A Husband of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #2)(54)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Are you sure?” she finally said without turning to look at him.

“I’m sure.”

“That should make my father happy,” she said, but the sarcasm in her voice told Josh the statement wasn’t as straightforward as it sounded.

“We wouldn’t want to disappoint Doyle.”

“You couldn’t disappoint Doyle. He’s always thought you walked on water.”

Josh considered this, weighed it against other comments Rebecca and her father had made in the past and had to ask, “Is that what you hold against me, Beck?”

She stiffened. “Of course not. My father likes a lot of people I don’t. And he doesn’t like a lot of people I do. Take me, for instance,” she said with an unconvincing laugh. “Anyway, you can’t help how others feel about you any more than I can.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“That you can’t help how others feel about you?”

“That your father doesn’t like you.”

“I can’t throw a football,” she said with a shrug, as though that should explain everything.

“What’s football got to do with anything?”

“You’d be surprised.”

Josh found another rock and threw it after the first two. Rebecca had never been easy to figure out, and she wasn’t proving any easier now. “Are you going to explain it to me?”

“No.”

“Then tell me why you hate me so much. How am I any worse than Booker?”

“You’re not any—” she started, then stopped. “What does it matter?” she said, instead. “Everyone else has always adored you. You’ve never needed me.”

What if he needed her now? Would that make any difference?

Josh closed his eyes and thought of the night he’d held her in his arms, tried to recapture her subtle scent. But she was too far away and too bundled up. He could only smell the cold air and damp earth.

“What about last summer when I took you home from here?” he asked, despite the warnings in his head telling him not to bring up that subject again. He knew Rebecca would rather not acknowledge the fact that they’d almost made love. He knew it would be smarter for him to pretend the incident had never occurred. But…he had so many questions. Why had their lovemaking felt so right, even though they’d always been enemies? Why had she responded to him as greedily as if she’d lost her heart to him years ago? Why had the feel of her soft, bare skin, the feel of her arching into him, turned him on like nothing he’d ever experienced? And why had she eventually shut him out? Sure, his brother had come home, but Mike wouldn’t have bothered them. “Beck?”

“What about it?” she responded, sounding leery.

“You didn’t seem to mind me so much then.”

Her shrug looked a little forced, but Josh couldn’t be sure. “We didn’t know what we were doing, remember?” she said. “We were both drunk.”

He picked a blade of grass and stuck it between his teeth. “I wasn’t,” he admitted. Then he got up and strode away so he wouldn’t have to stare into her dark lenses and see only himself staring back.

REBECCA PROBABLY WOULD HAVE sat outside the Honky Tonk for hours, if Booker hadn’t returned to search for her. The coldness numbed her hands and her feet, but it also seemed to numb her senses, diminishing her desire for a cigarette and slowing the process of her mind to a crawl so she could carefully examine each thought. Only a month ago, she’d been poring through bridal magazines and planning her new life in Nebraska.

Now she’d be picking up her old life just where she’d left it, knowing she might never escape Dundee or her past mistakes. She would watch Josh, her father’s standard of the perfect son, continue to be successful. He’d probably marry and have children while she remained single and cut hair until her back ached each day just to bring home enough to cover her living expenses.

But life didn’t always go as planned. She, of all people, understood that. She wasn’t going to grovel, wouldn’t even try to convince Buddy she was worthy of his love. She hadn’t done anything to him. And she’d already made her peace with Josh.

So why did peace between them still feel like war? She couldn’t figure it out.

The loud rumble of a motorcycle drowned out the strains of a Travis Tritt song coming from the Honky Tonk, announcing Booker’s return long before his headlight arced into the lot.

There were a few good things about staying in Dundee. One, she knew the others at the salon well enough to ensure that Mary Thornton never received a decent haircut in the future. And two, she still had her friends, Booker and Delaney. Booker would need some help taking care of Hatty. She was too high-maintenance for one person. And Delaney would need some help taking care of the baby, due in only a couple of weeks.

Standing, she dusted off her pants and started for the motorcycle before Booker could park and head back into the Honky Tonk. “You looking for me?”

He cut the engine. “What do you think?”

“Sorry. I’ve been having a little heart-to-heart with Josh Hill.”

“I don’t see any blood,” he said, removing his helmet long enough to study her. “That’s a good sign.”

“We called another truce.”

“You’re smiling,” he pointed out. “Must’ve been some truce.”

“I’m smiling because he forgave my thirty-thousand-dollar debt.”

His eyebrows shot up. “What does that tell you?”

“That I don’t have to pay for the Excursion.”

This statement met with a few seconds of silence before Booker went on. “Actually, it says a lot more than that.” He zipped his leather coat. “But it doesn’t matter, right? You don’t like him. He’s still the bad guy.”

“Right.”

Booker smiled and handed her a helmet. “Feels good to let someone else be the bad guy for a change. But I’ve never seen two people fight something as hard as you’re both fighting this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do.”

“No, I don’t,” she said, hoping he’d let the subject drop.

He didn’t. “Then why don’t you do yourself a favor and prove me wrong?”

Warning bells went off in Rebecca’s head, but she was curious enough to press the issue. “How?”