The Trouble with Josh. Marilyn Pappano

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СКАЧАТЬ his hair standing on end. Except for the reddish tint to his hair, courtesy of his mother, he looked remarkably like Jordan had at his age—who, according to the family album, had looked remarkably like Tate. Occasionally Josh wondered if he would see the same resemblance in his kids someday…but only occasionally. Once every few years.

      “What’re you gonna be for ’alloween?” J.T. asked.

      Josh pretended to think about it as he walked over to the fence where Tate had joined Natalie. “How about if I go as a cowboy?”

      “Uncle Josh, you are a cowboy. You gotta go as somethin’ you ain’t.”

      “There’s a whole world of possibilities,” Josh murmured as J.T. made a leap into his father’s arms. “Hey, Natalie, Tate.”

      “Hey, Josh,” his sister-in-law replied. “We were wondering if you’d be joining us for lunch. It’d be a shame if you missed it, considering I’ve fixed ribs, baked beans and the last of the Silver Queen corn from your mom’s freezer, along with a chocolate cake for dessert.”

      As they started toward the house, J.T. hitching a ride on Tate’s shoulders, Josh slid his arm around Natalie. “You know I love your ribs—and the rest of you ain’t too bad,” he teased. “There’s not much that could drag me away from my favorite food fixed by my favorite sister-in-law.”

      “How about a pretty blonde in a silver convertible?”

      Josh gave both her and Tate a pitying look. “Your lives must be disgustingly boring if you find my being sociable with a stranger passing through worthy of discussion. Yes, she was blond, she was pretty, and she was driving a convertible. And she has about as much significance in my day as that hawk flying up there.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Poor old married folk.”

      Natalie elbowed him for that last remark. “One of these days, Josh, you’re going to fall in love and get married, and then you’ll see what you’ve been missing.”

      “Maybe…when I’ve done all there is to do, seen all there is to see, and life no longer has meaning.” Opening the screen door, he held it for them while they went inside, then followed them into a kitchen filled with incredible aromas. His mother was a decent cook, though she didn’t really like the fuss, and Jordan excelled at breakfasts and desserts, but Natalie’s every effort was outstanding, and she enjoyed it, too. The Rawlins family had never eaten so well until she came into their lives.

      He washed up in the laundry room sink while Tate took J.T. to the bathroom to clean up and change out of his astronaut costume. Just as Josh reached for a towel, the doorbell rang, followed by Natalie’s call. “Can you get that, Josh?”

      Cutting through the dining room, he dried his hands, then tossed the towel over one shoulder as he reached the door. The bell rang again an instant before he pulled it open. “Well, well.”

      Standing there was the pretty blonde, looking uneasy and edgy. Out of the car, he could see that she was a half foot shorter than him, slender, with hints of curves in the right places. The ball cap was gone, revealing her very short hair, shorter even than his own. She wore linen trousers that were pressed and creased, a long-sleeved white shirt, open at the neck and sleeves rolled halfway to her elbows, and shoes that gave her a few inches of extra height—probably a casual look where she came from, but not in Hickory Bluff.

      When she didn’t speak but continued to give him a look that was at the same time blank and startled, he leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb. “Let me guess. You were so dazzled by my charm and boyish good looks that you came back for more.”

      “I…I— You—” She drew a deep breath. “I’m looking for Natalie Rawlins. Is she here?”

      “Yes, she is, but trust me, darlin’, I’m more your type.” With a grin, he leaned back and called over his shoulder, “Yo, Nat, it’s for you.”

      “Who is it?” Natalie called back, and he looked questioningly at the blonde.

      Her mouth worked a time or two without producing a sound, then she took another of those deep breaths. “Tell her….” Pitching her voice loud enough to carry, she said, “It’s me, Natalie…Candace.”

      The sound of shattering glass echoed through the house, making Candace flinch inside and out. That was not a good sign. In fact, that was a get-in-the-car-and-get-the-hell-out-of-town sign, or the next breakable might be aimed at her. She wanted nothing more than to run away, wanted it with an intensity that surprised her, but her feet wouldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything but stand there and indulge in a mild panic.

      Was the flirtatious cowboy the Rawlins from whom Natalie had gotten her new name? Had Candace been thinking mildly lustful thoughts about her former friend’s husband, for heaven’s sake? And what kind of idiot was she, to think that Natalie might ever offer the remotest hint of forgiveness?

      The cowboy was looking from her to the back of the house, and the grin was gone. No doubt she’d heard her last friendly word from him. Once he realized who she was, she’d be lucky if he didn’t run her out of town on a rail, or tar and feather her, or whatever they did to unwelcome varmints in these parts.

      As footsteps slowly approached the door, she caught her breath. This was it. The moment she’d been anticipating, dreading, visualizing. She’d imagined it a thousand times, with every outcome possible. Nine hundred ninety-nine of them had ended badly.

      Finally her feet obeyed, took a step away from the door and toward the driveway, but it was too late. The woman she’d adored, loved, envied, idolized and destroyed appeared in the doorway next to the cowboy, and she was looking at Candace with quiet loathing.

      She hadn’t changed much in the five-plus years since Candace had last seen her. Her hair was still long, curling wildly, still the color of new copper, and her skin was still pale and creamy smooth. The clothes were different—faded jeans, scuffed cowboy boots, a chambray shirt—but she was still elegant. Still beautiful. And she still hated Candace.

      “What do you want?”

      Candace had imagined the question a hundred times and formulated as many answers. She’d been ready. But the instant Natalie had spoken, all the eloquent answers flew right out of Candace’s head. All she could do was stammer and sputter. “I…I want— I’d like—” She breathed, then exhaled the words in a rush. “Can we talk?”

      “No.” Reaching past the cowboy, Natalie gripped the door and started to swing it shut.

      “Please, Natalie—”

      “You couldn’t possibly say anything that would interest me. Get the hell off our property and don’t—”

      “Mama said a bad word!”

      Candace’s gaze slid past Natalie. The other cowboy, the one who’d worked alongside the dog while the flirt flirted, came to join them, carrying a small child. Though the boy’s hair was auburn, there was no denying the resemblance between him and the man, which suggested he was Natalie’s cowboy, which meant the other wasn’t. It was a selfish thing to consider at the moment, but Candace couldn’t help it. She was relieved.

      The second man slid his free arm around Natalie’s waist and hugged her close. “What’s going on, babe?”

      Pale and steely-eyed, Natalie replied, “Nothing. She was just leaving.”

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