The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
fine.”
“I’m going to check on her anyway.”
“If you need anything—” Ryan began, but Betsy had already disappeared.
As Ryan dropped into the chair, he realized his heart had finally settled into a normal rhythm. All those years he’d rode bulls, his mother had rarely come to watch. She’d told him it was too hard for her to sit there and worry. He’d never understood. Until tonight.
Watching Betsy on the back of the mechanical bull had been almost painful. Intellectually he knew if it tossed her she wouldn’t be hurt. Wally’s cushioned floor surrounding the bull would see to that. But it wasn’t his head that had been stressed seeing her rockin’ and a rollin’; it was his heart.
While he’d wanted her to stay on so she could experience that thrill, it had taken everything he had not to pull her off and hold her close, hating to take even the slightest chance that she could be hurt.
It hadn’t been his legal assistant on the back of that bull. It hadn’t been his childhood friend’s sister. It had been the woman he loved.
Ryan sat back as the realization washed over him. Even though it sounded corny, he knew Betsy was the one he’d been waiting for his whole life.
“You know, even if the hospital doesn’t offer me the job, meeting Betsy made coming back to Jackson worth the trip,” Tripp said.
His friend’s words and who Tripp was referring to suddenly registered. It almost sounded as if he was smitten with...Betsy. But that couldn’t be true.
“I understand you and Adrianna have kept in touch.”
“Adrianna and Gayle kept in touch through the years,” Tripp said in an offhand tone. “She’s merely a friend.”
“Well, Betsy is more than a friend to me.” Ryan met the other man’s gaze.
Ryan’s irritation soared when Tripp laughed. “Don’t tell me she’s your new flavor of the day? Last time we talked it was Adrianna. Make up your mind, man.”
“Betsy is the one—”
Ryan stopped as Betsy and Adrianna walked up. The tall brunette’s eyes were watery and her skin unusually pale.
“Adrianna isn’t feeling well,” Betsy began.
“The stomach flu has been going around the office,” Adrianna said with a weak smile. “I’m sorry if I exposed you.”
“Do you need help?” Ryan started to rise from his seat.
Betsy waved him back down. “We’ll be fine.”
She took off the cowboy hat still on her head and handed it to Ryan. “If you could return this to the proper owner, I’d appreciate it.”
Ryan took the hat. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but now wasn’t the time or the place. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“It was nice meeting you, Betsy,” Tripp said, then shifted his gaze to Adrianna. “Take care of yourself.”
“We better go, Betsy.” Adrianna’s pale complexion now looked almost green.
As the two hurried off, Ryan watched them go. The statuesque brunette and her solicitous friend. The woman he’d thought was “the one” and the woman he loved.
* * *
After taking her friend home, Betsy had barely opened the door to her apartment when the same bug hit her.
She spent that night and most of Saturday alternating between the bedroom and the bathroom. Puffy watched her from the hall with worried eyes. But when Betsy awakened Sunday morning to the ringing of her phone, she realized that for the first time in almost thirty-six hours her stomach felt normal.
She fumbled for the phone she’d flung onto the bedside stand sometime yesterday. “Hello.”
“I’m picking you up for church in forty-five minutes.”
Betsy pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. “Who is this?”
“Who do you think it is? Ryan.”
“Good morning, Ryan.” He’d called several times yesterday but she’d been in no shape to talk to anyone.
“Why didn’t you return my calls?”
“I was, uh, incapacitated with the same bug that hit Adrianna.” Betsy plumped up several pillows and sat up in bed. “I’m better now.”
“You should have told me.” Concern filled his voice. “I’d have brought you over some chicken soup or something.”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to be here.”
“I could have taken care of you,” he insisted. “Or at the least kept Puffy out of your hair.”
Betsy glanced at the small red Pomeranian. Other than demanding to be fed and taken outside on schedule, the dog hadn’t been much trouble. “Puffy was no problem.”
“Well, consider this fair warning. Next time you don’t answer my calls, I’m coming over,” he said. “I don’t like it that you were home all alone and sick.”
Her heart rose to her throat. “Well, I’m better now.”
“Good. I’ll have the truck nice and warm for you.”
Where had he said he wanted to take her? Ah, yes, to church.
“I don’t attend Sunday services.” Betsy had gone a couple of times with friends when she’d been small. But once she realized God really didn’t answer prayers, she hadn’t been back.
“It’ll be fun.” He spoke with such enthusiasm that she found herself believing him. “It’s casual, so you don’t need to dress up. Afterward we’ll go with everyone for breakfast at The Coffeepot. They have bland things—like oatmeal—on the menu, too, so you should be able to find something to eat.”
Betsy was familiar with the café in downtown Jackson. It was known for its hearty country-style breakfast fare. But who was Ryan referring to when he said “everyone”? She knew church wasn’t on Adrianna’s agenda. “Will Tripp be there?”
Silence filled the other end of the line. “Probably not. Does that make the difference?”
“No,” she said, surprised by the edge to his voice. “I was simply curious who ‘everyone’ was.”
“It varies from week to week,” Ryan informed her. “Usually Lexi and Nick Delacourt, David and July Wahl, Travis and Mary Karen Fisher, and Cole and Meg. If they’re in town, Derek and Rachel Rossi usually show up, too, as well as a few others.”
Although Betsy was acquainted with everyone Ryan mentioned, she didn’t run in their social circle. Of course, there was no reason she couldn’t get to know them better. And perhaps get to know Ryan better in the process? After all, hadn’t someone once said that to know a man, you just need look at his friends? “How long do I have to get ready?”
“Forty minutes.”
Betsy swung her legs to the side of the bed and stood, already eyeing her closet. “Okay. And, Ryan?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For caring that I was sick and offering to come over.” She kept her thanks simple, not wanting to be maudlin. “I haven’t had anyone who cared for a long time.”
“Well,” he said, “get used to it. Now you do.”
Sitting