Read Online Have Cowboy, Need Cupid by Rita Herron - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rita Herron
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have some with us, Rafe? You look awfully hot and sweaty.”
“No tea for me, too much work to do. I’m sure Suzanne has other stuff to do, too—”
“Tea and cookies sound fabulous,” Suzanne said, surprising Rafe. “I’d love to visit a while.”
Rafe frowned. She would? “Don’t you have to get back to Atlanta?” he asked, more bluntly than he’d realized because his mother threw him one of her reprimanding glares.
“I’m not in a hurry.” Suzanne took his mother’s arm and helped her up the creaking porch steps.
“We can carry them out back to the screened porch,” his mother said, her voice gaining excitement. “It’s nice and cool there this time of day. And I have a bird feeder out back and this lovely nest of baby sparrows we can watch.”
Rafe bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. He did not want Suzanne to stay and visit with his mother or tempt him to shirk his work and eat lemon-drop cookies in the shade. And, damn it, he was tempted.
Suzanne’s backside swayed as she ascended the stairs in her tight jeans. He definitely didn’t want her cozying up to his mother and have her fabricate some crazy romantic notions that she would harp on for the next week. “I just thought Suzanne might be in a hurry to leave today. She’s not much of a farm girl.”
“Rafe McAllister, don’t be rude to our guest,” his mother said. “You know how much I love company.” She turned to Suzanne. “Poor boy hasn’t had any women around in so long, I guess he’s forgotten how to behave.”
“I wasn’t being rude, I thought she might have a date or something.”
“No, no date,” Suzanne offered.
He could have sworn her eyes were laughing, and wondered why he had made that inane comment.
“So, no date,” his mother said with a triumphant smile, as if she’d thought Rafe was fishing for information. “See, Rafe, she can stay.”
“But I can’t.” He backed away, almost stumbling over the rocking chair on the front porch in his haste to escape her.
“I understand perfectly.” Suzanne’s eyes twinkled. “I certainly don’t want to bother you, either.”
He gestured toward her little sporty car. “I thought you might be visiting your family while you were here, Suzanne.”
“Actually I am. I’m staying at Rebecca’s old apartment, right down from the bookstore.”
His mother hooted as if she’d just realized the connection. “Oh, mercy, you’re related to Wiley Hartwell, aren’t you?”
Suzanne blushed. “He’s my uncle. Hannah, Mimi and Alison are my cousins, and my sister is Rebecca.”
“They are lovely girls. And that Wiley, he is such a character.” She pushed her walker slowly ahead into the foyer. “We were downright lucky he was giving that pickup truck away for New Year’s. Things have been mighty tight around here, and your uncle saved Rafe—”
“Mother,” Rafe practically ground out the word. “I doubt Suzanne is interested in our family problems.”
Suzanne’s expressive eyes found his, a flicker of emotion darkening the depths as if he was wrong. As if she might be personally interested in his life.
In him.
Then the moment passed, and he realized he’d misread her. There was nothing between them but a little heat and the matter of their opposing opinions over the future of Sugar Hill. So he offered a clipped goodbye and strode down the steps to finish his day while his mother and Suzanne enjoyed their tea party. Maybe Maria’s cookies would be hard as bricks and Suzanne would chip a tooth on them and never come back.
Then he wouldn’t be tortured by her presence.
“S EE THAT MAGNOLIA out there,” Mrs. McAllister pointed to the right side of the porch. “Frank and I planted that tree when Rafe was born. His birthday’s in April, right when the flowers bloom.” She laid a hand over her stomach. “We wanted more children, but it didn’t work out. But Rafe has been the best son a mother could want. He works night and day
“No tea for me, too much work to do. I’m sure Suzanne has other stuff to do, too—”
“Tea and cookies sound fabulous,” Suzanne said, surprising Rafe. “I’d love to visit a while.”
Rafe frowned. She would? “Don’t you have to get back to Atlanta?” he asked, more bluntly than he’d realized because his mother threw him one of her reprimanding glares.
“I’m not in a hurry.” Suzanne took his mother’s arm and helped her up the creaking porch steps.
“We can carry them out back to the screened porch,” his mother said, her voice gaining excitement. “It’s nice and cool there this time of day. And I have a bird feeder out back and this lovely nest of baby sparrows we can watch.”
Rafe bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. He did not want Suzanne to stay and visit with his mother or tempt him to shirk his work and eat lemon-drop cookies in the shade. And, damn it, he was tempted.
Suzanne’s backside swayed as she ascended the stairs in her tight jeans. He definitely didn’t want her cozying up to his mother and have her fabricate some crazy romantic notions that she would harp on for the next week. “I just thought Suzanne might be in a hurry to leave today. She’s not much of a farm girl.”
“Rafe McAllister, don’t be rude to our guest,” his mother said. “You know how much I love company.” She turned to Suzanne. “Poor boy hasn’t had any women around in so long, I guess he’s forgotten how to behave.”
“I wasn’t being rude, I thought she might have a date or something.”
“No, no date,” Suzanne offered.
He could have sworn her eyes were laughing, and wondered why he had made that inane comment.
“So, no date,” his mother said with a triumphant smile, as if she’d thought Rafe was fishing for information. “See, Rafe, she can stay.”
“But I can’t.” He backed away, almost stumbling over the rocking chair on the front porch in his haste to escape her.
“I understand perfectly.” Suzanne’s eyes twinkled. “I certainly don’t want to bother you, either.”
He gestured toward her little sporty car. “I thought you might be visiting your family while you were here, Suzanne.”
“Actually I am. I’m staying at Rebecca’s old apartment, right down from the bookstore.”
His mother hooted as if she’d just realized the connection. “Oh, mercy, you’re related to Wiley Hartwell, aren’t you?”
Suzanne blushed. “He’s my uncle. Hannah, Mimi and Alison are my cousins, and my sister is Rebecca.”
“They are lovely girls. And that Wiley, he is such a character.” She pushed her walker slowly ahead into the foyer. “We were downright lucky he was giving that pickup truck away for New Year’s. Things have been mighty tight around here, and your uncle saved Rafe—”
“Mother,” Rafe practically ground out the word. “I doubt Suzanne is interested in our family problems.”
Suzanne’s expressive eyes found his, a flicker of emotion darkening the depths as if he was wrong. As if she might be personally interested in his life.
In him.
Then the moment passed, and he realized he’d misread her. There was nothing between them but a little heat and the matter of their opposing opinions over the future of Sugar Hill. So he offered a clipped goodbye and strode down the steps to finish his day while his mother and Suzanne enjoyed their tea party. Maybe Maria’s cookies would be hard as bricks and Suzanne would chip a tooth on them and never come back.
Then he wouldn’t be tortured by her presence.
“S EE THAT MAGNOLIA out there,” Mrs. McAllister pointed to the right side of the porch. “Frank and I planted that tree when Rafe was born. His birthday’s in April, right when the flowers bloom.” She laid a hand over her stomach. “We wanted more children, but it didn’t work out. But Rafe has been the best son a mother could want. He works night and day
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