North Dakota Weddings (53 page)

Was that the reason Rayne had acted standoffish toward him? Had she sensed something from him and consequently felt trapped by her boss? He slid his hand down his face and groaned. Oh, he hoped not.

“What’s bothering you, Jack?”

Jack opened his eyes. Barb was still flipping through the magazine. “Oh, I could really use one of those”—she pointed at a massage gizmo—“since I don’t have anyone at home to rub my back.”

Jack shut his eyes again. Barb was an exotic beauty.

Like Kiera
.

Any other normal red-blooded man would struggle against the temptation she offered. But Kiera had cured him. Utterly.

Simon would have been a better choice on this trip, but then Jack would have had to listen to him comparing himself to Rayne.

Rayne
…

“Jack.” Someone tugged on his arm.

He opened his eyes and squinted. Where was he? Oh right, the flight back from Dallas to Fargo.

Barb’s sensual perfume drew him fully awake.

“Hey there, you’re awake now.” Barb leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “You said someone’s name in your sleep. I promise to keep it just between you and me.”

Stunned, he couldn’t respond. Had he said Rayne’s name? He’d had a dream about her.

He turned his head, despite the danger in Barb’s proximity, to read her eyes.

A slight smile quirked the right side of her lovely mouth. She looked pleased with herself.

“Barb,” she whispered. “You said my name.”

O
w!” Rayne jerked her hand back from the hot roaster, nearly dropping the pan as she slid it onto the stove. Nudging the oven door shut with her foot, she took one step across the small kitchen to the sink and ran her wrist under cold water, thinking she could just stick it out the window instead.

She laughed at her attempt at humor. She usually spent Friday evenings in a tired daze on the sofa, resting up from the week. Tonight she wished she’d taken Heidi up on her offer to join her at some church event.

Removing the roaster lid, she picked at the meat with a fork to see if it was tender like her mother’s.

Tough as leather. Would she ever learn to cook?

She lifted a piece on the fork and blew on it to cool it off, then stuck it in her mouth, prepared to chew the leather, but it was impossible.

Opening the pantry, she grabbed a box of macaroni and cheese. What she needed at the moment was comfort food. Unable to get her mind off her lack of enthusiasm for the fountain she was charged with creating, or the fact that Jack and Barb had been gallivanting around Dallas this week, Rayne had decided to create a home-cooked meal, a reminder of home.

But she’d failed.

As she brought the water to a boil for the macaroni, Rayne decided she was about to fail again. She stared at her cell phone on the counter, dying to call Barb.

Fear stayed her hand. What would Barb say? Would she talk about the client and her experience, or would her conversation be filled with little details about her time with Jack?

Rayne poured the macaroni into the water and watched it boil. A few minutes later her cell rang, just as the water boiled over onto the counter. This wasn’t her night to cook.

She flipped open her cell. “This is Rayne.”

“Rayne, it’s Paul.”

“Hi, Paul.” Rayne frowned. The day after she’d received the roses, Paul had called to invite her to lunch, but she’d been in a meeting all day again.

“I’m in Fargo this weekend.”

“What are you doing in town so often these days?” Rayne wasn’t sure she wanted to know but asked before she thought.

“I’d love to tell you all about it. Have breakfast with me?”

Rayne weaved her fingers through her hair. She had no excuse. “Sure. What time?”

“Seven o’clock too early on a Saturday?”

At that, Rayne laughed. Growing up on a farm, she was more than familiar with the fact that things didn’t come to a stop for the weekend. “That’s fine.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Uh, Paul…I’ll just meet you.” Rayne turned the stove off and moved the macaroni aside. It was going to be mushy. She hated mushy macaroni and cheese.

Paul was silent for a moment. “Have any place in mind?”

She’d disappointed him. A sick feeling hit her stomach. “Martha’s Waffle House just off Main.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Looking forward to it.” Rayne snapped the phone shut and leaned against the counter. She cared for Paul, and, she admitted, there was a small part of her that still found him very attractive. After all, she’d dated him and had come close to marrying him.

She’d never been one to date much in high school or college—only two boyfriends and one other admirer. It was a vicious cycle—liking someone who liked someone else. If the world were perfect, would she be able to return Paul’s feelings, loving him with abandon?

In a perfect world, she’d have no feelings for Jack.

The next morning, Rayne shoved through the glass doors of Martha’s Waffle House and stood in the small foyer, looking around the restaurant for Paul. She’d seen his truck outside.

There. He waved his arm, catching her attention.

She hadn’t wanted to meet him this morning, but she didn’t seem to have an out. He was a family friend. If nothing else, a neighbor, just taking her to breakfast. Sliding into the booth across from him, she smiled, hating the shy feeling that came over her as though she was his date. She’d spent enough time romantically involved with him that she too easily slipped back into the role.

“I took the liberty of ordering coffee for you.” Paul’s lips curved into a grin, and he winked. “I know you love your coffee.”

“Thanks.” Rayne poured some into her cup from the carafe then looked at Paul. He’d always been a considerate man. With his piercing blue eyes and blond Norwegian look, what woman wouldn’t fall over herself to go out with him, or…marry him?

They ordered breakfast. After the failed attempt at her mother’s cooking and the mushy macaroni, Rayne was famished.

“So, what are you doing in Fargo?” she asked.

“I’m selling the farm, Rayne.” He studied her.

She sucked in a breath. He’d landed a punch to her stomach. “But…why?” The words fairly croaked from her. She’d had no clue that she could even care so much.

“I want something else for my life. I’ve been looking for a job here in Fargo.”

Confusion flooded Rayne’s heart and showed in her expression, she was sure. She welcomed the plate of food—steak and eggs—the waitress placed before her, coupled with a fresh carafe of hot coffee.

Rayne inhaled deeply. “What are you doing, Paul? The farm is who you are.”

Paul finished smothering his short stack with butter and syrup. He looked up from his work of art at Rayne, giving her a stare filled with hurt. “Oh, so I’m forever relegated to be a farmer in your eyes?”

Rayne shook her head, chewing her eggs. She swallowed. What was he really trying to say? That he wanted to work in Fargo so that he would be more appealing to her? How could she make him understand?

But maybe he was right. Rayne couldn’t see past the farmer in Paul. She took a sip of her coffee and shut her eyes, recalling memories of her time with Paul when they were growing up. An image of him sliding into the mud, unable to stand without slipping once again came to mind.

Rayne grinned. “Do you remember when you were stuck in the mud?”

“And you came to my rescue, only you ended up just as muddy as me?”

While they ate breakfast, Rayne and Paul reminisced about the good times and the bad times they’d had together on neighboring farms. For Rayne it was easier to slip into discussing happy memories, and she sensed the same from Paul. Talking about their past was safer than talking about the future. At times in her life, she considered him her best friend. What had happened? Why had she drifted away?

Why had she wanted more?

The price for pursuing her dream seemed to be leaving behind the people she loved, leaving behind the security of what she knew. Leaving behind so much of herself, of who she was.

Rayne looked from her plate, where her food was quickly disappearing, and into Paul’s eyes, feeling herself warmed by his company. She’d forgotten moments like these when she enjoyed being with him. She was glad she came after all.

Paul reached across the table and took her hand, startling her. Her hand was so small in his large, calloused one. Did she feel a spark, or was it simply warm familiarity that she welcomed? Her hand in his seemed to magnify the lonely ache in her heart. From the look in his eyes, she feared they were back to what Paul really wanted to discuss with her.

“Rayne, I’ve watched you pursue your dream. You seem happy enough. If you can do it, then maybe I need to be bold enough to step away from the farm. You’re my inspiration.”

She slipped her hand from his. “Oh Paul, I can’t say that I’m happy. Right now I’m more confused than anything.” With all the stress and pressure at work lately, Rayne longed to be curled in her warm bed at the farmhouse, the smell of bacon and eggs wafting up from the kitchen in the early morning. Though the farming life was marked with long and laborious days, Rayne almost missed it now.

“If I lived here in Fargo, had a job; if I weren’t a farmer…”

Pain sliced through her. Was he actually considering selling the farm, thinking that it would make a difference? She hoped not—that would be too big a burden for her to carry.

Rayne fell back against the booth, fearing the rest of his question. “But Paul, you
are
a farmer. I can’t see you as anything else.”

Pain flooded his expression, the creases in his brow and around his mouth making him look much older.

This time Rayne was the one to reach across the table. She placed her hand over his and pressed gently. What Paul did for his livelihood had nothing to do with how she felt. But at the moment, she knew those words would fall cruelly if she said them, crushing him further.

Speaking softly, Rayne said, “I don’t think you would be happy doing anything else. That’s all I meant.”

Finally, they fell to reminiscing again and talked until there was nothing more to say. Paul ushered her out of the restaurant to her car, and she hoped he wouldn’t invite her to spend more time with him today. Being with him, all the good memories seemed to surface, making her miserable with the choices she’d made.

He smiled down at her. “Thank you for having breakfast with me today, Rayne. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” She smiled, startled by her feelings. Her gut twisted. Though true, she shouldn’t have spoken her thoughts.

Before she knew what was happening, Paul leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, lingering. Rayne allowed the kiss, trying to draw something from it. But what—an answer?

When Paul pulled back, he ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “Come home, Rayne.”

“Oh Paul…”
If only you knew
.

Tears blurred her vision. Rayne’s heart was traitorous, betraying him with thoughts of Jack. Betraying Jack with thoughts of Paul.

On Sunday morning, Jack rolled over, flopping his arm across his bed, and groaned. He’d just had a terrible dream in which he’d kissed Barb. A nightmare. With one squinting eye, he peered at the clock on the nightstand. Nine thirty.

What time did Heidi’s church start? Jack rubbed his eyes, his face, and his chin then stared at the ceiling. He’d liked the few people he’d met from her church that night he’d joined them at the ice-skating rink. Would Rayne be there?

Jack crawled from bed, yawning, and stumbled to the bathroom where he brushed his teeth in an attempt to remove any remnant of the Barb-kissing dream. Had the woman somehow planted her spores in him? She was like a bad taste in his mouth that he couldn’t seem to get out. In fact, he could still smell the scent of her perfume.

Searching his room, he grabbed the clothes he’d thrown over a chair—her perfume still clinging to them because he’d sat next to her on the plane—and threw them into the hamper where they should have gone in the first place.

There was no
way—no way—he’
d said her name while sleeping on the plane. Why would she claim he had?