Read Online The Rancher and the Redhead by Suzannah Davis - Free Book Online Page B

ivory ribbons. “Something to press into a memory book.”
    â€œI certainly won’t forget the send-off. Thanks to Krystal’s enthusiasm, I think I’ve still got rice in my drawers.”
    She smirked at him. “Ouch. That smarts.”
    â€œA small price to pay for those wedding gifts in the back of the pickup.” His expression held a teasing twinkle. “Not a bad haul, actually.”
    â€œJust like a man to be so materialistic.” Absently, she curled the tail of a ribbon around and around her index finger. “It makes me feel something of a fraud.”
    â€œAw, now, Curly...”
    She looked up at him, her dark eyes wide and fathomless. “We’ve begun under rather false pretenses, haven’t we, Sam?”
    â€œThere’s nothing false about making a home together for Jessie,” he said, his voice firm. “Don’t you ever forget that. You’re just feeling a little whacked-out, that’s all.”
    â€œPerhaps you’re right.” She reached for the drowsy child. “Here, let me get her to bed.”
    â€œNo, I’ll see to her. You get comfortable. Take a hot bath or something.”
    Sam carried the baby off to her room, and Roni swallowed hard.
    Or something?
    What did Sam expect of her tonight? More importantly, what did she expect of herself? She honestly had no idea. It was their wedding night, after all. As if I thought I could forget! she groaned inwardly.
    Swiftly she placed her bouquet and headdress in their protective bags and tucked them into the refrigerator for safekeeping. Later, she would hang them in the attic to dry, to have as an everlasting arrangement, maybe to fix them in a romantic Victorian bell jar. Her plans ground to a halt. The way the air seemed to sizzle whenever Sam came close, and the way her heart turned over at his touch were indications that she wasn’t thinking straight at all.
    Desperately, she tried to remember her arguments of just a few short days before, how things could develop slowly and naturally, how they were as comfortable as a pair of well-broken-in boots. Was she so naive? How could a few words spoken in front of a preacher have changed that? And yet it appeared that they had, and she felt as though she were on a roller coaster gaining speed down the first tall hill, faster and faster to a destiny that was as unknown as it was thrilling.
    And terrifying.
    Heart pounding against her chest wall, Roni knew it was time to put on the brakes. Now. Out of sight, out of mind. Time to cool off before they made a dreadful mistake they’d only regret in the morning after emotions settled and the champagne fumes dissipated. The plan flickered to life in her brain—a bath, a plea of fatigue, tucking herself into her solitary twin bed in the safety of her new daughter’s nursery. A cowardly path, perhaps, but eminently prudent, at least at the moment.
    With the sound of Sam’s deep voice drifting down the hall from Jessie’s room, Roni hurried to the parlor where her overnight bag sat, rummaged in it for a concealing sleep shirt and her toiletries bag, then hurried toward the bathroom. She locked the door behind her with a sigh of relief, then chided herself for acting like a trembling virgin. She was a mature woman, she reminded herself sternly, able to make competent decisions, and what she wanted right now was a long, hot bath. In fact, she planned to stay in it until her skin resembled a prune, and Sam Preston was sound asleep.
    The tub was a relic, scarred and stained with rust. Roni twisted the knobs, cursing and tugging at the stubborn hot water spigot until it gave and a stream of rusty water poured into the bath. The whole house needed replumbing, but at the moment, all she could do was pour in her foaming bath oil and hope for the best. Roni pulled off the blue garter Krystal had given her for luck, then stripped out of her panty hose and half-slip. She reached to