Lone Star Wedding. Sandra Steffen
moored to the edge of the boardwalk that lined the San Antonio River. Yes, he supposed the apparatus floating on two plastic pontoons was in the paddleboat category. Why Hannah was hurrying toward it was beyond him. “Where are you going?”
She slowed down as she glanced over her shoulder, but he noticed she didn’t stop completely. “I heard they were going to try these out again along with the newer, motor-powered ones they’ve been using these past several years. Let’s take a boat ride. Hurry, before someone else beats us to it.”
Following her around a table of women who were lingering over desserts and iced teas along Paseo del Rio, or River Walk, a dining and shopping district in downtown San Antonio, Parker wondered if he was the only one who noticed that people weren’t exactly lining up to ride the leg-powered devices. He figured there was a good reason for that. It required energy, something that Hannah hadn’t run out of since they’d set off on their “little” walk an hour and a half ago.
It turned out he and Hannah had two entirely different approaches to walking. He’d expected a leisurely stroll down Smith Street, and had assumed that taking a walk involved walking. Hannah took flight. He’d planned to find a quiet table in a coffeehouse somewhere. Hannah had informed him that she didn’t drink coffee. It was the caffeine. It was bad for a person. When he got home, Parker was going to have to alert the press. If he had enough energy left to make it home.
She had more energy than she could contain.
She’d met him at the door wearing an airy brown skirt that rode low at the waist and stopped a few inches above her ankles. Once again, it wasn’t the color that drew his attention, but the fit and style. Her shirt bared her arms and part of her shoulders. It wasn’t tight, but it was cropped short at the waist. When she moved just right, he caught a glimpse of her navel. And the woman moved a great deal. If she ever found herself in need of another occupation, she could try her hand at modeling. Her mixture of wholesomeness and sensuality would undoubtedly sell everything from women’s jeans to lingerie.
He was imagining her in lingerie right now. A serious mistake for any man who needed to keep his wits about him.
Hannah stepped onto the paddleboat. The seat was wide enough for two people. It occurred to her that Parker wasn’t excited about climbing off the boardwalk and sitting on the other half of the seat. He appeared lost in thought, the same breeze that lifted the hair off her shoulders trifling with the collar of his knit shirt. “Are you coming?” she asked.
He slid his hands to his hips, peering first one way and then the other. “How far do you want to go?”
She stared up at him, remembering when he’d said they would have to arm wrestle to determine that. His gaze warmed at least ten degrees as it slid over her, letting her know he was thinking the same thing. Oh, no, he didn’t. She wasn’t touching that line.
“There’s a little ice-cream store just beyond that curve in the river.” She pointed to a series of lights upriver, but wound up waving at another paddleboat coming their way.
“I don’t recall seeing an ice-cream place in the area.”
“It’s been there forever. I thought you said you grew up in San Antonio.”
“My family wasn’t the type to go out for ice cream.”
This was the first time he’d mentioned his family all evening. She’d met his father, the legendary J. D. Malone, at Lily and Ryan’s party. She’d be hard pressed to say for sure whether she liked or disliked the man.
“My family didn’t always have a lot of money for things like going to ice-cream parlors,” she said. His eyes narrowed, and she threw up her hands. “My mother isn’t after Ryan’s money, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t say she was.”
“You didn’t have to. My brother’s an attorney. I know how your minds work. My mother may have been poor as a child, but there’s no disgrace in that. She and my father worked hard in the grocery store they owned back in Leather Bucket. There’s no disgrace in working hard, either. After my father died, my mother went back to college. She’s perfectly capable of earning her own living on what she makes as manager of special functions at the Willow Creek Hotel. She’s marrying Ryan because she loves him.”
In some far corner of her mind, Hannah was aware that Parker had taken the seat next to her, but she didn’t consciously acknowledge his presence until her voice had trailed away and the only sound was that of the water falling over the paddlewheel at the back of their boat. She glanced up at him. He was looking at her in silence, making no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact that he was watching her.
“Sometimes I get a little carried away defending the people I love.”
“I like a woman who gets carried away.”
Hannah knew better than to comment. She was becoming well enough acquainted with him to realize that Parker Malone rarely spoke without thinking. There were layers to what he said, hidden meanings, underlying messages. Cole was like that to an extent. Maybe all attorneys were. Her brother was good at what he did, and Hannah was proud of him, but Parker took innuendo farther than anyone she’d ever known.
“Let’s get this boat moving, shall we?” she asked, manning the steering lever between them.
At five feet seven, she’d always considered her legs long, but Parker’s were longer. He might have complained a little about the distance they’d come, but he hadn’t so much as broken a sweat from the exertion. His flat-front khakis and navy-blue shirt were the kinds of clothes hundreds of sharp, young executive types wore, but Parker’s hugged muscles that were obviously accustomed to a good workout. She wondered what drove him. She wanted to know everything about him, but she was beginning to realize that information of a personal manner was seldom forthcoming.
She steered around a paddleboat that was drifting slowly down the river, a Just Married sign on the back, the man and woman lost in a long, searing kiss. Once they were out of hearing range, Hannah whispered, “When my sister and I were little, we used to sing ‘first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Johnny pushing a baby carriage’ every time we saw a couple kissing like that.”
Hannah’s thoughts became introspective. There were fond memories of good times and shared secrets between her and Maria. A few.
“In five years,” Parker was saying, his deep voice drawing her out of her musings, “they’ll be fighting over who gets to keep the baby carriage.”
Hannah shook her head. “You’re a natural born romantic, Parker.”
“I’m a realist.”
“I don’t have my thesaurus handy. Is that another word for pessimist?”
“If it isn’t, it should be.”
They’d reached the landing area in front of the trendy ice-cream store. Parker stepped out and moored the boat to a little pier, but Hannah made no move to climb onto the lighted dock. “You make divorce sound inevitable.”
He brushed his hands on his thighs. “Fifty percent of all marriages in this country end in divorce. In other words, half of the people who have stars in their eyes when they come to you will be shooting daggers at each other by the time they come to me.”
She took the hand he held out to her and stepped onto the dock. His cynicism was more difficult to accept. “What about the other fifty percent?”
“I didn’t invent the statistics, Hannah. I’m only repeating them.”
The river swirled by, lapping at the paddleboat, splashing softly against the pier. Hannah was very aware of the color of the sky in the deepening twilight, of the warmth of Parker’s hand around hers, and the directness of his gaze. “Do you still want that ice cream?” he asked.
She shook her head. The ice-cream parlor had merely been a destination. Now, she wanted to make him understand. Better yet, she wanted to change his mind about his