Coming Home to Texas

“Didn’t anyone tell you that frowning causes wrinkles?” he said in a faintly teasing tone, placing his hands on his hips and staring up at her.

She smoothed away her expression, surprised she’d let him see her emotions so clearly. “Obviously, I’m not using Botox,” she quipped, thinking of all her acquaintances who had the injections to paralyze the muscles that caused frown lines on their foreheads.

“What’s troubling you?”

You, she felt like shouting. But that wouldn’t accomplish anything, especially when she needed his cooperation. “I have a few things on my mind.”

“Join the crowd,” he said with a sigh. “Come down and have some breakfast. Then I’ll help you with any plans you need to make.”

She turned away toward the spiral staircase leading to the first floor, feeling the telltale frown return. Her hand gripped the metal banister until her newly polished nails threatened to snap. She didn’t need his help planning—she needed his agreement that they would cooperate on a temporary marriage, she thought as she tromped down the steps. She needed him to make the media believe they’d fallen madly in love in Monte Carlo and were getting married because they couldn’t bear to be apart.

Well, at least not too far apart for too long, since she planned to continue her scheduled assignments and he probably had commissions to design buildings. Once the news of their hurried, hushed wedding hit the press and they’d granted a few choice interviews, she and Travis could go back to leading their separate lives most of the time. Then she’d fly back to Texas as often as possible and he could visit her in California, especially when she had a function to attend.

Especially when she started showing her pregnancy. She’d need a supportive husband then.

She walked into the breakfast area of the spacious kitchen. She smelled bacon and commented, “You’re quite the cook.”

“Not really. I just know enough to get by. I have a housekeeper, Helen Kaminsky, who comes twice a week. She’ll be here tomorrow and you can meet her. If I’m in town and on a project, she sometimes prepares meals for me. Otherwise, I go shopping myself. I’m amazed by the new prepared food at the grocery stores.”

She couldn’t picture Travis Whitaker pushing a cart through a supermarket, although she had no problem thinking of him in formal attire or country casual or cowboy chic. The fact that they knew so little about each other’s lives accentuated the need to avoid a permanent commitment. They’d have plenty of time to get to know each other well enough to mutually support a child, however, if Travis decided to stay involved.

“I’m constantly amazed at the variety of food available in restaurants,” she replied, forcing her attention back to breakfast.

“Maybe in New York or L.A., but you’ll find the choices much more limited in Ranger Springs.”

“But surely you have restaurants.”

“A few. The Four Square Café for breakfast and lunch. A pizza place that delivers. That’s a fairly recent addition. There’s a Tex-Mex place on the state highway, a fast-food burger chain and then there’s Bretford House for lunch or dinner. That’s where we’ll be having the wedding.”

“If we can agree on terms.”

He turned toward a beep from the oven. As he pulled a pan of perfectly browned biscuits out, he said, “There’s really not much to talk about. I’ll be glad to sign a prenuptial agreement if you’d like. We can each agree to keep whatever we came with into the marriage, although that’s pretty much the law in Texas anyway. Since there’s no baby yet, we don’t need to address that issue right now. Other than inviting family, I’m not sure what else is necessary.”

“How can you be so calm, so glib, about this? Surely you don’t get married every day!” At his chuckle she added, “Do you? You mentioned one ex-wife, but are there more?”

Travis shook his head, making a lock of tawny hair fall over his forehead. “No, one was quite enough, which is a really good reason not to have another one. Ex-wife, that is,” he clarified as he dumped the biscuits into a basket and covered them with a napkin.

“What was she like?” Jodie asked before she could stop herself. His past relationships weren’t really her business, but she was curious about his ex. In Monte Carlo he’d been so adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything past a great weekend. Had his marriage been a disaster? Her fault…or his?

He shrugged, carrying the biscuits and butter to the table. “Tiffany was cute and clever. Petite. Dainty, I suppose, but only in appearance. Inside she was a ten-foot-long great white shark with a huge appetite for anything that caught her eye.”

“And I’m sure you caught her eye,” Jodie commented, grabbing the plate of bacon and carrying it to the table. He’d set two places with place mats and heavy, dark blue ceramic plates.

“If you’re thinking of love at first sight, you’re wrong. She decided I was moving up and could give her what she wanted.” He pulled out two chairs and indicated where Jodie should sit.

She smiled to herself when she noticed the tall glass of milk at her place setting. “Which was?”

He settled into his seat before answering. “Everything. I never understood what Tiffany really wanted, but she was sure glad to look under every label and price tag to find it.”

“Other than spending your money, what was the problem?”

He placed his fork and knife down with a clatter. “Look, let’s not talk about her anymore, okay? It’s over and done with. I was young and stupid when we married, older and wiser when we got divorced. It doesn’t have anything to do with this marriage.”

Jodie didn’t want to argue with him, but she thought that anything from their past might affect their marriage—even if it were temporary. Nevertheless, she could understand why he didn’t want to discuss his ex-wife with his possible future wife, so she kept silent. There would be time to talk later—if they actually got married.

“I’d like to see the town if you have time this morning. And this Bretford House where we’re going to have the ceremony, if we get married.”

“On Valentine’s Day,” he added. “Four days from now.”

Jodie sighed. The man had a one-track mind. “So, do you have time or not?”

He nodded while chewing a bite of biscuit. After swallowing, he added, “I haven’t started on my next project yet because I’m waiting on some additional site elevations from the surveyor. I can put that off until after the wedding.”

“Great.” All this seemed to be falling into place for him, while she still felt completely turned around. She couldn’t remember her schedule. Thankfully, it was all written down in her trusty planner. She knew she had to be back in California next week, but wasn’t sure what date.

If she didn’t value her independence so much, she’d hire a personal assistant to travel with her. But she didn’t want someone with her all the time. How would she get used to a husband if they actually lived together?

She couldn’t. She’d just have to explain that to Travis after they went through with the ceremony he wanted. Something for him. Something for her. Isn’t that what compromise was all about?

TRAVIS TRIED TO SEE his adopted hometown through Jodie’s much more sophisticated eyes, but he had a hard time reading her expressions as he parked his SUV in front of Schuler’s Jewelry Store. If looking around and meeting folks went well, he hoped they could shop for wedding bands before going to Bretford House to finalize the wedding plans.

The town square appeared rather bleak on this February day, with only a few evergreen shrubs to break the faded browns of this past winter. Soon spring bulbs would appear, but today he suspected Jodie wouldn’t see the charm of the gazebo or walkways used by so many in Ranger Springs.

“The town square is real nice in the spring and summer,” Travis commented as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

Jodie nodded, but was obviously busy looking around. “The businesses seem to be doing well,” she finally said.

“We’re having a small boom. More and more people are moving out of the cities and into the countryside.”

“It’s…charming.”

Not exactly wild praise, but he’d settle for her favorable impression. “The café is on the other side of the square, near the gazebo. I thought we’d go there first and meet some of the regulars.”

He and Jodie walked side by side. He felt as though he should hold her hand, or take her arm, or make some other gesture, but he couldn’t read her mood. She wasn’t exactly as chilly as the wind whipping along the raised concrete sidewalk, but she didn’t seem all warm and snuggly, either.

Despite her somewhat subdued mood, he enjoyed walking with a woman he didn’t have to lean down to talk to, or saunter beside slowly because their strides were so different. The kind of women he usually dated wore heels almost everywhere, and they giggled when he commented on how “little” they were. Jodie didn’t giggle, although in the days they’d spent together, she’d laughed and chuckled regularly. She had a throaty, genuine laugh that came from deep inside. He hadn’t realized how irritating a high-pitched, childish voice could be on a grown woman until he’d met Jodie.

The door to the Four Square Café tinkled in welcome as he stepped inside. Normally he took a table near the front window, but he didn’t want to appear antisocial by ignoring the folks who were lingering over their coffee. None of the waitresses were up front, so he grabbed a couple of menus before guiding Jodie past the old-fashioned chrome and Formica-topped tables to the rear booths.

“Mornin’, Ambrose. You’re looking pretty today, Joyce,” he greeted the semiretired doctor and his new wife. “Dr. and Mrs. Wheatley, I’d like you to meet Jodie Marsh. She’s going to be in town for a few days until she needs to go back to Los Angeles.”

“Why, hello there, dear. You’re the famous model, aren’t you?” Joyce asked. “Thelma told me she’d met you yesterday. You just missed her, by the way.”

Jodie chuckled. “I don’t know how famous I am, Mrs. Wheatley, but I do model. I’m not sure I remember who Thelma is, though.”

“Thelma Rogers. She’s the owner, editor and lead reporter for the Springs Gazette, our local newspaper.”

“Oh, really?”