The Right Twin For Him. Julianna Morris
she muttered.
“Excuse me?” Patrick said, astonished.
“You’re just being nice because I might be Beth’s sister.”
“Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Well…no, but…no. It’s just that things are a little mixed up right now, and I shouldn’t be here at all.” Maddie sniffed. She wanted to be strong and independent, but a strong and independent person would be home now, dealing with the aftermath of her ruined wedding. At the very least she should have helped her mom put all that food away instead of flying halfway across the country.
“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” Patrick asked suspiciously. “Tears make me nervous.”
“No kidding.”
If there was anything Maddie did know about men, it was that they didn’t like to see a woman crying. Her father was a terrible softy when it came to a wobbly mouth and tears, and her mother had explained at an early age that it wasn’t right to get things just because she cried.
Problem was, Maddie cried at the drop of a hat. It snowed and she cried, because it was so pretty. A baby kitten standing on unsteady feet turned the waterworks on big time. And she went through boxes of Kleenex at Christmas and Easter.
“I’ll try not to upset you any more than necessary,” she assured him. “Which won’t be a problem at all, because it’s not like we’re friends, or anything, though you did kiss me. And even if Beth is my sister, I’m not sure that makes you family. I mean, it would in Slapshot because family is family, but I don’t know about Washington.”
Patrick groaned.
He’d never met a woman whose emotions were so close to the surface. She blurted out every thought that came into her head, and everything she felt flitted uncensored across her face. Now he felt like a jerk for acting as if her tears were an imposition.
“Don’t worry about it. Why shouldn’t you be here?” he asked, figuring he should make up for his big mouth, though it probably meant hearing things he’d rather not know about.
“Oh.” Maddie looked unhappy again. “It’s just that I left Mom and Dad to take care of everything. I should have stuck around for a while, then left.”
He shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “Take care of what?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Two hundred pounds of coleslaw, potato and macaroni salad. Three hundred pounds of cheese, ham, turkey and beef. Over a thousand of those dumb little crusty rolls. Gallons of mayonnaise, fancy mustards and a bunch of other stuff.”
“Really?” Patrick didn’t have the slightest idea what she was talking about.
“Some of the ‘other’ stuff was a four-tier wedding cake,” Maddie added, then bit her lip as if she regretted saying anything at all.
He whistled beneath his breath. He’d guessed she was recovering from a bad romance, but he’d never expected something so dramatic. Something had happened on her wedding day? Once again he decided he should keep his mouth shut, but his vocal cords were having a day of glorious freedom.
“What happened?”
“I caught my fiancé kissing the woman we hired to serve the punch.”
Patrick winced. Still, it could have been a misunderstanding. “Maybe—”
“Maybe nothing.” Maddie scowled and stuck her chin out. “He had her blouse off, and her D-cup bra was hanging from his pocket. What is it with men, anyway? Breasts are breasts. Why does size matter so much?”
Patrick gulped.
He liked women’s breasts—big ones, little ones, they were all terrific in his opinion. But it was hardly a discussion they should be having on a public street. At the same time a surge of anger swept over him, anger at the unknown man who’d callously cheated on his bride-to-be. How could that guy take advantage of an innocent like Maddie and still look himself in the mirror? At his worst he’d never taken advantage of a woman, and he certainly wouldn’t cheat on his bride-to-be.
“I think your fiancé has the brains of a squirrel,” Patrick said. “I could say something about another part of his pea-size anatomy, but I won’t since I’m in mixed company.”
Maddie giggled, though a bright pink flooded her cheeks. “I’m sorry about that ‘men’ comment. You really are nice.”
Nice?
Patrick gave her a measured look. Having watched four sisters go through some unhappy romances, he knew women were vulnerable when their hearts were broken. His sisters always talked about meeting a “nice” man after breaking up with a boyfriend.
If things were different he’d enjoy getting to know Maddie intimately, as long as she understood it wasn’t going to last. But that didn’t make him “nice,” at least according to the female definition of the word.
“Don’t get the wrong idea about me,” he said carefully. “I’m not that nice.”
Maddie sobered instantly, recognizing a warning when she heard it. Her chin lifted. “Don’t worry, I’m not getting any ideas.”
“I just don’t—”
“I said not to worry.” She gave him a tight smile. “But you’re right about it getting cold. I think I’ll go back to my room at the inn.”
Patrick groaned. Oh, yeah, he’d handled that really well.
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