Always Dakota

“I hate myself for thinking ill of him,” she muttered.

Jeb shrugged. He viewed Eilers as a weak man, although he wasn’t sure exactly what had shaped that opinion.

Maddy’s sigh was expressive. “Last I heard, he was dating Sheryl Decker in Devils Lake.”

Jeb had never heard of her. “Who?”

“Sheryl Decker. She waits tables at a truck stop outside town.”

“Maybe he’ll marry her, then,” Jeb suggested, hoping that would be the end of the discussion.

Maddy sighed and relaxed the knitting needles in her lap. “We can always hope.”

“Matt,” Sheryl Decker called from the bedroom. “Bring me my cigarettes, would you?”

Matt opened the refrigerator and grabbed a cold can of beer. Sheryl knew he didn’t like her smoking, but his wishes didn’t dissuade her.

He returned to the bedroom and tossed the pack onto the bed, the abruptness of his action telling her he didn’t approve.

“You know how much I enjoy my smokes,” she said, pulling open her nightstand drawer and reaching for a lighter. She placed the cigarette between her lips, lit up and blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling.

Matt joined her on the bed and took a deep swallow of beer. He was upset with himself and with Sheryl. She knew he’d wanted to attend Bernard Clemens’s funeral. He might not have liked the wealthy rancher, but Clemens was his neighbor and he felt honor-bound to pay his last respects. Sheryl, however, had other ideas, and like a fool he’d fallen under her spell—and not for the first time, either. Without much effort, she’d managed to lure him into bed; despite his best intentions, he’d let it happen.

“Are you still mad at me?” she asked, running her long fingernail down the length of his arm.

“No,” he muttered. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

“You know I have to work tonight, and this afternoon was the only time we could be together.”

He did know. His mistake was in stopping by Sheryl’s place at all. He’d come into Devils Lake for feed and had expected to get back before the funeral.

“You can still go to the reception, can’t you?”

“No.”

She wrapped her arm around his bare chest. “I’m really sorry,” she purred like the sex kitten she was. Matt had never wanted this relationship to take the path it had. He’d started coming by once or twice a month for dinner and companionship. Occasionally he spent the night. They had an understanding, or so he’d assumed, one that provided mutual satisfaction. Lately, however, Sheryl had begun to bring up the uncomfortable subject of marriage. Matt didn’t try to argue simply because it was easier to let her talk than to argue.

“I was thinking we should get married after the first of the year,” she said, taking another deep drag of her cigarette.

Matt sighed. He didn’t understand what it was with women and marriage. “Yeah, maybe. Whatever.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” she said with heavy sarcasm.

“I can’t figure out why women are always so eager to get married.”

Sheryl stared at him incredulously. “Do you think I want to wait tables the rest of my life?”

To be perfectly honest, he’d never thought about it one way or the other.

“You planning to marry anyone else?” she demanded, then without asking helped herself to a long swallow of his beer.

“Margaret Clemens,” he said, knowing that was sure to get a reaction.

“Margaret Clemens,” Sheryl repeated with a harsh laugh. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Not according to her father.”

Sheryl twisted around so she could look him in the eye. “You talked to Bernard Clemens about marrying Margaret?”

“No,” he said, disliking the cold tone of her voice. “He mentioned it to me.”

“When did he do that?” She brushed the bleached blond curls away from her forehead.

“A few weeks back. He asked to talk to me and I went over to see him.”

“And what exactly did he say?”

“He claimed Margaret’s in love with me.”

“Is she?”

Matt lifted both shoulders in a shrug. He hadn’t told anyone about the conversation. He’d never considered Margaret in romantic terms, and it flustered him to think she held any such feelings for him. Not that he was interested. Margaret was, well … Margaret. He didn’t even view her as a woman, like Sheryl, for instance, who was feminine from the top of her head to the tips of her crimson-painted toes. Although if memory served him right, Margaret had been dressed in something pretty the night of Buffalo Bob and Merrily’s wedding.

“Her dad warned you off, did he?” Sheryl asked, apparently finding the question humorous.

Matt wasn’t sure how to answer. “As a matter of fact, no. He seemed to think I’d marry her.”

“For her money?”

Matt nodded. “According to him, Margaret’s determined to have me.”

“Really?” Sheryl made a low snickering sound.

“That’s what he said.” It wasn’t something to brag about. Actually it was more of an embarrassment than anything. Ever since their conversation, Matt had gone out of his way to avoid Margaret Clemens.

“Are you going to marry her?”

“No!” His denial was swift and angry. How could Sheryl even suspect him of something like that?

She didn’t say anything for several moments, then seemed to come to some conclusion that excited her. Tossing aside the blankets, she scrambled to her knees and a slow smile crept over her wide mouth. “Why not marry her?”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t love her. For another …” He couldn’t think of a second reason fast enough. “Hey, I thought you wanted me to marry you.”

“You will, make no mistake about it. But you could marry Margaret first.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Why?” she asked as if that was the most hilarious question anyone had every posed. “Because she’s rich.”