A Marriage In Wyoming (The Marshall Brothers 3) (11 page)

She could lift her head to meet his gaze as he stared down at her and then rise up on her toes to press her lips against his.

His mouth was warm and very ready, responding with just the right firmness to assure her she was welcome. He tilted his head, perfecting their fit, and she sighed because she’d been trying so hard not to imagine this and it was more wonderful than it had been in her dreams.

Short and soft. Deep and lingering. The tangle of tongues, the nip of teeth on a lower lip. A slight taste of coffee and the scent of lime on his skin. Absorbed and beguiled, Rachel indulged in the pleasure of kissing Garrett Marshall.

Then her control started to slip. Her breathing came faster. So did his. She wanted—craved—more from him, more of him. His arms banded around her and she linked hers behind his neck, while the kisses got wilder, fiercer, and her body started to ache.

“Come inside,” she said as he dragged his lips along her throat. “We can be comfortable.”

He went still, though his heart still pounded against hers.

After a motionless moment, she drew back, trying to read his face. “Garrett?”

A shuddering breath lifted his shoulders. “You tempt me,” he said, his voice rough. His arms loosened, then let her go altogether. “I’m sorry, Rachel.”

“That means no?” She brought her hands to the center of his chest but didn’t step away.

“It’s a small, rural town. My congregation has certain...expectations...of me. My lifestyle. Spending the night with you—as I’m dying to do—would violate those expectations.”

“No one has to know.”

“Secrecy doesn’t exist in a place like Bisons Creek.” Turning aside, he gripped the top of the porch rail with both hands. “Everybody would find out.”

“What happens then? They fire you?”

“It’s possible. But much worse would be the disillusionment and loss of faith the members would suffer. As old-fashioned as it might seem, they want their minister to be an honorable man, and their definition of honorable includes no sex without a wedding.” He gave a ghost of a laugh. “We could get married.”

“Not tonight.” Rachel rubbed her temples with her fingers. “That’s a very difficult standard to live with.”

“Not until right now.” He straightened and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I apologize for letting...things...go too far.” His smile flashed and was gone. “You’re a hard woman to resist.”

His boot heels sounded on the floorboards as he crossed the porch. From the bottom of the steps, he looked up at her. “Go on inside. I’ll leave when I hear the lock click.”

She started to argue that she could take care of herself. But this wasn’t a moment for manufactured conflict. There were enough obstacles between them. “Thanks.”

Through the window, she watched him walk across the yard to his truck. The lights flashed and then he drove into the night.

Leaning her shoulders against the door panel, Rachel closed her eyes and relived those moments in his arms. Her body still thrummed with unsatisfied desire. And her emotions...

Her emotions were in turmoil. She had let her guard down completely tonight, had been willing to give Garrett anything and everything he asked for. Despite the differences between them, she’d offered herself without reservation.

Only now, in hindsight, did she understand why. It wasn’t the music, or the dancing, or even the wine, which sat almost untouched on the table beside the couch. Kissing Garrett had been her choice, made for only one reason.

Despite all her reservations, she was falling in love with him.

* * *

G
ARRETT
DIDN
’
T
GO
HOME
. He couldn’t face his brothers, and certainly not Caroline, after what he’d done. Not till he had some kind of control over his guilt.

Instead, he drove to the church and went into his office. Sitting in the desk chair, he propped his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands. He wanted to hide.

He’d told Rachel his congregation expected their minister to be honorable. Well, he definitely didn’t fit that description. An honorable man wouldn’t treat a woman the way he’d treated her tonight, wouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. The fact that she’d kissed him first didn’t matter. He should have kept a tight grip on his own response, the hot desire she stirred in him, and gentled the situation. She deserved that kind of respect.

How would he face her when she came to the ranch tomorrow? For that matter, what hope did he have that Rachel would still be willing to pursue a relationship with him? He’d asked her to trust him, but at the first opportunity, he’d broken that trust. Why should she give him another chance?

Somewhere around 2:00 a.m., he managed to ask for forgiveness and accept it. He was human, after all, and mistakes were inevitable. He still wasn’t sure how he could make amends or what he could say to restore the balance between Rachel and himself. If she wanted nothing more to do with him, then he would be her
casual
friend and live with it. Somehow.

Sleep, when he finally did go home, was a long while coming.

Rachel avoided him when she arrived the next day at noon. Not obviously, but he couldn’t catch her eye. As the kids ate, she stood with Caroline, talking about weddings, and he hesitated to interrupt. Then she started her lesson on the Heimlich maneuver and CPR, too important a subject to joke about. Even the kids seemed to appreciate the seriousness of the content.

While she packed up her materials, he took his chance. “They paid attention,” he said, standing on the opposite side of the table. “You made a real impression.”

She was still avoiding his gaze. “I appreciated their cooperation.”

“They have their angelic moments.”

A smile tilted her lips. “Though sometimes that’s hard to remember.”

“True.” He opened the door for her. “We’ve set up the steer-riding event, by the way. We’ll go next Monday, if that works for you.”

“I’ll clear my schedule,” she said, “so I can be free all day.” She took an audible breath. “Now, though, I’m due at the office. I have patients this afternoon.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“No, you don’t have to.” She put out a hand. “You have other things to do.” Finally, her eyes met his, with an expression of near panic.

Garrett stepped away. “Sure.” He swallowed hard. “Have a pleasant afternoon.”

“You, too.” Rachel hurried down the hill on her own.

That was when he was sure he’d ruined his prospects for a life with Rachel Vale.

There was, however, no chance to give in to despair. He found himself even busier than usual that afternoon as he made arrangements for the welcome party on Friday night. Food would be provided by the excellent cooks who resided in Bisons Creek, but there were numerous details for which he was responsible. Tables and chairs, ice, drinks, lights, music... He spent hours on the phone, recruiting volunteers to help provide the essentials.

Thursday morning, he and Lena drove into Buffalo for her doctor’s appointment. They had to wait almost two hours past their scheduled time due to an emergency. Garrett discovered that teenagers didn’t accept delays with patience, but he acquired some paper from the reception desk and engaged her with tic-tac-toe and hangman, which forestalled most of her complaints.

The doctor, when they saw him, was pleased with her lab results, and the record of her tests and injections over the week. They also talked with Kim Kaiser, the nurse educator, about food choices and their effects on diabetes. Lena was cooperative and polite throughout the meetings, which was more than Garrett had expected. As a reward, he took her to lunch at a diner in Buffalo—she’d brought her backpack containing her test kit and insulin pen, so she didn’t have to miss her noon injection.

“You’re getting the hang of this,” he said when she returned from the restroom. “Congratulations on being prepared.”

She rolled her eyes as she sat down across the booth. “Welcome to the rest of my life.”

They didn’t make it to the ranch for the first-aid session, but they joined in on the fishing trip he and Dylan had put together for the afternoon. They took the kids to a pond in the foothills where the fish practically jumped out of the water to be caught. Lizzie refused to bait the hook and chose to sit under a tree rather than join the rest of the kids by the water. Thomas made the first catch, but Marcos got one of his own soon enough. Within a couple of hours, everybody who wanted one had a fish story to relate at dinner.

And then there was the rest of the evening to get through as if nothing was wrong. He played badminton with the kids and helped churn ice cream, though neither he nor Lena took a serving.

“That leaves more for me,” Thomas said, with a greedy laugh.

“And me.” Marcos held out his bowl. “You don’t get it all.”

“Back off,” Garrett snapped. “You two aren’t the only people who want seconds. Lizzie? Becky? How about another scoop? Justino? Nate?”

He was aware of Ford’s sharp eyes on him as he doled out the last of the dessert. Caroline, too, had noticed his irritation. No, he hadn’t lost his temper with the kids before. But those two boys had to stop pushing the boundaries. A line should be drawn somewhere.

Leaving the bunkhouse after bed check, he saw Caroline and Ford sitting on the porch of the cabin and gave a sigh of relief. He would get to his room without having to explain or excuse his reaction. Or anything else.

Wrong. As he approached the house, he found Wyatt leaning against a porch post. “A nice night,” his brother said, after a nod in greeting. “Fine hay-making weather.”

Garrett nodded, relieved at the neutral comment. “The second cutting is coming up strong. We should be able to cut and bale in the next couple of weeks.”

“Not if you wear yourself out first.”

So much for neutral. He dropped into a rocker. “I’m okay.”

“You’re tired. And you didn’t come in until after two last night. I don’t intend to pry—”

“Then don’t. I wasn’t with Rachel that late, in case you’re asking. I went to the church. I had some thinking to do.”

“About Rachel.” When Garrett didn’t answer, Wyatt shook his head. “She’s got you twisted up inside.”

“It’s not her fault. She didn’t want me to fall in love with her.” There. He’d said it. “In fact, she warned me not to.”

“You don’t always have control over such things.”

“No, you don’t.”

Wyatt stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’ll get easier over time.”

“Maybe.”

But Garrett wasn’t counting on it.

Chapter Ten

Friday was Rachel’s first really busy day at the office. Patients started arriving at 8:00 a.m., some without appointments. Allie assured everyone that they would be seen, but fitting them all in before noon was a challenge, and she ended up being late getting to the Circle M for the last first-aid session.

She hurried into the bunkhouse, imagining that the kids would be playing with their phones, waiting on her. But they were all seated at the table and focused on Garrett, who appeared to be in the middle of a story.

“Then this bull wheels around hard to the left, and I completely lose it and fall off. But...” He met each teenager’s gaze around the table. “But my hand is stuck. So now I’m hanging from the rope, and that animal is going crazy, trying to get rid of me—bucking, twisting, rearing, anything he can do to dump the stupid cowboy still attached to his shoulders. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die.”

“How did you escape?” Thomas asked, as the others laughed.

“The rigging finally loosened up enough that my hand slipped out. I dropped to the ground facedown, with my arms over my head, just in case. Only when I was sure that bull was shut up in the pens did I get to my feet and leave the arena. And that’s my first and only bull ride. I can take a hint.” He noticed Rachel then, but his glance didn’t linger on her face. “Now here’s Dr. Vale to take over. What’s on the agenda for your last day?”

“Poisoning,” she announced, stepping up to the table. “And shock.”

“Important stuff,” he told the kids. “There will be a quiz afterward.” As they protested, he grinned and shook his head. “I’m kidding. But pay attention anyway.” He lifted a hand as he headed for the door.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Rachel said to the teens, pulling her attention away from the man who was leaving. “What kind of substances could be poisonous?”

Another lively discussion ensued, which Rachel wrapped up by reviewing some basic safety considerations—outdoor and sports concerns, and fire prevention, especially. She ended with the question she’d been asking every day. “What’s the first thing you do in an emergency?”

“Call 911!” the seven kids yelled.

“Right answer,” she said with pride. “Thanks for your attention this week. Stay safe.”

To her surprise, they all applauded. “Thank you,” Becky said. “We learned a lot.”

“I’ll keep my book always,” Lizzie added. “I might even use it one day.”

The boys, of course, didn’t volunteer compliments. But Lena came up to her as the meeting broke up. “It must take a lot of studying to be a doctor. Just learning the stuff in that book would take forever. And you probably know so much more.”

“About eleven years of work after high school,” Rachel said. “You add information piece by piece and it all builds up.”

“You have to be pretty old, then,” Lena said. “That’s a long time.”

Caroline, who was listening, started laughing and Rachel joined her. “I’ve got a few years left.”

“It’s interesting that Lena asked about medical training,” Caroline said as they left the bunkhouse together. “Maybe she’ll consider being a doctor or a nurse.”

“That would be terrific, wouldn’t it? And now’s the moment to start.” Rachel noticed that Garrett’s truck was missing from the collection of vehicles near the house. She wouldn’t ask where he might have gone. “I hope these first-aid lessons may have helped to inspire her.”

Caroline folded her into a hug. “Thank you so much for doing this. I’m sure it’s been a chunk out of your weekdays, but the kids learned in spite of themselves.” She stepped away but held on to Rachel by the shoulders. “And we’ll meet up with you tonight at the party. From all the planning Garrett’s been doing, it should be really fun!”

The idea of Garrett organizing the party stayed with Rachel during the afternoon, sneaking into her mind in those moments when she wasn’t focusing on medicine. It was typical of him to make an extra effort, to take on more than his share of what could have been a simple coffee-and-soft-drinks affair. His dedication to the projects he adopted—the kids’ camp, or Lena’s care, let alone a welcome party—was compelling.

As if she wasn’t already smitten enough. She could hardly speak to him without revealing the state of her emotions. Facing him tonight at the party would take a level of courage she wasn’t sure she possessed. With the whole town watching, she would have to treat Garrett as if he was a casual friend and nothing more.

Which was funny, because that was all she’d wanted in the first place. Falling in love with Garrett Marshall was absolutely the last thing she’d intended to do. And yet somehow, in just a few days, he’d come to matter to her as no man ever had. He made her laugh and he made her think. He made her want a kind of relationship she’d never experienced—the trusting, committed, enduring bond between husband and wife.

After work, as she dressed for the party, Rachel admitted to herself that what she wanted couldn’t happen, for reasons she’d recognized from the first day they met. She would make Garrett unhappy. He required a wife who would be a part of the church—a role she couldn’t fill.

In fact, the pain she’d predicted had already arrived. She walked toward Hayley Brewster’s house, carrying the certainty that any connection with Garrett wouldn’t last. Nothing about their situation had changed, except her feelings for him. Rachel could only hope that the ache in her heart would fade eventually.

She heard music at about the same moment she noticed the parked cars and trucks lining the curb on both sides of the street. Up ahead was her destination, a big Victorian house with a wraparound porch, which tonight was draped with strings of white lights. More lights had been strung around the edges of the yard, creating a carnival atmosphere enhanced by the five-piece band on the side porch playing mellow country music. Men in Western hats chatted with women in boots and jeans, while children of various sizes and ages chased each other around and through the shifting groups of adults. There was even a group of teenagers, gathered in a clump just as the kids at the ranch often did, staring at their phones.

Standing across the street, Rachel swallowed hard. They all seemed acquainted, and the prospect of wading into the crowd on her own suddenly daunted her. If she could find one person she’d met...

“If it isn’t the guest of honor.” All at once, Garrett stood beside her, smiling. “Want some reinforcements?”

Her heart started to race. Then she noticed his brothers and Caroline right behind him, plus Susannah, Amber and all seven teenagers. “You brought the whole crew!” Their presence eased her nerves. Having the whole Marshall crowd to depend on somehow made her less vulnerable.

“The better to welcome you.” He gestured for her to move forward. “Let’s go initiate some introductions.”

In fact, Hayley Brewster was the first person they encountered as they stepped onto the grass. “There you are,” she said, taking Rachel by the arm. “Everybody’s waiting to meet you. You’d better get some food first, though, so you’ll have your strength.”

Hayley guided her to a line of tables set up along one side of the space, their surfaces covered with pots, pans and casserole dishes. As the first in line, Rachel had her choice of all the wonderful food but could hardly make a decision between one home-cooked dish and the next.

“That’s my chicken and dumplings,” the woman behind her said, pointing to a red kettle. “My grandmother’s recipe. I’m Beverly Long, by the way.” She offered a handshake. “Welcome to Bisons Creek. What should I take for my arthritis?”

“I’ll be glad to talk to you about that.” Rachel scooped up the chicken and dumplings. “Just call the office and let Allie make you an appointment.”

Minutes later, as she stood eating with Ford and Garrett, an older gentleman in a tall hat and a bolo tie approached. “I’m Paul Morris, Dr. Vale. I had pneumonia last winter and was just coughing my lungs out. I had to keep driving to Buffalo to visit the doctor—a real ordeal, especially with all the snow we had. I’m real glad that I don’t have to go so far for help these days.”

She swallowed a bite of potato casserole while shaking his hand. “And I’m glad you’re looking so well, Mr. Morris. We’ll do our best to keep you that way.”

“Let me take your plate,” Ford said, glancing around. “You’re about to get very busy.”

Gallstones, psoriasis, allergies and indigestion—Rachel heard about all of them and more as she greeted the citizens of Bisons Creek. For every person who just wanted to say hello, there was someone else with symptoms to report.

“Does this always happen?” Garrett asked after one particularly detailed recital.

“People are concerned about their health,” she told him. “It’s a point of connection between us.”

He tilted his head. “Come to think of it, I guess ministers have their own version of that pattern. The moment you meet someone, they want to discuss theology so you can confirm their beliefs and assuage their doubts. Or else they’re hoping for a counseling session.”

“Occupational hazards,” Rachel said.

“And you said we don’t have anything in common.”

Her cheeks grew warm. “I might have been wrong about that.”

His serious gaze held hers and he took a step closer. “I’m listening.”

At that moment, a tap on the shoulder snared her attention. “Don’t monopolize the lady, son.” Flustered, Rachel found herself confronted by a large man in a Western-cut blue suit. “Dr. Vale, I’m Herbert Jolly, mayor of this fine town.” He gave her hand a bruising shake. “I apologize for not being here to greet you before this—I was in Las Vegas at a conference all week long. But we are delighted to have you hang out your shingle in our neck of the woods. Anything I personally can do to make things easier for you, just call my office. I answer the phone myself.”

“Because his office is his kitchen table,” Garrett said over her shoulder as the mayor moved off to speak with Hayley Brewster. “At least he didn’t share the details of the kidney stone he passed last fall. It’s a long, painful story.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “I’m sure.” Her attention was claimed by someone else and when she got free again, Garrett had moved to the far side of the yard, where he stood talking with two young, pretty women she hadn’t yet met. Members of his congregation, she guessed. The type who would adore being a pastor’s wife.

Jaw clenched, Rachel sent her gaze in a different direction and caught sight of the kids from the ranch camp, seated together on the steps of the porch. At the other end of the front walk stood the teenagers she’d noticed earlier with their phones. Something about the attitudes of the two groups, an aura of antagonism, alerted her. She moved closer to investigate.

“Losers.” The word came from the group on the sidewalk. “What are they doin’ here anyway?”

“Wastin’ space,” somebody said, and they all laughed. “Same as in school.”

On the steps, Marcos scowled, while Thomas sat with his hands clenched on his thighs. Lena leaned in between them, talking fast.

“Going to summer camp like little kids,” came the comment. “And they suckered a bunch of rich people into paying for it.”

Thomas stood up, but Lizzie grabbed his hand and pulled him back down on the step.

“Those Marshalls are pretty stupid, trying to make a difference with gangbangers and lowlifes. Why not spend their money on kids who deserve it?”

Both now on their feet, Marcos and Thomas strode toward the group, fists swinging at their sides.

Rachel stepped toward them, reaching out.

A hand closed around her arm, restraining her. “No,” Garrett said.

She glanced at him in alarm. “They’re going to fight!”

“And you can’t be involved. We’ll handle it.” She saw that Ford and Dylan had come to stand nearby.

About a foot away from their adversaries, though, the two boys stopped. “The Marshalls are not stupid,” Marcos said to the leader, who was shorter by six inches. He stared at the boy for a long, contemptuous minute. “I could destroy you. But you’re not worth the effort.”

Without another word, he returned to the porch, Thomas at his side. As a group, the seven ranch kids then descended on the dessert table, filled their plates and relocated to the far corner of the yard.

Rachel slumped in relief. “Amazing!”

* * *

G
ARRETT
FIGURED
HE
probably looked like a clown, his grin was so wide. “Can you believe that? They walked away!” The assembly of problem kids dissolved as each of them headed in the general direction of their parents, probably hoping the party would end soon.

“Your optimism paid off,” Rachel agreed as they watched the crowd. “Marcos and Thomas chose to avoid a fight.”

“It was really a team effort. None of our kids wanted to give in to the provocation. I’m proud of all of them.”

“Me, too.” She smiled at him, and for a second the noise and the bustle around them faded away, so there was only the two of them, connecting. He wondered if he’d been wrong, if maybe he hadn’t ruined everything on Tuesday night...

Then, in the next moment, Dorothy Simpson stood beside them. “Pastor.” She gave him a nod. “Dr. Vale, I wanted to add my welcome to those you’ve already received.”

Rachel shook her hand. “Thank you, Ms. Simpson. It’s been a wonderful evening. I’ve enjoyed meeting so many of Bisons Creek’s residents.”

“Some of whom should have been left at home.” Dorothy narrowed her eyes. “It would have been a shame to witness a brawl on Haley Brewster’s front walk, Pastor.”

Garrett nodded. “Our kids made sure that didn’t happen, though I admit they seemed to be sorely tempted.”

“Yes, well.” She cleared her throat. “I mentioned to Dr. Vale earlier this week that she should make a point of attending services on Sunday. Church membership is an important means of becoming part of the community. Don’t you agree?”

He swallowed his surge of anger. “That’s one way, certainly. But far from the only one. I expect Rachel will become part of the Bisons Creek family because of the care she’ll provide, the concern she demonstrates for her patients and her remarkable character.”

Dorothy’s ample bosom lifted on a deep breath. “You don’t encourage church attendance?”