“Most women don’t have a temper bad enough to make them break a man’s nose.”
“Are you talking about Gilbert? I wouldn’t have hit him if he’d owned up to damaging Delaney’s car.”
“Still, those stories frighten me. Maybe it would be different if there were just one or two instances, but…I’ve never met a woman who’s done anything remotely like a whole bunch of the things you’ve done.”
Anger began to replace Rebecca’s panic. She’d tried so hard to please Buddy. She’d patiently allowed him to make her look like a fool when he kept shifting their wedding date. She’d let him off the hook when he disappointed her and didn’t show up for her parents’ anniversary party. She’d held her temper in check for him like she hadn’t for anyone else. And he was still backing away.
“Maybe we should just forget the whole thing,” she said, glancing up in time to see Booker’s eyebrows shoot up.
“I’m not saying that,” Buddy said. “I’m just saying maybe we shouldn’t rush into marriage, that’s all. Why don’t we let things roll along for a while and not worry so much about setting a date?”
She’d just told her parents that they were for sure getting married on January 25th. She’d already bought her dress and given her notice at work. Greta had five hundred cookies waiting in half the freezers of Dundee. And now he was telling her he didn’t even want to set a date? How did she go back to her family a fourth time? How did she tell them the money they’d spent might be wasted?
“Who told you all these things?” she asked.
“Why? What difference does it make?”
“I want to know. I have a right to know. Were you checking up on me?”
“I’d never do that,” he said.
“You had to get the dirt from somewhere.”
“I told you, I received a phone call.”
“It was my father, wasn’t it?”
“No. But he called me once before. And that’s what has me worried, babe. It isn’t only one person telling me to handle you with kid gloves. There are several people who are concerned about us.”
“They’re not concerned. They just don’t like me,” Rebecca said. “Don’t you have any enemies?”
“We’re not talking about enemies. We’re talking about your own father.”
“He’s the worst of the bunch,” she said. “He’s been angry ever since I was born.”
“Why would he be?”
“Because I was the last of four girls. When I arrived, he knew he wasn’t getting a boy. ‘’
“That’s crazy.”
“Exactly. What kind of man holds his daughter responsible for not having a penis?”
“Rebecca, whether you believe it or not, your father loves you,” Buddy insisted.
Rebecca remembered Doyle turning away when she’d won the game last night. “Is that why he always mutters, ‘God have mercy’ whenever I’m around? Because he loves me?” she asked.
“I don’t know why he says what he says. I don’t really know him. He told me he loves you, though.”
“So it was my father.”
“No, it wasn’t. Not this time.”
“Who then?”
“I don’t want to say,” Buddy responded. “He seemed to have my best interests at heart.”
“What?” she nearly shouted. “Why would a complete stranger have your best interests at heart?”
“Maybe he’s a nice guy.”
“Or maybe he wants to start trouble. Ever think of that?”
“He warned me about you. He said you need a strong hand and not to give you too much rein. But he also said, if we got married, I’d better not break your spirit or I’ll have to answer to him.”
Too much rein? Break her spirit? It sounded as though Buddy’s caller was talking about a—
Suddenly Rebecca knew exactly who had phoned him. “Josh Hill! It was Josh who told you all those terrible things, wasn’t it? He’s the one who called you.”
Silence. Then he said, “Beck, I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. Look—”
“Just tell me the truth,” she said, and to Booker, “Who else, besides Delaney, knows so much about me?”
Booker rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Makes sense to me.”
“He probably didn’t like losing all that money in front of everyone last night,” Rebecca muttered.
“I don’t think it’s about the money—” Booker started to say, but she turned her attention back to the phone.
“Is it him?” she demanded. “Is it Josh Hill?”
Buddy’s lack of denial confirmed her suspicion. “He said he’s a good friend and that he means well.”
Rebecca set her jaw, her body now filling with resolve. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said. “There’s something I have to do.”
“Wait! Rebecca—”
She hung up, grabbed her coat and keys and tried to brush past Booker.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To Josh Hill’s house.”
“That can’t be good,” he said. “I’d better go with you.”
“SO WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?” Booker asked as they sat in her Firebird across the road from Josh’s ranch.
Rebecca considered Josh’s large, rustic, two-story cabin-like house with the hammock hanging on the front porch. Then she studied the circular drive, the split-rail fence enclosing the property, and the row of shade trees along the right side, and felt her resentment grow. Of course Josh’s ranch would be a cut above everyone else’s. Trucks and SUVs clogged the drive, along with a small tractor, and several horse trailers and Quad-runners sat lined up on one side of the road that led around back. Brand-new stables and corrals had been built behind the house for the mares Josh and his brother owned, and the studs—a couple of which had cost over a million dollars.
Josh and Mike ran a lucrative business. They’d achieved a level of success Rebecca could only imagine. Even if she and Buddy eventually got married, she doubted they’d ever be rich.
But she hadn’t asked for rich. She’d asked only for a fresh start with a simple man who loved her.
And Josh wouldn’t leave her even that much.
“Are we going to the door?” Booker asked when she didn’t respond to his earlier question.