A Wedding in the Family. Susan Fox

her natural aversion to muscular men.

      She followed him up the front walk and stepped beneath the deep roof overhang that shaded the veranda. She hurried past Rye to open the door, then held it for him as he carried her cases into the house.

      The icy chill of the air-conditioned house was a welcome relief from the outdoor heat. Rye walked on, leaving her to close the door and take a quick look around as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light.

      The large sunken living room that began a few feet from the tiled entry was part of the center portion of the huge home. Along the wall opposite the entry were two wide doorways. The door on the left led to what looked to be a large, well-appointed kitchen with commercial-size appliances. The delicious smell of food cooking made her mouth water. The double doors on the right opened to a formal dining room to reveal a long, polished table. Lillian could see the deep shine from where she stood.

      The living room itself was decorated with heavy leather and wood furniture that complemented the rough timber beams that striped the ceiling. Brightly colored Native American rugs decorated the dark lustrous wood of the floor, drawing out the vivid colors of the Western paintings on the white walls.

      It was a room that could have come directly from the pages of a glossy decorating magazine and she was duly impressed. Though it was worlds removed from the formal elegance of her grandmother’s homes, which she’d always felt had a sterile look, the colors and arrangement of this room were as visually interesting as they were inviting. In spite of her reluctance to come here, she couldn’t wait to see the rest of the huge home.

      The only thing that spoiled the view was the rancher who’d paused at the wide hallway to the left to glance back at her. “You comin’?”

      With nothing more gracious than that, he disappeared through the doorway, the heels of his boots thudding confidently on the rug runner in the hall.

      Lillian followed him down the west hall of the ranch house. Halfway to the end, Rye turned and stepped through an open door with his load. Seconds later, Lillian walked into one of the loveliest bedrooms she’d ever seen.

      The room was larger than she expected. Decorated with three large leafy plants that were nearly as tall as she, the room was utterly feminine. Gauzy ivory fabric was draped in deep swags from the high points of the four-poster bed and above the French doors to the inner patio. Heavy, intricate lace lay elegantly across the dark polished wood of the dresser, chests and night tables. The area rug was a soft peach shade on the wood floor, but the walls were decorated with cheery watercolors of flowered scenes. Two antique oval pictures were hung tastefully, the attractive women in the sepia-toned photographs clearly Parrish matriarchs. Though the old photos made it impossible to detect eye color, the dark hair and facial structure of each bore a faint resemblance to the present day owner of the Parrish ranch.

      Lillian looked quietly at the old pictures, intrigued by what she could only describe as the feminine ruggedness of the two frontier women. Rye’s low voice drew her attention.

      “Bathroom’s over there.” He gestured to her right. He walked over and put out a hand to draw back one side of the gauzy drapes over the French doors. “Patio and pool out that way. This room is the other half of the master suite.” He released the drape and nodded toward the door to her left. “Other half’s through there and mine.”

      She’d glanced obligingly toward the closed door before the “and mine” fully registered. When it did, her gaze swung back to meet the gleam in his.

      “If you get spooked by something howlin’ in the night, or some low-to-the-ground critter wanders in, I’ll be handy.” The faint curve of his mouth gave away his exaggeration.

      Lillian felt a stir of annoyance at his none-too-subtle effort to put her off. She arched a brow. “Unless you’re claiming responsibility for your nocturnal habits ahead of time, Mr. Parrish, I’m certain I’ll be fine.” The stiff smile she managed mirrored his as she maintained contact with the remarkable blue of his eyes.

      It was oddly satisfying to see the brief spark of surprise on his face before his expression hardened. The hostility she’d sensed in him earlier reasserted itself as he strode toward the hall door.

      “Dovey’s waitin’ supper. We’ll eat when you get done primping.” With that, he walked into the hall and pulled the heavy door closed behind him.

      

      Lillian, a veteran of her grandmother’s impatience, checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror, ran a brush through her hair, then washed her hands and rushed out to the hall. Once there, she slowed and walked quietly toward the living room. The stillness of the home, despite its size, gave her the sense that Rachel was nowhere close by.

      Though her nervousness about intruding on her sister wasn’t particularly high at the moment, she couldn’t help the undercurrent of dread she felt. The thought that she’d be spared the fallout from the “surprise” of her arrival for a little longer put her more at ease, though a part of her wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

      She was tired of walking on eggshells around her family. She was weary to death of being the hapless target of someone else’s bad temper. The fact that she’d sensed a vast potential for bad temper in her reluctant host sent her spirits downward.

      On the other hand, the reminder that she was obligated to tolerate only so much from nonfamily was welcome. There was an end to her forced contact with Rye Parrish. In as little as a few days, she’d be on her way back to the airport and civilization. The idea made her feel better.

      She entered the large living room and walked toward the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. She’d almost reached the door when what she heard made her hesitate.

      “You ain’t said much about what she’s like, boss,” a gravelly male voice was saying.

      A child’s voice cut in, “Is she bratty and mean like Rocky?”

      The question pained Lillian, but the silence that followed made her strain to hear what Rye would say.

      “Don’t you need to take that bowl of food out to your pup, Joey?” There was a mild rebuke in Rye’s tone and she could instantly imagine the steRN look that went with it.

      Joey’s voice was suddenly subdued. “Yes, sir. I’ll do it now.”

      Lillian heard the hiss of a sliding-glass door as it opened and the thud when it closed. She’d just taken a step toward the kitchen door when Rye spoke again.

      “She seems as pampered and useless as any other female of her type,” he said grimly, “but she’s more a sissy than a brat. She’ll probably fall over in a faint if her hair gets mussed or her clothes get wrinkled.”

      Lillian felt heat surge into her cheeks as the other man chuckled. Rye went on.

      “I’d just as soon we kept Joey away from her. And keep Buster away from her, too. Hell, she’s probably never been around a dog you couldn’t put a bow on or hold in your hand. God knows how she’d take it if he got too close or he jumped up on her.”

      “Ol’ Chad sure picked up a burr,” the gravelly voice commented.

      Rye said nothing more. Lillian was outraged, but the shame she felt was just as strong. It distressed her to think Rye Parrish had so accurately pegged her. She was nothing if not a sissy. What other kind of woman would have allowed her grandmother and sister to walk all over her for so many years? She hadn’t exactly been pampered, though by his standards she probably was. She was fairly useless as far as supporting herself or making her own way in the world, but her careful grooming and attention to her figure had been an absolute necessity. She didn’t dare appear less than perfect. He was even right about big dogs.

      He was not right, however, about keeping the child away from her. Though she’d rarely had an opportunity to be around children, she felt no animosity toward them. It hurt that he thought he needed to protect a child from her.

      On the other hand, the boy’s comment about Rachel being mean and bratty