Read Online Mine 'Til Monday by Ruby Laska - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ruby Laska
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Contemporary Romance, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction, reunited lovers
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Dorothy uncomfortable. Mud hadn’t bothered to shine up his act; he was coming across as a raffish good-timer. And Miranda had known Dorothy for ages, knew about her taste for antiques, her academic family, her patents. Not to seem snobby, but what on earth made Miranda think Dorothy would fall for such a—a—
A diamond in the rough, Dorothy chided herself silently. After all, she was supposed to be proving her ardor for this man, not coming up with reasons they shouldn’t be together.
“You’re right. I’m so lucky to have found him,” she purred, eyelids lowered, as she broke her muffin in half.
“Mud, do tell me more about your business.”
“Mud owns a sporting goods store,” Dorothy said quickly. “It serves the North Shore.” Invoking the name of the tony area of Chicago, she hoped, would add a little cachet.
Leave it to Mud to burst even that little bubble, though.
“Oh, I don’t know if a lot of North Shore folks make it over to my place,” Mud said. “I just have a little place on the north end of the city. Golf shop. Guess you could have guessed that—can’t seem to get completely out of the game.” He grinned, not a trace of self-consciousness on his face, while Dorothy steamed.
“Was it a family business?” Miranda asked, serenely sipping from her coffee cup.
“Nah. Dad was actually in plumbing supplies. Taylor Components. He made all kinds of gizmos, toilet parts and stuff.”
“Gizmos—would that be a technical term?” Miranda’s eyes sparked with humor, and Mud chuckled easily with her. Only Dorothy sat silent, tense with the fear of what Mud would say next.
“But why didn’t you follow your father into the business?” Miranda went on in a more serious tone.
Dorothy’s mind raced. She knew how Miranda felt about her own business; how strongly she believed in family involvement, how she’d wished for children of her own to pass the company along to. How could she possibly pull Mud out of this trap?
He merely shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess from early on I always figured to go out on my own. When it seemed clear my golfing days were through, I wanted to find something that could be mine. It’s hard to explain. Dad built his business up from nothing, and I guess I wanted the same challenge. He never minded,” Mud added.
“He didn’t?” Miranda was frowning now, a little of the formidable steel in her voice. “He put his life into the company, but didn’t want to see his son carry on the name? You’re sure of that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mud said evenly. “In fact, Dad sold the business years before he died. I think he was tired of putting in twelve-hour days. Said he intended to enjoy the fruits of his labors, and I’m hereto tell you, he did exactly that. I don’t think he died with many regrets.”
“I see.” But it was clear from her tone that Miranda didn’t see, not really. “Well. You two ought to get out there and hit the courts. It’s a lovely day for a game.”
Dorothy lowered herself into the steaming bubbles of the Jacuzzi, inhaling deeply of the steam while the hot water worked its magic on her aching muscles. The back patio of the cottage was ringed with latticework; climbing roses formed lovely walls of color that shielded the Jacuzzi from view. Dorothy relished the solitude; she needed some time alone to sort out her thoughts.
Breakfast had been a disaster. Miranda had shooed them off to the tennis courts, tight-lipped and frowning. Whatever points Mud had scored with his knowledge of the golf world had evaporated when he confessed to having no interest in his father’s business.
Not a family man, that’s what Miranda must have been thinking. A renegade. Or worse: the way Mud described his shop, it sounded like he’d managed to squander the family fortunes on an unprofitable dump. Shiftless, unambitious, content to coast along on the coat-tails of his father’s success...
“Oh, mercy,” Dorothy moaned, sinking a
A diamond in the rough, Dorothy chided herself silently. After all, she was supposed to be proving her ardor for this man, not coming up with reasons they shouldn’t be together.
“You’re right. I’m so lucky to have found him,” she purred, eyelids lowered, as she broke her muffin in half.
“Mud, do tell me more about your business.”
“Mud owns a sporting goods store,” Dorothy said quickly. “It serves the North Shore.” Invoking the name of the tony area of Chicago, she hoped, would add a little cachet.
Leave it to Mud to burst even that little bubble, though.
“Oh, I don’t know if a lot of North Shore folks make it over to my place,” Mud said. “I just have a little place on the north end of the city. Golf shop. Guess you could have guessed that—can’t seem to get completely out of the game.” He grinned, not a trace of self-consciousness on his face, while Dorothy steamed.
“Was it a family business?” Miranda asked, serenely sipping from her coffee cup.
“Nah. Dad was actually in plumbing supplies. Taylor Components. He made all kinds of gizmos, toilet parts and stuff.”
“Gizmos—would that be a technical term?” Miranda’s eyes sparked with humor, and Mud chuckled easily with her. Only Dorothy sat silent, tense with the fear of what Mud would say next.
“But why didn’t you follow your father into the business?” Miranda went on in a more serious tone.
Dorothy’s mind raced. She knew how Miranda felt about her own business; how strongly she believed in family involvement, how she’d wished for children of her own to pass the company along to. How could she possibly pull Mud out of this trap?
He merely shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess from early on I always figured to go out on my own. When it seemed clear my golfing days were through, I wanted to find something that could be mine. It’s hard to explain. Dad built his business up from nothing, and I guess I wanted the same challenge. He never minded,” Mud added.
“He didn’t?” Miranda was frowning now, a little of the formidable steel in her voice. “He put his life into the company, but didn’t want to see his son carry on the name? You’re sure of that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mud said evenly. “In fact, Dad sold the business years before he died. I think he was tired of putting in twelve-hour days. Said he intended to enjoy the fruits of his labors, and I’m hereto tell you, he did exactly that. I don’t think he died with many regrets.”
“I see.” But it was clear from her tone that Miranda didn’t see, not really. “Well. You two ought to get out there and hit the courts. It’s a lovely day for a game.”
Dorothy lowered herself into the steaming bubbles of the Jacuzzi, inhaling deeply of the steam while the hot water worked its magic on her aching muscles. The back patio of the cottage was ringed with latticework; climbing roses formed lovely walls of color that shielded the Jacuzzi from view. Dorothy relished the solitude; she needed some time alone to sort out her thoughts.
Breakfast had been a disaster. Miranda had shooed them off to the tennis courts, tight-lipped and frowning. Whatever points Mud had scored with his knowledge of the golf world had evaporated when he confessed to having no interest in his father’s business.
Not a family man, that’s what Miranda must have been thinking. A renegade. Or worse: the way Mud described his shop, it sounded like he’d managed to squander the family fortunes on an unprofitable dump. Shiftless, unambitious, content to coast along on the coat-tails of his father’s success...
“Oh, mercy,” Dorothy moaned, sinking a
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