"What?" How many more concessions did he expect her to make?
His gaze dropped to her bare ring finger, then lifted her hand to his mouth. Pressing a kiss against her fingers, he murmured, "I want to put my ring on your finger. I want you to wear it for me. For what we have together."
She swallowed, afraid that if she tried to speak, she'd cry. How could she feel this emotional about wearing his wedding ring when it didn't come with promises of love forever after? "I don't need a ring."
"I need them. One for you. One for me. I want everyone to know you're mine."
"Am I, Cole? Does that mean you're mine?"
"Damn right." He fondled a loose curl, then tucked it behind her ear. He glanced at the house. "Looks like Betty got tired of waiting. Might as well go in, get this over with, and go upstairs."
"Maybe a minute more?" she asked, feeling too exposed to talk to Betty and Sam.
"No use putting if off, honey. We have some celebrating to do."
The last thing she felt like doing was celebrating, but the look on Cole's face stopped her protest. Resolutely, she buried her qualms and made herself smile.
He opened the truck door, slid out and reached for her. She stepped out into his arms. He gave her a quick squeeze before he put her down. Grabbing her bag with one hand, he used the other to take her elbow and escort her into his house.
He took off his Stetson and tossed it at the wall. Joey followed its path and despite her unsettled feelings, found herself grinning when his hat hit its target. It hung there, swinging back and forth. Her amusement died when she noticed the antlers.
Betty came into the hallway. "Dinner's ready when you are."
"Why don't we eat with Sam? I've got something to tell you both."
Betty cast them a dark look, but nodded at Cole. "Go see him. I'll bring some trays."
Forcing herself to offer, Joey said, "Can I help?"
"No," Betty said, then added as though compelled by Cole's glare, "Thanks. I know where everything is."
"Let's go see how Sam's doing, Joey."
With his hand on her shoulder, he propelled her down the dark paneled hallway to Sam's bedroom. At the door, he called, "Yo, Sam?"
"Come in, Dad."
They found Sam sitting up in an easy chair, his leg in its bulky cast propped up on an ottoman. His shoulder cast rested on a cushion on the upholstered arm. He had his eyes fixed on the television set. After a quick glance at the screen, Joey turned her head away. She had enough of those violent kill-everybody-fast movies at home with Greg.
Sam spared Cole a quick glance, then another when he realized Joey was with him. He zapped the movie with the remote control, then turned, an inquisitive look on his face.
"We're having dinner with you in here," Cole stated. "Betty's bringing it in, then I have something to tell you."
Sam lifted his eyebrows with the same gesture Cole used. "Pull up a pew."
Cole reached behind the bed and pulled out a card table. He opened it quickly in front of Sam and then flicked open the folding chairs. He sat Joey in one, pressed her shoulder and said, "I'll be right back."
Sam flicked her an inquisitive look, then concentrated on the blank TV screen. The silence grew, broken only by the rustle of clothing as Joey squirmed on the hard metal seat. With her nerves rubbed raw, she wanted to be someplace where she could be alone. She needed solitude.
he glanced at Sam, then away quickly, before they could make eye contact. When she could stand it no longer, Joey asked, "How long do you think you'll be laid up, Sam?"
"Dunno." He seemed grateful to have something to talk about until Cole got back. "Til the doc says-—maybe six more weeks."
"Cole mentioned something about therapy?"
"Yeah. Depends how bad the leg is."
"Oh. Must be hard on you."
"Yeah."
Silence again fell between them. Sam scratched at the bindings on his ribs. Joey examined her fingers as though they belonged to somebody else.
They both looked up at the sound of Cole's footsteps coming down the hall. He carried four glasses in one hand, a dusty bottle in the other.
Sam's eyes widened. "You going to open that? You've been saving that for a special occasion."
"Yeah." Cole pulled a corkscrew out of his pocket and made a production out of pulling the cork. It came out with a satisfactory pop. "Ah, that does it."
Betty appeared in the doorway, with place mats and silverware. She put them on the table. Looking from Cole to Sam, she asked, "What's going on here?"
"Damned if I know. Dad's acting mighty funny."
Betty shot another glance at Cole and left. Joey began to set the table, lining up the silverware with precision. When Betty came back, pushing a cart loaded with food and plates, Cole held a chair for Joey and Betty and then seated himself. Betty served Sam, then passed the food around.
Cole smiled at Joey, then focused on Sam and Betty. "Before we start, I'd like to propose a toast." Ignoring the confused looks from his son and daughter-in-law, he made a ceremony of pouring the wine. Joey twisted her napkin in her lap.
"I'd like you to welcome my wife, Joey." He clinked his glass to hers and waited for Sam and Betty to do the same. When they hesitated, he glared at them. "Joey and I are married. I expect you to welcome her to the family."
"You're what?" Sam closed his mouth at last and lifted his glass to Joey. Betty did the same only after Cole glowered at her. With a glance at Betty, Sam said, "Congratulations."
Betty's hand shot out to stop Sam raising the wine to his mouth. "Don't drink that, Sam!"
"What the hell?" Cole snapped.
vSam lowered the glass and looked surprised by Betty's outburst.
"It's the medication," Betty explained. "Sam shouldn't drink alcohol with it."
Joey found her breath, squeezed out by the pain of Betty's refusal to join in the toast. "Of course he shouldn't. It's all right. It's the thought that counts."
Cole narrowed his eyes at her.
Joey put her hand over Cole's, feeling the tension in his fingers as he held the glass. "In fact, why don't we save the wine for later?"
Cole's fingers relaxed. "Sounds good. But only one glass for you. Good thing it's not champagne."
She caught his meaning and felt her cheeks burn. He favored her with a slow sexy smile that turned her inside out. She wondered how long before they could excuse themselves to be alone.
"So, you and Joey got married, huh? When did that happen, Dad?"
Cole gave them the bare details. Sam's face got redder as he laughed. "Damn, Dad, that's the funniest thing I ever heard!"
Betty didn't look amused. She sat, staring narrow-eyed at Joey as Cole went on, "Joey's kids will be coming up in a bit. And I asked her parents out while Frank recuperates. Where are we going to put them all, Betty?"
"Why don't you ask her?" Betty responded with a jerk of her head at Joey. "After all, she's your wife."
"Betty!" Sam warned.
She flicked a look at him and got up and left without a word.
"Uh, sorry, Joey, Dad. Something's been eating at her for days now-—"
"Well, she'd better snap out of it damn quick. I won't have her hassling Joey."
Joey spoke up. "No need to get all excited. I'm sure we'll be friends."
Sam lifted an eyebrow at her and then said to Cole, "I'll take care of it."
Joey started to speak, then thought better of it. No point in saying anything now, but once she had that cowboy upstairs, she was going to tell him she'd had enough of his stepping in to protect her as if she was some frail creature who needed a big strong man to fix things for her. Joey picked at her meal while she thought of all the other things she had to say to him. She pushed the meat to one side and concentrated on the potatoes and vegetables.
Sam flicked a questioning glance at his father.
"Joey doesn't eat meat," Cole explained.
"Doesn't eat meat? A cattleman's wife?"
"Before I was a cattleman's wife," she said tartly, "I was a reasonable human being. I even learned to think and speak for myself."
Cole's lip quirked.
Sam applied himself to his dinner.
Betty returned with a pot of coffee and huge slabs of apple pie. Cole and Sam put theirs away while Joey toyed with hers, chained by politeness to the hard folding chair. At last, Cole pushed his plate away and drained his coffee. "Thanks, Betty. That was good."
Betty smiled warmly. "I'm glad you liked it."
Joey watched the exchange with surprise. So Betty wasn't always mean-tempered. She saved it just for her.
"Ready to do the dishes, Betty?" she offered, trying to make peace between them.
"Uh, no. I mean, you go on, I'll do them later."
Sam's laugh boomed out. "Who wants to do dishes on their wedding night, huh?"
"But this isn't our wedd-—"
"C'mon, honey," Cole interrupted and almost lifted her out of the chair.
"But, Cole-—"
Shushing her, he started for the door.
"-—I really should help. All that work Betty put into cooking, the least I can-—mmmph," she spluttered as Cole silenced her by kissing her as soon as he had her alone in the hall.
"Shut up, Mrs. Lassiter. Let's go upstairs."
Grabbing her bag, he put an arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the stairs.
Joey resisted.
"What's the matter, honey?"
Shaking her head, she said, "Cole, this isn't right. Nothing feels right."
"Is this because of what just happened?"
Tempting as it was to heap all the blame on Sam and Betty, Joey knew she couldn't do that. She searched for the right words. "We're pushing things, Cole. I agreed to give this marriage a chance, and I'll do that," she stated when Cole's face turned grim. "I made you a promise when we got married. I may not remember much about it, but I do remember the words to the ceremony. I believe in them."
"So do I."
"Good. We have that much going for us at least."
"Then, what's wrong?"
"Don't you feel it?"
"Feel what?"
She felt like shaking him. "We're living in a fishbowl! I feel like I'm an exhibit, everybody watching me to see what the crazy lady will do next. And if people aren't waiting for me to do something idiotic, they're treating me like a kid again, telling me what to do and when to do it." She took a deep breath. "I'm a grown woman and I make my own decisions."
"Sure you do, honey."
"Don't patronize me, Cole. I won't stand for it."
"So what do you want to do about it?"
"That's just it. My folks, your family-—they're all expecting something from us, and I don't know what it is!"
He hugged her close to him. "Forget about them, honey. Why don't we concentrate on ourselves, on what we want?"
She raised her eyes to his. In the dim hallway, the shadows made him look more rugged, the planes of his face cut from granite, yet the tenderness in his eyes made her want to believe that they really had a chance together. "It sounds so simple when you say it."
He set her bag down and released her shoulder. Turning her to look directly into her upturned face, he said, "I know it's not easy, Joey. I've always had to work, and work damned hard for what I want. I'm willing to do that again. Are you?"
The blunt question rocked her. Was she? Even though she made all the right noises, was she really ready to give this marriage her best efforts? The thought scared her. Torn between wanting to wrap herself around Cole or run screaming like a heebie jeebie, she hesitated.
Cole gave her no help. He waited, looking down at her with all expression wiped from his face. She wanted him to sweep her up, convince her with his lean, hard body, with his fiery passion, that everything would be all right. She wished for a crazy, whimsical notion to take over and give her the courage to rush right in and pledge him everything he wanted to hear.
That wasn't going to cut it. She knew it. If ever a situation called for cool, rational thought, this was it. If she'd ever had to figure everything out, consider the consequences and think before she jumped in over her head, it was now. No matter what she'd told herself about doing things right, no matter the pep talk she given herself earlier about giving this marriage a chance, all that paled now at the tension vibrating between her and Cole.
She trembled with the need to make the right choice. Even now, if she said no, she knew instinctively that he'd take her back to town. She could find a local lawyer and start divorce proceedings right away.
If she said yes, she'd be committing herself to putting every bit as much effort into making this second marriage work as she had the first time around. Could she do that?
Her heart aching for the relationship she'd had with Tom, she knew that nothing would ever be the same. She couldn't ask it, couldn't even expect it. If she agreed, she'd have to start all over with Cole. She'd loved Tom with every inch of her being. Was it fair to Cole when she knew all she had to offer him was second best? And could she do it without even a promise of love? Oh, sweet heavens, that was the worst of it. How could she put everything behind and start all over with a man who came right out and admitted that he didn't love her, might never love her?
How could she accept so much less when once she'd known so much more?
The words wouldn't come. She looked away from Cole, seeing instead of his lean build and broad shoulders, the shorter, brawnier figure of her husband. Catching her breath, she caught herself. Tom was dead. He wasn't her husband anymore. Cole was. He had a right to know if she was willing to work together.
"Joey?" His voice was soft, yet she heard the underlying strength.
She returned her gaze to meet his. If ever she needed to be daring, maybe even foolhardy, it was now. Without flinching, without hesitation, she tuned out all the external warnings and let instinct take over. She closed her eyes and listened to the voice deep within her. There was nothing so dramatic as Tom bidding her a ghostly farewell, but somewhere in her innermost self, she finally accepted that he was gone and she was left to carry on. What she made of her life, from this point on, was up to her. In her heart of hearts, she knew that Tom would wish her happy.
After a minute, she said, "I'm willing to work every bit as hard as you."
His arms came around her in a bone crushing hug. "We'll make it, honey."
"I hope so, Cole," she said in the barest whisper. "I really hope so."
His smile lit up the hallway. "C'mon let's go upstairs."
With each step, Joey felt the tension between them ebb to be replaced with a deeper, instinctual yearning. She didn't want to analyze it. She wanted only to feel everything with Cole. It felt good to be climbing the stairs with him like this, together. It didn't matter that she'd never seen his bedroom, that she feared it would be as uncompromisingly masculine as the rest of his house, tonight it was her honeymoon suite. Absorbing Cole's heat, she put her arm around his middle and hugged.
He stopped. "Do that again."
She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him as hard as she could. "As often as you like."
He bent his head and kissed her. One kiss wasn't enough. At last, he broke away, his breathing ragged. "I want you in my bed. I've been lying awake nights, thinking about this."
"So why are we standing here, then?" she teased him as she rubbed her breasts against his chest.
He grabbed her hand and raced her up the remaining stairs. Breathless, she leaned against the wall and looked around for her suitcase.
"Cole, I hate to tell you, but we left my suitcase downstairs."
"I'll get it later."
"I need it now."
He cursed under his breath. He kissed her once, hard, and commanded, "Don't move. I'll be right back."
His footsteps clattered down the steps. Joey caught her breath. Averting her eyes from the stuffed trophies glaring down at her, she studied the worn pattern of the carpet. She wondered how many feet had trod over it since it was laid down. Grimacing, she next studied the paint above the wainscoted walls. Over the years, what had once been white or pale cream was now yellowed and dingy. She felt overpowered by the feeling of non-belonging. It wasn't a welcoming place to wait for her husband.
She heard him coming upstairs at a quick trot. Laughing nervously, she turned. "What took you so long?"
He came up to her, bag in one hand, bottle and two glasses in the other. "Look what else we forgot.."
"Oh, the wine. Are you going to get me drunk again?"
"Not on your sweet fanny. This time, we both know what we're doing."
He gestured her forward until he could nudge a door open with his elbow. She heard her bag thump, then the click of a lamp. Soft light spread through the room, warming the wide plank floors, the old patchwork rugs and the big brass bed standing against one wall. Charmed by the possibilities, Joey ignored the frayed chenille bedspread and the utilitarian chest of drawers. Her gaze lingered on the bright bedstead. "It looks like an antique."
Cole barely spared the bed a glance. "Probably is. Been here forever. Are we going to talk about it or use it?"
Taken aback, she swiveled to face him. Forgetting herself in unexpected passion was easy. The knowledge that in a few minutes they would be naked and vulnerable to each other made her pause. It seemed too deliberate, too...married. Yet she'd promised to work at making this marriage work. What was marriage without intimacy? Taking refuge in humor, she cocked out a hip and drawled, "In a hurry, are we, cowboy?"
His lip quirked. "Sorry. I forgot I was going to do this properly."
She watched him pour them each a glass of wine. He lifted his in a toast to her. "To you. To us."
She smiled back at him and repeated the words.
They took a sip of the rich, dark wine. Cole blanched. Joey swallowed hastily.
"God, that's terrible!" Cole spat.
Joey bit back the giggle that threatened to escape. Poor Cole, his big moment ruined by wine that had gone sour. She looked down at the floor, anywhere but at him. "I hope it's not an omen."
Cole laughed first. Joey gave up and joined him.
"I guess we'd better stick to milk, Cole," Joey managed at last. "That old debbil alcohol gets us every time!"
Ready for the next chapter?
Chapter Sixteen -- posted January 23, 1998
Last updated: January 23, 1998