know.

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