A Husband of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #2)(20)
Author: Brenda Novak

“If Buddy gets to know you very well, there won’t be a wedding,” he retorted.

Greta tried to hide her smile, but Rebecca caught it anyway and was glad someone seemed entertained by her and Randy’s constant barbs. They generally didn’t take each other too seriously, but sometimes they got carried away. Which was what her mother was constantly trying to avoid by saying, “Come on, you two.”

“Could we have some peace in this household for a change?” Fiona said today, as she put some garlic bread in the oven next to what looked like a pan of lasagna.

Rebecca guzzled a big glass of cranberry juice, feeling as though she might die in relief. “Talk to Randy,” she said. “Or better yet, ask him to go visit his old pal, Josh. He’s down at his parents’ house. I’m sure he’d love to have Randy over to spend the entire afternoon.”

“Nice try,” Randy said.

Rebecca poured herself some more juice. “Next time I see Josh, I’ll have to tell him you weren’t interested in his invitation.”

Doyle ducked through the French doors that opened to the patio. “Thought I’d better turn those sprinklers off,” he said to no one in particular. “We don’t want it muddy back there, or we’ll have a mess when we try to move that wedding arch inside. These doors are probably the only way in for something that big.”

“Where’re Delia and everyone else?” Rebecca asked, taking a chair at the kitchen table as far away from Randy as she could manage in the open kitchen/dining area/family room.

“Delia and Brad took the kids to Boise for the weekend to see his parents,” her mother answered. “And little Joey has the flu, so Hillary and Carey won’t be coming.”

“What about the girls? They’re not dropping Tasha and Sydney off?”

“I told them not to,” Greta piped up. “They could be carrying whatever Joey’s got, and I don’t want my three to be up all night, tossing their cookies.”

“Would that be so bad?” Rebecca asked. “You could always make cold compresses that look like bunnies or freeze Pepto-Bismol and cut it into shapes.”

“Cute,” Greta said.

“So it’s just us?” Rebecca had been counting on the noise and constant confusion created by her nieces and nephews to offer some distraction while she slogged through whatever discussion Greta wanted to have about the wedding. But even Greta’s boys were completely entertained by the Sony PlayStation Grandpa and Grandma had bought a few weeks ago.

“It’s just us,” Randy said. “Which was perfect until you arrived.”

“Randy—” Fiona warned.

“Oh, boy. How are we going to get the wedding arch into the house?” Greta interrupted. Fiona’s constant admonishments were mere background noise after so many years. “We need more hands than yours and Randy’s, Dad.”

“Especially when Randy’s about as good as a little girl,” Rebecca added.

“Rebecca, that’s enough.” It was her father this time, so Rebecca closed her mouth and her eyes and attempted to enjoy her respite from not having to move.

“Nice jogging outfit,” Randy said. “What were you doing jogging over here, anyway? Trying to give yourself a heart attack?”

Rebecca cracked open one eye. “Being a couch potato yourself, I know this is probably a foreign concept to you, but it’s called health and fitness.”

His newspaper rattled as he turned the page. “That’s pretty funny, considering you smoke like a chimney.”

“I don’t smoke anymore.”

“You don’t?” her mother said, setting the timer for the bread. “Good for you, Beck.”

“Smoking’s a filthy habit,” her father muttered.

Rebecca tossed the hand towel she’d been using as a cool compress into the sink. “Thanks for the encouragement, Dad.”

“Let’s get that wedding arch unloaded,” he said, ignoring her.

Rebecca didn’t think she could get up without a winch. “We can’t. There’s only you, me and Randy, and we need more hands than that. We wouldn’t want Greta to break a nail. She might decide to sculpt something out of it.”

Greta’s jaw dropped. “Ow! Leave me out of your little spats, okay? What’s gotten into you today?”

It wasn’t “what” had gotten into her. It was “who.” She was still trying to figure out what had happened with Josh Hill. Why had he been so upset? Because she didn’t want to ride with him? What was it to him if she fainted by the side of the road?

“I wasn’t joking about Josh being at his parents’ house. I ran into him earlier,” she said, as if that was explanation enough for her bad mood. Unfortunately, it was the wrong excuse to use today.

“That shouldn’t make any difference,” Doyle said. “You two called a truce, remember?”

“Yeah, well, talk to Josh,” Rebecca grumbled. “I think he must’ve forgotten about that.”

Her father shifted onto the balls of his feet. “Damned if he did. You go down there and tell him we need his help unloading this wedding arch.”

Rebecca jerked upright. “Randy’s his best friend. Have him go.”

Her father gave her “the look,” the one that indicated he meant business. “I asked you.”

“He admitted to me just yesterday that his mother doesn’t like me,” Rebecca said.

“After all the trouble you and Josh had growing up, can you blame her?”

“Considering you still like him, yes.”

“Go on over there,” her father said. “I want to get that arch off the truck before the neighborhood kids start climbing on it. The last thing we need is for someone to get hurt.”

“If I go down to Josh’s parents’ house, I have a good chance of being hurt,” she argued.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you a butterfly bandage,” Greta said sweetly.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Good one, Greta. Now I know why you want to stay out of the line of fire. You’re only packing a pellet gun.”

“Hurry,” her father said, cutting off any rejoinder Greta might have made. “Let’s get this over with.”

“If I do this, can we have our little wedding meeting during dinner, instead of after?” Rebecca asked.

“Why?” Greta wanted to know.