Sisters Found
Amanda opened her mouth to say she was thinking more like five or six years, but clamped it shut again. Maybe she would change her mind once she was married. Maybe marriage to Jake wouldn’t be the burden she’d been fearing the past few years. Maybe everything would be all right after all.
“Do you still want to get married?” she asked.
“Do you?” he replied.
“I do if you do,” she said.
“Then in two weeks, we’ll be husband and wife,” Jake said as he dropped a kiss on her forehead.
Amanda shivered.
“The sun’s gone,” he said. “You’re cold. You’d better get inside.”
“All right,” she said, stepping back from his embrace.
But she wasn’t cold. Except maybe deep inside, where she didn’t think she would ever be warm. “Good night, Jake,” she said.
“Get some rest,” he urged. “I’ll make some time to see you later this week.”
Then he was gone. And she was alone in her backyard, wondering if she was about to make a terrible mistake.
CHAPTER THREE
FAITH
“THANK YOU, FAITH,” AMANDA SAID as she finished washing the last of the potluck casserole dishes left over from the party and handed it to Faith to dry. “I really appreciate you coming by this morning to help me clean up after the party.”
“It’s my pleasure, Miss Carter. It’s too bad your gazebo got smashed to smithereens,” she said as she stared out the kitchen window. “Cleaning that up is going to take a saw and a wheelbarrow.”
“Not to worry,” Amanda said. “Rabb Whitelaw’s coming over after church to put it back together. Which reminds me, I’d better get a start on his meat loaf and mashed potatoes.”
Faith’s dark eyes went wide. “Rabb Whitelaw’s coming here for lunch?”
Amanda smiled. “It was the only payment he would accept for fixing my gazebo.”
“He really is a nice man, isn’t he, Miss Carter?” Faith said. “And handsome, too.”
“Yes, he is nice,” Amanda agreed. She smiled, remembering how sympathetic Rabb’s hazel eyes had looked, how the last rays of sun had burnished his chestnut hair. How firm and muscular his chest had felt as he held her. “And, yes, I suppose he is handsome,” she murmured.
She glanced at Faith speculatively. Was the young girl interested in Rabb? “I thought you and Randy were an item.”
“We are,” Faith said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t notice when a man is good-looking. Not that I’d do anything about it. No one could ever replace Randy. I guess you must feel the same way about Jake,” she said. “Like he’s the only man in the world you could ever imagine yourself spending the rest of your life with.”
“Hmm,” Amanda said. The problem was, she was having a difficult time imagining her life with Jake. Especially now that she knew for sure he wanted children right away. How were they going to resolve that dilemma?
“I’d be glad to help you peel potatoes,” Faith said.
Amanda always marveled at how well Faith got by with a hand and a hook. “Thanks, Faith, but I can manage.”
Faith folded the dish towel and hung it on the refrigerator door handle. “Well, if that’s everything, I’ll be on my way.”
A moment later she was out the door. As Amanda watched her cross the backyard, she marveled at how different Faith was from Hope. It was difficult to believe the two were identical twins. Or almost identical. There was that missing hand that made them different.
When Amanda had first met the two girls, Faith had been a shadow of her sister, always walking behind her, her arm with the missing hand concealed behind her back. Amanda had soon realized that Hope’s outrageous behavior was a decoy to keep people from noticing that other significant physical difference between the twins. She’d admired the fact that Hope was so fiercely protective of her quieter, shyer sister.
Amanda wasn’t sure when she’d first noticed Hope’s unfortunate attraction to Jake, but she’d been glad when Hope headed off to Baylor, and had been incredibly relieved when Hope had spent the past two summers traveling. Not that she’d ever considered Hope a serious rival for Jake’s affections. Hope was simply too young for Jake.
Or she had been.
Amanda frowned. Hope was no longer a child, and there was nothing subtle about her current pursuit of Jake. The young woman had made it clear by word and deed that she was in love with Jake. Which was something Amanda had never done.
And Jake wasn’t immune to Hope’s adoration. She’d seen how his eyes followed the girl yesterday, though he’d done nothing to encourage her. What were Jake’s feelings for Hope? Was he in love with her? Was she keeping two people apart who ought to be together?
But Amanda had given Jake a chance to back out of their engagement, and he hadn’t taken it. She had to conclude that he didn’t want out. Amanda found comfort in the fact that when push came to shove, he’d chosen her over Hope.
The knock on the back door startled her. She crossed and opened it to find Rabb. It was two weeks until Christmas, but Rabb was wearing clothes more suited to summer. She supposed the unseasonably warm weather justified his attire, but she nevertheless found it disconcerting.
His T-shirt had the sleeves torn out to reveal muscular arms and dark underarm hair, and his raggedy jeans gave taunting glimpses of the white briefs he was wearing. A leather tool belt hung heavy and substantial around his lean waist. She wasn’t aware she was holding her breath until she tried to find the air to greet him and it wasn’t there.
“Hi,” he said with a smile that made her feel warm inside. “Thought I’d let you know I’m going to be making some noise out here.”
She managed a smile, gasped for some air and said, “Let me get lunch on the stove, and I’ll come out and join you.”
He gave her a mock salute and said, “Yes, ma’am,” then turned and headed back toward the gazebo.
She stood at the door, only belatedly realizing that she was ogling the fit of his jeans as he walked away. She quickly closed the door, but the damage was done.
What was this fascination she had with Jake’s brother? She’d felt the same inclination to reach out and touch him when he’d built her gazebo two summers ago. She couldn’t possibly really be interested in him. She had a recollection of Rabb not being a very good student when they’d been in school together. She wanted someone she could talk with, someone intelligent and perceptive. That wasn’t the impression she had of Rabb Whitelaw. Good looks simply weren’t enough.
Suddenly she realized that her hands were trembling. She shook them, made a grrrr sound in her throat and yanked open the drawer that contained the potato peeler. She was a woman engaged to be married—to Rabb’s brother! The sooner she stopped letting her hormones control her head, the better.
Amanda took her time peeling potatoes and putting them on to boil and preparing the meat loaf. When she glanced out the kitchen window—she was just curious how repairs on her gazebo were coming along—she saw the flex and play of sinew and bone as Rabb physically manhandled the broken wood frame.
She forced her gaze from the window, got out a can of creamed corn and stuck it in a pot, then put some frozen string beans in a microwave dish. She pulled out some Jell-O salad left over from the party, then set the table for two.
By the time she’d finished, the potatoes were done. She mashed them with milk and butter, then set them on the stove where they’d stay warm. And realized there was nothing else to keep her from joining Rabb outside.
Had she been dawdling? Had she been delaying the moment? And if so, why? He was simply a nice guy doing her a favor. All right, an attractive nice guy doing her a favor.
Amanda paused on the back porch and stared at Rabb. He was intent on his work, completely unconscious of her, and she indulged her desire to look. His T-shirt was gone; bare to the waist, he was a delight for the eyes.
A fine sheen of sweat caused his tanned body to glisten in the sun, and it was hard to ignore the broad shoulders that tapered to a lean waist. She tried to remember if she’d ever seen Jake like this. If she had, it hadn’t left a similar impression—of youth and strength and, well, the word that came to mind was beauty.
It was the wrong word for a man, but even with her vast vocabulary, she couldn’t think of a better one.
Amanda backed away. She didn’t want to be tempted physically by a man other than her fiancé. But Rabb turned and saw her and smiled, and the choice was taken out of her hands.
“Ready to go to work?” he said.
She walked toward him, aware she was smiling back at him and again feeling that warmth inside. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’m trying to save your morning glories,” he said.
“Oh, thank you.”
“Come here,” he said, holding out a piece of lattice intertwined with greenery. “See if you can unwind some of these vines.”
She was close enough to smell the scent of hardworking man. Surprisingly, it wasn’t at all unpleasant. She was wearing a long-sleeved Oxford cloth shirt, and it wasn’t long before she felt too warm.
“Just a minute,” she said. She started to unbutton the sleeve of her white shirt and realized her hands were stained green. She considered wiping them on her khaki slacks, but the trousers were also clean, with a neat crease down the front. She made a face and reached for the button on her sleeve.
“Here, let me,” Rabb volunteered. He dropped the lattice, swiped his hands on his jeans and reached out to unbutton her right sleeve. He folded it up a couple of times and said, “How’s that?”
“Fine,” she murmured self-consciously. There was something intimate about having a man unbutton your clothes, even when it was something as innocent as a sleeve.
A moment later, he’d finished with the other sleeve. She took a deep breath of relief and looked up at him.
Amanda knew as soon as their eyes met that she’d made a mistake. Because he was looking back at her as though he had her in a bedroom alone, and he was just getting started. She’d never really looked closely at his eyes, but now she noticed they were golden with a dark edge surrounding the iris that made his gaze look intense, almost dangerous.
Leonine. Yes, that was the right word. Like a lion.
She was still staring up at him, breathless, a little frightened, when he smiled and said, “Here’s the real problem.”
Before she could protest, he’d reached for the buttons at her throat. He undid three of them and tugged the shirt wide. It fell open to reveal the edge of lace at the top of her bra.
She glanced down and flushed. And grabbed the edges of cloth and pulled them back together.
“Don’t,” he murmured. He freed her hands, which fell to her sides, and rearranged the cloth, opening it wide again.
Her eyes stayed on the toes of her sensible penny loafers.
He lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her gaze up to his. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I showed up at your door. You shouldn’t be all buttoned up, Mandy. You need to let go a little.”
She hadn’t heard that nickname since high school. It brought back memories of more carefree days that were long gone. She was a grown-up now. She was a responsible woman.
“It’s hard to reverse the habits of a lifetime,” she said, her fingers itching to rebutton her shirt. She reached up again, feeling much too exposed.
“Don’t,” he repeated quietly, taking her hands in his, tugging them away from the crumpled cloth.
His hands were warm and strong, and Amanda could feel the calluses on the pads of his fingers. Abruptly, he let her go and took a step back. “We’d better get back to work.” He turned his back on her and picked up a piece of lattice and held it out to her.
Amanda resumed the chore he’d given her, wondering how she was going to make it through the rest of the afternoon. How awkward. How mortifying. How utterly—
“Penny for your thoughts,” Rabb said.
She glanced up and saw he was grinning. “What’s so funny?” she asked irritably.
“You are,” he said. “You’d think I’d stripped you down to your bra and panties.”
Her face caught fire. Because she had been imagining what that would be like.
“When was the last time you did something rash and impulsive?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Amanda said stiffly.
Rabb dumped the broken piece of lattice in a nearby wheelbarrow and said, “I’m hungry. How about you?”
The sudden change of subject caught her off guard. “Hungry?”
“You promised me lunch. Let’s go eat,” Rabb said, grabbing her hand and heading for the kitchen door.
“What about the gazebo?” she said, glancing back at the carnage.
“It’ll wait. We have more important things to do.”
“Like what?” Amanda said.
“Eating first,” Rabb said. “Then…I haven’t made up my mind yet, but something…whimsical.”
She glanced at him sideways. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Not at all,” he countered as he opened the screen door and ushered her inside ahead of him.
She’d never realized how small her kitchen was, but there didn’t seem to be room for the two of them. She was aware of Rabb’s size, and the smell of raw male, and the fact that he was a very attractive man.
He caught her eyeing him and said, “I should get my shirt.”
She was flustered and said, “Only if you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “But my mother wouldn’t have let any of us boys come to the table like this. I’ll be right back.”
An instant later he was out the door again, and she took a deep breath trying to calm her nerves. What was wrong with her? This was Rabb. Jake’s brother. Who couldn’t read.
He was back a second later wearing the scrap of T-shirt, but it wasn’t much of an improvement. She could still see too much of him. And liked what she saw too much.
She’d had Jake over to dinner a number of times, but he’d always sat quietly and let her put food on the table. Rabb was into everything, leaning against her as he reached up for the glasses for tea and stretching around her as he got ice cubes from the freezer. He even held her chair for her, insisting that she sit before him.
Talk about siblings who were different from one another. Jake was the strong, silent type. Rabb never stopped talking.
“I’ve been working on some new designs for the furniture I’m building,” he said. “More baroque.”
“Baroque?” she blurted. She hadn’t thought of Rabb as an artist, or as someone who understood artistic styles.
“Most of what I’ve done in the past has been plain and practical, simple lines. But I got started adding a little of this and a little of that and before I knew it, this particular bedroom suite started looking like something out of the seventeenth century.”
“Hmm,” she said, because she didn’t know what to say.
“What’s your preference, artistically speaking?” he said.
She took a bite of meat loaf and pointed, showing she couldn’t speak because her mouth was full.
“I prefer the French modes to the Italian,” he said. “The lines are—”
Amanda quickly swallowed and said, “Where did you learn all this? I mean, this all sounds pretty complicated and…sophisticated.”
Rabb shrugged. “I was never any good at reading.” He paused and said, as though he were admitting to a sexually transmitted disease, “Dyslexic.”
“Oh. I didn’t know.” Dyslexics weren’t any good at reading because the letters and numbers appeared mixed up on the page, but that didn’t keep them from being highly intelligent. Einstein had been dyslexic. She looked at Rabb with newly opened eyes.
“I always liked looking at the pictures, though,” Rabb continued with a self-deprecating grin. “You can learn a lot about art and architecture from pictures.”
“Hmm,” Amanda said, because she was feeling foolish. As a teacher, she should know better than to jump to conclusions about people. It seemed she’d misjudged Rabb. “When did you find out you were dyslexic?”
“My mom and dad were pretty insistent that we get a good education. I spent a lot of time studying but never did well on tests. Turns out they were familiar with dyslexia because one of my uncles grew up with the same problem. It helped to know why I couldn’t read well, but it was still hard not to fight back when someone called me a dummy.”
Amanda’s heart went out to Rabb. How awful for him. And she’d been as bad as everyone else. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“I got over it,” Rabb said. He held out his hands and turned them over, as though marveling at them. “My hands have never failed me. I’ve found something I can do well, and I get a tremendous amount of satisfaction from creating unique, one-of-a-kind pieces.”
“I’ve always loved my gazebo,” she admitted in a soft voice.
“I’m glad,” Rabb said.
“I’d love to see more of your work.”
“You’re welcome to come to my workshop.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “When?”
“When can you spare the time? With the wedding coming up, you must have a lot to do over the next couple of weeks.”
Oh. The wedding. She’d completely forgotten. “I have so much to do I’m not sure how I’ll finish it all,” Amanda admitted.
“What about Jake? Is he helping?”
“He’s busy with the ranch during the day, and he’s agreed to keep your nephew and niece, which will keep him busy in the evenings.”
“I’d be glad to help—although I’m not sure what I can do,” Rabb said.
A furrow appeared in Amanda’s brow. “I have to pick flowers for the church and a design for the cake and I have some final decisions to make on my wedding dress. I’m afraid I’ve left everything to the last minute. I was busy with school until a few days ago, and now everything has to be done at once. It would help to have another opinion.”
“You’ve got it,” Rabb said.
“I wouldn’t want to take you away from your work.”
“My hours are flexible, and I was planning to take a little time off for Christmas anyhow. Where do you want to start? Flowers? Cake? Or dress?”
Amanda laughed and realized how strange it felt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed. She felt…carefree and happy. Suddenly, activities she’d been looking at as chores seemed like they might be fun. “I don’t know. Can I call you later?”
“Sure,” Rabb said. “Meanwhile, we have things to do.”
Amanda sighed. Yes. There was always work to do. She stood and began collecting the dishes to carry to the sink.
“I’ll help you with the dishes later,” Rabb said. “I think the rest of the afternoon would be better spent taking a ride.”
“What?”
Rabb took her by the hand and was tugging her toward the door. “Come on, Amanda. I know you ride. I’ve seen you with Jake.”
“You mean go for a horseback ride? Now? This afternoon?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“What about the gazebo?” She looked around at the mess in the kitchen and said, “What about the dishes?”
“They can both wait. There’s no telling how long this beautiful weather will last. Go put on your boots. Let’s take a few hours and get away from it all.”
That sounded so wonderful. It also sounded irresponsible. “I have so much to do,” Amanda said, “I can’t possibly—”
“I won’t take no for an answer,” Rabb said. “You have two seconds to go for your boots, or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and haul you off like you are.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Amanda said, titillated by the threat, but not quite believing it, either.
“Oh, no?” Rabb said. He reached out and tickled her ribs.
Amanda scrunched her arms down tight and tried to wriggle away. His arms came around her as his hands insinuated themselves beneath her bent arms and wormed their way up to her underarms.
“Oh, God.” She giggled. “Stop. I’m ticklish!”
“Gonna get your boots?”
“Yes!” she shrieked. “Yes.”
“Then go,” he said, freeing her abruptly.
Amanda took off at a run—she never ran in the house—giggling and laughing all the way.
“Hurry back,” he shouted after her. “Or I’ll come up and get you.”
For one treacherous moment, Amanda considered letting him do just that. In her bedroom, she kicked off her loafers, shoved her feet into her black cowboy boots, and ran—good grief, she was running again—back down the stairs.
She was grinning when she stomped into the kitchen. “All right. I’m ready to go. Are you satisfied?”
“God, you’re so beautiful.”
Amanda’s grin faded. What was she doing? What was she thinking? She had no business running off with Rabb Whitelaw for an afternoon of…merriment. She had dishes to wash. And plans to make. For her wedding. To his brother.
She gripped the back of a kitchen chair so hard her knuckles turned white. Because she had to hang on or go tearing out the door with him. “You’d better go,” she said.
“Mandy—”
“Just go, Rabb. Now. Please.” When he didn’t move, she said, “Get out!”
A moment later he was gone. And she was alone. Again.
CHAPTER FOUR
AMANDA WAS STILL IN BED LONG past the time when she normally would have been up and busy. She’d tossed and turned all night, feeling guilty over her treatment of Rabb. She wouldn’t blame him if he never came back to fix her gazebo. He probably thought she was crazy. She certainly had no rational explanation for her behavior.
She sat bolt upright at the first sound of hammering, then threw off the covers and scrambled out of bed, heading for the window. She turned and hopped right back into bed when her feet hit the frigid wooden floor. She reached down under the bed, found her bunny slippers and put them on, then trotted to the window. Well, the summer temperatures were gone.
She could see Rabb was putting up new lattice, but he was wearing a shearling coat and leather gloves. She shoved the window up and yelled down at him, “What are you doing?”
He smiled and waved and said, “Good morning, Mandy,” as though the events of the previous afternoon had never happened.
Well, if he wanted to pretend things were fine, she was happy to forget the way she’d acted.
“I could use a cup of coffee,” he said. “When you’re up.”
“I’m up now,” she said, shivering as a blast of cold air hit her face.
“You’re still in your pajamas,” he countered. “But I like them. You look cute.”
Amanda glanced down at the baby doll pajamas she’d slept in. They were impractical in a way none of her everyday clothes were. Skimpy and sexy and very…pink. No one had ever seen them but her. And no one was supposed to see them.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” she said, slamming the window and yanking down the shade.
He thought she looked cute. She ran and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Cute was a word for teenagers. Thirty-two-year-old women were never cute. She looked…ridiculous. She ought to be wearing something more appropriate for her age.
But she’d had to be up several times at night with her mother during those years when she could have worn silly, flighty, fun clothes to bed, so she’d made up for it once her mother passed away by buying things like the girlish baby doll pajamas she wore now.
She ruthlessly yanked them off, washed her face, brushed her teeth and put on the clothes she wore on cold days. Slacks, loafers with socks, an Oxford cloth shirt and a pullover crew-necked sweater. She shoved a brush through her short hair, slicked on some lipstick and headed downstairs.
No sense pretending she was anything she wasn’t. Forget being cute. She kept her hair cut short because it was easy to take care of and, except for her pajamas, bought practical clothes that would last.
She boiled a cup of water in the microwave and added a teaspoon of instant coffee. No coffeemaker for her. Speed was of the essence. Time was something she never seemed to have enough of. Or at least, that was the way it had been for eleven years. It had been difficult to readjust her mindset in the years since her mother had passed away. All right, impossible. She had the feeling she could never catch up, never get back those years she’d lost.