The Great Texas Wedding Bargain

Megan sighed. “I think all he cares about is enchiladas, Mom.”

FROM HIS POSITION at the backdoor, Rick took a long, hard look at the kitchen. It was even more of a disaster than he’d remembered. Or wanted to admit.

The sink was piled high with dirty dishes. The cabinets needed cleaning. The trash was overflowing. The long table had a week’s worth of mail, empty cereal boxes, more dirty dishes and…uh-oh, a pair of dirty socks.

He looked at his watch. Just after four. He’d invited Megan and her family to dinner at six.

With a sigh, he headed for the phone. The only good meals he’d had since he moved to Cactus were the nights he splurged and ate at The Last Roundup. He’d order a meal to go. If he picked it up at five-thirty, he’d have an hour before then to straighten the kitchen, shower and drive back into town.

Working like a whirlwind, he cleared as much of the kitchen as he could. Just removing all the trash made everything better. But he managed to fill the dishwasher and turn it on before he took a brief shower and threw on a newer pair of jeans and a T-shirt. All his regular shirts were so wrinkled he didn’t dare wear them.

He ran for the pickup and zoomed into town. Jamming into a parking spot in front of the restaurant, he vaulted from the vehicle and almost collided with Cal Baxter, the town sheriff.

“Whoa, Rick! You’re in a little hurry, aren’t you?” Cal asked, clasping Rick’s shoulder as he tried to pass him by.

“I’ve got company coming for dinner,” Rick explained. “Your wife’s doing the cooking.” Cal’s wife, Jessica, owned The Last Roundup.

Cal laughed. “Good thinking. Well, slow down on the return trip. I wouldn’t want one of my deputies pulling you over.”

“Thanks, Cal, I will,” he agreed and raced ahead of him into the restaurant.

His luck ran out on the way home. He hit what looked like a piece of cardboard in the road, but it turned out to be metal and ripped his back tire all to pieces.

He muttered a few highly appropriate words, even if they wouldn’t be acceptable in polite company, and set to work putting on the spare as fast as he could. The kitchen needed more work, and the rest of the house hadn’t even been touched.

By the time he got the tire changed, he needed another shower and it was almost six o’clock. As he reached for the truck door, a four-door sedan passed him. He caught a glimpse of Megan driving.

Damn, the whole agreement was about to go down the drain. All because he was a lousy housekeeper. With a sigh, Rick slid behind the wheel and trailed the sedan to his ranch.

Megan got out of her car and stared at him as he pulled in behind her.

Getting out of the truck, he pasted on a smile. “Hi. I intended to be here to greet you, but I had a flat tire.” He couldn’t even offer his hand for a greeting. It was smeared with black dirt.

An older woman, a faded version of Megan, got out of the passenger seat. “Hello, I’m Faith Ford. I hope we’re not causing you too much trouble.”

“No, not at all,” he assured her, impressed with his own acting ability. “Uh, I’m not a very good housekeeper, though. I hope you won’t be offended by…by everything.”

The look on her face reminded him of Maria. She’d always scolded him about his lack of tidiness. But he’d had his mind on other things.

“I explained that you don’t have time to clean the house,” Megan hurriedly said.

He shot her a grateful look. “Thanks. I have dinner in the truck. Let me get it and we’ll go in.”

While he gathered the containers of food, Megan and her mother unstrapped the two children from their seats. He was nervous around kids. The few he’d spent time with seemed to constantly scream and complain. These two weren’t making any noise. That was a good sign.

He led them to the backdoor. No one used front doors in Cactus. He juggled the containers to pull the door open and stand to one side. The ladies stepped through and he took it as a good sign that they didn’t turn around and run out screaming.

He followed them in, discovering them staring around them, a surprised look on their faces.

He must’ve done a better job than he’d thought. But as he surveyed the kitchen, too, he realized, with a sinking heart, that he’d only made a dent in the mess. He’d cleaned off the table, but he’d done so by making piles on the floor, on the hutch and in one corner of the cabinet. He had gotten rid of the socks, but he didn’t think it would be good to brag about that.

He’d meant to sweep the floor, but he’d run out of time. The mud he’d tracked in last week after they’d had a spring rain was still there. Dog hair was noticeable. When Daisy barked at the backdoor, he automatically opened the screen for her even as he was trying to figure out what to say.

“Uh, the table’s clean,” he muttered.

“A doggie!” the little girl squealed, reaching out to Daisy.

“We can’t touch the doggie right now, Torie. It’s time to eat,” Megan said. Then she looked at him, a question in her blue eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got the food right here,” he assured her, setting the containers on the table.

The two women exchanged a look. Finally, the older one said, “Do you have place mats? Or…or dishes?”

Heck, they could see he had dishes. A lot of them were piled in the sink. He hadn’t been able to get them all in the dishwasher.

“There’s clean ones in the dishwasher. I’ll—”

“I’ll get them,” Megan said gently. She helped the little girl into one of the chairs at the table. “You sit still, Torie, and do not pet the dog.” Then she turned to him and said softly, “You might want to wash up.”

He turned bright red. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be right back.” He hurried to his bathroom and washed. As he looked in the mirror, he realized his white T-shirt had a streak of black on it. Whipping it off, he searched for another shirt.

Much to his disgust, all he could find was a pink one, created when he’d washed it with something red. “Damn, I’m going to look like a sissy. A messy sissy!” he said in disgust. But he had no choice. He couldn’t go without a shirt.

The little girl was still seated at the table, but her gaze was on Daisy, who was sitting on her haunches by the door, waiting for Rick.

“If you’ll hold Andrew,” Megan’s mother said as he entered the kitchen, putting her words into action by placing the baby in his arms before he could protest, “I’ll help Megan.”

He stood there, dumbfounded, while the two women quickly set the table. Then they opened the boxes to set out the food.

“I didn’t buy anything for babies,” he suddenly realized. “I’m not used to—”

“You don’t dislike children, do you, Mr. Astin?” Faith asked, alarm in her voice.

“No, ma’am. That is, I don’t dislike them. I haven’t been around too many children.”

She beamed at him. “You’re doing just fine with Andrew.”

Surprised, Rick looked down at the little boy he still held clasped to his chest. “Yeah, hey, he’s not crying.”

MEGAN HID HER GRIN. She didn’t want to spoil his sense of accomplishment by telling Rick that Drew seldom cried. Especially when he’d recently been fed.

After getting a look at Rick’s home, the kitchen, at least, she decided this cowboy needed to feel good about something. How could anyone live in the middle of disaster? She only hoped he was better at ranching than he was at taking care of himself.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. That pink T-shirt was a surprise. It clung to his muscles, showing his strength, but it was an unusual color.

When all the food was on the table, she looked at Rick. “Um, do you—is there any tea, or—”

His face turned brighter than his T-shirt. “I haven’t made any.”

“We’ll drink water,” Faith assured him, reaching out to pat his shoulder.

“There are sodas in the fridge,” he hurriedly offered.

The little girl immediately asked for a soda, and Rick was relieved that he could please any of them. A hiccup sounded from the baby he was holding and he peered down at him. He seemed content. Two out of four wasn’t bad.

Except the two he’d hoped to impress were the two he couldn’t count on his side.

Megan took some glasses out of the dishwasher and added ice. Faith had opened the refrigerator and taken out some sodas and put them on the table. Then she turned to him and reached for the baby.

He was amazed at his reluctance to release the little guy. His warmth had been a comfort.

“Does it matter where we sit?” Megan asked.

He shook his head no. But when she joined Torie, he took the seat at that end of the table.

“I like pink,” the little girl announced, beaming at him.

Reminded of his unusual attire, he blushed again. “I, um, I’m not very good with laundry.”

Megan’s mother, sitting on his other side, patted his arm again. “Don’t worry about it. I would be a terrible rancher. How long have you lived here?”

The conversation moved a little more smoothly after that and by the time they’d finished the meal, Rick counted Faith on his side, too.

But Megan hadn’t relaxed, hadn’t drawn him into conversation, hadn’t smiled at him as Faith had. She’d remained silent most of the meal, dealing with the little girl, but not talking to him.

“May we see the rest of the house?” Faith asked as they finished eating.

All of Rick’s comfort disappeared. “Um, it’s in pretty bad shape, Faith,” he said, as he’d been instructed to call her. “I didn’t manage to do any work on it today.”

“Why don’t you just tell us about it, then,” Faith said.

Rick smiled at her. The woman was wonderful. He sent a look at Megan, but she ignored him. “Okay. There are five bedrooms. One of them is down here. The rest are upstairs. I could move to the bedroom down here, and let you have the upstairs. There’s only one bath up there, though I’ve been thinking about adding another one.”

When he finished his year, he’d made a few plans. But until that year was over, he was sticking to his budget. No matter what.

“Why?”

That single word from Megan drew his attention. “Why what?”

“There’s only you. Why would you need another bath upstairs?”

“The bath upstairs is not very large. I’d like a second bathroom added to the master bedroom.”

“Megan, I think it’s admirable that Rick wants to improve his home,” Faith said softly.

There was some kind of rebuke in her words because Megan’s cheeks turned red.

Rick rushed into speech. “I can’t do anything right now, but I’ve been thinking about the future. Unfortunately, you all will have to share that small bath if I move downstairs.”

“We’ll manage,” Megan muttered, not looking at him.

“Of course we will. We only have one bath now. Our house in Fort Worth was much larger, but—well, we’re glad we’re here.”

“When do you want to get married?” Rick asked, fearing Megan had changed her mind. She didn’t appear as determined tonight as she had earlier in the day.

At her mother’s surprised look, he feared he’d blown it. “You did talk to your mother about…I mean—”

“Yes, I know,” Faith hurriedly said. “I thought maybe Megan had explained that we need to handle this business right away.”

“We didn’t get very far in our discussion this afternoon,” he confessed.

“That’s because all you wanted to talk about was food,” Megan said, her chin in the air.

He couldn’t hold back a grin. “Now you see why. I’m not much good with domestic details.”

Megan rolled her eyes.

Faith was more sympathetic. “It’s hard to do everything. I think this arrangement will suit us well.”

“Megan mentioned the end of the month,” Rick began, relief filling him that he’d hadn’t blown the whole thing.

“Must we wait that long?” Faith asked.

“Mother, we’ve paid rent until then,” Megan inserted.

“I know, but that’s three weeks away. I don’t see any reason to wait.”

“You might even get some of your rent back,” Rick added, hoping Megan would agree with her mother. Home-cooked meals right away. He smiled.

“You’re thinking about food again,” Megan accused.

Damn, she was able to read him too easily. He felt a little unnerved.

“Megan, quit teasing Rick. He’s being most cooperative.”

Megan smothered her groan and dropped her gaze to her half-eaten meal. There was nothing wrong with the food. It had been excellent. But her appetite had dwindled as the evening had progressed.

She had promised to marry the man beside her? To share a house, if not his bed, for at least a year? To see him every day?

Already she was learning to read his thoughts, to feel sympathy for him, to want to help him. She had to remain apart from this man. She wasn’t going to fall into the trap that had claimed her sister.

“Today is Saturday. I think Wednesday would be a good day to be married,” Faith said, beaming at Rick. “We could move in Thursday, and, by next weekend, be all settled.”

“I think that sounds great,” he agreed.

He would, Megan thought to herself. He was thinking in terms of his comfort. Selfish man. Suddenly, she was filled with regret. He was providing what she’d asked for. It wasn’t his fault she was in the position she was in. She shouldn’t hold it against him.

“Okay, fine. Is there a justice of the peace in town who can marry us?”

“Megan, no!” Faith returned, alarm on her face.

“What, Mom?”

“Mr. Brown, the pastor of our church, will marry you.” She turned to Rick. “We can’t manage a real wedding, but a nice ceremony and then dinner at Jessica’s restaurant would make it a festive occasion.”

To Megan’s fury, Rick smiled at her mother and nodded agreement. “I think you’re right. It will make it nice.”

“Are you two crazy?” Meg asked, then realized her voice was too shrill and lowered it. “This is a business arrangement, not a romantic occasion.”

“But do you want the rest of the town to know that?” Rick asked calmly. “When the time comes for the court to decide who gets the children, do you want them to suspect that it’s a business arrangement? Or a romantic, love-at-first-sight marriage?”

Her mother and Rick stared at her, united in their decision, waiting for her response.

First round to them.

Chapter Three

Megan lost a lot of battles in the next few days. Mostly with herself. She might have to pretend that her marriage was a love match, but she wanted to keep her heart whole.

Her sister had fallen for the entire package. Swept off her feet by a wealthy, charming man, she’d felt like Cinderella with her handsome prince. Less than six months after her fairy-tale wedding, Andrea had discovered the flip side of her romance. Prince Charming had grown more and more abusive.

But by then she was already pregnant. She told Megan she had to stay for the sake of Victoria. Then she became pregnant with Andrew. After his birth, Andrea had hoped her marriage would change. It hadn’t.

Finally, she’d left Drake. Then he’d asked her to discuss everything with him. He’d picked her up, without her realizing he’d been drinking, and killed her in an automobile accident.

Megan wasn’t going to be swayed by romance.

Or hormones.

But it was an uphill battle. Rick Astin was definitely charming. He had a smile that could turn her heart upside down. And he was as handsome as sin.

At least he wasn’t wealthy, though he’d offered to foot the bill for the dinner reception at The Last Roundup. She and her mother had argued with him about that. After all, they weren’t paying him to marry Megan. They’d finally agreed to split the cost.

With that settled, her mother’s attention had turned to Megan’s dress. “We’ll go into Lubbock to shop.”

“No, Mom, we don’t have time. I have that cream-colored suit I bought last year.”

“But, dear, you should wear white. You’ll make a beautiful bride,” Faith said, a smile on her face.

Megan was glad her mother was doing better. She’d shown more energy and hope since Saturday night than she had in almost a year. But she was getting carried away.

“If we’re going to move to Rick’s place on Thursday, we need to do some cleaning out there,” she pointed out, knowing her mother would be distracted with their move. “You know he’s a terrible housekeeper.”

“Yes, the poor dear. He needs someone to make a home for him. Cal says he’s a hard worker. Everyone likes him.”

Megan ground her teeth. According to her mother, Rick was perfection. But then she’d thought the same thing about Drake at first, too.

“We’ve set everything up with Reverend Brown. We’ve made reservations with Jessica. I have something to wear. Let’s go to Rick’s and see what we can do to get the house ready,” Megan suggested.

She’d been right. Her mother fell for her distraction. “Yes. If we go now, we can put the kids down for a nap, giving us some uninterrupted time.”

“Actually, Florence’s housekeeper volunteered to keep the kids for the day,” Megan told her. Florence Greenfield, wife of one of the doctors, was an old friend of Faith’s, one of the ladies who had suggested Rick as a potential husband.

“How wonderful. I’ll call and see if we can drop them off right now.”

In the end, Megan found herself one in a small army of women. Her mother’s friends, Florence, Mabel Baxter, Ruth Langford and Edith Hauk joined them, as well as several of their housekeepers.

The old house began to come alive as lemon-fresh scent replaced dust, changing Rick’s disaster to a comfortable home. Folding a white T-shirt reminded Megan of Rick’s pink shirt Saturday night, and his embarrassment. It brought a smile to her face.

“You look happy,” Mabel said, catching her by surprise.

“Um, yes, of course,” she agreed, remembering the role she had agreed to play.

“I’m glad everything is working out. Now, we need to move Rick’s belongings downstairs. Why don’t you come direct the change?”

Megan swallowed. She didn’t want to make decisions for Rick. But she had no choice.

When it got late in the afternoon, the crew of women began to disperse. After all, they had their own homes and families to deal with. Megan wanted to hang the freshly washed curtains for Torie’s room before she left, and Mabel offered to take Faith to get the children and take them to their apartment.

“I should be finished in a few minutes, Mom, if you want to wait.”

“No, dear, I’m tired. I think I’d better go on with Mabel.”

“Okay,” Megan agreed, frowning. She hoped her mother hadn’t overdone it today.

As Mabel and her mother were leaving, Mabel said, “There’s a casserole in the oven. It needs to come out in half an hour.” Then she disappeared out the door.

Megan realized some of the women had brought in bags of groceries, but she hadn’t realized they’d cooked. She moved to the oven and opened it. A wonderful aroma filled the room.

With a grin, she realized Rick was going to be pleased. It was some kind of enchilada casserole. She checked to be sure the timer was set and closed the oven. She needed to finish her chore and get out of there.

Then she realized she couldn’t leave until Rick returned or the casserole would be ruined.

With a grimace, she went upstairs to hang the curtains. Surely he’d come in soon. It was almost six o’clock.

An hour and a half later, Megan was pacing the floor. It was almost dark. When was the man going to appear? What was he doing?

She’d called her mother to explain why she hadn’t arrived, but her mother hadn’t been surprised.

“Most ranchers work until the light goes, dear. He’ll be there soon. Why don’t you share his supper and then come home?”

“No, I’ll be home as soon as he shows up.”

“But we’ve already eaten—”

“I can take care of myself, Mom. I’ll see you in a little while.”

RICK HAD INTENDED to cut his day a little shorter because he’d promised himself he’d give some time to cleaning the house tonight. Faith had asked if she and Megan could come out today to start moving in and he’d reluctantly agreed, telling her the house would be unlocked.

He should’ve cleaned on Sunday, but even Sundays sometimes required work. It was calving season. And today had been particularly busy. He was filthy and tired.

Next week, after his marriage, he would come home to a clean house and a hot meal. That idea brought a smile to his weary lips.

He parked his pickup near the backdoor and struggled out, ready to drag himself up the steps. He came to an abrupt halt, however, when he discovered a frowning Megan standing at the backdoor.

“Something wrong?” he asked, speeding up his walk.

“Where have you been?” she asked, instead of answering his question.

“Delivering calves.”

“You mean you were actually working?”

Her utter surprise irritated him. “Naw, I was sun-bathing by the pond in the back pasture.” He regretted his sarcasm as her cheeks flushed. “Why are you still here? Is there a problem?”

“No. I waited to take the casserole out when it finished cooking. Then, I thought it would be rude to leave, so I waited, thinking you’d be here any minute.”

He picked out the key word. “Casserole? You fixed dinner?”

“Not me. One of the ladies who helped us today.”

“Well, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

He started to move past her and saw her nose wrinkle in distaste. “Uh, I’ll grab a quick shower first,” he promised even as his stomach protested the wait.

She followed him into the house. “You go ahead. I’ll set out the food and then leave.”

“You’re not staying to eat?”

“No. I need to go to the apartment and help Mom put the kids to bed.” She didn’t meet his gaze, which made him wonder if she was lying, but he was too hungry to care.

“Okay.”

He was halfway across the kitchen when his surroundings pierced his fog of hunger and weariness. The room gleamed in the fading light and smelled great. “What happened?”

“To what?”

“The kitchen. Man, you must’ve worked all day to get it to look like this. Nice job, Megan.” He turned to smile at her, but she was still frowning.

“We had a lot of help. Mom’s friends, the ones who recommended you, came to help.”

“Ah, the matchmakers.”

“The matchmakers?”

“That’s what everyone calls them now, since they had a contest to marry off their sons. You know, Mac, Tuck, Spence and Cal.”

“They were just being helpful to me,” she muttered and turned her back on him. “Hurry and clean up before your dinner gets too cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and bounded up the stairs, spurred on by his hunger.

The hot shower refreshed him, even though it was a quick one. He stepped out and grabbed a towel, doing a quick rubdown. Then, wrapping the towel around his waist, even though Megan was supposed to be gone, he hurried into his bedroom for clean jeans and T-shirt.

And found nothing.

His bedroom was spotless. And the chest of drawers was empty. He opened the closet. Empty. Obviously, the ladies today had taken over the entire house. Now that he thought about it, the bath was immaculate, too. Or it was until he’d showered.

Maybe they moved his things to the downstairs bedroom. He came down the stairs, reaching the bottom as the kitchen door swung open. Megan ran smack into him, her hands coming to rest on his bare chest.

“Oh!”

“Megan! I thought you were leaving.”

She backed away and he grabbed for his towel, afraid his modesty was about to disappear.

MEGAN TRIED TO look anywhere but at him, but her gaze kept returning to that magnificent expanse of chest. The muscles were big and brawny and coated with dark hair that tapered down to the white terry cloth towel.

“Are…are you eating without any clothes on?”

“No! At least, I hadn’t planned on it. But all my things are missing from the bedroom.”

“Sorry, I should’ve told you. We moved you to the downstairs bedroom. You said—”