Lassoed into Marriage. Christine Wenger

but it made her seem so … shallow, so snobbish. She wasn’t really like that. Was she? She was just thinking of Rose.

      “Maybe I did jump to conclusions,” she decided. “I should have let you talk.”

      “Boy howdy. You think?”

      “First, tell me why you think I’m such a snob.”

      “Remember when Carol and Rick got married? All of the ladies in the wedding party and a lot of Carol’s friends went to a male strip club. You didn’t go.”

      “That’s right.”

      “You announced to everyone that it was crass. Yes, I believe that was the word you used,” he said.

      “I think you’re probably right.”

      “You threw a wet blanket on their fun. Carol and the rest of the ladies blew it off, but I could tell that Carol was very disappointed, sad even, that you wouldn’t participate in her party.”

      Carol was disappointed? Sad? Was he right about that? She would have hated for Carol to feel that way.

      “What should I have done? Gone with them even though I knew I’d have an awful time?”

      “My point is that you assumed you’d have an awful time. Maybe you would have laughed and had the time of your life. Maybe you would have put the first dollar in the dancer’s bikini briefs.”

      She grunted. “I doubt that.”

      “Well, you’ll never know, will you?”

      She remained silent, although she was ready to blast him. Where did the cowboy get the nerve to criticize her? Just because he was a party reptile and she wasn’t didn’t mean that she was a failure.

      Just another example of how they are so different.

      “Remember Rose’s christening?” he asked.

      “How could I forget? You hauled in a keg of beer and a box of cigars. All the men sat around drinking and smoking those smelly things and watching football.”

      “We smoked outside, so we didn’t bother anyone.”

      “And you all were drinking like the world was ending,” she said. “It was a christening party, for heaven’s sake! Carol had planned a nice gathering inside the house.”

      “It was a nice gathering, and we did come inside.”

      “At halftime,” she reminded him. “To eat. That’s all. It would have been nice if we all could have sat and—”

      “Talked each other to death?”

      “Yes. I mean … no. All the guests could have had a nice conversation—together. Instead, it was like two separate parties—the women in the living room and the men on the patio.”

      “And you think that was my fault?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Because I brought the keg and the cigars.”

      “Correct.” Now he was understanding her.

      “But the Steelers were playing the Ravens that day,” he said.

      She let out an unladylike grunt. Sully was just trying to get her riled even more, and she walked right into it.

      “You know, you could have passed up that wine in a box and joined us in a brew. Some of the women snuck out, including Carol, and pumped herself a beer. She even took a puff on Rick’s cigar.” He chuckled. “Now that’s a real woman!” He glanced at her, then quickly turned back to look at the road. “But you never came out to the patio.”

      She turned to him, feeling like she had to stick up for herself. “It was Latour!” She was so frustrated that was all she could think of to say.

      “Huh?”

      “The wine. I brought Latour. And it wasn’t in a box.”

      “Oh, fancy stuff.”

      “Forget it, Sully. Just forget it!” She was just about to head for bed when she turned back. “You know, we have nothing in common except Rose. We’re as different as … Let me put this in terms you might understand … as different as a bull and a chicken. Carol and Rick were wrong in picking the two of us.”

      “They were wrong in dying,” he muttered.

      “Drive to the parking lot of the Fort Lauderdale arena,” she said slowly. “We’ll stay there. However, as soon as I feel that things are getting out of hand for Rose—and for myself—we are out of there.”

      “Yes, Colonel.” He saluted. “Oh, sorry, Lisa. I thought I was talking to my father for a moment.”

      Her mouth went dry. Was she really that bossy?

      She was just about to call him something unflattering but decided against sinking to his level.

      She took a deep breath and tried to explain how she felt. “I have a very serious job, Sully. I am responsible for the lives of hundreds of people every time I fly. They have families and loved ones, and I don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t have time for what you think is fun.”

      “Then what would you do for fun?” he asked.

      Good question. She hadn’t thought about that recently, but she’d had an old dream from before she got her pilot’s license. “Ballroom dancing lessons.”

      She prepared herself for a big laugh from him.

      “Ballroom dancing, huh?” he asked but didn’t laugh. “So what’s stopping you?”

      Someone to dance with, she thought. She had never had the time to date. All she did was study. In high school, in college and in flight school she drove herself to be the smartest, the best, the brightest. She wouldn’t settle for anything less. On the rare occasion when someone had dared to ask her out, they never asked her again. Either her studiousness or her seriousness drove them away.

      In flight school, she was given several nicknames: Ice Princess, Ice Pilot and Frigid Phillips—her personal favorite.

      “Lisa?”

      “What?”

      “Did we just have a fight?”

      “It sure seemed like a fight.”

      “From now on, could you just let me finish a sentence?” he asked gently. “We could have avoided all of this.”

      She took a deep breath. “I think we got some things off our chest—things that needed to be said.”

      “Maybe.”

      “It just shows how different we are,” Lisa pointed out.

      “Yeah.”

      “But I promise to let you finish a sentence.” She laughed.

      Sully snapped his fingers. “One more thing.”

      “Go ahead.”

      “Did you ever realize how much you are like my parents? Kind of rigid, inflexible, aloof—”

      “How about stopping there?” she asked.

      “Hey, you didn’t let me finish my sentence!” He laughed. “You promised.”

      “Sully, since you started this topic of conversation, did you ever realize how much you are like my parents? Kind of unconventional, a maverick, a free spirit with no roots, a—” She stopped to take a breath. “Aren’t you going to stop me?”

      “Hell, no. I like what you said about me. Thanks for the compliments.”

      “You’re just … impossible!”

      “Thanks again!”

      She smiled. She couldn’t help herself; when Sully wasn’t